Fey Regency (Fey Lords #3)

6. Chapter 6

Chapter six

I ’m in a frigging throne room. An actual real life throne room. A giant room with a throne in it. Nothing in my life feels remotely real anymore. It is all far too surreal. Like a twisted fever dream, or a nightmare.

Why else would I be staring up at a terrifying man who is sitting on a throne that puts the one from Game of Thrones to shame? A man with moonlight pale hair, antlers, and an extremely disdainful expression.

I’m on my knees and I’m so glad that I didn’t resist when Tristan pushed me down. I may be reckless sometimes, but I’m not completely stupid. I don’t even mind that the floor is cold and extremely hard and that my knees are already protesting.

Beside me, Tristan bows deeply. “Greetings, Brother.”

Another brother? Is this one the king or something? Bowing to your sibling has to be jarring. Especially when the throne room is empty apart from the three of us. Are all fey sticklers for formality, or is this king guy a tosser who insists on it?

“Where is Jamie?” asks Tristan, in Fey.

The asshole on the throne frowns. “Not here to save you. ”

I stop my wince just in time. I’m not supposed to be able to understand a word. So I can’t react. All I can do is glare at him belligerently and feign ignorance. Even though the thought that anyone needs saving right now is deeply unsettling.

“Where did he get the dagger from?” demands the pale-haired fey.

Clearly, he doesn’t like to mess around and prefers to get straight down to business. I really hope Tristan knows how to handle his brother.

That last thought echoes around my head. Shit. Please don’t tell me that I’m rooting for my captor now, because that is all kinds of twisted.

“I’m waiting until he settles in before I question him,” says Tristan almost sweetly.

Motherfucker. See? I knew rooting for him was a bad idea. He is not on my side at all. He is merely biding his time and attempting to lure me into a false sense of security. Well, he can go fuck himself because I’m not saying jackshit. I am not a snitch.

Throne guy says nothing. His disapproval fills the room until I feel as if I am choking on it. He is looking down at me like I’m a particularly gross bit of scum that he had the misfortune of stepping in.

Tristan squirms. “Rhydian, I didn’t want to kill him, so I had to claim him. There was no other option.”

Oh damn. That hurts far more than it should. So what if he didn’t really want me, and is just too soft to execute someone? It still works in my favour. I get to live, and now he is stuck with me, which serves him right. It is nothing to get upset about.

Suddenly, Rhydian speaks directly to me, in English .

“Where did you get the dagger from?”

As if I am going to tell him. Fat chance. Never going to happen. He can dream on.

I gather a nice juicy glob of saliva and spit it on the floor. It lands near the bottom of the dais. Not close enough to his boots to be suicidal, but close enough to make my point.

He raises one eyebrow, but otherwise seems completely unruffled. His attention turns back to his brother, dismissing me as a waste of time.

“Did you spare him because he is a nisny, or because you wished to bed him?”

What the hell is a nisny? But that’s fine. I’m not supposed to be able to understand any of that sentence, since he switched back to Fey. I need to keep glaring blankly and paying attention. Hopefully, I will figure out what a nisny is by context soon enough.

Tristan shrugs, “Both,” he admits easily.

Once again, I want to wince, but I don’t. I keep it together while a long suffering look flashes in Rhydian’s eyes. Yeah, having a man-whore of a brother must be a pain in the ass when you are trying to be all kingly and shit.

“I think he is a vessel!” blurts Tristan suddenly.

A vessel? Another word I don’t fully understand. Perhaps the Fey language is not as close to Welsh as I thought.

“Think?” questions Rhydian with another raised eyebrow.

“It is hard to tell because I haven’t fully debauched him yet.”

Oh my stars. I cannot blush. I must not blush. It would give the game away. Shit, this is hard .

Rhydian looks even more displeased than ever. He looks like he wants to sigh heavily, and I feel for the man, I really do. Tristan has frayed my nerves and I’ve only known him for twenty-four hours. Imagine a lifetime of him.

“Since it cannot be undone,” Rhydian says wearily. “We will have to suffer it.”

Tristan bows low.

“Keep it on a leash,” adds Rhydian, and damn is it hard not to bristle.

Tristan grabs my arm, hauls me to my feet and drags me out of the throne room. No doubt he is hurrying because he wants to escape before Rhydian changes his mind. It is a very good idea and one I can wholeheartedly get on board with.

As soon as the doors to the throne room clang shut behind us, Tristan breathes out heavily. He releases my arm and picks up my silver leash. He strides forward, fully expecting me to trail obediently behind him. I snarl and quickly weigh up my options. They are the exact same options I had this morning when Tristan decided we were leaving his rooms.

Being dragged along the floor while choking on a collar doesn’t sound like fun, so reluctantly I make the same decision as I did earlier today, and I step after my prince before the leash goes taut.

We round a corner and come face to face with a fey with golden hair and cruel eyes. Tristan stops walking, so I grind to a halt too.

“Greetings, Llywelyn,” says Tristan.

The new fey peers at me. I feel as if I am being thoroughly inspected. This is becoming a far too familiar experience and I am not growing any fonder of it .

“You are still in one piece I see, Brother,” he snips to Tristan while continuing to stare at me.

Another frigging brother? How many does Tristan have? I’m pretty sure they are using the word brother in the true sense and not as a random form of endearment. So all these guys are really related to him.

“Yes, thankfully Rhydian was in a good mood,” says Tristan.

That was a good mood? Holy smokes.

“Why no translator?” snaps Tristan’s other, other brother.

I am standing behind Tristan, so I can’t see his expression, but his body language looks relaxed. Genial even. He is entirely too good-tempered. His family are all jerks, he doesn’t need to be nice to them.

“I speak Modern English well enough now,” Tristan says. “It is not like when we first returned and found that most of the human languages had shifted. And considering no good has ever come of a pet overhearing things they should not, this way is better.”

I have no idea what expression just passed over this gold-haired fey’s face, but I know I don’t like it. The creep stares at me some more, then he smiles. A strange smile that does not reach his eyes at all.

“Congratulations, Brother. Your pet is a truly remarkable specimen.”

Tristan stands up taller. I swear he is puffing out his chest. “Isn’t he!”

Llywelyn tilts his head and narrows his too-bright eyes. “It is the combination of human and fey features. Very alluring.” He purses his lips thoughtfully. “Be careful, Brother. You might have to fight to keep him. ”

My stomach flips right over, and my knees start to weaken. That is one hell of an implication and I don’t like it one bit.

Tristan straightens his shoulders. “Good thing I enjoy a good duel!” he says brightly, but his cheer sounds false to me.

A shiver creeps up my spine. Oh for fuck’s sake. There is no need to be alarmed by this. One fey owner is much like another. I shouldn’t care about it. So what if Tristan loses me in a fight? It makes no difference to me.

So what if Tristan licked my asshole and made me cum, and then snuggled me in his giant soft bed all night? It means nothing. I just heard him say so, a few minutes ago. He told his big brother that I’m his pity case. Nothing more.

Maybe a different fey would actually like me. It could be a good thing.

Tristan makes his excuses to Llywelyn and then walks swiftly away. I hurry after him. But the hallway is long and I swear I can feel Llywelyn’s gaze on my back like a pair of icy spears. I shudder and then look over my shoulder.

Sure enough, the golden-haired prince is standing alone in the middle of the hallway. Staring right at me. I shiver and snatch my gaze away. My steps quicken. Any faster and I’ll be walking into Tristan, but it still doesn’t feel fast enough.

One thing is very, very clear. Utterly unmistakable and impossible to miss.

This place is dangerous.