Fey Regency (Fey Lords #3)

13. Chapter 13

Chapter thirteen

D rifting back to consciousness takes time. It happens piece by piece. First, I become aware that Tristan is holding me. Then I realise my face is pressed against his naked chest. Finally, I notice that we are in the bath.

Tristan is sitting on the low seat. I’m sideways on his lap with my head resting on his pec. The warm water is up to my neck. And we are both utterly naked.

Gentle fingers tuck my hair behind my ear and I snuggle closer to the broad plains of his body.

“Hey, you are awake,” says Tristan, and he sounds greatly relieved.

How long was I out for? The only window in here is frosted, and I can’t tell if it is natural or artificial light that is seeping through. I don’t even know if it is day or night. I could have been passed out for minutes or days. I have no idea, and my eyes flutter closed against the disorientation.

Something cold presses against my lips. Its hardness startles me and I flinch, but I don’t open my eyes.

“Drink,” orders Tristan.

Oh, it is water. I gulp it down. Cold, cleansing, and refreshing.

“All of it,” Tristan says, but I don’t need any encouragement .

I drain the glass in no time at all. It disappears from my lips and I hear a soft clink as Tristan places it down on the tiled edge of the bath.

“Good boy,”

His fingers are cool from the glass when he places them under my chin and tilts my head up.

“Look at me,” he says softly.

I open my eyes and his striking face swims into focus. His ruby eyes peer at me intently, and he frowns. Then the world shifts and tilts. We are moving. He is standing up and carrying me out of the bath as if I weigh nothing.

He places my feet on the warm tiles and then proceeds to dry me thoroughly and vigorously with a very soft and fluffy towel.

Then everything spins again as he swoops me back up into his arms. He strides, both of us buck naked, out of the bathroom and to the bedroom. The curtains are drawn, so I still have no idea if it is day or night.

He gently lays me down on the soft furs of the bed. He climbs in beside me and puts his arms over me.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

I ponder the question for a moment. How am I feeling? Empty, I think. Hollow. Like a husk. As if I have used up all my emotions and don’t have any left. I’m so numb, I don’t think I am feeling anything.

I give Tristan a shrug for an answer.

He makes a strange noise and tightens his arms around me. Being held is such an unusual experience. Granny was never one for hugs. My mum certainly wasn’t. I guess being a prickly bastard runs in the family.

“Go to sleep, Nisny. You will feel better in the morning. ”

It seems as good an idea as any, so I close my eyes and let sleep take me.

“ E at something.”

I blink and try to gather my thoughts. It feels like coming back from an intense daydream, except I can’t for the life of me recall what I was just thinking about.

I look down at the huge array spread out on the table. There is porridge, and soup. As well as roasted meats. Grapes and a shit ton of cheese.

What the hell is this? Breakfast, lunch or dinner? I glance out of the window. Grey and overcast daylight looks back at me. Breakfast or lunch then because this time of year it would be dark at dinner time.

I look over at Tristan to see if I can pick up any clues. To my surprise, his cheeks flush with colour.

“It is all the food you seemed to enjoy before.”

Oh. Is it? I look back down at it all. None of it is taking my fancy. I’m not hungry.

“How about some soup?” suggests Tristan.

Dully, I watch as he ladles a creamy thick soup out of a tureen and into a fancy china bowl. He places it in front of me. It smells good, but it is not awakening my hunger.

Suddenly, Tristan is pulling up a chair to sit beside me. He dips a silver spoon into the soup and brings it towards my lips. My eyes meet his. I haven’t got the energy to fight him and I don’t care enough to try. I open my mouth.

His eyes flash with something that looks like pain, but he gently spoon feeds me the soup .

“Tristan, you are very late for the meeting,” says a snide voice.

Tristan swears and swivels around to face the door. His blond haired brother has let himself in and is now standing there with a disdainful expression on his ethereally beautiful face.

“I can’t go, Llywelyn. There is something wrong with my pet,” Tristan says.

There is? That’s news to me. I feel fine, well actually, I don’t feel anything. But surely that is good? I’m not in pain or scared or cold, so that means everything is good, doesn’t it?

Llywelyn sniffs. “It is probably just sulking.”

“No!” yells Tristan, making me flinch. “Ollie is not just sulking!”

Llywelyn drifts closer and peers at me. Then he shrugs. “Maybe you broke it.”

Tristan makes a whimpering noise. It sounds an awful lot like distress and despair. I watch as Llywelyn hears it and his golden eyes light up. Tristan is staring at me, so I think he missed his brother’s reaction.

“Llywelyn, could you please lead the meeting today?” asks Tristan as he continues to stare directly at me.

“I suppose I could,” sighs Llywelyn heavily, but his eyes are practically glowing with glee.

He turns and hurries quickly away, as if he is worried that Tristan is going to change his mind. What a creep. It makes me glad I’m an only child. And not a prince. I mean, all the fancy stuff is nice and all, but it seems to come with a lot of bullshit.

“Ollie? ”

I blink at Tristan. Why is he calling me Ollie all of a sudden? It is usually Little Pet or Nisny. Have I fucked up and pissed him off so much that terms of endearment have been revoked?

“I said, what would you like to do now?”

I look down at the bowl of soup. It is empty. I don’t remember eating it all. That’s strange. Why am I so spaced out? Is it because he took my magic?

“I know!” Tristan exclaims suddenly. “Television! Humans love television!”

He lifts me off the chair and up into a bridal carry. I’m pretty sure that usually I’d object very strongly to being carried around, but I can’t for the life of me remember why. It is nice. And a lot less effort than walking.

He places me on a plump sofa. It is not the one he tied me to yesterday. That one seems to have vanished.

My gaze drifts to the fireplace directly in front of me. The wall above it is empty. There is no TV in sight. I’m so confused. What happened to watching TV?

Suddenly, the blank wall comes alive with the Netflix homescreen. That’s a strange use of magic. But a useful one, I guess.

Tristan sits beside me and presses a remote control into my hand. I stare at it. Oh. Silly me. It is a projector, not magic. That makes a lot more sense.

“What do you want to watch?” he asks.

I shrug. Deciding is too hard right now. I’ll happily stare at whatever.

His hand gently moves over mine, and he presses the play button. My eyes fix on the moving pictures on the wall, but my mind drifts away .

“Tristan! You should have sent for me. I have a human. I know all about them!”

Tristan’s purple haired brother is standing in front of the TV. His nearly naked human is behind him.

Well, this is more interesting than Netflix. I bet a tenner that it was Llywelyn who went gossiping and spreading rumours about me being sick. Even though I’m pretty sure I’m fine.

Purple eyes inspect me thoroughly. A little furrow forms between his elegant eyebrows. “Why is he so quiet and vacant? What happened?”

Tristan sucks in a breath. “He made Jamie cry, so I had to punish him.”

“What did you do?” purple eyes narrow suspiciously.

“I tied him to a couch and forced orgasms from him until he cried.”

Holy fuck. Do fey really not understand privacy and that some things are not meant for sharing? I hastily drop my gaze to the floor as my cheeks heat. I really hope nobody is looking at me.

An enormous thud shakes the floor. I recoil and instinctively look up. Tristan is on his back on the fancy carpet and the huge human is standing over him with his fist clenched.

“Blake!” shrieks the purple prince.

He rushes forward, pulls on the human’s dangling leash and shoves the giant man behind him. I blink as a deadly looking dagger appears in the fey’s hand.

“I don’t care that he is a pet and he struck you, if you try to exterminate him, I will disembowel you,” he hisses malevolently .

Tristan is sitting up now, rubbing his jaw. He holds his free hand up in a placating gesture.

“Calm down, Mabon,” he sighs. “I’m not going to put your pet down.” He gives me a brief look and then looks down at the floor. “I deserved it.”

I feel my eyebrows rise. I was not expecting that. What has got into everyone? They are all acting very strangely.

I glance over to Mabon and his pet to see what they are making of Tristan’s outlandish statement, but they are gone. The door is still swinging, so I presume they hightailed it out of here while the going was good.

Suddenly, the door slams and I jump. They’ve come back for round two? But no, it is not Mabon and his pet. It is Jamie. Looking furious. He points aggressively at Tristan, who is still sitting on the floor.

“I’ll tell you what I told my asshole of a husband! You are both monsters! Monsters! Do you hear me? Ollie was rude and made me cry. Big deal. I am not a precious princess! I am not weak and I can handle my own shit!”

He darts forward, grabs my wrist and pulls me to my feet.

“Where are you taking him!” blurts Tristan.

“Away from you, because you don’t deserve him!” yells Jamie.

He tows me out to the hallway, and the door slams shut behind us. This place is so confusing, but one thing is for sure. It is always non-stop drama. Never a dull moment.

What on earth is going to happen next?