Fey Regency (Fey Lords #3)

25. Chapter 25

Chapter twenty-five

T he breakfast table looks practically bare. There is only porridge and plain toast. I freeze halfway towards it and look up at Tristan in horror. He flashes me an absentminded smile because he is busy staring at a pile of papers that have been neatly placed by his place setting.

“It is a precaution. Simple foods for a few days to help you recover.”

A few days? What the hell! I thought a boring breakfast was bad enough. But a few days of bland food? This is terrible.

Tristan ignores me to go and take his seat. He picks up his papers and begins flicking through them.

With a heavy sigh, I flop into my own chair. The morning light is grey and overcast. Everything is gloomy and terrible. Despondently, I pull a bowl of porridge towards me. I stir it unenthusiastically while I prop my elbow on the table and rest my head on my hand.

“Your brother is a nasty little shit,” I grumble.

“Watch your tone!” growls Tristan.

I look over at him in shock. Surely, after everything, he is not taking Dyfri’s side? Last night, he seemed very much on my side. Having someone actually have my back for once, had been amazing. I am not ready to lose it. Not so soon.

Tristan’s head is down, checking his stupid papers. I can’t read him at all. Perhaps I should give him the benefit of the doubt. He could simply be trying to stop me from pissing Dyfri off again. Tristan could be worried about spies, or wires, or freaky eavesdropping magic.

“Fine,” I huff, as I aggressively shovel porridge into my mouth.

I flinch as Tristan places his papers down rather forcefully. His ruby red eyes look intense and there is a small crease on his brow.

“Do you truly have no remorse for what you have done?”

I blink. Cold dread squeezes at my heart. He is not worried about spies. I have never seen Tristan angry. I was beginning to suspect that it wasn’t an emotion he was capable of. Now look at him. All blazing eyes and stern expression. I swallow tightly. Well, I wanted to push his buttons. But apparently not like this. I don’t like this at all.

What has got into him? Is he over his concern for me, now that I’m not dying? And now he is offended on his brother’s behalf? Is his true loyalty to his family? Or is it simply I’m merely a human and a pet and I’m never going to be as important as a fey prince? I can totally see royalty sticking together like that.

“I didn’t fucking do anything!” I snarl. “I teased him about a crush!”

If Tristan wants to do angry, then I can do angry. Fury is always better than sadness. Always. It never lets me down .

Tristan frowns and his eyes narrow. “No, you did not tease him.”

Some tiny part of my brain is not surprised. Despite my many flaws, I’m not stupid. Dyfri’s reaction, Tristan’s response, hells, he even said that I didn’t know. Put that all together and it is not rocket science to figure out that I accidentally stumbled onto something far bigger than a stupid crush. But right now, I’m too seething to care.

“You mocked him about his assaulter,” Tristan says coldly.

My body recoils. I feel as if I have been struck. My mind is so shocked by what it has just heard, that it has frozen solid. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Not something so very dark that it has stolen my breath away.

“Wha…what?” I stammer.

“It was a big hulk of a man who made him a rhocyn,” Tristan bites out each word as if they are razor sharp and cutting his tongue.

All my brain cells are still seized up. Rhocyn. That’s the status thing that’s worse than a pet. Where they used to have to give their body to anyone who asked. It is what Dyfri’s unbound hair means. It is what Osian was until that woman braided his hair.

I still don’t understand what Tristan is saying. I don’t know what an assaulter has to do with being a rhocyn, even though my mind is trying to run to dark ideas. I stare at Tristan helplessly. I don’t want him to think I am being obtuse.

He draws in a big shuddering breath and his shoulders relax. I think he has realised that I genuinely don’t know .

“A half-orc held him down in front of all of court, and forced him. That’s how he became a rhocyn.” Tristan sucks in another sharp breath. “That’s how anyone becomes a rhocyn. They lose a duel. They are shown to be weak.”

I shudder in horror. Then an even darker thought hits me. Tristan just said, ‘All of court.’ Oh, my god. That includes Tristan, doesn’t it? He was there. He had to watch helplessly as that nameless atrocity was done to his brother. His little brother, I suddenly realise, and I have no idea how I know. I just do. It is clear in every line of Tristan’s body. This is the agony of a big brother who feels he failed in protecting his little brother.

Tristan’s bright eyes fill with horror. I can see the darkness of his memories. He has spiralled down. He is reliving it. Vividly.

I bite back my sob. Poor Tristan. My mind whirls as it digests everything it has just learnt. Oh my stars. Poor, poor Dyfri.

My lungs stutter and draw in a jagged breath. I can’t believe I said such a horrid thing to him. He was saying that I was pretty. He was trying to be nice. Trying to make a friend.

Actually, who am I kidding? I can totally imagine that I said that. It is not surprising at all. It is what I do. I’m nasty and spiteful and cruel.

I’ve always been an asshole. It was only a matter of time before something I lashed out with was going to hit someone too hard. But why did it have to be this way? With something so unimaginably awful? To someone who had done me no wrong at all?

I truly am a disgusting person. People are right to hate me. No wonder even my own mother didn’t want me.

Holy fuck. What the fucking hell is wrong with me? Look at what I am doing. I’ve managed to twist Dyfri’s trauma into my very own pity party. I’ve made it all about me. Which shouldn’t even be surprising because I am a selfish jerk. Oh stars, I really am such a disgusting mess.

A sob breaks free from my soul. Tears start to flow down my face, and just like that, I’m crying harder than I’ve ever cried in my entire life. I am not sure that I will ever be able to stop.

“I’m so sorry!” I wail. “I didn’t know!”

I’m not even sure if my words are at all coherent. I’m sobbing so hard, every word has at least three extra syllables.

Suddenly, Tristan is beside me. He moves and the next thing I know, he is sitting on the chair and I’m curled in his lap. I grab a hold of his robes, bury my face in between his pecs and wail my heart out.

If this doesn’t make him tired of me, nothing will.