Fey Regency (Fey Lords #3)

32. Chapter 32

Chapter thirty-two

I don’t want to be here. I want to be in bed snuggling with Tristan, while I still can. The duel is on the full moon, mere days away. These could be our last days together, the only time we have left. I want to make the most of them.

But here I am, in a room full of fey while they lounge around on huge cushions, talking meaningless drivel and smoking hookah pipes, of all things.

I do understand Tristan’s insistence that he needs to put on a brave face and act is if he isn’t worried at all by the upcoming duel with his brother. Tristan is a prince. His entire life is about appearance. He needs to be seen around court, behaving normally. It sucks for me, but it is what it is.

As for the idea that he might learn something useful, personally I think that is ludacris. But it is the only thing to come out of the brothers’ meeting. Nobody had any bright ideas. The only plan was to try to find more intel on Llywelyn’s abilities.

Just how Tristan is going to achieve that by lying around getting high on smoke, is beyond me. But what do I know? Fey court intrigue is all new to me. I should stop griping and play my part by sitting here and looking like a good little pet. I need to look innocent and sweet, and not like a crazed feral beast that goes around throwing water on people. Even though hundreds of people saw it, but nevermind.

If I act like butter wouldn’t melt, it makes Llywelyn’s challenge look unreasonable. Which I’m sure will help quiet any resentment once Tristan wins. Because he is going to win. I need to believe that. Positive mindset. Affirmations and all that jazz. That’s the type of shit I should be thinking about. I need to snap out of all this, ‘last days together’ bullshit.

I take a deep breath and sit up a little straighter.

Blake gives me a friendly little smile. He looks so at ease sitting by Mabon’s feet. Wearing only what amounts to a dangly loincloth, while the rest of his impressive body is smeared in baby oil.

I wonder if I will ever get as comfortable being held on a frigging leash. Though, thinking about it, I don’t think about it as much as I used to. Wearing a collar and having Tristan hold my leash feels almost natural. So maybe I am settling in.

“We need some entertainment,” says a willowy woman with green hair. Her English is flawless, with no trace of an accent.

“Oh!” exclaims her friend, who is sitting beside her. A tiny silver-haired woman with wings. “How about letting the pets play? I’d love to see the big one destroy the little one.”

My gaze meets with Blake’s and we exchange a look of horror.

“I don’t know,” Tristan says slowly. “I don’t usually like to share.”

My heart smashes painfully against my ribcage. It is beating a thousand times a minute, I swear. Tristan cannot seriously be considering it?

His warm, strong hand rests on my shoulder and gently squeezes. I let out my breath. Of course he isn’t considering it. I’m being an idiot and panicking over nothing.

“Prince Mabon, what do you think?” asks someone.

Mabon looks even more panicked than I was feeling a moment ago.

“Um…No…My pet’s cock is mine,” he stammers.

Blake blushes a truly beautiful colour. It really is cute.

The tiny silver girl leans forward. “How about making the little one rail the big one? That would be hilarious.”

Laughter spills out across the room. I close my eyes. Jesus Christ. I know I’m not the manliest of men, but the idea of me topping isn’t that uproarious.

“Or we can make them have a race. Hand on each other’s cocks. See who can make the other cum first.”

More delighted laughter and a smattering of malicious tittering.

“I bet the little one makes very pretty noises.”

For fuck’s sake. Now my cheeks are getting hot. Fey really are unbelievable. They are speaking English. Everyone knows Blake has an earring that works as a translator. So all of this is entirely for my benefit. Nasty bastards. Like a roomful of cats toying with a mouse before they pounce.

“Remember when Prince Rhydian showed us all the pleasure of Consort Jamie?”

My eyes snap open and my head twists back to look over my shoulder at Tristan. He doesn’t look at me. He simply keeps his attention on the other fey and smiles softly, as if it is a happy memory.

I shudder and turn my head back around. Okay, Tristan is keeping up an act. It is fine. I’ll ask him about it later.

Poor Jamie. I knew Rhydian was a bastard. I’m really, really glad I tried to kill Tristan and not anyone else. Belonging to any other fey would be a fate worse than death.

“Remembering that has made me hard. Now I need someone to suck my cock,” someone whines. “I miss the days when rhocyn were truly rhocyn.”

Murmurs of agreement rumble around the room. I’m going to be sick. Behind me, Tristan tenses and my leash shakes ever so slightly. I bite my bottom lip to curb my smile. It is so good to know that these assholes are pissing Tristan off too and it is not just me being sensitive.

“I can suck cock better than any rhocyn.”

My gaze snaps to the speaker. It is a young looking fey with curly dark hair and sapphire blue eyes.

“Prove it,” drawls an older man as he leans back arrogantly against his cushion.

The curly-haired guy flashes him a mischievous smile. “All right. I’ll make you spill before a ghurry is spent and you will owe me a forfeit.”

The older man raises an eyebrow and rests his hands on his plump belly. “And if you don’t make me spill?”

“You may use me for the night,” Curly-hair says with a truly filthy wink.

Everyone giggles. Kinky motherfuckers. I have a distinct feeling that Curly-hair here is going to lose on purpose. I should teach the fey about Grindr. It would make their lives a lot simpler .

The older guy spreads his legs wide and Curly-hair crawls between them. I snatch my gaze away before I can see anymore. Apparently, I am a prude and that’s a very disappointing thing to learn about myself.

Suddenly, Tristan leans forward and whispers in my ear. “Go get a wine jug and refill everyone’s cups. It is a good way to appear more like a true pet. Rumours that I am fond of you do not help us.”

My stomach has gone all fluttery. He is fond of me, I know he is. It is not a rumour. But it is something that only I need to know.

I get to my feet and make my way over to the drinks table. It is in the corner of the room. Far away from where everyone is sitting.

I pick up a large earthenware jug of wine. It is strangely light, but definitely full. It must be freaky magic. Shrugging, I hold it firmly and start making my way around the room. Everyone is engrossed in the show and barely noticing me.

The noises alone are making me blush. Part of me wants to look. I mean, there would be no harm in it. This show is consensual and everything. So I don’t think there is any moral reason not to. But for some reason, I just can’t bring myself to do it.

I make it halfway around the room when I run out of wine. Damn fey. They make it magically light, but can’t be bothered to make it magically bottomless? I really need to talk to some people around here.

Huffing quietly to myself, I make my way back to the drinks table. With good timing. Two red-hat dudes, like the ones who look after Selwyn’s rooms, are placing fresh jugs on the table. One of them nudges the other as I approach.

The nudged one looks up at me and rolls his eyes. “Relax,” he says to his friend in Fey. This one doesn’t have a translator, everyone knows that.”

“Oh,” says his companion as he gives me a beady look before getting back to work.

I hold my empty jug and politely wait for them to finish restocking the table. I don’t care if they are being a little bit rude. Being a servant must suck. Like the worst ever customer service job. If they wanna bitch, they should go right ahead.

“So, Llywelyn really is going to cheat?”

I bite my tongue and concentrate on keeping my face utterly blank. My treacherous body is immediately breaking out in a cold sweat. Okay, this is a hell of a lot more interesting than a general bitch and moan about working conditions.

“Absolutely. He has been collecting charms. I see them under his bed every time I dust his room.”

“What kind of charms?”

They lift the last jug onto the table and start gathering up the empties that they have placed on the floor. Oh shit, they are about to leave. They can’t walk off before they have finished their conversation.

I smile and helpfully hand them my empty wine jug. It might slow them down a little. One of them takes it with a scowl.

“Devourer ones,” whispers the informative red-hat.

His friend whistles low. “Very sneaky.”

They both grin and start walking away. My heart is pounding. I stand very still and listen as carefully as I can .

“We should place bets on Llywelyn winning. We will make a fortune.”

A quiet, excited chuckle bubbles out. “Enough to leave this shit hole.” And then they are gone.

But that’s fine. I think I have heard everything that I need to. This is wonderful. I’m going to be able to fix my mess.

I can help Tristan.