Fey Regency (Fey Lords #3)

33. Chapter 33

Chapter thirty-three

F inally, we are heading back to our rooms. I swear the last hour was the longest of my life. Just frigging sitting by Tristan’s feet while he smoked with a bunch of nobles. It felt as if I was going to burst with the news of what I overheard.

Now, I’m finally going to be able to tell him. The doors click shut behind us, shutting out the outside world. Now it is just us, and it feels heavenly.

I open my mouth to blurt out my news, but wait. Oh fuck. I’m going to have to confess that I understand Fey. I don’t mind playing my one and only card, and giving up the only advantage I have. Helping Tristan is worth it. It is just that I’m a little apprehensive about how he is going to take the news that I have been lying to him.

“What is it?” asks Tristan, as he rests a hand on my shoulder.

Damn it, he looks concerned by my frozen expression, and now I feel even worse for keeping secrets.

“I…um…can speak Welsh…so I, um…can understand Fey,” I mumble.

Tristan smiles softly at me. A warm smile that lights up his eyes. “I know.”

What? I blink at him helplessly .

“My talents are languages and translator magic, of course I would know,” he says.

Oh. Okay, that makes sense.

“And you have a terrible poker face,” he adds.

Excuse me? How dare he say such a thing? He can take that right back!

Tristan chuckles, a low deep rumble. “See, right now your pretty face is all scrunched up and you are very annoyed at me.”

My mouth opens. Then I snap it shut. He is probably right, I probably am as easy to read as a book. There is no point in throwing a hissy fit because I’ve been called out on it. Besides, there are far more important things to be talking about right now.

I take a deep breath. “I overheard some servants talking. They said Llywelyn is hiding Devourer Charms under his bed and he is going to cheat with them.”

Tristan’s eyes widen and a look of hurt betrayal flashes through them before it is quickly buried. Covered behind a grin and a cheerful, cocky demeanour.

“I knew your secret ability to speak Fey would be useful!” he boasts.

I roll my eyes, but I’m not going to let him distract me. “Can you bust him for planning to cheat?”

Tristan’s expression grows sombre. “No.”

I open my mouth to say something, but the bastard walks away from me. He goes over to the satin pull cord for the servants, and pulls on it. What the hell is he playing at? This isn’t the kind of thing we can talk about in front of the staff.

A goblin guy appears seemingly out of nowhere. Flipping heck, that was fast! Tristan bends down and whispers something into his pointy ear. The little green guy nods and scurries away.

I stare expectantly at Tristan, but he simply stares back at me until I sigh in exasperation, and snap, “What are you doing?”

“I’m calling in a favour,” he replies calmly.

My eyes narrow. Why on earth is he being all mysterious? It is annoying and I can’t see how it helps.

“Okay, so now what?” I huff.

“Now we wait.”

Oh my stars. This man is unbelievable. I turn away from him and stomp over to the sofa by the projector. If he wants to be like that, I’ll leave him to it. The projector has every streaming service in existence and there is so much good shit I want to catch up on. I can just ignore the asshole and watch TV. I’m not playing his games.

One very long hour later, I nearly jump out of my skin when a door opens by the fireplace. Are you kidding me? A secret doorway?

I stare in astonishment as Dyfri walks out of a jet black passageway and steps into the room. The secret door shuts behind him, and now I can’t see it. I can’t tell it was ever there and I’m looking right at it. Is this magic or Buckingham Palace engineering?

Dyfri strides over to the table and places something on it. I scramble off the sofa and join Tristan and his brother at the table.

“I only took one, less suspicious that way. I would have liked at least two to compare, but they all seemed the same.”

Everyone stares at a small circular wooden disk. It looks like someone sawed a thin slice off a slender branch .

“Is it a normal Devourer Charm?” asks Tristan.

Holy fuck! My gaze snaps up to Tristan and then to Dyfri. Did this sneaky little shit just creep into Llywelyn’s bedroom and steal one of the charms?

Dyfri shrugs. “Charms are not my thing.”

“You are better at them than I am,” says Tristan.

Dyfri looks at him. A tense silence brews, then Tristan looks away with a sad sigh. “I’m not sure where Selwyn’s loyalties lie.”

That’s news to me. Does Tristan think Selwyn might be siding with Llywelyn on this duel nonsense? He was absent from the brother’s meeting the other day, so I guess so.

Dyfri grimaces slightly and then peers down at the charm. The hairs on the back of my neck rise, but nothing appears to happen.

“It is a normal Devourer Charm,” says Dyfri after a while. “Theoretically, if someone was wearing several during a duel, it would consume the magic thrown at the wearer.”

Tristan sighs. “It would drain the opponent after the first round.”

Dyfri nods. “Yes, all while making it seem the wearer simply had very well woven shields.”

Tristan stares down at the charm. He runs a hand over his brow. “What could an opponent do?”

“Use spells a Devourer Charm won’t eat,” says Dyfri.

Tristan stares at him, surprise clearly flashing in his ruby eyes. “That would be tricky.”

Dyfri shrugs. “Tricky, limiting, difficult, but possible. ”

Tristan sucks in a deep breath. The poor man sounds so very stressed. And sad. All because of me and my stupid, childish temper.

Dyfri straightens up. His dark eyes flick briefly to me, and then back to Tristan. “You can’t use any of this.”

“I know,” sighs Tristan wearily.

Dyfri nods and picks up the charm. “I need to return this before its absence is noted.”

“Thank you, Dyfri.”

“Don’t thank me!” snaps Dyfri as he disappears into the secret door.

I stare at the place on the wall, but I still can’t make out any outline of a door. I shudder and turn back to Tristan.

“Mind explaining what the fuck all that was about?”

Tristan chuckles, but it is a poor echo of his usual mirth. He pulls out a chair and sits down, so I take a seat too.

I don’t understand any of this. I don’t know why Llywelyn is not getting in shit for planning on cheating. We even had evidence and everything. But then again, I have zero clue why using charms is considered cheating in the first place. Why are some types of magic allowed, while others aren’t? It is all bewildering.

And don’t get me started on Tristan and Dyfri’s cryptic conversation. I can’t even begin to guess why they were talking like that. Acting as if the charms and the duel are a theoretical problem and not a real-life situation. It is all beyond me.

Then, on top of all that, what the hell did Dyfri mean by ‘you can’t use any of this’?

Tristan picks up my hand and stares into my eyes. “Someone facing a duel cannot receive any assistance from anyone. ”

I stare at him blankly. My mind stutters. It freezes. It bulks. It restarts. I cannot think of anything else Tristan might mean, but his implication is absurd.

“Are you saying you are going to ignore the stuff about the charms, because I helped you by telling you?”

He nods solemnly.

“But…but why get Dyfri to go nick one, then?”

“Because I was hoping to find something I could somehow use. The laws fey are beholden to are twisty. There are loopholes.”

“Loopholes?” I repeat numbly. Then I shake my head in an effort to rouse myself. “Is that why you and Dyfri were talking all weird like that, so he wasn’t technically helping you?”

“Yes.”

For fuck’s sake, this is ridiculous.

“Is Llywelyn going to win the duel?” I squeak.

Tristan slowly nods. “If he uses the charms, yes.”

My heart erupts into an erratic, frantic rhythm. My vision is swimming and my head is spinning. This cannot be happening.

“That is the most stupid thing I have ever heard!” I yell. “He is flipping cheating! You should cheat back! I’d say a cheat equals a cheat!”

Tristan just sits there holding my hand, looking sad. But I do see a thoughtful look flash in his eyes before it vanishes.

Oh god. He is not going to buy my, all is fair in love and war philosophy, is he?. He is going to be all noble and stupid and not lower himself to cheating just because his brother is .

Suddenly, I’m on Tristan’s lap, pounding my fists against his ridiculously firm chest.

“You stupid bastard! You can’t die because you are pig-headed about some medieval ideas about honour! You fucking motherfucker!”

Oh fuck me. Now I am crying. Can this day get any worse?

Tristan’s arms wrap around me and now I’m smooshed against the chest I was just hitting. I suck in a breath and get a lungful of his delicious manly scent, which just makes me cry even harder.

This is such a load of bollocks. I’m crying. He is holding me. It is becoming too much of a habit.

One that I don’t ever want to end.