Fey Regency (Fey Lords #3)

36. Chapter 36

Chapter thirty-six

W hy am I so flipping nervous? It is just a door. Knocking on it is not some monumental challenge.

Grimacing, I force my hand to move and to rap out a confident sounding knock. Rhydian is very unlikely to be in his rooms, being king can’t give you much free time. So it is just going to be Jamie who is home, and he isn’t scary.

Suddenly, the door yanks open. Just wide enough for a short, ferocious person with an abundance of bright pink hair to fill the gap and glare at me.

I take a cautious step backwards.

“Who’s at the door, Pinky?” calls someone who sounds like Jamie.

Pinky scowls at me but opens the door wide, allowing me to see the bright living room. Jamie is sitting on a plump sofa, holding a tablet and wearing a pair of cat-ear headphones.

He hastily pulls them off. “Ollie!” he exclaims brightly. “Come in!”

I eye Pinky uneasily as I scuttle past her. But she doesn’t attack. She merely shuts the door.

“Pinky, bring us tea and cakes, please,” says Jamie, as he gestures for me to follow him over to the large table that is under a huge window. It is very similar to Tristan’s rooms and the not-quite familiarity is making me feel a bit disorientated.

I take the seat Jamie offers me, just as a hoard of pink-haired people rush in and efficiently set the table with tea and a dizzying array of tiny cakes. What is it with this place and tea and food? I mean, I’m not at all complaining, heaven knows I love tea and food. But the obsession is a little odd.

Jamie pours tea from the fancy teapot like a pro. Even the cups are gorgeous. Being surrounded by nice things is really nice. I am definitely appreciating it.

I heap a ton of pretty cakes onto my plate. They look delicious. But I’m not going to wimp out and allow myself to get distracted. I came here for a reason. And it wasn’t cake.

“I…um…was wondering if you knew how Llywelyn is?” I stammer.

It feels good to get the words out. Images of Llywelyn’s silent tears have been haunting me relentlessly.

Jamie blinks at me, and then he smiles. “Oh god! I’m so glad it is not just me who is worried! Sometimes I wonder if fey are born without hearts.”

I nod. That doesn’t answer my question, but hopefully Jamie will get to that in a minute.

He pops a yellow cake into his mouth. “I’ve been trying to find out.”

I take a sip of my tea. My stupid stomach is being all queasy.

“He won’t see me,” Jamie says sadly. “So I’ve been trying to find out who his friends are. ”

He sighs and puts his cup down without drinking from it. “Either no one is talking to me. Or they are taking this resyn stuff super seriously. Or.” He pauses and looks right at me. “Llywelyn doesn’t have any friends.”

My stomach twists and there is a nasty taste in my mouth. “He is an asshole. It is hardly surprising that he doesn’t have any friends.”

This is my area of expertise. I know everything there is to know about being an unlikeable bastard.

Jamie sighs and sips his tea. “Does he not have any friends because he is an asshole? Or is he an asshole because he has no one?”

Ouch. That hurts. It is hitting entirely too close to home. Driving everyone away and not giving a shit, is one thing. Being a sad, lonely twat, is quite another. Personally, I want to be the first one. I’d much prefer it to be my fault. Craving connection and being constantly rejected… that’s just too painful to even think about.

“We need to check on him,” I say firmly. I have to focus on Llywelyn, and not fall down a pit of self-analysis. And I really, really don’t want to start thinking of the asshole prince as any sort of kindred spirit. There are limits to my empathy.

Jamie nods enthusiastically. “But how?”

I stare at the little twink in exasperation. How can anyone be so clueless?

“Aren’t you married to Rhydian?” I ask.

A big stupid grin spreads across Jamie’s face, and his eyes light up. It is sickening to watch.

“Yes.” He nods.

“And he is like the king?” I say. Holy stars, it is like talking to a child .

Jamie gives me a confused look and another nod.

I sigh heavily. “So that makes you like the queen. You can go where you like and see who you want. No one can stop you.”

I have no idea if this is true or not. But it should be, and it is absolutely how I would behave if I was the queen.

Jamie sits up straight. “You are right! I am the queen!”

Despite my best efforts, a smile stretches across my face. Jamie grins back at me.

“Let’s go see Llywelyn!” he declares proudly.

He slides off his chair and strides towards the door. I scramble after him. “Right now?”

“Yes!”

Okay. Fair enough. It is exactly what I asked for. I’m just a little surprised that my motivational speech has had such an instantaneous effect. Maybe it is a skill I never knew I had.

I follow Jamie as he walks confidently through Buckingham Palace. I’m glad one of us knows their way around this place.

We walk and walk. And walk some more. I swear we are at the other end of the palace when we finally stop outside a pair of fancy double doors. Why are Llywelyn’s rooms all the way out here? His brothers’ rooms all seem to be fairly close together.

Jamie knocks on the door. Confidently. With no hesitation at all. I am impressed.

Nothing happens. Jamie knocks again, more forcefully this time. The door silently swings open. Like something from a horror movie. Except the hinges don’t creak. Nevertheless, it is still really fucking ominous .

Jamie looks at me. I nod, and together we step into Llywelyn’s rooms.

The first room is a sitting room. Large, light and airy. Tall windows. Impressive fireplace. Scattered with furniture. It is a lot like his brothers’ rooms. But there is clearly no one here.

Silently, we drift around the space. Where is he? It doesn’t seem likely that he is galavanting around court without a care in the world. This resyn stuff seems serious, and losing a duel surely warrants hiding in your rooms and licking your wounds for at least a few days?

I head for the fireplace. As I approach the wingback chair, I see what looks like a knitting basket. What the hell? I cannot picture Llywelyn sitting by the fire, knitting. It doesn’t make any sense at all.

I continue exploring. There is a huge bookcase absolutely stuffed with books. The titles look harmless, but I’m sure they have to be about achieving world domination, or how to be a dick, or something similar.

Gingerly, I poke my head around what I’m guessing is the bedchamber door. I find a huge four-poster bed decked in gold quilts. But no Llywelyn.

My eyes fall on a shelf. It is laden with what looks like stuffed toys. Bears, foxes, deer and other woodland animals. They have freaky buttons for eyes. Could they be voodoo dolls? Please let them be voodoo dolls. That’s a whole lot less horrifying than learning that the man I caused an awful thing to happen to, frigging collects stuffies.

I hurry out of the bedchamber and find Jamie staring down at the tabletop. I join him and see a half finished game of solitaire neatly laid out .

Solitaire. Playing a card game by yourself. In a palace. Surrounded by hundreds of people. While living with your family.

My throat tightens. Fucking hell. This sucks.

“We shouldn’t have come,” whispers Jamie.

He is right. This is a massive invasion of privacy. Haven’t I already done enough to Llywelyn? I should just leave the poor man alone.

My gaze flicks to the door that presumably leads to the rest of his rooms. Now that we are here, we should check. What if he has done something stupid and is lying there hurt?

I look at Jamie, and he nods. He understands my intention and my train of thought.

Wordlessly, I head towards the far door. I take a deep breath. But all I find is another empty room. On the other side, another door is half open, revealing a glimpse of a fancy bathroom. The type with a swimming pool sized sunken bath.

It would be stupid not to check in there.

I gulp. I take another deep breath. I step towards it. Jamie is trailing hesitantly behind me. I don’t blame him. Coming here was all my idea. Llywelyn being upset is all my fault. Going first is the least I can do.

Warily, I step into the white-tiled bathroom.

Suddenly, a blast of cold air hits me in the face. I stagger back, but a hand grabs the front of my robes and yanks me forward. Everything is black and spinning. Oh fuck. It is a portal. Some motherfucker has pulled me into a portal.

I land on my hands and knees. Coughing, spluttering and wheezing. I am never, ever going to enjoy that.

I look up and freeze .

Oh fuck. It is him.

The one who gave me a dagger and started all of this.

It is the emo boy from the alley.