Fey Divinity (Fey Lords #6)

Chapter 1

Chapter one

Even just looking at a photo of Prince Dyfri Y Mhorrighanogi is enough to wither my nuts. Not because he is ugly. No, far from it. It’s because he is the most beautiful person I have ever seen and that makes me feel every single kind of inadequate.

And today is the day where I have to face him in person. In an hour, I will be staring into those dark eyes for real and trying to remember how to talk while desperately trying not to make a complete prat of myself.

God help me. God help us all. Because this isn’t just about me.

This is about the fate of my country. The fate of humanity.

This is an olde-worlde arranged marriage like something out of the history books.

Actually, since it involves portals from other worlds and otherworldly beings, I guess it is more like a fantasy book.

Fuck my life.

How did this happen? How am I standing here in 10 Downing Street trying to put this bloody tie on, and about to meet a fey prince who I am going to marry? All for the sake of peace and prosperity.

I know I’m not dreaming, because my imagination has never been this good. I was never blessed with ambition either. All I’ve ever really cared about is my friends, rugby, and having a beer. Even Dad becoming Prime Minister was a bit too much for me.

Now, somehow I have to deal with all of this.

Suddenly, there is a sharp rap on the door behind me, then it swings open and Dad steps in. His brown eyes go straight to my fumbling hands, and he strides forward and takes over. I stand still while he knots my tie for me, and I try not to feel like I’m twelve years old again.

“I’m proud of you, Son,” he says.

I wince. That was definitely a line his aide told him to say.

“Thanks,” I mutter.

He finishes with my tie and moves his hands to my shoulders, where he squeezes.

“It’s going to be okay,” he says.

That sounds more like him. But I’m not sure if he is trying to reassure me or himself.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I blurt.

His grip tightens on my shoulders. “Yes. All my advisors agree. MI5 are very keen on it. They assure me they can learn far more than the prince will be able to discover about us.”

“But…”

“Jack,” he interrupts. “You don’t need to worry about any of that. All you need to do is be nice to him. Be your charming, affable self. Everything else will be taken care of.”

My shoulders slump. Dad is right. I don’t have the brains for anything else. The best I can do is to be the big, dumb distraction.

Dad’s hands drop away from my shoulders. His gaze drops to the floor, and he shifts position uncomfortably.

“I… I’m sorry,” he begins. “I’m sorry I asked you to only date girls and then, as soon as it suited me, asked you to come out.”

My breath stutters for a moment. “It’s fine. It’s all for the greater good.”

He looks up and flashes me a weak, sad smile while his eyes fill with grief. As if he is sending me off to war.

“Ready to go?” he says, far too brightly.

“Ready as ever!” I say, just as falsely.

The drive to Buckingham Palace takes five minutes. It’s one point one mile away. Before the fey invaded, traffic would make the journey take eleven minutes. Now, the streets of London are eerily quiet.

As we pull up, I wish the journey had taken eleven minutes. I would have had double the amount of time to brace myself. Although it probably still would not have been long enough.

Our security team open the car doors and quickly whisk us inside. My first glimpse of the interior of Buckingham Palace, shows that not much has changed. My stomach still rolls though. I’m under strict instructions not to ask what happened to our royal family. I’m not even allowed to mention them.

We are shown to a pleasant reception room, and my shoulders ease a little. This really is going to be as informal as everyone is claiming. Well, as informal as a meeting between invaders and a conquered people ever can be.

I take my place, standing by Dad’s side, just as the double doors on the far side of the room open, and the fey entourage enters.

I recognise Crown Prince Rhydian Y Mabinogi immediately. Tall, strikingly handsome, with long pale hair and the proud antlers of a stag.

Dad bows and elbows me. Hastily, I awkwardly bow too. As I straighten, I find Prince Rhydian’s amber eyes blazing right into me. From barely an inch away.

I bite back my yelp and meet his gaze as best I can.

“You are Jack Caxton?” he snaps in a low voice meant for my ears only.

“Yes?” I say, somehow managing to make it sound like a question.

“No. This will not do. You must leave,” orders the prince in the same quiet, yet deadly tone.

I force a swallow down my throat. I’m not that ugly, am I?

I turn to Dad for guidance. I think he is close enough to have heard what the prince said, though I’m pretty sure no one else would have.

But now the double doors are opening again, and the press we brought with us are going wild. Cameras are flashing. The YouTubers are talking excitedly into their GoPros.

Amidst all the chaos, Prince Dyfri glides serenely into the room. My breath stutters. Oh my fucking god, he is a million times more gorgeous in real life. His dark eyes seem to find me immediately, and a strange expression flows over his beautiful face. Something akin to dread. My stomach twists.

Our respective entourages move, drag us both along helplessly like driftwood on the tide, and suddenly we are standing next to one another in the middle of the room.

I blink, and suddenly the crowds have stepped back and are pretending to drink and mingle and acting as if they are not staring at us. It is a thin veneer of privacy.

“You’re Jack Caxton?” whispers Prince Dyfri, echoing his brother’s words.

“Yes. Sorry.”

Shit, now I’m apologising instead of questioning my own name. I have no idea if this is an improvement or a step backwards.

“You’re tall.”

“Six foot seven,” I supply automatically as I brace myself for questions such as ‘how’s the weather up there?’

But they don’t come. Dyfri’s dark eyes just take a long, lingering sweep of my body. He’s not exactly short, but he is all slender. Willowy and graceful. All the things I am not.

“I used to play professional rugby,” I offer.

Dyfri stares at me blankly. Crap. Fey probably don’t have Rugby.

“It’s a sport. With a ball. Lots of pushing and shoving.” Oh lord, what is this nonsense coming out of my mouth? “My shoulders are twenty-one inches.” Okay, I need to shut up now. Like right now. Several minutes ago would have been better, but right now is going to have to do.

“Are you fully human?” Dyfri asks.

I feel my eyebrows rise. “As far as I know?” Oh gosh, back with the sounding-like-a-question.

There is a drink in my hand, and I have no idea how it got there. But I’m very glad that it’s here because now I can gulp it down while an uncomfortable silence stretches and stretches.

And stretches some more.

“I guess you saw that photo of me at the state banquet!” I blurt. “I’m sitting down in that, and the black tux makes me look smaller. And the lighting is flattering too. Probably the only good photo of me in existence. Of course, it helps that it was taken before I broke my nose.”

Dyfri is staring at me. I might be paranoid, but I swear he is giving me a look of profound disappointment.

“Dad tries to keep me out of the public eye,” I explain, completely unnecessarily because I’m pretty sure Prince Dyfri has already figured out why that is a good idea.

This is a disaster. This marriage is going to be a nightmare. He is out of my league. He’s a dangerous spy. He thinks I’m ugly, and if I don’t manage to shut up soon, he is going to know for sure that I’m stupid as well.

“Sorry I’m an only child,” I hear myself say. “I have a cousin who is pansexual like me. And you know, it’s very unlikely that Dad is going to win the next election.”

Oh Jesus save me. Shut me up. Please. Anybody.

Dyfri takes an elegant sip of his drink. “You think there is going to be another election? That’s cute.”

My swallow gets stuck halfway down my throat, resulting in the loudest gulping sound I have ever heard. Dyfri just continues to stare at me, politely pretending not to have heard it.

This close, I can see how flawless his pale skin is. I can see how his eyes are even darker than any photo shows, and that his waist-length hair is so black it has a faint sheen to it.

I can also see that his sharp cheekbones and black, curling horns are not a costume. He is gorgeous and deadly, and I’m already fucking everything up.

He sighs, and even that weary sound is musical and refined.

“We are both adults,” he says. “We both want what’s best. I’m sure we can make this work.”

I blink, and now I’m the one staring. That’s awfully forgiving and understanding of him. I didn’t think the fey were that kind.

Or maybe he really doesn’t care who he marries as long as it gets him access to 10 Downing Street and my dad.

All you need to do is be nice to him.

That’s what my dad said. I can do that. Can’t I? I mean, I’m nice to everyone. Of course I’m going to be nice to my husband. Especially since he is going to be living with humans and away from his people.

“At least you’ll just be down the road,” I say cheerily. “You can pop back to the palace anytime you like.”

Dyfri’s eyes dart around the room. He shudders slightly. So slightly that it is only because I’m so close that I see it at all. He lifts his glass to his lips. “That won’t be necessary.”

Suddenly, Prince Rhydian is right beside us. Glaring at me with fierce eyes. I quickly jerk into a clumsy bow.

Dyfri sinks down into a graceful curtsy and lowers his head.

“I’m ending this function early,” growls the Crown Prince.

“There is no need, Your Highness,” Dyfri says meekly, with his head still down.

The Crown Prince scowls, but strides away without deigning to share another word. Dyfri lifts his head and stares at his brother’s retreating back with a strange expression.

My stomach twists. I know this is a public setting, formal even though everyone is claiming it is not. But seeing Dyfri having to be so deferential to his own brother is rubbing me the wrong way.

“Is he always such an ass?”

The words echo around me. My lungs inhale sharply. Oh fuck, please don’t tell me I said that out loud?

I stare at Dyfri with open-mouthed horror. He smirks back at me, flashing a quick grin that lights up his eyes for a moment.

“Yes,” he says calmly. Then, he takes another sip of his drink.

My lungs do something strange as they struggle to remember how to work. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Shrugs Dyfri.

And now he is staring at me again. But this time he is allowing me to see things. Lowering his walls a little. And what I see makes my heart ache.

I was right that he doesn’t care who he marries. But I don’t think it is because he wants access to Downing Street.

I think he is desperate to get away from here.