Chapter 22
Chapter twenty-two
Jack
I’m heading back from the briefing room when I nearly collide with Dad in the corridor. He’s coming out of his private office, looking harried in the way that means he’s been dealing with particularly stubborn MPs all morning.
“Jack!” His face brightens when he sees me. “Perfect timing. Walk with me?”
I fall into step beside him, trying to ignore the guilt that immediately starts gnawing at my stomach. “Everything alright?”
“Just the usual circus. Though I wanted to ask how things are going with...” He pauses, glancing around to make sure we’re not overheard. “How are you finding married life? I know it’s been an adjustment.”
The casual concern in his voice makes the guilt worse.
Here’s my father, genuinely worried about my wellbeing, and I’m plotting the overthrow of the government he’s trying to hold together.
Because while surrendering to the fey was the right thing to do, Dad’s government is now entwined with the fey court.
Rebellion against one is rebellion against the other. No matter how much I hate that fact.
“Marriage... is good,” I say carefully. “Better than I expected, actually.”
“Really?” Dad looks relieved. “I was worried we’d thrown you into an impossible situation. Arranged marriages aren’t exactly a modern practice.”
“No, it’s... Dyfri’s not what I expected. He’s...” I search for words that won’t reveal too much. “He’s brilliant. Witty. We understand each other better than I thought we would.”
“I’m so glad to hear that.” Dad’s smile is genuine, warm. “I’ve been feeling rather guilty about the whole thing, to be honest. Asking you to marry a stranger for political reasons. It’s not exactly what I envisioned for your life.”
The guilt threatens to choke me. “Dad...”
“I know you didn’t have much choice in the matter,” he continues. “But seeing you these past few weeks, you seem... happier. More settled. I was hoping that meant things were working out.”
“They are,” I manage. “Really. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Good. That’s good.” He squeezes my shoulder as we reach the main staircase. “I know this hasn’t been easy for either of you. If there’s anything you need, anything at all...”
“I know. Thank you.”
As he heads off to his next meeting, I stand there watching him go, feeling like the worst son in history. He’s trying so hard to hold everything together, to make the best of an impossible situation. And here I am, planning to destroy everything he’s working toward.
But it’s the right thing to do. It has to be.
Doesn’t it?
Dad’s plan is acquiescence. Survival by not being a threat. Negotiating for scraps of power.
My plan risks more but gains everything. As Dyfri said, some goals are worth the sacrifice, and he’s right, isn’t he?
By the time I make it back to our flat, the guilt has settled into a familiar ache in my chest. I’m still wrestling with it when I find Dyfri in the living room, looking perfectly composed in a way that suggests he’s about to deliver news I won’t like.
“Good,” he says when he sees me. “You’re back. We’ve been invited to tea.”
“Tea?” I blink at him. “With whom?”
“My brother. Crown Prince Rhydian has requested our presence at court this afternoon.”
My blood runs cold. “He’s requested... why?”
“Ostensibly to welcome you properly to the family.” Dyfri’s smile is sharp. “Though I suspect he simply wants to assess whether you’re a threat.”
“Am I? A threat, I mean?”
“Absolutely.” Dyfri stands with fluid grace. “But he doesn’t need to know that.”
Thirty minutes later, we’re stepping through a portal directly into what can only be described as the most intimidating receiving room in existence.
Everything is white marble and soaring ceilings, with windows that look out onto impossible gardens where the flowers seem to glow with their own light.
Two people are waiting for us.
Crown Prince Rhydian always strikes me as being exactly what anyone would expect from a fey ruler and somehow worse.
He’s tall, probably six and a half feet, with the sort of pale beauty that belongs on classical sculptures.
His hair falls in pale braids and twists past his shoulders, and the antlers rising from his temples are magnificent and terrible, like a crown made of winter branches.
When those amber eyes fix on me, I feel like an insect being examined by something infinitely more powerful.
The man beside him is... not what I expected at all. I saw him very briefly at the wedding, but I had other things on my mind that day, and I clearly didn’t register him fully.
He’s small, barely five foot five, with dark brown hair and warm hazel eyes. He’s pretty in a completely human way, but wears fey robes as if he was born in them. When he sees us, his face lights up with genuine pleasure.
“Dyfri!” he exclaims, bouncing slightly on his feet. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much. How are you? Are you well? Are you happy? Is married life treating you kindly?”
The rapid-fire questions make me blink, but Dyfri’s expression softens in a way I rarely see.
Then Jamie launches himself at Dyfri, wrapping him in a tight hug, which my husband bears with stoic grace and a long-suffering sigh. But I can see the delight shining in his dark eyes.
“Hello, Jamie,” he says gently. “I’m well. Very well, actually.”
“Good, because I’ve been so worried,” Jamie says as he steps back and releases Dyfri. “And Rhydian keeps telling me I’m being ridiculous, but I can’t help it, and...” Jamie stops himself, flushing pink. “Sorry. I’m babbling. I do that when I’m nervous.”
“You’re always nervous,” Dyfri points out with fond amusement.
“I am not! Well, not always. Just... often.” Jamie’s blush deepens. “Anyway, you must be Jack!” He turns to me with a smile so bright it’s slightly overwhelming. “I’m Jamie. Rhydian’s consort. Husband. Whatever you want to call it.”
“Nice to meet you,” I manage, still trying to reconcile this cheerful, ordinary-seeming man with the imposing figure beside him.
“Tea?” Rhydian suggests, his voice carrying the sort of quiet authority that makes it less suggestion than command.
The next hour is possibly the most surreal of my life.
We sit around a delicate table drinking tea from cups that probably cost more than most people’s cars, while Jamie keeps up a steady stream of friendly chatter.
He asks about my family, about parliamentary customs, about how I’m finding fey food.
All perfectly innocent questions delivered with such genuine warmth that I can’t help but like him.
Rhydian, meanwhile, says virtually nothing. He just watches me with those unnerving amber eyes, as if he’s cataloguing every word, every gesture, every micro-expression for later analysis.
It’s bloody terrifying.
Then I remember that this man is Dyfri’s big brother. This man allowed Dyfri to be made a rhocyn. This crown prince sitting across from me did absolutely nothing to help Dyfri for all the years that my wonderful husband suffered.
I let the full force of my fury and disgust show in my eyes. He deserves Dyfri’s betrayal.
Rhydian blinks carefully. His expression shifts ever so slightly. Some new emotion swirls in his strangely coloured eyes. I think it might be a begrudging respect.
“So what was it like, meeting Dyfri for the first time?” Jamie asks, refilling my cup with practiced ease.
“I remember when I first met Rhydian, I thought I was going to die of fright. He’s very intimidating, isn’t he?
All tall and brooding and...” He glances at his husband with unmistakable affection. “Well, you know.”
“It was... overwhelming,” I admit.
“I bet! Big change from playing rugby, I imagine. Speaking of which, you must miss it terribly. All that running about and...” Jamie pauses, his expression becoming slightly uncertain. “Actually, I don’t really know much about rugby. Is it the one with the funny-shaped ball?”
“That’s American football. Rugby balls are... well, they’re still oddly shaped, I suppose.”
“Right! See, I told you I don’t know anything about sports.” Jamie laughs, but there’s something slightly forced about it now. “Though I’m sure you’re much happier doing... other things. More important things. Diplomatic things.”
There’s an odd emphasis on ‘diplomatic’ that makes me wonder what exactly he knows about my role here.
“Jamie,” Dyfri says gently, and there’s a warning in his voice.
“Right, yes, sorry. I just meant... well, it must be nice having someone who understands politics and such.” Jamie fidgets with his teacup. “Someone who can... navigate complicated situations.”
Rhydian’s eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t speak.
“I’m still learning,” I say carefully.
“Of course you are. It takes time to adjust, doesn’t it? New place, new people, new... responsibilities.” Jamie seems to realise he’s wandering into dangerous territory and changes the subject abruptly. “Anyway, Dyfri, how are you finding married life? You seem different. Happier.”
“Do I?” Dyfri’s smile is perfectly controlled. “How gratifying.”
“You do, though. There’s something... I don’t know, more relaxed about you. Less...” Jamie glances at his own husband. “Less like you’re waiting for the next terrible thing to happen.”
The words hit closer to home than I think Jamie realises. Because Dyfri does seem more relaxed lately. More himself. But watching him now, sitting calmly under his brother’s intense scrutiny while discussing treason disguised as small talk, I’m struck by how perfectly he’s playing his role.
He gives nothing away. Not the slightest hint that he’s anything other than what he appears to be. A fey prince and younger brother dutifully fulfilling his diplomatic obligations.
Which version is real? The man who held me while I processed the horror of what he’d survived? The brilliant strategist coordinating with dangerous rebels? Or this perfectly composed diplomat who could probably lie about the weather and make it sound convincing?
The thought makes me uncomfortable. What if I’m just another part of his cover? Another role he’s playing to maintain his position?
I push the thought away almost as soon as it forms. That’s not fair. Whatever else might be true, this thing happening between us is real. The way he looks at me when he thinks no one’s watching is real.
Isn’t it?
“Jack?” Jamie’s voice pulls me back to the conversation. “Sorry, I asked if you’re finding fey culture interesting, but you looked a bit distant there.”
“Just thinking,” I say. “It’s... certainly different from anything I’m used to.”
“I imagine so. All the magic and politics and...” Jamie catches himself again, that same uncertain look crossing his face. “Well, anyway, I’m sure Dyfri’s taking good care of you.”
“He is,” I say, glancing at my husband. “Very good care.”
Something flickers in Dyfri’s expression, too quick to interpret.
When the tea finally ends and we’re preparing to leave, Rhydian speaks directly to me for the first time all afternoon.
“Treat him well,” he says quietly, his voice carrying an undertone I can’t quite identify. “He deserves kindness.”
The words sound almost like a threat.
“I intend to,” I reply, meeting his gaze as steadily and as sternly as I can. I’m already treating Dyfri far better than this bastard ever did.
Those amber eyes study me for a long moment. Then he nods, apparently satisfied.
“Good,” he says simply.
As we step back through the portal into our flat, I find myself shaking slightly. Whether from nerves or relief, I can’t tell.
“Well,” Dyfri says casually, as if we’ve just returned from a pleasant afternoon stroll rather than the most intense tea party of my life. “That went well.”
“Did it?” I stare at him. “Your brother looked like he wanted to dissect me.”
“Rhydian looks like that at everyone. It’s just his face.” Dyfri moves to pour himself a drink, perfectly calm. “Besides, if he wanted you dead, you’d already be dead.”
“That’s... not actually reassuring.”
“Wasn’t meant to be.” Dyfri’s smile is sharp. “Welcome to fey politics, darling. Everything is a test.”
Watching him now, so perfectly in control, I can’t help but wonder what else might be a test. What else might be just another move in a game I don’t fully understand.
The thought unsettles me more than Rhydian’s intimidating stare ever could.