Chapter 23
Chapter twenty-three
Dyfri
Iwatch Jack pace around our living room like a caged animal, presumably still processing our afternoon at court. He’s been restless ever since we returned, running his hands through his hair and muttering under his breath.
He has no idea how well he actually performed.
“You’re going to wear a hole in the carpet,” I observe mildly, settling into the armchair with a glass of wine.
As I tuck my legs up onto the seat and lean comfortably to the side, the words Tristan’s rude little pet said to me months ago ring in my ears.
You sit like a bottom.
I frown and fight the urge to put my legs down. What utter nonsense. I shake my head and turn my attention back to Jack.
“Do you wish for company, or is this a solo sport?”
Jack stops pacing and looks at me with something approaching exasperation. “How are you so calm about this? Your brother spent the entire afternoon studying me like I was some sort of lab specimen.”
“Because that’s exactly what he was doing,” I reply. “And you passed.”
“Passed what, exactly?”
I take a sip of wine, considering how much to reveal. “Rhydian was determining whether you’re a threat to me.”
Jack’s expression shifts. “A threat? How could I be a threat to you?”
The question is so genuinely bewildered that something warm unfurls in my chest. He truly doesn’t understand his own capacity for harm, does he?
This large, muscular man, who could break me in half without breaking a sweat if I ever lowered my guard or was taken unaware, and he can’t fathom how he might be dangerous.
It’s... endearing. And terrifying in equal measure.
“You’re considerably larger than I am,” I say carefully, repressing a shudder. Jack doesn’t need to know everything, but he can know this. “You are physically stronger. And you were essentially given ownership of me through marriage. From a fey perspective, that makes you inherently dangerous.”
“Ownership?” Jack’s voice rises slightly. “I don’t own you. Marriage isn’t ownership.”
“Isn’t it?” I meet his eyes directly. “Human marriage, perhaps not. But fey marriage customs are... different. I am your consort. You own me, and I must obey you.”
Jack goes very still. “Dyfri.”
“It’s fine,” I say quickly. “Rhydian was simply ensuring you understand that I’m not to be... misused. And you clearly do understand that, which is why he approved of you.”
“He approved of me?”
“Oh yes. Quite thoroughly, I’d say.” I smile, remembering the moment Jack’s expression had shifted to pure fury when he looked at my brother. “Particularly when you made it clear exactly what you think of my former status at court.”
Jack flushes. “You noticed that?”
“Rather difficult to miss. You looked like you wanted to reach across the table and throttle him.” The memory sends a small thrill through me. “It was... unexpected.”
“Unexpected how?”
I set down my wineglass, suddenly finding it difficult to maintain eye contact. “Very few people have ever been angry on my behalf before. Not like that.”
The words slip out before I can stop them, more honest than I intended. Jack’s expression softens immediately, and I have to look away before the gentleness in his eyes unmakes me completely.
“Dyfri,” he says softly, moving closer. “Look at me.”
I don’t want to. Looking at him when he is using a tone like this is dangerous. It makes me want things I’ve spent a lifetime learning not to want.
“Please.”
I lift my eyes to his, and immediately regret it. There’s something fierce and protective in his expression that makes my chest tight.
“Your brother is an arse,” Jack says firmly. “A complete and utter arse for letting anyone hurt you. And if he thinks a few polite words about ‘treating you kindly’ make up for years of doing nothing while you suffered, he’s deluded.”
The vehemence in his voice does something strange to my equilibrium. “Jack...”
He stops his rant and gives me his full attention. Another sign that he respects me. Another marker of his inherent goodness.
“Rhydian did what he could. His power is not absolute. No rulers are. Power is given when people choose to bestow it upon you. They can withdraw it at any time.”
Jack’s pretty colour-changing eyes narrow. He is not convinced.
I take a deep breath. I can’t believe I am about to share this. I have never explicitly told a soul. Yet for some reason, when I look into Jack’s eyes, I wish to spill all my secrets. Every last one.
“Rhydian avenged me. Quite brutally.”
Jack’s eyes widen.
“The man who made me a rhocyn… didn’t live for long, and his death was horrific.”
Jack runs his hand over his face and then through his hair. He lets out a heavy sigh.
“He is still an arse.”
A wry snort of amusement escapes me.
“No, I mean it. I don’t care if he’s the Crown Prince or the bloody King of the Universe. He failed you. And I will never, ever fail you like that.”
The promise hangs in the air between us, fierce and sincere and absolutely terrifying. Because I want to believe him. I want to believe that this large, gentle man will keep his word, will stand between me and harm, will choose me over duty or politics or self-preservation.
But wanting something doesn’t make it true. And the last time I hoped someone would protect me...
The memory rises unbidden. Large hands, cruel laughter, the feeling of being completely powerless while someone much stronger than me took what they wanted. The burning shame. The way Rhydian had looked right through me afterward, as if what happened was simply the natural order of things.
I must make some sound, because suddenly Jack is there, kneeling beside my chair with worry written all over his face.
“Hey,” he says gently. “Where did you go?”
I blink, realising I’ve been gripping the arms of the chair hard enough to leave marks. “Nowhere. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Close enough. The ghosts of my past have a tendency to surface at the most inconvenient moments.
“Just... memories,” I admit reluctantly. “Sometimes they sneak up on me.”
I can’t believe I am confessing this. What has come over me? Why does Jack affect me like this? I’ve worked hard at always being composed. Cold, aloof and mocking. I have a reputation to uphold, and at this rate it is going to be in tatters.
Jack’s expression grows impossibly tender. “Bad memories?”
“The worst.” I hear myself say.
Jack reaches for my hands, pausing to ask permission with a look. I nod, and he gently pries them away from the chair arms. His touch is warm, careful, and completely non-threatening. Everything that other touch from my unwanted memories was not.
“You’re safe now,” he says quietly. “I know that probably sounds hollow, given everything that’s happened to you. But you’re safe with me. I promise.”
I want to believe him. Goddess, how I want to believe him. But promises are a game to wriggle out of for fey. And simply words to humans, and words are easy to break when something more important comes along.
“Jack,” I start, but he cuts me off.
“I saw how you looked today when Jamie hugged you. Like you weren’t sure if you were allowed to enjoy it. And the way you flinched when Rhydian moved too quickly. You’re still expecting someone to hurt you.”
The observation is far too perceptive for comfort. “I’m fine.”
He is making me sound weak. Like some sad creature to be pitied. I don’t like it, but I know he means well.
“You’re not fine. And that’s not your fault.” Jack’s thumbs stroke gently across my knuckles. “Whatever happened to you, whoever did it, it wasn’t because you deserved it. You know that, right?”
Do I? Sometimes I’m not sure. The logical part of my mind understands that what happened was a function of politics and power, not a personal failing.
But logic and emotion are different beasts, and my emotions have been shaped by a lifetime of being told I was lucky to receive whatever scraps of attention came my way.
“I’m working on it,” I say finally.
“Good. That’s all anyone can do.” Jack’s smile is soft, understanding. “And in the meantime, I’ll just have to prove to you that not all large men are threats.”
The statement should be reassuring. Instead, it makes me realise just how much I’ve already come to trust him. When did that happen? When did I stop seeing Jack as a potential danger and start seeing him as... what? Safety? Home? Someone who stands by my side?
The thought is terrifying. I walk through life alone. It’s my thing. I don’t fully trust anyone. I’ve carved an existence out of it. I’ve used it to claw my way to power and influence. The idea of losing it is overwhelming.
What if I lose my loneliness only to be betrayed? I could not survive that. It would break me.
“What if you change your mind?” The question escapes before I can stop it. “What if you decide I’m too much trouble? Too damaged?”
“Then I’d be an idiot.” Jack’s response is immediate, certain. “Dyfri, you’re not too much of anything. You’re brilliant and brave and you’ve survived things that would have destroyed most people. If anything, I’m not sure I deserve you.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. Not sure he deserves me? This kind, genuine man who makes me feel seen for the first time in forever?
“That’s ridiculous,” I manage.
“Is it? You’re a prince. You’re gorgeous and intelligent, and you speak about six languages fluently. You coordinate international conspiracies in your spare time. I play rugby and know a bit about constitutional law.”
“You’re underselling yourself.”
“Am I? Because sometimes I look at you and wonder what the hell you see in me. What could I possibly offer someone like you?”
The vulnerability in his voice breaks something open in my chest. How can he not know? How can this wonderful man not see his own worth?
“You offer kindness,” I say quietly. “Without expecting anything in return. You give gifts just to see someone smile. You cook terrible food with the best intentions. You defend people who can’t defend themselves, even when it costs you.”
Jack’s eyes are very wide, very green in this light.
“You make me feel safe,” I continue, the words pouring out before I can stop them. “For the first time in my life, I wake up in the morning and don’t immediately calculate potential threats. Because you’re there, and somehow that makes everything else manageable.”
Jack’s breath catches. “Dyfri...”
“You asked what you offer,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “You offer hope. And I haven’t had that in a very long time.”
For a moment, neither of us speaks, and all I can hear is the pounding of my heart. Then Jack moves, settling on the floor beside my chair and resting his head against my knee like a large, loyal dire wolf.
“We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?” he says softly. “You think you’re too damaged to deserve love, and I think I’m too ordinary to deserve you.”
“Perhaps we’re both idiots.”
“Perhaps we are.”
I let my hand settle in his hair, marvelling at how soft it is, how right this feels. Tomorrow we’ll go back to planning treason and managing the careful dance of our public roles. But right now, in this moment, we’re just two people who’ve found something precious in each other.
Something worth protecting.
Something worth fighting for.
And I have never been more scared.