Chapter 29
Chapter twenty-nine
Jack
Iwake to the unfamiliar weight of another person in my arms. For a moment, I’m utterly disoriented, blinking in the soft morning light filtering through the curtains.
Then memory floods back, and I turn my head to find Dyfri curled against my side, his dark hair spread across the pillow like spilled ink. One arm and one leg flung over me.
He’s still asleep, and I love watching him like this.
When his face is peaceful in a way I never see when he’s awake.
Gone are the careful masks, the political calculations, the constant vigilance that seems to be his default state.
Instead, he looks younger, softer, almost vulnerable in the golden morning light.
Yesterday was extraordinary. Not just the physical intimacy, though that had been revelatory in ways I’m still processing, but the emotional breakthrough that came with it. The trust he’d shown me, the way he’d let his walls down completely. I can hardly believe it’s real.
I slip out of bed carefully, trying not to wake him.
He looks so peaceful, so deeply asleep in a way that fills me with quiet pride.
I’ve helped him feel safe enough to rest properly, to let down his guard completely.
After everything he’s been through, all the years of vigilance and self-protection, he trusts me enough to be this vulnerable.
I make my way to the kitchen and order a full English breakfast from the main kitchen staff.
Eggs, bacon, sausage, black pudding, baked beans, grilled tomatoes, mushrooms, and toast. Comfort food at its finest. After yesterday’s intense negotiations and last night’s emotional breakthroughs, I’m absolutely ravenous.
I’m halfway through demolishing the plate when Dyfri appears in the doorway. He’s wearing a flowing nightgown that pools around his bare feet, his dark hair tousled and messy in a way that’s utterly endearing. No careful styling, just sleepy and rumpled and completely natural.
My heart does something ridiculous at the sight. This is what trust looks like. This is Dyfri feeling safe enough to be imperfect around me.
“Good morning,” I say, grinning at him. “Sleep well?”
He nods, still looking half-asleep, moving with that languid grace that somehow makes even his sleepy shuffle look elegant.
But then his gaze focuses on my breakfast, and something shifts in his expression.
A flash of alarm that cuts through his drowsiness like a knife, his eyes going wide and alert in a way that immediately puts me on edge.
The change is so sudden, so jarring, that my stomach drops before I even understand what’s happening.
Before I can ask what’s wrong, he lunges forward and snatches the plate away from me with a speed that seems impossible for someone who was half-asleep moments ago.
“Dyfri, what the bloody hell...”
“Don’t eat any more of that.” His voice is sharp with panic, all traces of sleepiness gone. He’s staring at the food with an expression of guilt and horror that makes my stomach drop.
“What’s wrong with it?”
He sets the plate down carefully on the far counter, as if it might explode if handled roughly, then turns to face me. The transformation is complete now. Gone is the sleepy, unguarded man who’d appeared in the doorway. In his place is someone who looks utterly devastated.
The look on his face is crushing me completely. Guilt and shame and such deep sadness that it makes my chest ache. He’s wrapped his arms around himself, a protective gesture that makes him look younger and more fragile than I’ve ever seen him.
“Everything from the main kitchen is poisoned,” he says quietly.
The words hit me like a physical blow. For a moment I can’t process them, can’t make them make sense in the context of what was supposed to be our peaceful morning.
“Poisoned?”
“It’s why I made you show me the main kitchen on our first day.” His voice is barely above a whisper now, and his hands are trembling slightly. “I’m so sorry, Jack. I’m so very sorry.”
My mind races back to that first day, trying to reframe the memory. I’d thought he was being considerate, showing interest in the domestic arrangements. I’d been charmed by his curiosity about the staff and the kitchens. But he’d been checking on his own poisoning operation. Or setting one up.
“Is that why you didn’t want to eat the food?” I blurt out.
Dyfri shakes his head. “I have the antidote.”
“But...” I’m struggling to process this, to reconcile the man I’ve come to love with the idea of deliberate poisoning.
“It’s only a mild poison. Something to make everyone more amenable, less likely to be hostile.” He looks at me with such broken desperation that it tears something apart in my chest. “So you would all hate me a little less.”
The raw pain in his voice destroys me. The hopeless longing, the desperate need for acceptance, the fear that drove him to such measures. I can see it all now, the careful political calculation twisted by trauma and desperation into something that must have felt like survival.
Without thinking, I stand and pull him into my arms, holding him tight against my chest. He’s shaking properly now, fine tremors running through his entire body.
“Oh, Love,” I murmur into his hair. “I understand. I do. You were just trying to protect yourself.”
He melts into the embrace, all the tension leaving his body as if my acceptance has cut the strings holding him upright. “I’ll stop,” he whispers against my shoulder. “I promise I’ll stop. No more poisoning anyone.”
“I know you will.” I hold him tighter, trying to pour all my understanding and forgiveness into the gesture.
He winces slightly, and I immediately loosen my grip, alarmed.
“Did I hurt you last night?” The question comes out sharper than I intended, panic flooding through me at the thought that I might have been too rough, too eager. “I’m so sorry, I should have been more careful...”
Dyfri chuckles, a sound that’s both amused and fond, “No, not at all. But the wedding morrow healers would be very pleased.”
I go completely still. The words don’t make sense at first, bouncing around in my head without connecting to anything I understand.
“Wedding morrow healers?”
He stiffens in my arms, and I feel the exact moment when he realises what he’s said. His entire body goes rigid, and he steps back with a sigh that sounds utterly defeated.
“It seems you have fucked all my secrets loose.”
“What do you mean, wedding morrow healers?”
Dyfri’s expression becomes carefully blank, the mask sliding back into place. “The fey who came that morning after our wedding night. They were healers, sent to examine me and verify that the marriage had been properly consummated.”
The words hit me like ice water. I remember the morning after our wedding, the way strange fey had barged in and kicked me out, the way Dyfri had looked when they were finished with whatever they’d done. I’d thought it was some sort of blessing or ceremony. Not... this.
“They examined you.” My voice comes out flat, dangerous. “To make sure we’d had sex.”
“It’s traditional,” Dyfri says quickly, as if that somehow makes it better. “Royal marriages must be verified...”
“That’s not a tradition, that’s abuse!” I’m surprised by the fury in my own voice. “They violated you to satisfy their perverse requirements!”
Dyfri flinches as if I’ve struck him. “It’s just how things are done...”
“It’s wrong!” I’m practically shouting now, rage burning through me like wildfire. “It’s invasive and humiliating and completely unnecessary!”
Dyfri is staring at me. He looks a little taken aback and a whole lot lost. As if my anger on his behalf is something he can’t quite process. As if no one has ever been outraged for his sake before.
I take in a shuddering breath, but it does nothing to calm me. Anger and outrage are burning too brightly to be quenched. The thought of those healers putting their hands on him, examining him so intimately…
“I really can’t wait to send these bastards home!” I seethe in fury.
Dyfri blinks. His expression shifts. He looks sad. Sadder than I’ve ever seen him.
“About that,” he says quietly.
And just like that, my rage burns out, leaving nothing but a puff of emotional smoke and an icy heap of dread. I know, with terrible certainty, that he’s about to tell me something that will change everything.
Silence stretches between us, long and ending, but I dare not breathe.
Dyfri is teetering on the edge of telling me something important, and I don’t want him to retreat.
I can see the war playing out across his features, the desperate need to confess warring with the instinct to protect himself from more pain.
“When the portals close permanently, I’ll have a choice to make.” He says solemnly. Eyes downcast. Shoulders drooping under some invisible weight.
“A choice?”
“Whether to return to the fey realm before the portals close forever, or stay here on Earth.” His voice is carefully neutral, but I can see the pain underneath. “In the realm, I’ll be branded a traitor. Here, I’ll be a remnant of the race that subjugated your world.”
He meets my eyes, and the vulnerability there nearly undoes me.
“Which world do you think would hate me less?”
The question hits me like a physical blow, stealing the breath from my lungs.
I hadn’t thought about this, hadn’t considered that our alliance, our relationship, everything we’ve built might mean losing him.
I’d been running on some unfounded daydream that he would stay with me, that we would build something lasting together, that the future stretched out before us bright with possibility.
But of course it’s more complicated than that. Of course there are impossible choices and political realities that I’ve been too na?ve to consider.
The thought of Dyfri leaving, of facing either exile or persecution no matter what he chooses, makes something fierce and protective rise in my chest. Something that feels dangerous and desperate and entirely beyond my control.
“I hope you choose to stay,” I say, pulling him back into my arms with perhaps more force than necessary.
He comes willingly, melting against me as if he needs the contact as much as I do.
“We can hide somewhere if we have to. Find a place where no one knows who you are, where you can just be yourself.”
I wish humans would be grateful to Dyfri for saving them, for sacrificing everything to protect our world from his own people.
But I’m not na?ve enough to believe that will happen.
I know they’ll just see him as fey, as one of the conquerors, regardless of what he’s done for us.
The injustice of it burns like acid in my throat.
The injustice of it burns through me, along with something else. Something that feels like purpose, like I’ve finally been shown the reason I was born. Everything else, the politics, the privilege, the expectations, they all suddenly seem trivial compared to this burning need to protect him.
“I’ll keep you safe,” I promise, the words coming from somewhere deeper than conscious thought. “Whatever it takes, wherever we have to go. I’ll protect you.”
And I mean it with every fibre of my being. This wonderful man who has given up everything for the chance of peace, who has endured abuse and violation and endless political manipulation, who trusts me enough to be vulnerable despite it all. He deserves better than the hatred of both worlds.
If keeping him safe means disappearing from public life, walking away from politics and privilege and everything I’ve ever known, then so be it. I’ve never felt anything like this burning need to shield him from harm, and I’m quite sure I’ve found my life’s purpose.
“I wish that was a promise you had the power to keep,” Dyfri whispers as his arms lift to wrap around my back.
My heart thuds against my ribcage. My soul flares, burning brighter than a beacon.
Dyfri is hugging me back. Properly, for the first time ever. Not just accepting my embrace but returning it, his arms strong and sure around me, holding me as tightly as I’m holding him. This is more than enough to give me the strength to fight worlds to keep my promise.
“Hey, don’t underestimate me,” I say softly.
I brush my lips over the top of his head, tasting the silk of his hair and breathing in his scent.
“Okay,” Dyfri says quietly, sounding small and young, yet weary far beyond his years.
It is making me even more determined to keep my vow. Dyfri will be protected. He will be happy. I don’t care what it costs, what I have to sacrifice, what battles I have to fight.
Whatever it takes, whatever price I have to pay. Even if it is the last thing I do.
It’s going to happen.
Dyfri will be safe.