Chapter 3 #3
Which reminded me… “This is rotten luck. You’re going to miss the mer festival.”
He winced at that. “Dammit. I’d forgotten.”
“How could you forget?” I sighed at my words. “Because you were dealing with this horror. Sorry. That was insensitive.”
He smirked. “Isn’t it also a prince’s prerogative to be insensitive?”
I shook my head. “Not really. It veers toward rudeness. And you know how much I enjoy that.”
Manners cost nothing, even with servants. There was no need to be pigheaded with anyone. It didn’t impress, it didn’t make you look like anything other than obnoxious.
“I do all too well,” he said. “My turn to say sorry now. For missing the festival.”
“It won’t be the same without you,” Maeve added. “Maybe we shouldn’t go.” She looked at me.
I considered that. It really wasn’t decent to have fun with a broken spoke in our friendship wheel.
Boyd knew what I was considering. “Don’t you dare.”
“But—”
“No.” The only man not my father able to cut me off. “I don’t want to hear this shit. Go to the festival. Drink, dance, and fuck your brains out. Once a year, my friends. You’ll regret it.”
“But—”
He gave me a pointed look. “You’re going to turn down merman dick for the likes of me? And you,” his eyes moved to Maeve, “you’re seriously not going to go down on some mermaids on the isle? You? Of all people?”
She blushed a little. “What’re you trying to say?”
“Oh, yes. And enjoy some cock, too.”
“That’s more like it.” Maeve grinned sheepishly.
I rolled my eyes. “I guess we take your point.”
He shrugged, face scrunching a little with pain. “Danu, I ache all over. Like I can take pounding mermaids tonight.
“You either go all in, or you go home,” I reeled off Boyd’s favorite saying come the mer season.
“Quite right, my prince. I’m not at my full capabilities, so I’m not interested.”
Boyd not being interested in sex certainly meant he was ill.
To him, sex was oxygen. He enjoyed it with women best, though occasionally he’d dabble in dick.
I relished in the touch of a man—or men, I should say.
Maeve enjoyed everyone and anyone. Had a penchant for mermaids like Boyd.
I guess I enjoyed the water creatures myself, never missing a festival.
They fucked better than any other creature in Faerie. Lasting hours.
I didn’t voice my disappointment. Nothing to be gained from overstating a point.
Still, it wouldn’t be the same this year.
We always celebrated with drinking and dancing, scandalous outfits, and copious amounts of fucking until the sun came up.
It gave us juicy stories to share for weeks, new memories to store.
A twist of anxiety in my core. I bit the insides of my cheeks.
“What’s wrong?” Boyd asked.
I un-bit. “Nothing.”
He looked between us once again. “Hmmm… Anyway, what happened in the forest? Doctors tell me it was shadow magic, and we have two prisoners.”
I considered my actions. Prisoners. Execution on the spot would’ve been more appropriate.
“An unseelie and a human,” I began.
“Walked into a tavern?” he tried.
I frowned at him. “Seriously?”
Maeve audibly suppressed a giggle.
“Do you want the details?” I asked stiffly.
“Of course, Your Highness.”
“Then that’s your last terrible joke of the day.”
“There’s a quota for those, too?”
“Consider it a new law.” I told him the rest of the tale.
“Shit,” he whispered.
“I know. But pathetic attempts. This thing about the door is bizarre. I wonder if it was part of the trick—for us to hear it and worry.”
“It worked,” Maeve said.
“Which annoys me. I know there is no secret door there.” My hands clenched into fists. “I need to root out some truths.”
My fury bubbled more, a low simmer I kept a lid on unless I needed to unleash it upon my enemies. For now, I’d keep the heat down.
Releasing my friend’s hand, I stood up. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Make it hurt, Your Highness.”
I sat back down as he winced again. “No. I’ll stay.”
“What? Why?”
“I have to stay.”
“You don’t—”
It was my turn to cut him off. “Don’t argue with your prince.”
“That told me,” he said to Maeve.
“Good,” she replied. “Remember your place.”
So, I remained by his side for a while. We played cards, we talked about food and drink and songs we loved, about our favorite bard and his honey-like voice.
Goodness, we enjoyed cards. A lot. Particularly Goblin Draw.
A complex game of matching number and letter cards, then advancing to suits.
Boyd’s mind and numbers were a heavenly match like no other.
He was the best at Goblin Draw for a reason.
The reigning champion of the palace and the surrounding provinces.
Eventually, my curiosity got the better of me. Time to visit our prisoners, to expel some of that rage leaking out of my gently heating cauldron.
I kissed Boyd’s hand again, and he cringed.
“Makes me feel princely,” he said.
“Don’t get used to it,” I replied.
“See you later,” Maeve said.
“Erm, yes, you will. I need to inspect your festival outfits.”
We said our goodbyes some more before Maeve and I headed to the dungeons.