Silently, Efa stuck to Dew’s side as they walked the corridors. Rhyddid had summoned the seamstresses to turn Dew into a bride. 

The Fae did not speak to Dew as they tugged her down into their workshop and began measuring. They tugged at her sleeves until she removed her dress and left herself bare to their hands. Several hissed under their breath, sharp fingernails scratching at her scars along her right arm. A few poked at the mangled skin on her leg. 

“Stop!” At Dew’s shout, they jumped back. She sighed heavily, unsure if they truly understood her. “Get your work done quickly so that I may pick the fabric.” 

They must have comprehended her command for they returned to their task. A few disappeared to bring pelts and leather in long lengths and lay it out on a far table. Bolts of fine cloth followed in all arrangements of color. 

The Fae appeared to enjoy either the darkest of dyes or the lightest. 

With the measuring seemingly over, Efa helped Dew redress and observed the materials over her sister’s shoulder. 

“Come pick your material.” One of the taller seamstresses gestured to the table. 

Dew frowned at the selection. The raw material lacked any refinery she expected of a court. Some of the leather needed to be smoothed. Cloth weaved roughly together with splotchy dye patterns. The furs pricked her skin. 

She ran a hand over one of the leather pieces. An off-white color smoothed like marble. She’d hardly given thought to the other pieces before the seamstress grabbed the piece from under her fingers, nodded once, and disappeared with it. 

She ignored the strangeness and tapped her finger on a light blue cloth. It disappeared into the backroom instantly. 

The furs held no appeal for her and she shook her head. The seamstresses began to pack away the unchosen material. 

Another seamstress pushed Dew from the room. 

“Go.” The door closed behind them with a soft click. 

Efa glanced between the door and Dew with confused eyes. 

“Shall we find something to eat?” Dew looped her arm with Efa, a long day still ahead. 

Efa scrunched up her nose as her sister dragged her along. 

Their adventure ended before it truly began. Dew rounded the corner and ran smack into something. Or someone. She reeled back, ready to apologize to the servant or guard she expected. Instead, cat eyes bore into her own, the owner lacking the unsophisticated clothes of the servants or armor of the guards. A noble then. 

The Fae leaned in close, nose brushing against her own. 

Dew’s spine straightened like a pillar and after a moment of stillness, she stumbled back into Efa. 

“Excuse us,” her voice came out smaller than she would have liked. Dew tried to move around him, but he stepped into her path. 

“Human,” he spoke her language with a rough lisp. One of his hands reached up and grabbed her face before she could dodge. 

Dew yelped as his fingers squeezed her tightly. He spoke again, this time in his native tongue. His brows furrowed together, his pupils becoming slits. Some of his words slurred together as he growled at points. 

Efa’s hand on Dew’s arm disappeared. 

The Fae forced her back until she hit the stone wall. She tried to shove him off but his figure greatly outweighed her own strength. Panic filled her lungs as her mind whirled around the fact she was trapped. 

A commotion rang out down the corridor. Metal clanged against stone. 

Efa must have alerted the guards. 

The distraction helped Dew to escape his grasp. She distanced herself before peering past the noble to see down the hall. 

Rhyddid stormed down the way, a group of guards and a servant following. The Fae king manifested his sword and charged forward. 

Dew screamed as the noble’s head detached from his shoulders with force. She scrambled back at the sight, blood splashing onto her skirts. Her first instinct was to flee but her mind called out for Efa. She could not leave without her sister. She would never leave her sister. 

Efa’s dress surfaced in glimpses beyond the armor of the guards. Too far for Dew to reach. 

Rhyddid ignored Dew’s fright and approached in one long stride. 

“Are you hurt?” One gloved hand ghosted over her cheek in the lightest caress. 

Dew’s voice fled and she could only shake her head and blubber. 

“Where are your guards?” That confused her. 

“Guards?” The word squeezed past her constricted throat. 

Rhyddid turned to the Fae behind him and spoke to them. Roaring oceans filled the hallway, echoing off the stone to screech in Dew’s ears. His anger could be heard by all of the realm. 

The servant stuttered an answer that displeased his liege lord. His head joined the lord on the floor. One of the guards with a silver chain wrapping around his shoulder and a large gem embedded in the front - some kind of ranking - fell to his knees. 

Dew backed away in preparation for another beheading. But, the anger simmered down. The silence pierced her drums as painful as the yelling. 

Rhyddid spared the guard and returned to her. His hand shook, nostrils flared, and teeth grounding. He tucked her into his side and forced her to move past the two bodies. 

Dew rejoined Efa, clutching to her sister desperately. 

“Keep moving,” Rhyddid ordered, no heat to his words. 

The ladies obeyed wordlessly. 

Dew found her voice as they distanced themselves from the smell of iron. 

“Why did you do that?” Rhyddid halted and turned to look down at her. “Why did you kill him?”

“He touched you,” he said with an air of obviousness. “Anyone who touches you dies.”

“And the servant?” 

For a moment, Rhyddid scowled at her, mouthing her words until his eyes widened in understanding. 

“Emyr, the… steward failed to assign you proper maids or send food this morning.”

Dew blinked up at him in surprise. 

“The guard lived…”

“Tudor will assign you guards or he’ll die next.” He huffed suddenly and shook his head. “I do not need servants that have to be told what to do.” With a sharp motion of his hand, they continued down to Dew’s chambers. 

This time, Dew noticed her bed had been made, pillows fluffed and the fire stoked to full flame. Three noble ladies waited inside, Dew’s trunk open beside them. They unpacked her things. 

Rhyddid stepped to the side and the ladies came forward to bow to Dew. All of them were as pale as their king with long white hair. 

“I am Neidr, Your Majesty.” She wore a sash of cloth that draped over one shoulder and cascaded down the front while a chain held a pelt across her back in a cape-like fashion. Two horns protruded from her temples and curved an inch down in a spiral. 

“I am Cothi.” The second lady wore a tight leather corset with shiny, metal details. Her skirt, also of leather, flared downward in pressed ruffles. Her horns curved around the back of her ears. 

The last lady mumbled her name and Rhyddid growled low. 

“I am Anest,” she spoke up, dressed in an easy diamond cloth that fastened around her neck and waist with leather. No horns were easily visible like the others, but her hair could have easily hidden them in its volume. 

“Pleasure.” Dew nodded politely. “I am Blodeuwedd. This is my sister Efa.” 

“They will tend to you and teach you all you need to know.” The statement came with a heavy, but subtle threat from Rhyddid. 

The king left them then. 

A beat of silence. 

Dew glanced down at her skirt, noting the blood splatter there. 

“I need to change,” Dew said and her ladies sprung into action.