Dew trembled as she felt the weight of her cape leave her shoulders. Neidr’s hands were a ghostly touch on her skin. 

Efa carefully unpinned the flowers from her hair, her trimmed nails scratching at Dew’s scalp. 

Anest unwound her bun and let her curls fly free as Efa turned to store the hair pins. She carded through them but quickly gave up after her fingers tugged on knots. 

Cothi removed the choker from her neck. Her thumb rubbed on a sore spot the clasp created.

“I can handle the rest,” Rhyddid leaned against the far wall of his room. His eyes intent on Dew and Dew alone. 

Rhyddid’s room was a replica of her own except for the mantelpiece. Two large candle centerpieces stood tall on each side. The metal work glinted from the light. 

The fireplace also burned bright to wash the room in an enchanting glow. 

A suit of armor held a heater shield above the mantle; the helmet, gorger, and shoulder plates were the only things visible. It resembled Rhyddid’s armor except for the devilish horns that broke through the helmet’s top. Silver flames surrounded the shield depicting a glanus rearing up. The glanus’s mouth hung wide, serrated teeth showing. Two decorative swords crossed behind the shield in glinting silver, the hilts accented with black swirls.

She’d seen the symbol on almost every wall in the castle. Every ivory bath had the symbol stamped on the tub.

The guards all wore black armor with a silver chain and pendant to dignify their rank, should they have one. Only those of a high rank were granted flowing capes to clip to their shoulder plates. The symbol embroidered on the back. 

Dew’s ladies disappeared, Anest hovering by the door as she waited for Efa. Her sister approached with tears in her eyes. They hugged each other tight before Dew wrangled herself free. 

“Go have a good rest, Efa.” She pushed her sister to Anest’s awaiting arms. “I will see you tomorrow.” 

Dew bit her cheek hard as the doors closed and she was left with Rhyddid alone. 

“You’re trembling.” Dew jolted as his words sounded from right behind her. “I hoped that our short time together would ease some of your worries.” She turned to see his face fallen. 

Dew desperately tried to find the words but all she could manage was a trembling bottom lip. Her eyes ducked to the floor to avoid his disappointed gaze. 

“Don’t cry, Dew.” He stepped forward and pressed her cheek to the hard plate of his breast. “I won’t harm you.” 

Harming her was the furthest thing from her mind. 

No, Ifan’s warning echoed in her ears. The night Lord Kyffin attacked her, tearing at her dress to expose the mangled flesh of her arm to the cool night air replayed behind her open eyes. 

She’d been going from the stables back to her rooms. Her father meant to be entertaining the lords for Teigan’s hand in marriage. Drunk fools in the hall, not supposed to be wandering the small paths of the manor to catch an unsuspecting lady. 

Ifan, courting Dew for about a month, intervened right as Lord Kyffin tore the sleeve of her dress. The material ripped so easily under his meaty fingers. It cut across her breast and left the scraps hanging pitifully. 

It tore her heart to see the disgust in Ifan’s gaze once Kyffin left. The lord too drunk to recognize the scars in the torchlight. Ifan, perfectly sober, traced the nasty lines with his eyes and flinched. He covered her quickly with his cloak and led her inside. The next day, he rode home. 

A few months later, word spread of his betrothal to another. Dew wept in Efa’s bed for an entire week until Maeryn scolded her straight and forced her out. 

“Let’s get this off at least.” She heard Rhyddid murmur before his hands touched her upper arms. “They’re biting into your arms a bit.” 

Dew cried harder as she felt the smooth material peel from her arms. He would see the nasty scarring that raced below her dress and turn her away. She might not be sent from his side, allowed a place in court, but once rumor spread he banned her from his rooms and chose a mistress, she’d be ridiculed. 

Rhyddid cursed once he saw her skin. Red and white puckered ridges raced down her right arm. Dew knew it continued underneath to cover her ribs down to her thigh. The leather corset hid it all.  

Silence stretched between them, broken by the crackling fire. His hands soothed over her scars with a gentle touch. 

When he spoke, his words washed over her like a gentle breeze. No roaring oceans against the Great Hangman. A lazy river soothing frazzled nerves. 

“When did you get this?” His fingers tilted her chin up with a light touch. 

“I was four,” she whimpered quietly.

The burning was a faded memory of tangled emotion rather than any true recall. 

Rhyddid cursed again. He wrapped her up in his arms and moved them over to the bed. He offered her comforting words as he pulled her into his lap. A string of endearments poured from his mouth as he rocked her. 

“What happened?” He asked after a while. 

Dew calmed enough to speak again even with her throat thick from her tears. 

“My mother had an affair…” 

Rhyddid followed her train of thought. 

“You are the spitting image of your father,” he assured. 

“I know… He figured that out after a while.”

“Only after he harmed you,” Rhyddid growled low at the thought. Then, he asked, “Is this what that human was referring to?”

Dew stiffened, her thoughts returning to Ifan’s words. The fact Rhyddid heard them made it all worse. 

“About leaving you to fend for yourself because of some scars?” Rhyddid continued, pushing for an answer.

“Yes…”

“He broke your heart when he saw them from… the attack,” he concluded much too easily. 

“How do you know that?” Dew tilted her head to find his gaze and see nothing but those green, slitted eyes softly watching her. 

“You spok of it. I heard the betrayal in your voice. You said he married another.” Dew nodded. “I’m glad he did.” She expected as much but what he said next shocked her, “You humans often glance over the things we find most beautiful in our realm. Scars make no difference here. You will see that with time.” 

“You do not think my beauty is marred by the scarring?” Strangely enough, as she leaned into his breastplate and continued to watch him, she felt at peace. 

Her tears exhausted her, but his arms held her steady. 

“I am not one to judge as you will soon see. I have plenty of scars.” He kissed her forehead. “Will you help me undress? I’m sure my armor is uncomfortable.” 

Dew didn’t think so. His arms wrapped around her in a soothing hold. She knew his strength far outmatched her, but if she wanted to leave, she felt she could. His hold would fall to her whim in seconds. 

“I’m comfortable,” she promised him. 

That pleased him as his pupils dilated further and his arms tightened around her by a fraction. 

“Help me undress,” he insisted and let her slip from his lap. 

Rhyddid guided her into a side room where a stand waited to hold his armor. A sword rack tucked off to the side, one sword missing from the group. It hung on Rhyddid’s hip. He arranged two stools to sit together and placed his vambrace into her hand. 

Quietly, Dew followed his instructions on how to unloop the leather that tied the metal to him. She worked swiftly over his arms, then down his back and sides. He praised her with every step of progress she made. Endearments fluttered off his tongue like breathing. His favorite being my gem and Dew bach. 

With every inch of skin she revealed, her heart beat faster. His skin felt as smooth as the leather corset she wore. Only interrupted by the deep scars of battle and torture. Her fingertips tingled at every accidental touch. She tried to keep to herself, eyes not lingering too long on him. 

Dew knelt on the floor to help with his boots.

“I know you must wonder about why you took an oath to me and I did not take an oath to you.” He bent over her, elbows on his knees as he watched her work. 

His breath hit the back of her neck and sent goosebumps across her skin. She shuddered as goosebumps raced down her spine at the presence of him. 

“It does not matter.”

Despite her response, he explained, “Kings are not to take oaths except to their people and their lands. I am to hold no one in higher regard than them and my queen is expected to hold her king and the realm in high regard.”

“I understand,” she answered neutrally. 

“So I offer my vow to you now,” her work stopped and she slowly looked up at him as he continued, “Blodeuwedd, my queen and wife, I swear to you to ever be faithful and cherish you. Only your beauty shall be the greatest in my eye. Only your heart shall be my reason for life. Only your happiness shall be my own. I will be your blodyn, your… snowdrop, until my last breath.” 

“You said a king cannot take an oath…” Dew frowned up at him. 

“No, but I am not taking an oath as a king. I am taking an oath as a husband.”

Dew’s mouth fell open at his confession. She never expected such sincerity from her Fae. Perhaps, this would not surprise any other Fae lady but to gift such devotion to a human astounded her. 

“You do not have-” her voice trembled as she spoke and part of her was glad he stopped her because she did not know if she had the strength to continue. 

“I do and I want to.” He reached down to finish unlacing his last boot and placed it off to the side. 

All that was left were the leather trousers that hugged his skin.