Cawl first. He brought it back to near-boil and could not have taken long, but when he edged back into the bedchamber, the prince was fast asleep on the covers.
There was something heart-wrenchingly drained about him, which was still better than when hisbreakabilitycould have ripped Meilyr’s chest open.
It felt like it had in the Great Hall.
The world was a different place now. Only that morning, the fact Osian could look this fragile would have seemed impossible.
He remembered the dread that had crept up to him in the gardens. Had something tried to warn him?
The magnitude of that possibility was too much. His own exhaustion had him skewered and dried out in the rafters, but Osian was not dead, and looked more at rest than he had all night. So Meilyr stopped hovering in the doorway and set the cawl on the bedside table, in case the prince awoke ravenous anytime soon. The fire was well tended, wrapping the room in a comfortable balm; Osian needed to be kept temperate, but a bout of unbroken rest was more valuable than disturbing him yet.
Pedr and Blythe tensed as he opened the outer door.
‘His Majesty has bathed and is sleeping. He should be through the worst, but I will watch over him.’
‘Thank you, Highness.’ Blythe’s eyes were red. She and Pedr looked wrecked.
‘Thank you for moving so swiftly,’ Meilyr told them. ‘For doing so much.’
Blythe shook her head. ‘You saved him, Highness. Thank you.’
Pedr could not speak; their jaw worked, pained.
Neither of them could have harmed Osian, he was sure of it.
When he returned inside, he checked on Osian before moving to the washroom to add more hot water to the tub and undress, too aware of his own skin. He lowered himself gingerly into the steaming water, hissing at the temperature.
Good. Let it burn everything away. It chased the chill from his hands as he submerged to his chin, to boil or drown the last lingering sting of poison.
Rain patterned against the windows. He angled his knees and dunked his head. His eyelids seared. His hair drifted, the longest it had been since before his parents had died.
He slipped his eyes and nose back out of the water, covered his face with his prickling hands and fought back a sob.
It was harder than pulling the poison from Osian’s veins. Harder than stomachingCadogan, and all the whispers and comments. His exhausted body shuddered with the need to come undone, to crack open like a dying tree, the sap exploding under pressure and pain upon pain upon pain.
No.If he cried, that would be the end of it. He pinched his nose and rolled on his side, burying himself in the water like a child under blankets. A body in a grave.
He would not cry. Everything was fine – Osian was not dead, Celyn was free, Wade Bevan would be fine. Everyone would be fine.
He thumped the basin, a slowed, unsatisfyingly muted frustration.
The last of his air bubbled sideways. The susurrated roar of his heart slowed.
He got out of the bath and into the heavy, soft robe left for him. By the time he stepped past the partition, he had swallowed himself back into some semblance of functionality and merely had a dull, nagging headache.
The divan was immensely inviting, but he needed to check on Osian.
The prince was exactly where he had left him. Meilyr tended the burned-down fire; the room was still pleasant, but Osian – also only in his robe – should be beneath the covers.
Meilyr stood over him, conflicted. He needed to wake him, so he reached over him for the bedcovers, other hand gently pressing his shoulder. ‘Majesty? Majesty, you—’
Osian surged like a storm wave. He grabbed Meilyr and heaved him sideways onto the bed, tumbling with him – pinning him, sudden and jarring.
Everything shifted in the stillness as Osian’s gaze cleared and the assailant before him became Meilyr. Meilyr pressed beneath him, his wrists pinned above his head, the weight of the prince’s heated, firm body affixing him to the sheets.
Dark embers lit in the depths of Osian’s eyes.
Meilyr’s shock burned away in raw desire. The bond was almost a cacophony as Osian tangibly held back the flood of his own want, almost enough to unmoor them both.