‘Do not put that on him.’ Storm waves gathered beneath Osian’s voice. ‘We are the ones who have let it get this far.’
‘Oh, spare me your righteous self-loathing,’ Aldreda bit. ‘This was inevitable; we are lucky it’s not worse. If Father had his way—’
‘If Father or Wystan or Radnor or Gelens had their way, what? All those of even remotely Cyngaleg blood clapped in iron and marched from Eascild? Burned alive in the night? Will any of that help catch who is behind this? This is one person, Aldreda. The moment we equate an entire populace, an entire bloodline, to the actions of one individual, we are more damned than they are – they who certainly have every reason to hate us.’
The fight in Aldreda bristled, but she stood quelled beneath the words.
‘All of you want bloodshed,’ Osian said, ‘because you are afraid of things you cannot control. I understand.’
‘We want bloodshed because someone is killing our people—’
‘Because we have never stopped killing theirs.’
Something in Meilyr gave way, achingly.
‘Can you not see,’ Osian continued, ‘this does not end, Aldreda. This does not end until we stop and sheathe the sword in favour of the shield.’
Something pained glimmered in her. ‘You’re using her words here? For this?’
‘I use them because that is what we are supposed to be. That is the purpose of rule, otherwise we are merely tyrants. One person seeks revenge, a revenge I can well understand, and I will treat them as what they are. A murderer. The same as if they had killed with a blade rather than sorcery, the same as if they were Khaimlic. I will not condemn an entire populace for the actions of one person. Let Father strip me of my throne and cast me into the sea, I will not.’
There was a long silence before Aldreda said, ‘No need to be so dramatic.’ She flexed her shoulders, and glanced at Meilyr on her way to the door. ‘If you’re wondering, yes, he was this stupidly noble before he started sleeping with you. Always made my teeth itch. Upright fool.’
She stopped beside her brother. ‘Make sure he stays here. We will have no choice but to let Gelens have him if they cannot find anyone else.’
‘I am taking him upstairs.’
‘Osian, that is not—’
‘There is nowhere he can go – you have him shackled.’ He looked at her, voice losing some of its roughness. ‘If he wanted me dead, I would be dead. He saved my life.’
She did not meet his gaze. ‘He could have poisoned you to feign innocence.’ But she did not believe it, was only strung out with strain, trying to protect her brother. Trying to prevent him from making things worse.
‘Do as you like,’ she said at last. ‘But if you die, I’ll kill him.’
She and Jocosa left, and Blythe stepped into the stairway. Meilyr followed Osian silently, save for the faint shiver of chains.
‘Can you manage the rail?’ Osian asked.
There was enough room between the cuffs that he could.
Upstairs, the prince saw him inside and closed the door quietly behind them.
The stillness was so loud. Meilyr stood in the midst of the parlour, nails sharp in his palms to stop the shaking. To keep the chains quiet.
Osian hesitated a pained beat, then retrieved something from his desk and returned, revealing a small key. He touched Meilyr’s hands as though they might shatter, unfolding his fingers to touch the red welts he had left behind. ‘I am so sorry. I am truly, truly…’
Meilyr turned his wrists to gently take Osian’s hands. ‘It is not your fault.’ There was an awful lump in his throat. One more push and he might actually break. ‘Leave them. If this is how it needs to be—’
‘You are not responsible.’
Meilyr tightened his grip. The way Osianbelieved itburned more than the shackles, so ardently it almost made him tremble. ‘Leave them.’ His voice was small, pleading. Osian’s fingers were so warm. ‘You should rest, you are still recovering.’
‘I will not rest if you are in these. Please.’
Looking into his eyes was a mistake. Stood so close, with Osian’s earnestness bared so vividly through their bond, he again pressed the world out of alignment. As seamlessly and ruinously as he had pressed Meilyr against that wall.
It was effortless to recall the softness of his mouth. The weight of his body. The fervent, undeniable way hecared.