The prince remained tense, but put his hand over Meilyr’s and slipped his other arm around his waist to pull him in. They kept their faces close – easy enough to pretend to be moving swiftly through the settling rain.
The crownsworn passed by, focused on their patrol. The tavern-goers spared them only glances. Meilyr breathed what ease he could into his nerves.
They remained walking close. Too close. He could stillvividlyfeel Osian, even where they did not touch. Like a beacon in the dark, thrumming with his heartbeat.
Again, Meilyr tried not to think about how being woven with Osian was different to being woven with anyone else. Tried and failed not to think about what that could mean.
Perhaps it was just the blood oath they had sworn. The lie their bargain was built around. Certainly, it could not be their… intimacy. He was woven with his actual previous lover, and that had never felt like this.
He…wasattracted to Osian. Even that was difficult to admit, despite how obvious it was. But perhaps admitting it would help – would not quite make the world end. Though it felt dishonest. Devastating. Brought the lashing of that perpetual guilt.
Because he should not be attracted to aKhaimlic prince. No matter how kind, or good, or – no, that alone was a betrayal, an agony that tightened his throat as they walked.
Because hewasattracted to him.
Nothing would come of it. Nothing could. To Osian, to them both, this was a lie. A lie that had led Meilyr here: they pretended to be lovers, of course that would tangle him up. Of course that was why his heart beat faster around him. The only reason he felt thatpull, ready to drag him into the depths if he did not forcibly draw back from their bond.
But that was all this was. A complicated bargain and a woven bond. A man who was not quite the monster he should have been. A lie that would end when Osian was crowned.
And that would be that. Soon they would annul their marriage, and Meilyr and Celyn and probably Heulwen would likely have to leave Eascild, for safety.
And he and Prince Osian would never see each other again.
That would be that.
He loosened his hold on the prince as the ground dived downhill, the buildings running into each other the further they moved from the castle, through the homes of the artisans, towards the labourers’ and servants’ homes. The Cyngaleg homes.
Human noises above: a child crying, someone snoring. A fight. They were reaching the houses of the farmers whose lands had been usurped, claimed for those from Khaim. The Principality was not the worst for it, but there were still dozens upon dozens of displaced families whose livelihoods had been torn out from under them.
Osian’s concern was palpable. Beneath their hoods, the prince met his gaze. ‘I have not been here before,’ was all he said.
‘They must have poverty in Khaim.’ Meilyr meant to lighten the mood, but Osian looked ahead, brow tight.
‘They do. It does not feel like this.’
Meilyr listened to their boots, to the sound of rain on their hoods. The rush of filthy water in the overflowing channels beside them. ‘Perhaps they merely hide it better.’
‘I had thought, within the walls…’ Osian was troubled, genuinely.
‘It is better than being out of them. Higher taxation, higher chance of robbery and murder. All that happens here too, but with swifter punishment. The threat of eviction. For some, at least. Several of the Marches are worse, apparently.’ Sanford in particular. ‘But you know all this. Forgive me.’
Osian did know, but Meilyr understood the difference between knowing and seeing.
The prince’s gaze was soft, guilt-riddled. ‘Your apothecary…’
‘Closer to the centre. As a business of use that has stood for generations, we are lucky.’ At least, that was one word for it.
Someone coughed, rough and dry. A door slammed.
Deryn’s directions led to a squat dwelling in the shadow of the immense town wall. There was a step down to the front door, flooded. Meilyr knocked. A dog barked a street away. The rain in no way alleviated the heavy scent of rot, humanity and waste.
The door groaned loudly inward, and Haydn heaved him inside, straight into an embrace. ‘You made it, you’re safe.’
Meilyr returned the gesture, mildly startled. ‘We did, you too. Where…?’
‘Up here.’ Haydn moved his arm around Meilyr’s shoulders and guided him through the single dank, dark downstairs room to the set of quaking stairs.
Behind them, Osian shut the door as quietly as he could.