Damn all of this, the grief and the guilt.
A red kite flew above the lake, its fork-tailed form unmistakeable. They were deep in Cyngalon.
The notion came as to a child, spontaneous and wild.
Meilyr stepped away from the horses, undoing the fastenings of his collar. His over-tunic, his boots. He dropped them without looking back, without wondering what Osian might think, and climbed the high bluff of grass and rock that overhung the water.
He wanted to be free of it all.
The wind picked up in answer. It was a rather long way down. If the water was shallow…
It would not be.
Please, let this drown everything before it drowned him.
He jumped.
It was a long, fast, rushing fall. The sharp, slamming plunge that burst his ears and swallowed him whole.
The freezing deep took him, and he let go. Let himself sink, blinking through the torrent of bubbles to watch the shifting light in the clear, cold depths.
There was only black beneath. Disjointed, formless light above. Perhaps he should have been afraid of an afanc in the depths, or the webbed talons of a morgen, snatching him into the dark.
He let his lungs empty. Fell into the steady, thick beating of his heart.
A deep, distorted sound broke the monotony, disturbing the rivers of light.
Osian.
He had dived into the lake.
Under the water, he turned easily and swam to Meilyr. There was worry in him, unchecked. He reached, and Meilyr took his hand. Together, they kicked for the surface.
They broke the air in unison. Meilyr gasped and spluttered, stars shooting. They grasped each other for buoyancy, Meilyr drawn into Osian’s steady tide.
Osian blinked away water. ‘I thought you would stay down there.’
There was less humour in it than concern. The lake had washed away some of his mask, and this close, there was no mistaking the care mapping his features.
‘Not yet.’ Meilyr pushed a smile into the words. Pushed against the current and Osian’s chest to swim, and dived beneath the surface again.
His flesh still stirred. He had hoped the plunge would fix it, but then Osian—
Enough. Just swim.
Osian joined him in the deep. Meilyr turned over in the water to look at him, and Osian dived to swim under him. Meilyr lost air to a surprised burst of laughter – swam lower, beneath Osian again, bubbles rushing free. It wasplayful, to turn about one another. To push their lungs to their limits, moving like otters in the bright, clear dark. To hear nothing but the thrum of their hearts and the rustle of water. The breathing of the lake.
Finally, they had to break for air.
After gasping, Osian said, ‘You swim like one of the merfolk.’
Meilyr huffed a tired, giddy laugh. ‘Perhaps I am, sent to bewitch a handsome, unsuspecting prince.’
Oh, that was a mistake. The water had made him forget.
He had strayed too close to the truth.
Osian stared at him. For the first time since they had entered the lake, there was something unreadable about him. ‘Perhaps.’