There were other crownsworn at the higher church windows, trying to reach the body with a clergy stave. They easily met the rope but could not find leverage for more.
The square hung tense. Baited. The build of static before lightning strikes.
They had to contain this, fast. There was only one thing they could do.
‘Cut them down.’
‘What – Majesty?’
‘Clear the ground,’ Osian called, circling his mare towards the crowd, making some back up. The crownsworn floundered, then took up the motion. ‘Clear the ground. Cut them down!’
The call echoed higher, the stave retracting. A sword was drawn.
Osian rode to Meilyr, close enough to press their legs together. He took his face in his hands, forcing his eyes to him, and covered his ears. ‘Focus on me.’
‘What—’
The snap of the rope. The not quite instantaneous, sickeningly wet sound – the horror ripped from the crowd.
Meilyr flinched, hands flying over Osian’s.
‘Focus on me,’ Osian whispered. ‘Meilyr, focus on me.’
Osian held him, their heads pressed together, and wished he could spare him this.
‘Majesty,’ Pedr called, reluctantly urgent.
Osian moved enough to see Meilyr properly. ‘Do not look. Please.’ He had already seen enough horrors.
Osian pulled away and rode to Pedr, dismounting beside the broken body. Sick recognition flared.
Levett.Levett, who had beaten Wade Bevan to his death and should have been locked in a cell in the castle. The makeshift cloak had covered the worst of the state of him. Pedr now drew it taut. The red markings, in blood, were indeed writing.
Osian recognised splinters immediately.
‘Is that… Cyngaleg?’ the closest crownsworn asked.
OsianfeltMeilyr turn. ‘Keep all these people back, please.’
‘Yes, Majesty.’ They went to it.
The parts Osian could read doused him with foreboding, but he could not look away. He felt more than heard or saw Meilyr drift to his side.
‘Pedr,’ Osian said.
Pedr had gone very still.
‘Pedr.’
‘It reads…’ They could not say it.
Meilyr had stiffened, hand tight in Osian’s, no telling who had reached for whom.
Somewhere in the crowd, glass shattered. Shouts echoed.
Pedr swallowed, and translated, ‘Your princes will soon be more dead than ours.’
They were met in the castle courtyard by a summons to the ThroneRoom. A summons that included Meilyr.