‘Hedid not have me poisoned. You have no evidence.’
‘We have enough, and a rather convenient motive, if I do say so myself.’
Osian looked at his sister. ‘You know he had no hand in this.’ If she even suspected it, Celyn’s blood would already soak the Throne Room’s floor. ‘Aldreda.’
‘He is vital to the whereabouts of his co-conspirators,’ Gelens supplied smoothly, ‘who we will find and detain soon enough. Though, I do worry this speaks to far wider issues for the Denelands.’
‘He did not do this.’ Meilyr’s voice was clear and pained and steady, his fists tight at his sides. ‘Celyn did not poison Osian. He did not do any of this.’
‘Can you truly be sure?’ Gelens asked, concerned. ‘The way that I could be?’
‘Yes.’ Meilyr straightened, fierce and protective. ‘Celyn had nothing to do with it.’
‘How touching, considering the company your brother keeps.’ Gelens stepped off the dais past Osian and Meilyr, towards Celyn, languid and unhurried. ‘Considering his hatred for your husband. A shame, I would be able to find out if he was involved, of course, but…’ They turned as if on a stage, tunic stirring in an arc, their captive audience hung on their every word. They returned leisurely and stopped close to Meilyr.
It was a near-impossible effort not to reach for his sword. Not to step between them.
‘Well, there is a more pressing matter…’ They turned their hand towards Meilyr’s wrist. Meilyr, who could only stare at Celyn, his entire body emanating strain and terror.
‘Enough,’ Osian began.
‘For your brother?’ Gelens whispered.
Meilyr met their gaze, resolute and unflinching. He turned his wrist, offering it willingly.
‘No—’
Gelens slipped their hand around Meilyr’s wrist and entwined their fingers with a sharp, exhilarated inhale.
Osian wanted to run them through. He stood frozen in the utter, disarmed horror of what was about to happen.
It was over in a single moment. Gelens exhaled unsteadily, let Meilyr go and huffed a laugh.
Osian finally moved. He pulled Meilyr against him and put himself between them all and him. ‘That is enough. You have manipulated everything quite expertly, Lord Gelens. My father will be proud.’
‘Oh, Majesty, but you must be dying to know what I just felt.’ Pleased and hungry, Gelens grinned like a starving dog loosed into the coop. They gestured idly at Celyn. ‘Have him taken away to be questioned. You, however’ – they focused on Meilyr, and Osian’s heart stopped – ‘are free to go, and are released from arrest.’
‘What!’ Wystan cried, as Captain Radnor said, ‘Crownsworn, take the prisoner to his cell.’
‘But he is innocent,’ Meilyr demanded, leaning heavily on Osian. ‘You know he is.’
‘I know I have some fascinating questions for him. But not to worry, he won’t be tried for attempted murder of a prince – at least not yet. Go on, go about your day as you may, but do not leave the castle grounds. For your own safety.’
‘If he is not guilty of treason,’ Osian said, ‘then he is to be released at once.’
‘I did not say he was innocent of treason. Time will tell.’
‘You lied,’ Meilyr bit, beginning to shake with shock and rage in Osian’s arms.
‘A serious accusation for a simple misunderstanding.’ Gelens looked at Osian. ‘The prince consort must be exhausted and understandably upset, Majesty. Some rest, perhaps.’
Osian wanted sorely to deny them, but Meilyr needed to be away from here. There was nothing to be done for Celyn like this, so he turned to half carry Meilyr away from them all, his skin crawling, his fury broiling.
‘Osian.’ Aldreda’s voice was still devoid of colour. ‘Father wants to speak with you. Now.’
He wanted to refuse. Wanted to drag her from the Throne Room and demand to knowwhy, and how she could sit and let his happen.
Instead, he went to the door, summoned Pedr and put Meilyr into his knight’s arms.