He pulled back unsteadily, to his hands and knees to sit on the sheets. ‘I – I am sorry.’
Meilyr could barely move, the feeling of Osian burned into his body. Confusion radiated. ‘Why are you sorry?’
Tension had locked Osian in place: doubt, and worry. ‘So much has happened to you tonight, and I…’
Meilyr tamped down longing and sat up, touched Osian’s cheek, coaxed him to look at him. ‘Osian, I… Please, do not be sorry. If you wish to stop, you only need to say.’
Osian took his hand and kissed the base of his thumb, as though he remembered where they had sworn their blood oath. ‘It is not that. I should not have pushed you into proximity.’
‘You didn’t.’ Meilyr had pushed him, surely. ‘And I did not mind, at all.’
The furthest thing from it.
His exhausted mind stumbled over that fact. A little brightness stole its way back into Osian’s gaze, and Meilyr tried to push the truth forward, even as it dismantled him.
He had wanted Osian on top of him. Had wanted to kiss him. Still wanted it.
He had wanted it by the lake, and before. Gods damn him, he wanted him.
And Osian wanted him too.
But admitting any of that, laying it out between them on the sheets felt impossible. It caught in his mouth, tangled him up like bunched roots. ‘Please,’ he said instead, ‘there is nothing to forgive.’
They stared at one another until Meilyr looked away, belated heat in his cheeks. ‘Could we… if Your Majesty would not mind staying…’ He pulled Osian’s hand closer, then let go and lay on his side: an invitation to return to how they had been.
He did not want Osian to withdraw. Not unless it was whatOsianwanted.
Slowly, Osian mirrored his position. They did not touch, but something eased.
‘My Prince, what happened? How did you find us?’
Osian exhaled quietly. ‘Pedr. Pedr is the reason I found you. They overpowered their attacker and called for aid. Were it not for them, who knows how long…’ His hands tensed.
Meilyr touched his knuckles. ‘You have a truly remarkable knight.’
‘I do. I am told they crawled to the edge of the gardens and had me summoned. Their attacker was out cold, but Pedr had heard and seen enough to tell me everything I needed.’
A shadow moved through Osian. Meilyr gripped his hand. ‘What is it?’
He was sure he already knew.
He was only half right.
FORTY
Names are the oldest magic in the world:
our very first gift,
and the one we carry longest.
The Book of Heart
FORTY
Pedr had garnered enough information to direct Osian straight through Eascild Castle. With his knight’s blood drying on his hands, he had stormed past the bewildered crownsworn and broken the latch of the locked door with such force it banged open.
Wystan’s gaze had sobered immediately. ‘Leave us,’ the youngest prince had told the two courtiers who had been giggling on the couch beside him. They fled, and Wystan took a drag of wine.