‘Where is he?’ Osian’s voice had growled thunder in his own ears.
‘I’m sorry, who?’
Osian moved across the room. Wystan stood sharply, mask falling. ‘Wait – what is this about? Stop—’
‘Meilyr.Where is he?’
Confusion, seemingly genuine. ‘What?’
‘One of my knights was all but run through, and their attackers took my consort and another member of castle staff. They were your men. Where have they gone?’
Wystan’s expression had worked quickly, calculating. ‘My men? How—’
‘It was Terrell, and the ’sworn captured is one of your favourites. Do not waste my time – tell me where they are, now.’
He had wanted to grab Wystan. Had wanted to put him at the end of his sword, or beneath his grasp to suffocate the truth from him. He had never laid hands on his brother, but he almost did then.
Wystan had seen it. He swallowed and recalculated. ‘Where is Gelens? They—’
‘Lord Gelens is conveniently absent.Youknow something,youtell me.’
Wystan had fidgeted, unmoored without his script.
‘Now, Wystan. If your hesitance—’
‘Stop! Stop, all right… They’ll be at the abandoned farm a bell westward. Take me to the gate and I’ll show you the way.’
Sharp confusion. ‘What?’
‘Now who’s wasting time?’ Wystan downed his wine with shaking hands and set the glass aside. ‘Shall I walk, or are you going to drag me down the stairs?’
Osian had read him for lies, for the half-truths he lived behind, which he breathed like air. There was nothing but fear and frustration. ‘Why are you helping me?’
‘Because this is not my move, Osian. I wanted your consort scared, but not this.’ He paused, grappling with something. ‘Poisoning you was also not my move. Quite the opposite. I told them… not that. Not you dying.’ He straightened. ‘Come, or you will lose him.’
Osian watched confusion shift through Meilyr’s features like softclouds over the hills as he told him of the exchange.
Their fingers had laced, faces close, the echoes of intimacy not quite dispelled.
‘What did he mean it was not his move?’ Meilyr asked. ‘Did he not give the order?’
‘I believe Gelens has overseen far more than we realised. I believe Wystan, and would not be surprised if he was little more than a figurehead for those who wish to keep Cyngalon for themselves. Those who wish to see him crowned king.’
Those who had controlled Wystan’s entire life.
‘So, Lord Gelens had us taken… had you poisoned…’
Carefully, Osian traced near the edges of the healing cuts on Meilyr’s fingertips and forced himself to remember he could not keep him. Even this stolen moment should not have been his, even as his body remained ignited from the way Meilyr had pulled him on top of him, urging up against him, desperate and needing.
Osian had almost lost him. He had thought he had. That, coupled with this closeness, had almost broken the last of his resolve. But Meilyr had been through too much, must have been terrified and hurting, and Osian would not let his own feelings devour them. He would not let his want win.
Besides, Meilyr would likely never look at him like that again. Not after this. ‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘Gelens likely hoped to make it appear you had escaped, or to use you as a bargaining piece. They did not count on Pedr.’ Grateful pride filled his chest. ‘I believe that had Wystan been truly responsible – or even aware – he would have admitted it, or else lied. There is no self-serving reason he would lead me to you.’ Unless Aldreda had wrung it out of him before. She might have, had she reached him first.
‘And Lord Gelens…?’
‘Has not yet been found,’ Osian confirmed. ‘Aldreda is overseeing the search, though likely they have fled to Sanford or Flintwick, since even the king is unlikely to give them sanctuary after this. I have ordered my knights guard Celyn, alongside Aldreda’s.’
Thankfulness lit Meilyr’s face. ‘Thank you.’ Their hands tightened. ‘But why would Wystan out Lord Gelens? And their other allies?’