‘A very good question.’
Wystan must have known it could only end bloody, yet had led Osian straight to it.
Reading him, Meilyr said, ‘When you arrived, there was a fight. Were they all… crownsworn?’
‘Most, yes.’ It burned Osian’s mouth too. ‘Those that surrendered were brought here alive.’
But many had not surrendered, ready to die in the name of their would-be king.
Meilyr moved to trace his brow but hesitated. ‘I am sorry,’ he whispered.
‘Whatever for?’
‘Those people should have been sworn to the Crown, including you. Instead, they…’ He made contact, emotion swimming in his eyes. ‘The same with those who aided Wystan, or shaped him. All these people…’
Osian tried to swallow the exhale at the touch, set his jaw so he did not lean into it. ‘Another price of power. There is always someone who wishes for more, and there is always collateral damage. Blood begets blood.’
He did not want to lose how softly Meilyr looked at him, but he had to tell him.
‘I killed those who resisted. I feel no remorse for it. They…’
The edges of the room blurred. Rain and blood pressed in.
Meilyr hooked a finger through the buttons at his chest to get his attention. ‘They tried to kill you, tried to kill Pedr.’
‘Are you trying to convince me my hands are clean, or are you trying to convince yourself?’
‘Neither,’ Meilyr said. ‘I am trying to convince you that your motives matter. You try to do good, every chance you get.’
‘But I do not succeed.’ Osian could not keep the bitter edge from the words. ‘I cannot.Goodandrule– those things cannot…’ He exhaled slowly.
‘They can,’ Meilyr said. ‘You have shown me that.’ Colour bloomed in his cheeks. ‘Change only does not come because others overrule you, or refuse to listen. Everything you have done, you have done to try to make things better. And it matters that you try at all.’ He touched Osian’s cheek more steadily. ‘Osian, one good person can change things. So long as they do not stop trying.’
Osian allowed himself to look at him properly, as though Meilyr were the moon and he the tide, yearning endlessly for him. ‘You are… You should be impossible. How do you make me want to believe you, even when everything I have ever seen…’
Their faces were close. It was comfortable, yet piquing every fibre of him to the very edges of ruin.
For the second time that night, he knew Meilyr felt it too.
He had to pull away. He had to.
‘You have indulged me long enough.’
Meilyr’s fingers, with the slightest tensing, halted him. ‘My Prince.’ Guilt stirred. ‘There is something I have to tell you, about Haydn. Before we were taken, he told me—’
‘He had a hand in my poisoning.’
‘You… you knew?’
‘I had my suspicions. His feelings for you, his knowledge of plants…’ Osian’s traitorous hand traced one of Meilyr’s loose curls, soft as spirit-silk. ‘I cannot blame him for believing it was a means to keep you safe, albeit short-sightedly. I certainly cannot blame him for wanting to save you, or for being tricked into believing another’s offer of help.’
He could not blame Haydn, either, for wanting Meilyr so desperately. Nor could he stop the small twinge at the care in Meilyr’s voice as he asked, ‘What will happen to him?’
‘I do not know. Wystan all but admitted to having him used. Pedr has sworn to his actions during the abduction, and… I will try to have that be enough.’Try, always try.‘I know he only did it because he cares for you.’
And because Haydn was, quite simply, a braver man than Osian.
Meilyr wanted to catch Osian’s doubt with his fingers, his lips.