The prince pressed their foreheads together, fingers on his jaw. ‘Meilyr, he will bring another Ectheid. He will find out about you, about Celyn. It is only a matter of time.’
Celyn.
Time.Meilyr had thought they would have more time.
He gripped Osian, pushing against his forehead. This was too cruel. ‘How am I supposed to…’
‘I have made arrangements for someone I trust to keep you hidden near Llwyn Diffaith until a ship arrives for you. There should be more than enough happening here to give you cover.’
Meilyr did not want to leave him. It stung like thorns through his chest. ‘Osian…’
‘You have to leave tonight. It is the only chance you both have.’
Both.Had it not been for Celyn, what would he have done?
He did not have to wonder.
‘What about you? The king will know you helped me, and the sorcerer—’
‘Aldreda has begun questioning those in the hall, and the king will bring another Ectheid to assist them. The sorcerer will be found, at least. As for my father, I am a useful enough piece to keep on the board. But I do not know what he will do to Cyngalon. Or what the Marcher Lords will do in response. You need to be as far away as possible, and keep yourself and Celyn hidden.’
A thousand acrid, aching emotions.
But another thought came, delivering a different form of horror. ‘All those of Cyngaleg blood in the castle… They are in danger, aren’t they?’
‘I believe so. Until the sorcerer is found, but perhaps after as well.’
‘Your plan to get us out of Cyngalon – would it work if there were more people?’
Osian understood at once. ‘Who did you have in mind?’
Deryn answered the summons swiftly, insisting on bringing the princeconsort fresh clothes from his rooms. She ferried things ferociously,before pushing Meilyr into Osian’s washroom, where she helped wash thedirt and blood from his face and hands and tugged his hair into place.Outlined his eyelids. Fitted him into fine clean tunics: blue as deep asmidnight, flashing ivory and palest gold in the skirts beneath.
As he explained, her face moved through shock, doubt and wary consideration.
‘Highne—Meilyr, he is… still a prince of Khaim.’
‘And I trust him with my life.’
He knew it was true as he said it, and could not bear to even glance at the idea of leaving him.
‘My family are safely out of Eascild,’ she said. ‘I need to work.’
‘Osian believes Eascild will soon not be safe for anyone of Cyngaleg blood. We can send for your family, or you can join them. You can find other work, and have more of a chance than if you stayed here, waiting for death.’
It was cruel, but he did not want her to stay for false hope. There had already been staff who had fled; hopefully she would just be another, a drip from a leaking tap.
The choice worked through her. ‘The prince has always been kind. I always believed he cared, and perhaps, if he had not been born of his blood…’
‘He is not his blood. He is a good man, and he has tried for us, fought for us. He does not think it’s enough, but he means to help. To save us. Please, trust him. Trust me.’
Heat grew in his cheeks as she saw what he still could not admit.
She said, ‘I trust you, Meilyr. Tell me what to do.’
She waited for him as he slipped through the nearest tunnels. At the space Osian had described for him, he slid aside the loose stone beside the fireplace and stepped into the light.
Pedr was alone, their hand resting on their sword where they lay propped up in bed. They did not seem surprised to see him.