Meilyr had suggested Osian do this, but the prince was the only one who could attend to other matters.
‘I will stay,’ Pedr informed him after he explained.
Of course, but Meilyr was not done. He perched on the edge of the narrow cot where the injured knight convalesced. ‘Pedr, you would have died for your duty. That does not mean they will not kill you for your blood. Osian cannot keep protecting us much longer – we are running out of time.’
Pedr’s expression softened, a little sad. ‘You care for him. You also do not wish to leave.’
Meilyr really could not do this right now. ‘I trust him. He…’
‘You do not have to explain. I understand.’
They did.
Pedr’s smile was watery, a knowing glint to their gaze. ‘He has a way about him, does he not?’ They touched the top of their bandages, losing focus. ‘I think I would not have minded dying for him. Dying for the duty he laid in my hands.’
‘He would not have wanted that. He wants you alive.’
Their gaze returned to his. ‘I swore an oath to him. I swore my life.’
‘And he would have you keep it. He wants you to leave, to be safe. He wanted me to convince you. Do this for him, if not yourself.’
Conflict remained in their brow. ‘You know as well as I, he is vulnerable. Whatever is happening, whoever is doing this…’
‘We are no good to him dead. Would you cause him more grief?’
Cruel, again, but Meilyr was so very tired of death. So very tired of not being able to look at the welling mess of his own heart.
Part of him wanted Pedr to stay – the most loyal, truest knight to stand behind Osian, ready to lay down their life for him.
But Pedr could not stop the sorcerer, could not withstand the wrath of the king. Meilyr did not want Pedr to die, and neither did Osian.
Pedr’s fight ebbed. ‘I will think on it, if you will allow me to.’
‘Of course. Bring only yourself, and anything you cannot bear to leave behind.’
Much easier said than done.
FORTY-FIVE
‘Because you have changed me,’ the Fox said,
‘in such a way that I have somehow become
more myself.’
The Fox’s Tears,
translated by Idwal gan Hywel
FORTY-FIVE
The knot in Meilyr’s chest tangled further as the night drew in.
The symbol of Y Ddraig Goch rested, hidden, against his heart where it belonged. Where Deryn had retrieved it for him, wide-eyed and without comment.
Other than the things he had already left in Osian’s rooms, there was nothing else he would take with him.
With a squeeze of her hands, Deryn left him alone.