‘But all it takes is him, just him, just one death—’
‘Would youstop?’ Meilyr pulled out of his arms, dropping his voice. ‘If I did, then what? We just walk out of here? Listen, it will be all right. We just have to be patient.’
Celyn bit his bleeding lip, torn by his own worrying teeth. His jaw worked as resentment fought with guilt, and it was a long count before he touched Meilyr’s arms more gently. ‘I’m sorry I suggested that. I know how you feel about it, but he’s lying. I know you want to see the good in everyone, but he will ruin you, and then if you’re lucky, cast you aside. Or kill you when he’s had his fill. He’sKhaimlic.’
‘You expect me to watch you die instead?’ The tightness in Meilyr’s throat spread. But he squeezed Celyn’s hands and willed forward their shared history, the weight tethered to his next words, which Celyn alone in all the world – dear, foolish, beloved Celyn – would understand. ‘There would be nothing worse for me than that.’
Agony bent Celyn’s expression. He slipped into their native Cyngaleg tongue, hopeless. ‘He’s lying, Meilyr. I can’t lose you.’
‘Keep your voice down,’ Meilyr hissed in Khaimlic, moving to cover his brother’s mouth.
Still in Cyngaleg, Celyn said, ‘What will he do if I don’t?’ He switched back to Khaimlic – louder. ‘What will you do,prince? I know you’re lying! If you touch him, I’ll kill you!’
Meilyr grabbed him. ‘Stop.’
‘But he’s lying!’ The pain behind the fury glimmered as Celyn leaned close. ‘And it’s going to cost you everything, please see that.’
Meilyr could not reply, could not beg him to see. ‘I am sorry,’ was all he managed. He touched his cheeks and pressed his forehead to his again. ‘Swear you won’t do anything stupid. They will put us both to death, remember that.’
‘Meilyr…’
‘Please, Celyn.’ And then, because it would help him, he said: ‘In return, I swear I will not go easy to my death.’
It was not a lie. He would fight if he had to, but not in the way his brother hoped, using his weaving to kill the man who had saved them.
No, he would not use his blood for harm. Better his secret died with him.
Celyn’s gaze hardened. ‘The only thing I swear is that if anything happens to you, I will kill him.’
‘Celyn,’ Meilyr tried.
‘You can’t ask me for more than that.’
Meilyr knew he could not. Celyn was only pain and rage, retracted into that familiar sharp darkness where Meilyr could not reach him.
He pulled away, before he could not. ‘I’m sorry, Celyn.’
‘Meilyr!’
Meilyr opened the door. Prince Osian leaned against the wall outside, arms folded. He had definitely heard at least some of that.
‘You!’ Celyn made for the door.
Meilyr moved between them and looked over his shoulder at the prince. ‘Thank you, Your Majesty. I have your word he will not come to harm?’ He dared make it a question.
‘You do.’
Meilyr turned to Celyn, whose fists were clenched bone-tight at his sides. ‘I will see you soon. Stay safe, please.’
He shut the door and tried to swallow the nettles in his throat, the sting in his eyes.
The prince locked the door, and that was that.
The prince led them back past the crownsblood, through the corridorsand courtyard and into the strange tunnels. Back up the slow, achingpath to his bedchamber.
The bedchamber…
They were wed. Meilyr had sworn everything he was, body and soul, to the prince. He could do with him as he wished, and though Prince Osian did not exudethatair, some men were better at hiding it than others.