The tide drew in after the great wave. The ache replaced the joy.
Meilyr clung to Osian, unashamedly. His eyes stung.
Osian held him just as keenly, no space between them. As though they could hold back the storm with nothing but closeness. As though together, they might just make it.
Come with me, Meilyr’s heart begged.Come with me.
Osian kissed his temple in answer.I cannot.
They held one another anyway, agony thick, unspoken. No less obliterating.
A single hot tear slipped from Meilyr’s eye, lost into the press of their temples.
Finally, when they could not wait any longer, they began.
They cleaned up as best they could with the basin and cloth, then Osian shrugged on a sleep-robe and helped Meilyr dress. It felt strange to be in plain clothes – still Osian’s dark blue on the outer-tunic, but… not the same. The prince’s hand lingered on the buttons as he touched Meilyr’s neck.
‘I…’ The skin he touched was tender. ‘I may have…’
Meilyr wanted to laugh. To cry. The noise he made was a little of both.
Gods, let the marks never fade.
He leaned up and kissed Osian, because every moment drew them closer to the world beyond. Every moment they were not in contact felt wrong.
Far too soon, Meilyr stood as readied as he could be, in the circle of Osian’s arms, the secret hatch open beside them. They touched one another’s faces, pained.
Meilyr breathed it one final time. ‘Come with me. Please.’
Osian pressed his forehead against his. ‘I cannot risk you – I cannot. Leave Cyngalon, leave Khaim. Leave all this behind.’
‘Osian—’
Osian kissed it from him, disarming him again.
Leaving him felt like the most irrational thing Meilyr could do. He wanted to fall fluid and hungry against him – crash against the rocks of his body, pull him back to the bed. Have the world beyond hang in perpetual stillness, as though the Otherworld itself had wrought it so.
Gods, please, give them another bell. Another moment.
But Celyn waited in the world beyond. Pedr and Deryn and everyone waited. None of them would be safe if Meilyr stayed, and none of them would be safe if Osian came with them.
Meilyr gripped the back of his head, a match to Osian’s hold. ‘Find me.’ It was a command. ‘I do not care how long it takes you. Come and find me.’
‘Meilyr—’
Meilyr kissed him. Kissed him as his heart broke, as his eyes welled and the agony threatened to shatter him on Osian’s shores.
He pulled away before he could not, took the lantern from the floor and turned – because he knew if he did not go now, he would never go at all.
He climbed down the steep, sharp steps into the dark and did not dare look back.
FORTY-SIX
Come back to me.
Come back as a shadow, as a spirit.
As a nightmare.