‘Only the half that deserved it. If you jostle about, you’ll open stitches. Besides, I think we can agree Meilyr deserves some time on the bed, and he’s less likely to elbow you and finish the job.’
Pedr frowned, but left it.
Haydn gave Meilyr a watery smile, took his pillow and curled up on the floor with his back to the room.
Meilyr put out all save one candle and fastened himself back into his still-damp clothes, cracked the window and leaned against the sill, surveying the alley.
The hearth crackled, stoked to make Pedr and Haydn more comfortable. The slight muffle of rain was almost soothing. Almost.
He waited, and listened. Every instant dragged, his heart tight, reaching for something far away, back up the cliffs.
Night sounds drifted. Distant. Indistinct.
No one slept for a long time. Eventually, Haydn snored, and Pedr’s breathing deepened. He could hear nothing from the other room. Waited. Pressed the symbol of Y Ddraig Goch into his skin. Waited.
Time passed, excruciatingly. He inhaled and closed his eyes, testing outward. More heavy breathing, except…
Pedr watched him as he turned. They started to prop themselves up on the cushions.
Meilyr held up a hand and came quietly to the bedside.
Pedr studied him, words barely audible. ‘You are going back.’
Haydn did not wake up.
Meilyr took Pedr’s hand. ‘I cannot leave him. If I do not go back, he is going to die.’
‘Highn—Meilyr.’ Their grip firmed. ‘I am coming with you.’
Meilyr pressed their shoulder back to the pillows. ‘I need you to keep them alive. Pedr, you were sworn to me by Osian – you are sworn to him, to lay his life above all others, and I am asking you to honour that oath. I need you to tell them I will meet you all at the harbour. I need you to tell Celyn he has to get you all there safely, or I will never forgive him. I need you to do this for me, because I need to save Osian. Please.’
Pedr’s eyes searched him, pained.
‘Please, Pedr. I am the only one who can do this. Let me go to him, let me save him.’
Achingly, they nodded. ‘I swear I will do all I can to keep them safe. H—Meilyr, you swear the same. For his sake as well.’
‘I swear it.’ Meilyr squeezed their hand. ‘I will do everything in my power to keep him safe and return both of us to you.’ One of those held stronger sway, and Pedr saw it. Their concern tightened to a wince.
But they let it go. ‘Go safely. Go swiftly, with the will of the gods.’
Meilyr kissed their hand and turned away. There could be no more waiting now.
Unbearably slowly, he pushed the window wider, praying its hinges were not loud enough to wake the others. The bindweed beneath the sill had begun to bloom: white bells, like those that had enveloped Wystan.
Meilyr pulled himself into the frame and looked back.
Pedr watched, hands tense in the sheets.
‘Thank you,’ Meilyr mouthed. Then he eased forward, took a last glance through the deserted alleyway and dropped from the window.
FORTY-EIGHT
Not all comes down to fate.
Sometimes it is truly
a matter of choice.