‘Yes! It’s all green. I like green, and Uncle Osian’s here, and I like this castle – it’s scary.’
Meilyr’s smile came easier. He could feel the prince’s gaze on him more acutely than Edeva’s. ‘It is a little scary,’ he admitted. ‘They say the old castle here was built upon the bones of a giant.’
Her face lit up in awe. ‘Agiant?’
‘Yes. That was a very long time ago, though. I imagine there are still lots of fun places to run around, and the gardens are very big.’
She was utterly enamoured. ‘Will you show me?’
He opened his mouth to say,Of course, but the words caught.
‘Edeva,’ Prince Osian said. ‘There is apple tart and custard. Would you like some?’
‘Yes, please.’ She slid from his knee and ran eagerly to the waiting hands of the attendant who had brought her into the hall.
Meilyr’s plate blurred. This was the Khaimlic royal family.Playing the partwas growing increasingly difficult.
Wine would help. He downed his glass, winced at the bitter bite and the images that came with it, and set his hands firmly in his lap, bowing into himself beneath the weight of the crowded hall like a sapling under snow.
Prince Osian leaned in, touching the arm of Meilyr’s chair. His shoulder covered part of the room beyond, grounding Meilyr’s mind. ‘Do you need some air?’
He was quiet and steady, incredibly present through their bond. Incredibly close. To anyone else in the hall, it would look…
Like lovers, his mind supplied.
Lovers. He had never been very good at that, even in the short time he had tried. But he could pretend. That was all they wanted from him.
Taking a breath, he firmed himself with perilous, alcohol-aided abandon on the certainty of Prince Osian’s presence, touched his arm and leaned closer. ‘I am all right, thank you, Majesty.’ It was barely more than a whisper, nearly against the prince’s jaw.
Prince Osian did not move. Even quieter than before, he said, ‘Are you certain?’
The depth of his voice stirred something not entirely unpleasant. Meilyr shoved it aside – then snatched at the ends of it.Play the part.
Oh, to the hells with it.
Meilyr pressed a soft, chaste kiss to the prince’s jaw. Just enough to look like something to anyone who would be looking, and theywerelooking.
The prince’s well-trimmed stubble was slightly prickly. The scent of his skin was one of warmth and salt and the barest breath of smoky incense. ‘I am fine, My Prince. Return your attentions to your family. I will be here.’
The prince had gone very still. Had Meilyr crossed a line? They had not fully discussed what theirrelationshipwould look like, but—
Prince Osian leaned back, drawing Meilyr’s hand to his lips. Overtly, and letting his gaze linger, he kissed the back of his knuckles.
Meilyr’s heart stumbled. The prince let him go, returning to a more proper seated position and the words of the Heir Apparent, who snatched him over to whisper excitedly in his ear.
People had definitely seen that.
Good. Let them believe it was real.
Demelza waited until he glanced over. ‘You have some colour in your cheeks now, at least.’
He felt the flush increase. ‘Thank you for your guidance today, Highness.’
‘You have nothing to thank me for. I liked you at once, as undoubtedly many do. You have a good heart; it’s there in your eyes. Such a thing…’ She looked across the hall, then picked at her plate. ‘Such a thing is rare, here, and rarer still is the keeping of it. I know this will be a difficult change, but do not forget who you were, outside these walls.’ Something kind and a little pained entered her expression. ‘Here,’ she said, carving him a thick slice of pie from her plate. ‘Mushroom and leek. I have it made specially – meat sometimes troubles my digestion.’
It was delicious, Cyngaleg in both feeling and taste. He managed several uncomplicated mouthfuls.
‘It is all right if you do not take my word for this,’ Demelza said, ‘but I all but raised Osian, and Aldreda, from their first decade onwards. He is a good man, even if sometimes he has to hide it. Being a good man and a good prince rarely go hand-in-hand.’