He set the cup down and stood, the prince’s eyes fixed on him as he stepped closer. ‘May I?’
The prince rose carefully, and damn if Meilyr did not keep forgetting how tall he was. With what must have been wine-emboldened audacity, he laid his hand on the prince’s shoulder and tapped firmly, twice, with one finger. ‘That could meanmay I.’ He then pressed three times with the same finger. ‘And this could meanthat is fine?’
He felt foolish and somewhat light-headed, until Prince Osian touched his arm and tapped twice with the tip of his finger. It sent two reverberating jolts through Meilyr’s body, small and not unpleasant.
‘May I,’ the prince repeated, low and thoughtful.
Meilyr’s high collar was abruptly too tight, but he pressed three times with his finger. ‘Do you think that could work, Your Majesty?’
‘It is subtle enough.’ The prince tore his gaze from Meilyr’s to the place where his hand still rested on his arm.
Meilyr dropped the touch, and Prince Osian did the same. ‘Yes,’ the prince affirmed, ‘I believe that could work. Should there be a different signal, for anything that goes too far?’
Meilyr made himself return to the armchair, too conscious of his hands.
The prince folded himself onto the divan and flexed his fingers as though to loosen an ache.
‘Majesty,’ Meilyr began, ‘please assume that ordinary touch is fine. I expected more – not expected but assumed there would be more. You… do not really need to ask, but you can, if you need to. If it will make you more comfortable.’
The prince’s mouth curled in sardonic concern. ‘I started this conversation for your comfort, yet I feel you are being more attentive to my own.’
Perhaps that was true. ‘My comfort is less important than the necessity of the lie.’ For the prince’s ends, and for Celyn’s sake.
But Prince Osian’s face fell, and it was the closest to displeased Meilyr had seen him. Something ached through the bond as the prince said, ‘I do not wish for that to be the case. I would rather find a balance, if we can.’
Meilyr fidgeted, picked up his tea. ‘In that case, we can tap four times? If something is too much.’
‘Very well.’
The window boxes remained settled, ignoring Meilyr’s thudding heart. He forced himself to breathe slowly through his noise, sipping his tea as the prince did the same. Had Prince Osian needed something else from him? What mistake had he made to bring this tension into the air?
But as he tested towards their bond, the prince only seemed distracted. Troubled, not angry or aggrieved. He had been nothing but genuine through their talk, and perhaps it was only the weight of the lie that plagued him, or his own discomfort at having to pretend.
Meilyr had risen to refill the prince’s tea before he caught himself, those blue eyes refocusing in his, brimming with surprise. ‘Thank you,’ Prince Osian said.
‘Of course, Majesty.’ Meilyr sent another glance at the plants as he returned the kettle, then let his gaze slide to the shelves upon shelves of books.
‘You are welcome to them,’ the prince said, ‘if you would like something to read.’
Meilyr hesitated. ‘Thank you, Majesty. It is quite a collection.’
‘I believe Harlan showed you the castle reading rooms, though they are still in the process of being filled. Our Keeper of Books is rather determined, as you may have noticed.’
Faina. Meilyr smiled a little. ‘I had noticed, yes.’
The man on the divan, wavy fair hair drawn back from his temples by the small braids of their union, regarded him with undivided attention. Yet again that night Meilyr reached instinctively towards him with his senses, and the threaded bond unfurled readily. The prince was utterly commanding: power burned, but heheldit tempered. His calm was not a façade, but a storm broiled beneath the waves.
Meilyr could not truly put his finger on him, could not make sense of him.
Celyn’s warnings stirred through the thicket of his mind. Prince Osianwasdangerous, even just from the power of his birthright. The flourishing window boxes had kept Meilyr’s secret for now, but he still had to be careful, even with their woven connection.
He dragged himself from the shadows of memory and said, ‘May I peruse the books, Majesty?’
‘Of course.’ A pause. ‘They are yours now, as much as mine.’
Oh.No, that was not right. Even with the rings on their fingers, with their braids and their oaths, this was all still a lie.
Meilyr went to the shelves; more books had been unpacked since his last visit, and the titles washed into one another.Breathe, he reminded himself.Choose a damn book.