Aldreda’s mouth curved sharply. ‘Then I will be merciful, just this once. It is rather amusing to see that colour on both of your faces, but you owe me a dance, Highness Meilyr Cadogan.’
The prince took Meilyr’s hand as they stepped away and kissed his knuckles. Beside his ear, he asked, ‘Might we retire to my rooms?’
Did he have to make everything so convincing? No one else would have heard that.
Meilyr toyed with a loosed button on the front of the prince’s tunics, took a firm hold of whatever dared stir at the low pitch of his voice and the memory of the folly, and threw it staunchly off a cliff. ‘As you wish, My Prince.’
In the solitude of Osian’s parlour, the prince poured them black tea:a small relief to Meilyr’s wine-addled senses as he sat in the armchair.Osian perched on the divan.
Rain patterned against the windows and on the roof of the tower above their heads.
The prince was hesitant before he said, ‘There is something I must tell you. I have had the apothecary watched for some time.’
A chill crept over Meilyr, steeling inside. Far less awful than it could have been.
‘I am sorry,’ the prince said. ‘I was concerned Captain Radnor might send his crownsworn to investigate. That does not seem to have happened, but I should have told you.’
‘No,’ Meilyr said after a moment, ‘you had no duty to tell me. It was the right thing to do.’
It was. Osian’s crownsworn could make sure Celyn was safe, could make sure Heulwen was safe. But gods, if Celyn found out, there would be all hells to pay.
Could Osian’s men truly be trusted…?
The prince felt apologetic, deeply. He seemed to believe in them, and it was much better to know if something happened, especially with the arrival of Lord Gelens. ‘Might I…?’ Meilyr began.
‘I will tell you if there is any news.’
‘Thank you.’
The prince’s tea remained ignored, trailing vapour past his fingers. ‘I have one further request of you tonight.’
‘Of course, Majesty.’
‘Please sleep in my bedchamber.’
Meilyr’s heart stuttered.
‘I will take the divan,’ Osian said hurriedly. ‘The bedchamber locks from the inside. I merely…’
He let it hang. Meilyr rubbed his eyes to clear the confusion ofcarehis mind still tried to convince him was there. This was for appearances, just like the folly; if Lord Gelens found a way to monitor the tower, they would at least assume the prince and his consort had shared a bed.
‘Of course, but I will take the divan.’ He rose, unsteadily. Osian moved to help.
They hesitated in the aftermath, standing close, arms touching.
There was something undeniably soft in the prince’s gaze. ‘I often sleep here, or at my desk. Take the bed, please.’
He left to prepare it, leaving no room for argument.
A subtle, pleasant scent unfurled in that vast, comfortable bed.
Meilyr burrowed into the blankets, not thinking about it. The bedchamber was more beautiful than he had noticed in passing: a true tower room, with sets of long windows to catch the sun, embraced by thick cobalt curtains matching those surrounding the posts of the bed. The fire was freshly tended, blissful on his still-chilled flesh.
This was not exactly how he had imagined his first night in the prince’s bed. Needless to say, he was glad Osian made a habit of not meeting expectations.
His neck was still tender. How many lovers had the prince taken in these sheets—
Not thinking about that. That was the wine – the intimacy of their dance, and the folly, and the strangeness of pretending, and…