‘Until after the coronation.’
‘So, probably forever.’
Defensiveness sprouted. ‘He told the truth.’
‘You’re so sure?’
Meilyr bit his lip. He could not explain it the way he had to Celyn – Haydn did not know what Meilyr was. ‘I know he told the truth; he’s honest.’
‘Mm. And he owns you, now.’
‘It is not like that.’
Haydn went to argue, then took Meilyr’s face in his hands, overflowing with concern. ‘Has he hurt you?’
‘No – no, I’m fine—’
‘Highness Cadogan?’
Pedr. Close.
Meilyr pulled away as Haydn let him go. ‘Please do not tell anyone. Please.’
Haydn nodded, taut and withdrawn. His worry was deep, coiled with a rage and a protectiveness Meilyr neither needed nor deserved.
He had no choice but to stride back onto the path and let Pedr find him.
As full summer arrived through sheets of rain, the Crown hosted thecoronation tournament.
At the specially built site on the hills west of Eascild, the precipitation had abated for the better part of the events of the first day: a clamour of voices, and drums that rattled the chest; horses, hounds, falcons, and the snapping of thousands of white, gold and blue banners in the hissing wind.
Meilyr sat at the prince’s side, smiled and applauded. Assisted in accepting pennants and offering prizes. Talked idly with members of the court and sipped sweet mead and sparkling wine.
This was his most public outing as consort. The stands for townsfolk were filled to bursting, and there had been applause – cheering – when he had been heralded. A good deal of the spectators were Khaimfolc settled in Eascild, but there had to be a measure of Cyngaleg peoples too.
The reception was surprising. Was Celyn amongst them? Meilyr did not have to guess what he would think of all this. Was Heulwen here? He tried not to scan the crowd, afraid of what he might find.
‘Thesestrawberries!’ Faina grasped the air in joy. She sat in the box below the royal one and turned in her seat to look at him. ‘Highness, you have to try some. Here, proper Cyngaleg strawberries.’
‘Faina, dear.’ Demelza held back laughter at his side. ‘We have them up here too. Though, Highness Cadogan should certainly try one.’
‘But look at the size of this one!’ Faina touted the fruit, cored and ready, the reserved Master of Falcons ducking obligingly out of the way beside her without a hint of chagrin.
Meilyr’s cheeks hurt. Moments like this were genuine respites from the strain, and he was not sure if he could have managed without the two of them.
‘If I throw, will you catch?’ Faina wiggled the strawberry threateningly.
‘Wait!’ He made a shield with his hands.
‘Lady Faina,please—’
Faina popped the strawberry in her mouth, beaming. ‘You should see your faces,’ she managed, chewing.
Demelza released a laugh. Meilyr lowered his hands.
Faina threw the second, concealed strawberry without remorse or hesitation.
Meilyr startled, and—