The prince pulled back, released Meilyr’s chin and looked to his retinue. ‘All is in hand. Siddel, have the blacksmith seen to. Garrick, Macsen, cover and move the body. Pedr, Blythe’ – he called the two closer in an aside and nodded towards Celyn – ‘see him taken to the rooms in the southern wing, under guard. Speak of this to no one.’
The crownsworn moved, after only a flicker of hesitation.
Crownsblood, Meilyr remembered sharply, when they were sworn directly to royalty. Far higher-ranking than the crownsworn. Crownsbloodknights.
Prince Osian’s knights, from the dark blue accentuating their otherwise pale uniforms.
What in the name of the gods was happening?
‘Meilyr!’ Celyn struggled, eyes wide in askance and fury. ‘Let us go!’
The prince turned, cloak sweeping behind him, and swung into the saddle with artful ease, offering Meilyr his hand. ‘We will return to the castle.’
Meilyr’s flesh screamed for him to run. The prince had pretended to know him, but why? He had certainly never met a prince of Khaim.
But the crownsblood pulled Celyn towards their horses, away from the body of the crownsworn being covered and hauled aside.
Follow my lead.
And there was the prince’s hand – his bare hand, and his white sleeve with golden embroidery. Waiting.
It was not a choice at all. Meilyr had offered his life, and if this was how the prince wished to take it, so be it. He stepped forward and took his hand, letting Prince Osian pull him up behind him, the warmth of his back sudden as a hearth in the cold.
‘Meilyr!’
Meilyr met Celyn’s defiant gaze. The prince slowed, allowing the exchange.
‘Celyn, do as you are told. For the family.’
Celyn’s expression fell.
But he was alive. Meilyr turned away as they began the climb to the castle. He should be dead – had expected to die there on the stones at the prince’s feet.
He would have, gladly, for Celyn.
Would he soon regret it had not ended so cleanly?
TWO
Oak. Lavender. Juniper. Rowan.
Used since ancient times for the binding of oaths, the weaving ofhearts and spirits.
Oak. Yew. Alder. Rowan. Bindweed. Iron. Bone.
Used since ancient times for the binding of evil, the severing offlesh from spirit.
The Book of Heart
TWO
Keep your head down. Stay small, stay quiet.
That was how Meilyr had survived. That was how he had kept those he loved safe.
Unfortunately, it did not matter how low you kept your head when you rode pillion behind the gods-damned Khaimlic Prince of Cyngalon.
The steep, narrow roads the prince chose were quietened by festivities but not empty. Meilyr kept his face close to his back, fixed on the tight-knit weave of his cloak. It was not enough to blur all the bodies, to muffle all the voices. Even at their brisk pace, Meilyr would be seen – he would be noticed.