Meilyr spun, then turned back.
The fox was gone.
‘Sorry.’ Haydn’s expression was slightly strained as he stepped off the path to join him. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you.’
‘No, it’s fine,’ Meilyr said, too quickly. His nerves scraped across a different nervousness, twisting him back to the present. Theone dayhe did not want to see Haydn. ‘I was distracted. Apologies.’
Haydn tilted his head: that handsome, characteristic way. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Absolutely. You did startle me. How is everything?’ He needed to stop talking. Otherwise, Haydn would know, as though Meilyr came out and told him.
‘Are you… sure?’
‘Yes. I’m fine.’
Hewasfine. He could not still feel Osian, could not still taste him. Had not been driven to distraction multiple times by the feeling of his body pressing him against the wall. ‘I am fine,’ he lied.
Haydn searched his face, concerned, taking a step closer. ‘You’re sure? You seem… nervous. Has something happened?’
‘Nothing at all.’
Itwasnothing. It had tobenothing.
Haydn did not believe him. Worry and intrigue vied. ‘Meilyr, what happened?’
Meilyr looked away. ‘I should go. If we are seen together too much—’
‘We’re only talking,’ Haydn said. ‘There’s no harm in talking, is there?’
His eyes offered more than talk, as they always had.
‘I should go.’ Meilyr turned away so he meant it.
He ran into Pedr, who had a leaf stuck in their hair from shooting after him.
‘Apologies,’ Meilyr said hurriedly. ‘I thought I saw something. Shall we?’
But as he returned to the others, he could not shake the disquiet. The roots of a strange, nameless dread. It crawled through his body like ivy through cracked stone.
Suddenly, and more sharply than the pull towards the fox, he needed to find Osian.
Meilyr excused himself again when able, ignoring the concernedglances and questions. But when he reached his and the prince’s part ofthe Eagle Tower, Prince Wystan stood in the barely lit gloom outsideMeilyr’s chambers. ‘I hoped I’d catch you without Osian present,’ theyoungest prince greeted. ‘Small mercies you could detach yourselves fromeach other for a moment.’
Meilyr stopped on the stairs. Pedr’s tensing at his back was more tangible than if the knight had moved between him and the youngest prince. ‘Prince Wystan.’ Meilyr dipped a short bow. ‘To what do I—’
‘Your bodyguard will wait downstairs. I don’t care if either of you run to Osian the instant I’m gone, but I need to have a private word with my… brother-in-law.’
Pedr finished the stairs beside Meilyr, shielding the slight space between them. ‘Forgive me, Prince Wystan,’ they said, ‘but that cannot be permitted. I have been given orders—’
‘If you disobey me,’ Wystan said simply, ‘I will report you for treason. I’m a prince of the realm.’
‘Yes, Majesty, but I am not sworn to you. My vows and duty are—’
‘To the Crown,’ Wystan corrected.
‘To His Majesty Prince Osian,’ Pedr completed. ‘I am not to leave his consort’s side.’
‘Pedr.’ Meilyr laid a hand on their arm. ‘It’s all right.’