He had added golden henbane, dandelion and more burdock root, with just enough weaving to rouse the life left in them: unconventional, but hopefully it would not offset the taste too much.
Together, they propped Osian up. Meilyr spoon-fed him, brushing aside his feeble attempts to help. The prince spluttered the first mouthful, then managed more smoothly.
‘Ugh,’ he intoned.
‘It will pass. You are incredibly lucky.’
‘Luck has… nothing to do with it.’
Meilyr looked away. ‘That will do for now, I think. You should sleep.’
At least there was more colour in his cheeks as Meilyr set the bowl aside.
‘Cawl,’ the prince said thoughtfully.
Meilyr froze. He had used the word without thinking. ‘Forgive me – a slip. It will not happen again.’
‘No,’ Osian said. ‘I was merely thinking how everything sounds better when you say it. Tutors always… Ugh.’
‘Tutors?’
A small, tired nod. ‘When I was… younger. Beseeched my father for lessons – born to be named prince and all that, so I reasoned… we never would be able to destroy the language. Better I knew what was being said. Ha. Took months, but he conceded, for a time.’
Osian’s careful, near-perfect accent. The care he took over every Cyngaleg name.
‘I had no idea,’ Meilyr said.
‘It was kept very quiet. I always meant to tell you, but…’ Their eyes met. ‘When you speak, I remember more of it. Your voice…’ He coughed again. Groaned again. ‘This is abysmal.’
Meilyr had to smile. ‘I am sorry.’
‘You did not poison me.’
‘You are so sure.’
‘I am,’ Osian said. ‘If you had poisoned me, I would be dead.’ A pause. His hand moved towards his lowest ribs. ‘I was hit by an arrow, here, during my first battle. Forced to lie in bed for a week. This is worse.’
Meilyr felt his mouth quirk higher. ‘I will update my notes. Fox’s tears, worse than an arrow to the abdomen.’
‘Good, it is vital information.’
‘Truly.’
‘The populace must be warned.’
‘Absolutely.’
Osian’s weary, endearing amusement – whatever this was – felt so natural it was only then that Meilyr stumbled and glanced away.
The prince’s expression sobered. ‘You do not have to nurse me. You have done more than enough.’
It was true, but the thought of leaving him felt… wrong.
‘Perhaps better I am seen as an attentive consort. If you do not die in the night, it might even convince others I did not poison you.’
Osian studied him, then gave up the fight. ‘I suppose.’ He exhaled, long and quiet. ‘Might I… be allowed a bath?’
‘You should sleep, My Prince.’