Chapter 10
TEN
Over a century after the Sundering, the first king and unifier, Adair
become known as the line of Arden-Draca.
His descendants would put an end to the Denelands’ heretical princes,
and King Uhtric Arden-Draca (581–644 A.S.) would begin the hunts to
further rid the lands of the wretched blood which brought about the
Sundering – that great and terrible breaking of the world.
He was succeeded by his son, King Aldrich (614–672 A.S.), who was in
turn succeeded by the illustrious King Oswald (652– A.S.). Through his
benevolence and might, our lands have known great peace, and growing
prosperity. Blessed are we by his noble children, under whose guidance
we shall one day be led.
Biography of His Holy Majesty King Oswald Arden-Draca,
Holy Devotee Godwine Airaldi. 686 A.S.
TEN
Meilyr awoke before dawn, just in time for the castle staff to bustle in.
He was hoisted into another new set of clothes: more dark blue silks, embellished with pale golds; boots still a little stiff. His hair was dressed, his eyes lined, his throat and ears and hands set with jewellery.
A costume, he thought. To help play the part.
Breakfast was whisked away before Deryn could finish scolding him to eat. She protested, a little of her accent slipping in, ‘Hold on, what—’
Harlan strode in, and she closed her mouth. ‘Highness Cadogan,’ the steward addressed. ‘You are to take breakfast with Her Majesty, the Heir Apparent.’
It was a command, not an invitation. Meilyr was bundled from the room, out of the tower and across the keep.
Harlan led the way through the exquisite corridors behind the Great Hall, up several flights of stairs, down a short hallway to a beautiful mahogany door and into the Heir Apparent’s apartments.
They were even larger than Prince Osian’s.
Like the rest of the inner keep, they were built more for comfort than the martial outer keep and its towers.
The parlour spread to the size of both the prince’s and Meilyr’s put together, and he wondered vaguely why the prince had not claimed these rooms, since the castle was his.
Fortunately, there were no living plants present. Only cuttings, their bright, severed heads still alive enough for him to feel but likely not enough to out him, even if he did lose his grip on his emotions.
Her Majesty sat leisurely on the floor at a low table, popping grapes into her mouth.
She was meticulously put together, in pristine whites and creams and golds that showed off her athletic figure.
The waves of her hair had been dressed back with more gold, twin-braided.
Her strikingly outlined eyes pierced him, her smile sharp and alert.
Her daughter was fast asleep in a nest of cushions beside her knee.
‘Highness Cadogan, good morning. Sit. I cannot possibly eat all this myself.’
Meilyr bowed, mouth dry. ‘Your Majesty.’
The table between them was overrun with dozens of small dishes.
Fruit, both fresh and dried, and various types of nuts, cooked and cold meats, and copious jams. Three types of bread and four varieties of cheese.
There was also a steaming pot of something which smelled both delicious and familiar, which an attendant poured into a small bowl for Meilyr before retreating to the side of the room.
‘Cawl, I think, is how you say it?’ Her Majesty watched him carefully. ‘I asked the Deneland chefs to make it especially. Apparently, there is some difference from our stews, and I must say I’m rather fond of it already. Please, sit.’
Meilyr sat.
‘You will have to tell me if it does it any justice.’
Trying to keep his hands from shaking, he brought a spoonful of the rich, home-smelling broth to his mouth and blew.
The Heir Apparent’s gaze could have buried him in the floor, for how heavily it fixed him in place, daring him to react to her flippant use of a forbidden Cyngaleg word.
The cawl seared down his throat. It was nearly perfect. Different to the one he made for Celyn and the others, different to the one his parents had made, the steam layering their whole kitchen with flavour, twining through the drying plants suspended in the rafters.
‘It is wonderful,’ he admitted.
‘Good.’ She leaned on one elbow, chin in her palm. ‘You know I need only have uttered one word to have it poisoned.’
Meilyr held her gaze.
The cawl steamed quietly between them.
‘You could have,’ he said at last. ‘Very easily, and within your right.’ He swallowed another spoonful and did not set the bowl down. ‘There are, however, cleaner ways to unmake your brother’s choice.’
‘Oh?’ Her voice was low, eyes bright. ‘How so?’
‘A knife in the dark, my body in the river before dawn.’ He stirred the cawl, found a perfectly cooked chunk of leek. ‘Or my own private breakfast poisoned, to be blamed on a jealous attendant.’
‘You cannot know whether I have poisoned that.’ It was almost a question, laced with barely tethered excitement. ‘As you said, it is my right, and Osian would have to make of it what he could. Are you not afraid?’
‘I might be,’ Meilyr said. ‘But it would serve little purpose. I would only really be afraid for my family, but if this is poisoned, I am already dead.’ He took another spoonful, savouring it.
Princess Aldreda’s mouth split into an exultant grin, and she huffed a laugh.
The tension in the room snapped. ‘Trust my brother. He has found himself someone very interesting… Well, have your cawl, have some of everything – none of it is poisoned, I just wanted to see what you would do. Tea? Spiced wine?’
Meilyr steadied the fumble in his chest, damn belated thing. ‘Thank you, Your Majesty. Tea, please.’
‘You know, I would have been very sorry if you had cried.’ She poured the tea herself, shooing the attendant fondly. ‘There was the potential of you begging for your life, of course, or you could have lashed out. Either would have been fair, but instead, good heavens.’
Meilyr sipped at the pleasant, earthy bloom of the tea. Barky, stiff leaves from soil he did not know, grown with care and fondness. A brush of Cyngaleg cream, nursed with the same.
The jarring tension had made his feelings lag several counts behind his mind. It provided an odd clarity, as though part of him had gone into shock.
Would he have known if the cawl had been poisoned from that first mouthful? He had fallen behind on his poisons. If it had been, could he have done something about it? He had never had to rid himself of poison, so perhaps he should have been more afraid.
‘What do you think of him, by the way?’ Princess Aldreda carved herself a large chunk of cheese. ‘Osian, that is. And be honest.’
Far easier said than done. They were supposed to be married – they were married. ‘He is…’
‘Gods, do not injure yourself.’ Her expression was kinder, still amused.
‘It’s been an unconventional arrangement, to dress it in its finest clothes.
But I know my brother, and unless the Denelands have turned him into our littlest sibling, he will be treating you well.
I’m just selfishly trying to wrap my head around it all, and was hoping you’d help me. ’
The nerves began to catch up. He forced himself to have more cawl, grounding himself with the scent, the taste, the feeling. The fields behind the leek and the carrots.
This was the future king of Khaim. Her naturally charismatic air tempted him to slip into ease, but there was something sharp about her – something different to how he felt with Prince Osian.
‘You know,’ she said, ‘in all our years, Osian never once showed any real interest in anyone. When we were teenagers, the nature of court sought to push us into some rather silly situations. I found a taste for it, but he never did, to the frustration and ire of a lot of people, might I add. More than half the court has been moon-eyed over him since he hit fifteen, and only partly because of his position.’ She scooped a hearty spoonful of lamb and carrot and chewed with a wry twist to her mouth.
‘Then he got sent off to the Denelands – which scared the hells out of him as a child, by the way – in the midst of our father trying to find him the best possible political match. He sees you’ – she gestured with her spoon – ‘and all sense gets knocked out of him like a love-struck courtier. Why do you suppose that is?’
Meilyr answered truthfully. ‘I am afraid I could not say, Your Majesty.’
‘Of course, you are very pretty. That dark hair, and those eyes – hazel? Hazel, with that gold-green. That waist.’ She tilted her head appreciatively.
‘I would say very much his type, as though made for him, in fact. But pretty never turned his head, let alone made him swear a gods-witnessed oath of devotion. So’ – she spread her hands – ‘I’m more than enraptured with finding out why…
You know, if our great-grandfather had not slaughtered all the Deneland sorcerers, I would say you’d bewitched him. ’
The warmth crawled out of Meilyr’s blood.
‘And before you say something self-effacing, Osian has always been a good boy.’ She was mercifully busy piling cheese and pickle onto bread.
‘I think he would have eventually accepted one of the matches our father tried to foist upon him, no matter how unhappy it made him. So you’re not a scapegoat for that, either.
You must tell me if he is a complete idiot at any point, though – or tell Demelza.
She practically raised us after Osian’s mother died, did you know?
She tells it much better than I do, but—Ah!
Speak of the goddess and she shall appear. ’
The door had opened, and both Highness Demelza and Prince Osian entered, clad in finery. Meilyr shakily moved to stand.
‘None of that.’ Princess Aldreda waved him down.
‘This is a family breakfast, no bowing or scraping. Demelza, love, you’re here, Osian there.
I was having Meilyr – did I say that right?
’ She did not, though it was not bad, and he barely noticed.
‘Please correct me if not. I was having him tell me all the finer, intimate details of your relationship.’
Meilyr might have flushed had his heart not been trying to throw itself from his flesh.
Prince Osian sat beside him, tucking his tunics so they fanned around him. His voice was nonchalantly flat. ‘You are a menace, Your Majesty.’
‘Rude.’
‘I hope you have not been terrifying him out of his wits, Aldreda darling.’ Demelza sat next to the Heir Apparent, on Meilyr’s other side. She gave him a kind, half-questioning look.
Edeva stirred and sat up, blearily rubbing her face. In the same motion, she crawled over to Prince Osian and curled up with her head on his knee.
‘Only testing his mettle,’ Princess Aldreda said. ‘He passes, by the way. I love him, and you must immediately give up your claim, Osian.’
‘Only if he wishes me to do so.’ The prince smoothed Edeva’s little shoulder.
‘Perfect. Meilyr, sweet thing, king consort is an awful lot more fancy than prince consort, don’t you think? Demelza dearest, tell him of the perks I could provide him when I ascend to the throne.’
Demelza shook her head fondly. ‘Be kind, love. He does not yet know you well enough to see you are teasing him.’
‘I’m not teasing him, and Osian even said it’s all right.’
‘I said only if he wished for it. Besides, you might want to ask Nabeel his opinion.’
‘Oh, he’ll understand,’ the Heir Apparent waved off, ‘and I’m sure Meilyr will agree, soon enough. Listen—’
‘Are we waiting on anyone?’ the prince asked.
‘You mean Wystan? Absolutely not. I made sure he would have an unequivocally corking hangover, and when asked we will say he could not be roused for love nor gold. I’ve had enough of his whining for a lifetime, and wanted a chance to have at least one decent meal with my favourite people before everything turns back to pomp.
Hopefully, tomorrow at the hunt we can all get absolutely filthy, and anything but sensible.
Gods, Osian, have some stew and let me tell you how awful it is that I can no longer tease you at home. ’
Conversation drifted hither and thither, pulled mostly by Princess Aldreda’s whim. Meilyr tried to school his breathing enough to eat anything more.
She had been joking about sorcery. It had only been a joke.
If it had not been, he would be dead.
He forced down more cawl, discreetly pushing aside the abruptly sour lamb. Tried some of the bread and fragrant cheese. Forced himself not to imagine the fields the tastes evoked on his tongue.
Though his blood was part of what made him so good at his work, it also made eating difficult: death dulled awareness, and control. But life echoed long after the roots had dried, the heart stopped. He could always feel a trace of what had been, especially when his emotions were heightened.
Meat, at times like this, was unbearable. Ash in his mouth. Life choked by the harsh, often terrifying instant before the end.
Throughout breakfast, Prince Osian glanced at him frequently. Meilyr did not meet his eyes, and was only forced to input a handful more times before the meal ended.
‘I suppose we should get to it.’ The Heir Apparent rose with mock stiffness.
‘Someone mentioned a tour of this charming abode? And I suppose someone should go wake Wystan. He’ll be even more unbearable if he thinks we left him out of two things on purpose, and I’d love for him to learn where all the gates are, in case he wishes to rush home. ’
Meilyr kept his head down, only half meeting Demelza’s reassuring smile as she and the Heir Apparent led off, Edeva hanging off the former’s skirts.
Prince Osian touched his elbow. ‘Do you require a moment before we begin?’
‘No, thank you, Majesty.’ Meilyr must look a state if the prince needed to pretend to check in on his well-being. ‘I am fine.’
‘If you are certain.’
He was not, but would find a way to pretend.
They followed the others, arm-in-arm.