Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
Had it been only for Myrddin, those of weaver blood
might have faced better fortunes.
But the Sundering reshaped the world, in more ways than one.
Khaimlic History and the Centuries of War with Cyngalon,
E. van der Vos
THIRTY-ONE
Osian turned from what was left of the two crownsworn, knuckles bone-white around the hilt of his gwaed-steel sword. He refused to stumble even as exhaustion gripped his limbs.
‘Cover the royal line! Cover the royal line!’ Blythe drew her sword and strode towards him. Knights who had not already moved snapped to cover their lieges.
Meilyr – unharmed – was pale, meeting his gaze with a thousand fears and questions Osian wished he could gently brush aside like the fall of his hair. Aldreda – Edeva, Demelza, Wystan – all the others, also unharmed.
The courtyard was in utter chaos. They had to staunch the flow. ‘No one else moves!’ Osian shouted. ‘No one!’
It shocked some to stillness, but others fled.
‘Macsen, Garrick, Siddel,’ he began.
‘Arrest the prince consort!’ Captain Radnor shoved his way through the lines closer to the steps of the chapel, sword drawn. ‘That’s an order!’
Osian moved past Blythe without hesitation. ‘Knights.’
They reacted like a nerve in his wake, weaving through Aldreda’s and Wystan’s crownsblood like enspelled arrows. They formed around Osian as he gripped Meilyr’s wrist, pressed him behind him and levelled his sword before him. ‘Captain Radnor. Crownsworn. Stand down.’
It was enough to make most hedge. Radnor halted, livid with fury and pain. ‘Majesty! This is not a discussion!’
‘No, it is not.’
‘Have you lost your senses!’ Wystan, pallid with fear. ‘Captain, do as I order – arrest the prince consort. Crownsblood!’
His knights moved, but Osian’s stood fast. No one dared be the first to cross blades. A stalemate that at the slightest push could erupt into more bloodshed.
Aldreda’s crownsblood shielded her amidst it all as she clutched Edeva close, hand firm on her daughter’s head to prevent her looking anywhere.
‘No person could do this!’ An ageing priest’s voice echoed across the stone. ‘We made sure – King Uhtric made sure!’
‘Silence,’ Osian ordered, as knights firmed hands on swords.
‘Osian!’ Wystan’s panic burned with hatred. ‘Look – look at it!’ He gestured to the scene wildly. ‘How in the name of the gods are we supposed to stay calm! We killed them – we killed them all and now—’
‘Shut up, Wystan.’ Aldreda cleaved their little brother a verbal blow. Her dark eyes – wide with feral, protective love – found Osian.
It was the only apology she could afford to give him.
She walked to Demelza, put her daughter in her arms and unsheathed her sword. ‘Jocosa, Hawise. Escort Highness Cadogan to his rooms. Use force if he resists.’
Osian went to protest, but Wystan got there first. ‘That’s not good enough! Throw him in iron! You saw what just happened!’
‘And we still have no proof it was him. Osian, let me borrow Garrick and Siddel – Freda, go with them, and begin rounding up everyone who fled. I want a list of every person here, and for all gods’ sake, someone cover the bodies. Highness Cadogan—’
‘I said that’s not good enough!’ Wystan’s voice rang through the courtyard.
‘Are you waiting for us all to die? He did it!’ He pointed violently at Meilyr, through Osian.
‘We all know he did! Damn you all, damn this whole gods-forsaken place!’ Something in him snapped, and he rounded on Aldreda.
‘Damn Great-Grandfather for not finishing what he started! Damn Father for being so blinded by his favourite son, and damn you for being too cowardly to follow his lead and do what you know needs to be done – what you should have done the moment Leighton’s sorry corpse hit the floor!
What your precious bastard of a brother should have—’
Aldreda closed the distance in two strides and buried her fist in Wystan’s guts.
He crumpled around her arm with a choke of air, then slumped to his knees in a ball of stunned agony.
Meilyr’s mouth fell open. Demelza clutched Edeva tighter to her chest.
Lord Gelens clenched their hands.
Osian stood firmed to stone, expression purposefully emptied. The courtyard had gone deathly quiet.
‘Just doing what our dear father would have done,’ Aldreda said quietly, stepping neatly away, with a pointed glance at Demelza. ‘Or perhaps should have done. If you have any sense, Wystan, calm the hells down.’ Her eyes landed on Meilyr. ‘Highness Cadogan. Care to make this easy?’
‘Aldreda,’ Osian warned.
High above, the bruised sky eased its stiff joints with a groan of thunder.
Meilyr touched his shoulder. ‘I’ll go.’ A little louder. ‘I will go. Lock me in my rooms, or a cell. But I did not do this.’ There was fire in his voice: desperation and certainty. It slipped away as he looked at the horror behind them, as the rain returned. ‘I swear it.’
His hand slipped away, but he remained close.
Osian was not sure whose fingers laced with whose, but when Meilyr looked at him again, there was devastated focus in his eyes, his dark hair misted with a crown of suspended stars.
‘Henbane,’ he breathed, as though the sound alone might be the death of them both.
The drumming of Meilyr’s heart drowned out the night rain as Aldreda’s crownsblood Jocosa unlatched the old wooden box and the tang of iron filled the air.
‘King’s orders,’ Aldreda said, level.
Osian was a silent maelstrom just inside the door of Meilyr’s rooms, unable to look at him.
The chains on the polished shackles rattled as Aldreda lifted them out of the box and turned to face him.
‘Gwaed-steel, though maybe I don’t have to tell you that.
’ She did not. He could taste them from there.
‘Left over from our great-grandfather’s days.
An antique, but one that should shut some people up, at least. Hands. ’
Meilyr held out his traitorously shaking hands and let her fasten each sharp-edged cuff. Forced himself not to flinch from the heat that bit into the thin skin over his wrist-bones.
Fears that had never taken true form solidified like nightmares in the waking world. Monsters of flesh and blood.
Aldreda grabbed his wrist above the shackle and jarred him closer, leaning in.
‘Aldreda!’ Osian snapped.
‘What was it this time?’ Her voice was low and deadly, and he was prey in her claws. ‘The plant. It was different to before, and I know you know. What was it?’
‘Henbane,’ Osian said, brimming with barely tethered anger. ‘You could have asked me.’
‘And does it matter that it’s henbane?’ She shook Meilyr’s arm. ‘Well?’
His tongue lay rotted in his mouth. ‘I do not know,’ he managed.
‘Do not lie to me, Meilyr Cadogan.’
‘He is not lying,’ Osian said. ‘You are not giving him air to breathe.’
‘Why is it henbane? Why does it keep changing?’
‘I do not know.’
Her nails dug in as she pulled him closer. ‘Look at me.’
He did. Fear spluttered in his chest, knowing her next words would draw blood. But he held her gaze and poured his honesty into it. ‘I do not know.’
She stared at him for a long count, then let him go.
‘Fine. But you should know, every single Cyngaleg-blooded person within Eascild Castle is to be questioned. The town is to be placed under more stringent watch, with troops sent from Khaim to reinforce. If you know anything, now is the time to prevent the suffering of your people.’
Wretched guilt, fear and shame doused him. A boundless, petrifying hopelessness.
‘Do not put that on him.’ Storm waves gathered beneath Osian’s voice. ‘We are the ones who have let it get this far.’
‘Oh, spare me your righteous self-loathing,’ Aldreda bit. ‘This was inevitable; we are lucky it’s not worse. If Father had his way—’
‘If Father or Wystan or Radnor or Gelens had their way, what? All those of even remotely Cyngaleg blood clapped in iron and marched from Eascild? Burned alive in the night? Will any of that help catch who is behind this? This is one person, Aldreda. The moment we equate an entire populace, an entire bloodline, to the actions of one individual, we are more damned than they are – they who certainly have every reason to hate us.’
The fight in Aldreda bristled, but she stood quelled beneath the words.
‘All of you want bloodshed,’ Osian said, ‘because you are afraid of things you cannot control. I understand.’
‘We want bloodshed because someone is killing our people—’
‘Because we have never stopped killing theirs.’
Something in Meilyr gave way, achingly.
‘Can you not see,’ Osian continued, ‘this does not end, Aldreda. This does not end until we stop and sheathe the sword in favour of the shield.’
Something pained glimmered in her. ‘You’re using her words here? For this?’
‘I use them because that is what we are supposed to be. That is the purpose of rule, otherwise we are merely tyrants. One person seeks revenge, a revenge I can well understand, and I will treat them as what they are. A murderer. The same as if they had killed with a blade rather than sorcery, the same as if they were Khaimlic. I will not condemn an entire populace for the actions of one person. Let Father strip me of my throne and cast me into the sea, I will not.’
There was a long silence before Aldreda said, ‘No need to be so dramatic.’ She flexed her shoulders, and glanced at Meilyr on her way to the door. ‘If you’re wondering, yes, he was this stupidly noble before he started sleeping with you. Always made my teeth itch. Upright fool.’
She stopped beside her brother. ‘Make sure he stays here. We will have no choice but to let Gelens have him if they cannot find anyone else.’
‘I am taking him upstairs.’
‘Osian, that is not—’
‘There is nowhere he can go – you have him shackled.’ He looked at her, voice losing some of its roughness. ‘If he wanted me dead, I would be dead. He saved my life.’