Dragon Prince 01 - Dragon Prince Page 11

  The answer came from a ruthlessly practical portion of her mind, the part untouched by Fire. He was a prince. She would be marrying power and lands and ambitions, not just a man. If he truly intended to marry her at all.

  She rose from her bath and pulled the plug, noting how swiftly the water was sucked down—probably to flush out the middens, she thought, approving of the efficiency and cleanliness. During her childhood at River Run they had removed to a nearby manor for a time every summer so the filth could be cleaned from the garderobes. Again she realized how much water must be here, to waste it in keeping not just bodies but the castle clean.

  After toweling dry, she went to the bedroom and dressed in the things left for her. The gown was a good fit, despite Cami’s apprehensions, and by far the prettiest thing she had ever worn. Sioned brushed and braided her hair, then draped a thin veil of silvery gray silk over her head, securing the material with a few plain pins. There was a full-length mirror set into one tiled wall, and as she considered herself in it she smiled. Rohan had seen the worst of her, but would never do so again if she could help it.

  Sunset approached, but no knock sounded at her door. Sioned toyed with the idea of investigating the keep on her own, but chose to stay within her room and enjoy its comforts. River Run had been a pleasant enough place, and Goddess Keep was in some chambers the epitome of elegant living. But the rooms given those who lived there were not half so large or lovely as the one Sioned was in now, and she explored it with interest. The bed was big enough for four people, decorated with a pile of plump pillows covered in blue and green silk. The hangings were not the thick wool from Gilad or Cunaxa usual in colder climates, but sewn of silk fine enough to see through and embroidered with tiny white flowers. The object was, of course, to keep insects out, not to keep warmth in. The floors were polished hardwood and bare but for a few rugs scattered casually around, and Sioned realized that never again would she wake in the morning and put her feet to a frozen stone floor. The same tiles used in the bathroom framed the mirror, the windows, and the doorways. The rest was white plaster over smoothed stone.

  The outer door opened and Sioned jumped. But it was Camigwen, not Andrade, who looked around and nodded her satisfaction. “I knew it! This is grander than mine or Ostvel’s. I was sure Urival would give you something befitting your coming rank.”

  Sioned let the reference pass. “It’s lovely, isn’t it? What’s yours like?”

  “More or less the same, only not so large and with less furniture. And I have to share a bathroom. Now, when you meet Princess Milar, be sure to get her to offer you some silk for new gowns. She’ll probably mention it herself, but in case she doesn’t—”

  “Cami, I won’t go begging—”

  “You idiot, you’re going to own all this soon, and don’t start denying it again, either! I saw your eyes—and his!”

  “You didn’t see anything.”

  “And you made sure I didn’t hear anything, didn’t you? What went on out there between you?”

  “That’s precisely what I’d like to know.” Lady Andrade’s voice from the doorway made both girls jump. “Camigwen, you will excuse us, I’m sure.”

  Reluctance in every line of her, Cami left the room and closed the door behind her. Andrade was more stately than ever in the dark gray silk, her bright hair concealed by a matching veil. She looked Sioned over coolly as she sat down in a blue-cushioned chair by the windows.

  “What do you think of the face in the Fire now?”

  “I’m not sure I understand you, my Lady.” Sioned took the other chair without asking permission to sit in Andrade’s presence.

  “My dear child, we both know you have an adequate supply of wits and a more than adequate portion of pride. Let’s have done with the usual and be honest with each other. Will you have him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “He’s young, rich, reasonably handsome, intelligent, and a prince. What do you find lacking? You told me once that you saw what he was by looking into his eyes.”

  “They’re interesting eyes,” Sioned admitted. “But I think they hide a great many things.”

  “What in the name of the Goddess did you two say to each other?” Andrade exclaimed.

  Sioned discovered a perverse pleasure in frustrating the powerful Lady of Goddess Keep. “We agreed to wait,” she said quite truthfully.

  “For how long?”

  “He mentioned something about the Rialla.”

  “What? He won’t have any time for that sort of thing at Waes! Every prince watching, Roelstra ready to—” She burst out laughing. “Roelstra! Why, that miserable, cunning son of a dragon!”

  Sioned stared, mystified. Her mind worked furiously as she thought of everything she had ever heard about the High Prince. Ruthless, sly, and manipulative—qualities Andrade possessed in abundance—Roelstra was Andrade’s enemy for reasons no one had ever been very clear about. He ruled Princemarch from Castle Crag, meddled in the affairs of most other princedoms—and was possessed of an embarrassment of daughters.

  She sucked in a breath between clenched teeth. So that was what Rohan was about, was it?

  “Good. You understand,” Andrade said, correctly reading Sioned’s grim little smile. “Do you trust him?”

  After a brief hesitation, Sioned answered with complete honesty this time. “I’m not sure. When I’m with him, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but him. I’ll trust him if he gives me reason to.”

  “Make him take you into his confidence, Sioned. Force his truth if you have to, then show yourself worthy of it—and make him do the same. Suspicion is all very well to whet a lover’s appetite, but it’s fatal between husband and wife.”

  “We need to believe in each other,” Sioned murmured. She rose, giving Andrade a look of appeal. “Tell me it will come out all right. Please.”

  “Oh, Sioned.” Andrade rose and framed the girl’s face with her fingers. “May you kindle Fire and never be burned by it. May the Air never send storms across your path. May that path across the Earth be a soft one, and the Water of your tears always taste sweet with joy.” Sioned’s eyes filled with tears as she received the ancient blessing, and the Lady smoothed the drops from her cheeks. “Only let him love you, and love him in return.”

  Chaynal had swallowed a bellyful of questions all the way back to Stronghold. Rohan had been in no mood for conversation. When Tobin followed him into the bathroom demanding to be told everything, Chay could only shrug.

  “If I knew anything, I’d share it. Wash my back?”

  She stripped down to her undershift as he got into the tub, and wielded a scrub brush with such energy that he yelped. “Oh, don’t be such a baby. You’re as filthy as the boys after a day with the horses at home, and you smell worse. At least I know the girl’s name.”

  “Which is?”

  “Sioned. She’s going to marry Rohan.”

  “Oh, I never would have guessed, not from the look on his face!”

  “But he didn’t look at her once in the courtyard, and there’s no welcome for her. Chay, he didn’t even introduce her to Mother!” She started soaping his arm. “Tell me about the dragon.”

  His brief synopsis was frequently interrupted by her exclamations. Chay finished with, “Don’t tell anybody he got sick afterward. It’s not exactly heroic, and won’t listen well in bardsong.”

  She grinned back at him. “We’ll make sure it doesn’t get into the official version. Oh, Chay, how proud Father would have been!”

  “It’s the last dragon he’ll ever kill, you know. Even if he hadn’t said as much out there, I saw it in his face.”

  “I suspected as much. Turn around, love.”

  He obliged, scooting around in the rub to face her. “Anyway, we rode back and damned if the girl didn’t show up like a shimmer-vision in the sand! He took her off for a talk. I couldn’t watch as much as I wanted because the dark girl—Cami-something, the one with the eyes—kept asking questions. I rather liked he
r young man. Good seat on a horse, and an air of authority, for all that he’s not faradhi.” Chay closed his eyes as his wife rubbed soap across his chest, her fingers more caressing than efficient. “Oh, that’s good,” he murmured.

  “Keep talking,” Tobin ordered.

  “Well, it seems they lost some of the horses and all their baggage crossing the Faolain. I know that fording. It’s dangerous enough for most people, and I can imagine what those poor Sunrunners went through. The girl kept apologizing for their appearance. I think she expected them to make a grand entrance into Stronghold.”

  “So did Andrade, and she’s not happy about it at all. Why won’t Rohan acknowledge Sioned?”

  “I watched him with that dragon today,” Chay said slowly.

  “We’ve always known he’s clever, but I never saw anything like the way he tricked that dragon. He knew all its weaknesses and played them to his own advantage. I have the feeling it’s going to be like that from now on, Tobin. And none of us is going to be able to figure him out in advance.”

  “He’s going to tell me everything I want to know,” she said firmly.

  “I’d walk carefully if I were you. He’s not your little brother anymore.”

  “He’ll always be my little brother, and Goddess help him if he forgets it!” She lathered his hair. “What happened next?”

  Chay squeezed his eyes shut as soap dripped down his face. “Nobody said a word the whole way back. But Rohan wasn’t thinking about dragons, believe me.”

  “Hmm.” Tobin dumped a pitcher of clean water over his head.

  “Finish it yourself. You know what happens every time I wash the rest of you.”

  He smiled at her over his shoulder. “And things were getting interesting, too!”

  Rohan’s bath was much less interesting, and much delayed. His mother stayed with him for quite some time, making him tell the entire story of the dragon-slaying twice while she ruthlessly cleansed and bound his wound. She then let him know precisely what variety of fool he was to do such a dangerous thing—before she suddenly started to cry.

  Andrade appeared at last, ordered the princess to her own chambers, and wordlessly pointed to the bathroom door. Rohan balked.

  “I washed you the morning you were born,” she reminded him tartly. “You put your fist in my eye then. Once is all you’re allowed, prince or no prince, so stop looking murderous. I want to talk to you in private.” She eyed the young squire, Walvis, who had attended her into the chamber. “Go on, child. I’m perfectly capable of handing him soap and towels.”

  Walvis glanced uncertainly at Rohan, who nodded and told him, “Come back later. I have work for you.” The boy bowed and fled.

  Rohan went into the bathroom, stripped—blushing as his aunt’s critical gaze ran over him—and slid into the cool water. The lecture began at once, as he had expected.

  “I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, but I’m not overly fond of intrigues not my own. Especially when the master of the plan is my own kinsman who won’t tell me what he’s up to.”

  “Why do you think I’m up to anything?”

  “Sweet innocence! You do it very well, Rohan, but don’t try it with me! Why didn’t you give that girl her proper welcome? Oh, not as your future princess, I’ll admit to a marginal understanding of that. But if Urival hadn’t seen to her comfort, she’d still be standing out in the courtyard!”

  “I knew I could count on him.” Rohan scrubbed determinedly at a dirty foot.

  “You did, eh? And are you counting on Sioned as well? She says very little—your instructions, I assume—just that you both agreed to wait until the Rialla.” She snorted. “As if you needed all that time before you know each other, when you’ve already felt the Fire!”

  “Have you ever felt it?” he asked suddenly.

  “None of your damned concern,” she snapped.

  Unsuccessful in his attempt to take the skirmish onto enemy ground, he decided to return to a subject that concerned him profoundly. “What else did she say?” he asked, his nerves tightening. If he could not trust her, then everything would be ruined.

  “That you have interesting eyes,” Andrade replied in disgust.

  Rohan hid a smile. “You haven’t really told me much about her family.”

  “I thought genealogy was Mila’s hobby, not yours. On her father’s side, Sioned descends from a prince of Syr whose younger son inherited the lands at River Run. Her maternal grandmother was a Sunrunner before Prince Sinar of Kierst winked at her and carried her away to his island. Her ancestry’s quite good enough for you.”

  “You chose her for me, so I never doubted it,” Rohan said with deliberate sweetness. “What is it you think I’m planning?”

  “Learn to be more subtle,” she said scornfully and he felt color sting his cheeks. “The part about the Rialla tells me a great deal, you know. I’m looking forward to watching you blink those big eyes of yours at Roelstra as you trick him into thinking you’re an imbecile.”

  He laughed. “Slightly foolish and very young, but not a complete idiot, please!” He rose from the bath and wrapped a towel around his hips.

  “Sioned also had things to say about parts of you other than your eyes,” Andrade drawled maliciously.

  If she intended to make him blush, she succeeded admirably. He damned the curse of a fair complexion and glared at her. “I assume you’ll tell me what she said after you’ve finished embarrassing me.”

  “Oh, no,” she chuckled. “You’ll have to find out for yourself.” She draped a towel around his head and rubbed his hair dry. “Make your plans as you wish. I’ll help, if you’ll trust me enough to let me. But you must promise me . . .”

  “What?” he asked warily, peering at her from under the towel.

  “Marry her, Rohan. You’re both very dear to me,” she said, looking anywhere but at him. “And you’ll never find any woman more suited to you than Sioned.”

  “And if I don’t promise?”

  She laughed again. “Your body already has, at the very mention of her name.”

  Rohan thought she hadn’t noticed, and was humiliated. But his sense of humor was still in working order, and he grinned. “What do you suggest? A longer tunic?”

  “Or a nice, concealing cloak,” she answered wickedly.

  Rohan waited, hidden among the trees near the grotto his mother had designed to be a refuge during the worst of the summer heat. Fruit trees had been brought at outrageous expense from Ossetia, Meadowlord, and Syr, transplanted with such loving care to Desert soil that not a single one had been lost in the shock. For ten years they had been pampered into lush maturity near the rock grotto where the spring that fed Stronghold splashed down into a small pool. He had loved playing here as a child, and had always found it a good place to sit and dream and listen to the water. He wanted to be the first to show it to Sioned.

  Walvis had arranged everything. The squire had sidled up to him just after dinner with the breathless information, “My lord, your lady will attend you at midnight.” The boy’s term made Rohan smile; Walvis was no fool. He was of an age where romance between a prince and a pretty lady caught his imagination, and secret meetings late at night were exactly to his taste. Rohan knew what it was like to be Walvis’ age and a go-between, for he had been just eleven the year Chaynal had inherited Radzyn and arrived to pay homage to Zehava. Though he’d teased his sister mercilessly, he’d been thrilled to arrange encounters between her and the handsome young lord. He had liked and admired Chay at once; despite the ten years’ difference in their ages, Chay had never treated him like a child. Politic of him, Rohan thought now with fond amusement. One did not antagonize one’s future prince, let alone the brother of the woman one hoped to marry. But their friendship was based on more than canny self-interest, he knew. It had grown stronger over the years until Chay was one of the few people Rohan really trusted.

  Much depended on whether he could trust Sioned. Much depended on Roelstra, too, whom he knew
very well he could not trust. His whole scheme rested on the beliefs of two people—or, rather, on his ability to make two very different people believe two very different things.

  Prince Zehava had ruled by his sword, demonstrating strength through victories over dragons and the Merida. High Prince Roelstra ruled by his wits, demonstrating strength through political and personal humiliation. Rohan intended to base his power on a little of both for the present—victory over the Merida after humiliating Roelstra at the Rialla—and eventually to work his way around to leadership through law. Sioned would bring him no alliance and no lands, but she brought something much more useful: the farad-h’im. The Desert’s resident Sunrunner, Anthoula, was growing old, and Rohan intended to send her back to Goddess Keep with Andrade so she could live her remaining years untroubled by the Desert’s searing heat. Anthoula had taught him how the network of faradh’im worked and where their loyalties lay—not with the courts they served, but with Goddess Keep. They were forbidden to do battle except to protect their own lives, forbidden to take sides in any dispute, and most especially forbidden to use their powers to kill. With Andrade as Lady, however, the distinctions of nonpartisanship had grown a little blurred, though she had thus far behaved with scrupulous impartility. She had been waiting for him to grow up so he could marry a Sunrunner.

  But Sioned’s loyalty must be to him, not to Andrade. He refused to torment himself with doubts of his ability to win her mind as it seemed he had already won her body and, perhaps, her heart. A rueful laugh escaped him as he realized they had both been scorched by Fire. But he needed a princess, not just a wife.

  He had long since surmised that Andrade had purposefully arranged the match between his parents. Milar had used Zehava’s wealth to embellish his home and their lives, adding to his prestige and his power by impressive display of its rewards. This, Rohan saw now, was the foundation for his own coming power. He was grateful for the benefits of his mother’s tireless work. But he needed more of a woman than someone to run his castle, bear his children, and order tapestries. He needed what Chay had found in Tobin: a woman to trust in and work with, who understood him and his ambitions. A faradhi princess would make him a very powerful man indeed. Andrade’s design, of course—but to what end?