Dragon Prince 01 - Dragon Prince (37 page)

“Sioned!”

“Who’s there?” She whirled around, fear in her voice.

“It’s only me. Rohan. I’m under the steps. Come in out of the rain.”

She approached, her riding boots muddy to the knees, and bent to peer in. “Whatever are you doing?”

“I could ask you the same. Come on.” He held out a hand, which she ignored. “You’re supposed to be safe and dry inside your tent,” he scolded as she crouched down beside him.

“
Your
damned leaky tent,” she corrected. “And you’re supposed to be in a conference.”

“I got bored.” He shifted around to kneel behind her, careless of the mud, and began rubbing her arms and shoulders. She was shivering beneath the fur-lined cloak. “You’re soaked through! How long have you been outside, woman? Here, let me warm you up.” He tried to draw her back against him, intending to hold her while explaining his discoveries of the morning, but she shrugged him off angrily.

“Don’t handle me as if I’m your property,” she muttered. “You don’t own me yet, my lord prince.”

Bewildered, he kept his mouth shut. A few moments later he was rewarded for his self-control.

“I saw Ianthe last night, coming out of your tent! The only reason I’m even speaking to you is that she didn’t look very happy.”

Rohan was glad her back was to him so she missed his delighted grin. “I didn’t give her much reason to be. You conjured Fire last night, didn’t you?”

“What if I did?” she said sulkily. “She was there to seduce you or kill you, and I wasn’t about to let her do either.”

“I wonder which would have been worse?”

She twisted around and stared at him, her lashes all tangled with raindrops he longed to kiss. “How I’d love to be able to hate you,” she whispered.

Rightly interpreting this as a declaration of emotions having nothing to do with hatred, Rohan took her in his arms. They sat there in the mud beneath the leaky bridge and kissed each other, hampered by the bulk of their clothing, the chill, and a total lack of adequate space. Rohan had never been happier in his life.

They might have stayed like that all afternoon and well into the evening, but gradually Rohan became aware that rain no longer dripped into his hair, the blue-gray dimness of their hideaway had brightened with sunlight. Reluctantly he eased his hold on her. She pressed her hands to his chest and nestled her head comfortably against his shoulder.

“There’s so much to tell you, and there’s never any time. Rohan, meeting in secret will be fun once we’re married and don’t have to in order to talk to each other, but for now it’s getting ridiculous!”

“Just wait till I get you alone in Stronghold this winter,” he promised.

“Saddle the horses and let’s go home, then!” She laughed and moved away from him. “Only a little while longer, I know. Just remember that I don’t really mean the things I say around other people.”

“Not even about the river stones?” he teased. “I found them last night. Very romantic!”

She turned crimson and pushed at his shoulders. “Get out of here before they miss you. And go change clothes—you’re caked in mud.”

“So much for romance.” He stole another kiss. “As for you, my lady, go dry off and get into something warm.”

“I
was
warm until you let go,” she complained, her arms sliding around him again. “Stop that. Sioned, I absolutely forbid you to seduce me.”

“Will I need to?” She giggled. “Oh, very well. I’ll go. I suppose it wouldn’t be very elegant of me to sneeze my way through our wedding. I’m going to look gorgeous in those emeralds, you know.”

“Greedy witch,” he accused. “Just for that, I’ll have your necklet made of river stones after all.”

“Oh, no, you won’t!” She took his face between her hands and kissed him soundly. When she let him go, he said the only thing possible under the circumstances.

“I love you!”

The green eyes filled with tears. “You’ve never said that before.”

“Of course I have!”

“No. That was the first time.”

“But you knew, Sioned. You must’ve known.”

“I like to hear it sometimes, Rohan. It makes things easier.”

“What things, love? The princesses? Don’t pay them any attention.”

“
You
did,” she reminded him tartly. “But it’s not really them.”

“Then what is it?”

She lifted the hand that wore his emerald. “I don’t know how long I’m going to be able to wear these other rings honestly.”

“I don’t understand.”

A small sigh escaped her. “I don’t know anymore what I’m supposed to be. Sunrunner or princess or both? I feel—caught.”

He finally understood her earlier words. “Sioned, no one can own you unless you allow it. Not me, not Andrade. Anyone who tries will want to use you. I promise I won’t do that. I love you so much—I don’t ever want to see you hurt. Don’t be afraid of me, love. I won’t trap you.”

“You already have.” She forestalled his protest with another kiss. “Just keep your other promise, Rohan. Always be honest with me. Please.”

They crept out of the small space, shivering in the brisk wind that had blown the clouds away, and parted—she returning to her fellow Sunrunners, he to his fellow princes. Neither of them noticed their shadows: one a
faradhi
, one a squire, one an expert swordsman of Rohan’s own guard. And none of these saw the figure in a dark violet cloak who stood concealed by a tree, hate seething in her dark eyes.

The next afternoon Lady Andrade stood in the conference tent, setting the seal of Goddess Keep on a score of documents. All the princes watched as she dripped hot black wax onto the white ribbons Urival had placed on each parchment and pressed her seal to leave an image of the great castle. Secretaries had been at work all day to make the requisite number of copies—and there were plenty to be made, Andrade reflected, with her nephew’s name on quite a few of them. Privately she was amazed at what he had accomplished here. He had gained a good deal and given away just as little as Zehava ever had. Andrade suspected that the other princes were beginning to realize that behind the guileless smile and innocent blue eyes were a cunning brain and a driving ambition, but they were all eager to conclude treaties with the man they thought would soon be Roelstra’s son-by-marriage. The High Prince had led them to believe it; Rohan had not had to say or do a thing. And all the princes were locked into these agreements for the next three years.

She nodded cordially to Roelstra when the last document bore her seal, and he turned to the assembled princes. “Cousins, I thank you for a peaceful and profitable
Rialla.
May we all reap our just rewards from our work here, and meet in even greater friendship three years hence.”

As they bowed to Andrade and filed out of the tent, she drew her cloak a little closer against the sharp breeze coming through the entry. Urival replaced ribbons, seal, and wax in their case and stacked Goddess Keep’s copies into a coffer for transport. The neat, graceful movements of his hands caught her attention, lulling her somehow, and she gave a start as Roelstra’s voice came from behind her.

“A few moments of your time, Andrade, if I may.”

“Of course. Urival, I’ll expect the catalog to be done by tomorrow morning. Get Camigwen to help you. She has a clear hand.”

“If I can pry her away from Ostvel,” he murmured with a slight smile. He gathered up the two cases, bowed, and left her alone with the High Prince.

“Please sit down,” he invited, and Andrade sank into a chair. Roelstra seated himself opposite her at the table. “You know my hopes regarding your nephew and one of my daughters.”

“A blind man could see it,” she replied pleasantly. “You can be subtle when it suits you. I wonder why you’re so obvious now?”

“Without insult, may I venture the opinion that there was no other way to get the idea across to Rohan? He’s been very intent on the business of the
Rialla
, and unresponsive to any but the most direct hints about my girls.”

“I think he’s received the impression you wished him to have,” Andrade told him straight-faced.

“But I understand you have your own candidate for his hand.”

She nodded. “In her own way, Sioned is as stubborn as Rohan.”

“I have an offer to make you, Andrade. Lady Sioned doesn’t really want him. He would do much better by way of wealth and prestige by taking one of my girls. A marriage bond with me would be a very good thing, and we all know it.” He paused. “As you also know, I have been without a Sunrunner at Castle Crag for some years now.”

“That was your doing, not mine. Johoda was highly skilled, but you rejected his service.”

“An action I have come to regret. As you are aware, I have other sources of information. But now I need a
faradhi
.”

“And you want Sioned.” Her fingers beat a steady rhythm on the table. “You may not have her, Roelstra.”

“And if she herself should request it?”

Andrade burst out laughing. “For the honor of being your whore? Don’t fool yourself, Roelstra—not about this girl, nor about yourself. You’re no longer young. You’re thicker than you used to be, and the years are beginning to show. Scarcely the handsome youth who came riding into my father’s keep nearly thirty years ago, looking for a wife!”

He gave her a narrow smile. “Thank the Goddess I chose neither you nor that witless twin of yours.”

“Your memory is failing, I see,” she taunted. “Milar loathed you on sight, and I had already seen what you’d become.”

“I will have Sioned!”

“You will have nothing!” She leaned forward, no longer laughing. “Do you think I’d even consider entrusting that girl to a man who has already corrupted one
faradhi
? Oh, yes, I know all about it—and you knew that I knew. You have my permission to explain yourself.”

He surged to his feet, towering over her. “Your
permission
? How dare you accuse me—”

“I ought to have accused you before the other princes!”

“And why didn’t you?” he shot back. “Too proud to admit you can’t control everyone and everything the way you control Rohan?”

“Whatever gave you the idea that I tell him what to do or say? You have a great deal to learn about him, Roelstra.”

“I warn you, Andrade—”

She rose, pulling her cloak around her. “It was your face, the face you wear now, soiled by power, that I saw in the Fire while I was still a young girl. Live your own life as you will. But
I
warn
you
, Roelstra. Don’t you ever touch one of my
faradh’im
again.”

She swept out of the tent, racked by an inner shaking. Goddess, how she hated that man, wanted to ruin him—but without the renegade Sunrunner at hand, she had no proof. She surprised herself with the depth of her need to see Roelstra utterly broken. But she knew that only when he was would Rohan and Sioned be safe.

The High Prince ignored his servants as he strode onto his barge. He heard Palila’s voice rise on his name, but had no time for her—bloated, useless Palila, who would never bear him a son. He entered his own cabin and locked the door against her, should she manage to lever her bulk from her couch, and thought of Sioned’s slender body, Sioned’s graceful movements, Sioned’s fathomless green eyes—and Sioned’s
faradhi
rings.

He opened a compartment concealed in the wood panels and pulled out a small velvet sack. Weighing it thoughtfully in his hand, he considered Crigo’s needs. The man was valueless. He would receive no more than what he already had in his tent.

There was more than enough
dranath
here for Sioned.

R
ohan left the High Prince’s tent in great good humor, for he alone of the princes knew Andrade well enough to understand the little quirk of her brows as she read treaties with his signature on them. He had not done too badly for a putative idiot, he told himself—but he wondered if his aunt would catch the real intent behind certain otherwise innocent agreements with Princes Clutha and Volog.

No self-respecting cow lasted more than one season in the Desert, no matter how hearty the breed, and Meadow-lord had produced too many cattle in the last few years. Rohan had offered to trade Clutha some of Chay’s best horses and a tidy amount of cash for the hides of cattle that had been butchered to thin out the herds. This was his first step down a much longer road; the treaty with Volog was the second. From that prince—Sioned’s cousin—he had gained the loan of two masters in the art of parchment making, in exchange for increased shipments of glass ingots to Kierst’s crafters. His official reason was that he wished his nephews’ education enhanced by copies of the books in Rohan’s own extensive library. Thus was Chay’s contribution explained.

But what he really wanted, someday in the future, was to set up a school. Rohan had had the advantage of an indulgent—if bewildered—father willing to spend any sum to keep his voracious scholar of a son supplied with books. But not every young highborn, and certainly none of the lower classes, were similarly fortunate. One of the things he wanted to work out was a means through which talented young men and women could be educated, their minds trained, their gifts explored. There were schools for some of the major crafts—the crystallers in Firon, the weavers in Cunaxa—but most people were locked into a family trade, no matter what their own natural inclinations. He knew his scheme would find an enthusiastic partner in Sioned, who was as mind-hungry as he. He was looking forward to a winter alone with her at Stronghold for more reasons than the obvious.

He stacked the parchments and leaned back to stretch, then heard footsteps on the other side of the partition separating his private quarters from the more public area of the tent. “Walvis?” he called out, and a moment later the squire appeared. Rohan stared and gave a low whistle. “Sweet Goddess, what happened to you?”