Dragon Prince 01 - Dragon Prince (5 page)

It was a very long time before Sioned rose from her knees. Even after the Fire died away and the picture in the Water vanished, after the Air had ceased to sing in the pines and the Earth was calm beneath the pool, she stared wide-eyed at the cairn and the spring. At last the chill of oncoming night wrapped around her naked body and she shivered, the spell finally broken.

The next day she sought out Lady Andrade, troubled by what she had seen. “Was it true?” she asked urgently. “What I saw yesterday—will it come true?”

“Perhaps. If the vision disturbed you, it can be changed. Nothing is written in stone, child. Even if it were, the stones can be shattered.” The Lady gazed musingly at the brilliant sunlight outside.

“When I was about your age, I looked into the Water and saw the face of my husband. He was not the man I would have Chosen for myself, so I did everything I could to make the vision change. I know now that what the Goddess showed me was a warning, not a promise. Perhaps she did the same for you.”

“No,” Sioned murmured. “This time, it was a promise.”

A wry smile played over the Lady’s mouth. “Just so. But remember that a man is more than a face and a body and a name. Sometimes he’s a whole world within himself, even if he isn’t a great lord or a prince.”

“I think I saw the whole world in his eyes,” Sioned admitted, frowning. “Is that what you mean?”

“How young you are!” Lady Andrade said indulgently, and the girl blushed.

Now, five years later, Sioned knew her own face had changed until it was very nearly the version of herself she had seen that day. Only the royal circlet was missing, and her first real sight of the man. She had spent the last years looking carefully at every blond, blue-eyed man who came to Goddess Keep, but had not found anyone like him. Who was he?

The answer had come to her very suddenly as she’d helped Lady Andrade pack for her journey to Stronghold. Fair hair, blue eyes, certain angles of bone—Sioned had been amazed and appalled that she’d never seen it before. Then she had realized that “before” had not been the right time, not for knowledge like this. She saw at last the echoes of that masculine face in Lady Andrade’s, remembering the royal circlet and the fact that the Lady’s nephew was a prince. Though she had said nothing, Andrade had seen the shock in her eyes and nodded silent acknowledgment of the truth.

One thing still puzzled Sioned. The circlet had been formed of herself, the hair floating on the Water. Yet he was already royal, already the heir; how could his becoming Prince of the Desert have anything to do with her? She was thinking about it as she walked the sunswept battlements of Goddess Keep one afternoon. The sea was a placid blue beneath a cloudless sky, sunlight reaching deep into the water to warm the new life there, and around the cliffs otters laughed uproariously as they played with their young. Sioned was fascinated by water, whether it was the ocean below Goddess Keep or the Catha River where she had spent her childhood. But she had a Sunrunner’s wariness of it as well, for few
faradh’im
were able to set foot on anything that floated without becoming sick as a gorged dragon.

Sioned unplaited her hair and ran her fingers through it, feeling the sunlight warm each strand. Soon she would have to go back inside and help with the evening meal—not that anyone ever let her near the cookpots except to taste their contents. She was hopelessly inept at the skills Camigwen practiced with a decided flair, and had never even learned how to blend herbs and cloves for a decent cup of taze. Sioned laughed ruefully to herself with the whimsical hope she would indeed marry the prince—for then she would never have to worry about her total lack of practical skills. His servants would take care of everything, and—

She whirled around, looking to the east from whence the call had come. She automatically opened herself to the colors brushing against her mind. There was always a Sunrunner on duty to receive messages sent on the light, but it was not Sioned’s turn today. Someone was calling specifically for her.

She wove rays of light back across fields and valleys, over rivers and the vast grassy sea of Meadowlord. The threads met and her own colors tangled with those of Lady Andrade. There was a second presence, like yet unalike, oddly familiar in some of its shadings and strong in ways very different from Andrade. Sometimes when the light was chancy—at sunset or sunrise especially—
farad-h’im
worked together. But Sioned was certain that the person with Andrade was not trained, though there were unmistakable gifts in the bright colors of amber and amethyst and sapphire swirling with the pattern of a powerful mind.

Though she had been waiting for this for five years, the shock was still profound. All she could think to ask was,
Does he know?

Andrade and the mysterious other withdrew down the faltering rays of sunlight, and Sioned raced along her own weaving back to Goddess Keep, not pausing as she usually did to appreciate the beauty of the lands below her. She found herself almost too abruptly back on the battlements, and caught her balance mentally and physically. Below in the fields, wide-shouldered elk were being unharnessed from the plows and the sun had nearly disappeared into the sea. Sioned trembled, knowing that had she delayed her return, she might have become shadow-lost, falling into the Dark Water along with the sun.

“Sioned? What are you doing way up here? And whatever’s the matter?”

Camigwen approached from the stairwell, scowling in response to what Sioned knew must be in her face. They had come to Goddess Keep at the same time, were only a year apart in age, and had become fast friends their first day here. Camigwen was the only one besides Andrade who knew what Sioned had seen in the Water and Fire, and so the explanation Sioned gave was a simple one.

“It’s time, Cami. I’m to go to him.”

A flush darkened the older girl’s taze-brown skin. Her eyes, large and dark and slightly tip-tilted in her pretty face, held a hundred questions. But all she did was grasp Sioned’s hands.

“Will you come with me, you and Ostvel?” Sioned pleaded. “I need you both—I don’t know what I’m to do or say—”

“You couldn’t keep me from a sight of this man if there were a thousand dragons in my way!”

Sioned gave a nervous laugh. “Well, you have the dragon part of it right.”

“The
Desert?
But who—?”

“The young prince,” Sioned replied, strangely unable to say his name.

Camigwen stared at her for some time, unable to speak a single word. But when she finally recovered her voice, it was to give a moan of dismay. “Oh, Goddess—and there’s not a single stitch sewn on a bride-gown!”

Tension dissolved into laughter and Sioned hugged her friend. “Only you could be so practical at a time like this!”

“Somebody has to be, with you standing there like a scattershell! Oh, Sioned! It’s wonderful!” Camigwen drew back and regarded her friend narrowly. “You
do
think it’s wonderful, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Sioned whispered. “Oh, yes.”

Camigwen nodded, satisfied. “I’ll tell Ostvel at once to arrange the escort. How many do you think we’ll need?”

“Lady Andrade said twenty. And we have to be there within six days.”

“Six?” She groaned and shook her head. “We’ll never make it. But we
must,
and on time, too, or I’ll never get my sixth ring and Ostvel will be demoted back to stable-boy instead of Second Steward of the Keep! We’ll leave tomorrow at first light. I can cut cloth tonight and sew along the way!”

Between Camigwen’s efficiency and Ostvel’s authority, all was arranged so quickly that Sioned’s head spun. She found herself on horseback before dawn the next morning, riding east toward the Desert. She turned only once to look back at the castle on the cliffs. Blue-gray veils of mist swirled around it, and the sky beyond was still night-dark over the sea. She knew she should have taken time to ask her future of the Mothertree, but there had been no chance. She felt only mild regret, however; the things of Goddess Keep were past now, and she was riding to her future.

A future with a man she didn’t even know.

The first night they stopped before dusk beside a branch of the Kadar River, having made excellent progress during a hard day’s riding. With Sioned were lifelong friends—Antoun, Meath, Mardeem, Palevna, Hildreth, all around her own age and with whom she had gone through
faradhi
training—as well as several others with relatives along the way who would be glad of a sight of their
faradhi
kin and would provide shelter for a night. There were younger men and girls who were responsible for the horses and provisions, making the ordered total of twenty. Sioned was amazed that so many people had been willing to ride so far for her sake on such ridiculous notice.

Most of them sat around the fire after their meal, Mardeem idly singing a love song and glancing slyly at Sioned whenever he reached a particularly suggestive lyric. Camigwen sat within the secure circle of Ostvel’s arm and fretted that there wasn’t light enough left to continue sewing the bride-gown. Sioned joined in the laughter as Ostvel teased her, wondering if the same kind of loving, playful relationship waited for her with
him.
She didn’t know him, had only seen his face years ago in the Fire. She was still a girl enchanted by blue eyes and her own fantasies of what she thought was in them. Why was she riding so many hundreds of measures to marry a man she didn’t know?

“Are you tired or just thinking?” Ostvel asked with a kind smile.

“A little of both,” Sioned replied. “And dreading the idea of crossing the Faolain in a few days.”

“It’s the last river you’ll have to cross for a good long while,” he reminded her, amusement making his gray eyes sparkle in the firelight. “The Desert is just the place for you Sunrunner types. Tell me, Sioned, are you like Camigwen, who gets queasy looking at a bathtub?”

Cami fisted him in the ribs. “Watch what you say or I’ll be sure to get sick all over
you
when we cross!”

Grunting, Ostvel gathered long legs under him and stood. “Come on, Meath, Antoun—let’s go check the horses before my dainty and gentle beloved decides to break my arm.”

Mardeem, unable to cause more than a blush in Sioned with his songs, declared himself out of voice and in need of sleep. Most of the others followed his example and rolled themselves in blankets on the ground nearby, tactfully out of earshot of the fire where Sioned and Camigwen lingered. It was too quiet without music. Sioned reached for a twig, pulling it from the fire, moodily watching the little flame.

“Cami—will you and Ostvel stay with me there for a little while? After I’m—” She couldn’t bring herself to say
married,
and the word
princess
was for the woman she’d seen in the Fire years ago. “I think I’m going to need somebody to talk to,” she finished lamely.

“We’ll stay as long as you like. But you won’t need us, Sioned. You’ll have him.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she muttered.

“What’s the matter? You’ve hoped for years that this would happen, and you’ve been so happy all day today.”

“What if we can’t
talk
to each other?” Sioned burst out. “What if we find we have nothing to say? Cami, look at me. I’m nothing. A six-ring Sunrunner who barely knows her craft, born in a holding nobody’s ever heard of! Can you seriously see
me
as a princess?”

“You’re shadow-fearing, Sunrunner,” Camigwen said briskly. “Stop being so silly. Of course you’re going to love each other.”

“But what if we can’t? I don’t know him, and he certainly doesn’t know me. I don’t want to tie myself to a man I can’t love.”

“Listen to me, Sioned. Look into the Fire. There aren’t any shadows to lose yourself in and never come out. There’s only the light.”

At her friend’s coaxing, Sioned dropped the twig back into the fire and faced the flames, and within them was his face. She flinched at the grief that clouded his eyes and scarred his sensitive mouth. Her hands reached involuntarily and she cried out as Fire seared her fingers and her mind.

“Sioned!”

She was scarcely aware of the cold water Camigwen poured over her burned fingers or of the worried voices around her. The pain had raced up her hands and arms to her heart, and deep into that portion of her brain that knew how to ride the woven threads of sunlight. She rocked back and forth, gasping around the agony until it gradually began to fade and she could see clearly once more.

Her friends had gathered in a circle of concern. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, ashamed, and bent her head, cradling her burned fingers in her lap.

“The fire blew sparks, that’s all,” Camigwen told the others.

“Be more careful, Sioned,” Meath cautioned, patting her shoulder with rough affection. She nodded wordlessly, unable to look at any of her friends.

“Yes,” Ostvel drawled. “We owe the prince a bride who doesn’t wince with pain when he kisses her hands. Everybody get some sleep. We’ve got a long way to ride tomorrow.” When they had gone, he crouched down beside Sioned, tilting her face up to his with an insistent finger beneath her chin.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated.

“No,
I’m
the one who’s sorry,” Camigwen said. “I only wanted you to look at him again and realize you don’t have to be afraid.”

“You lost control of a Fire-conjure?” Ostvel asked, and when Sioned nodded miserably, he whistled. “I can hardly wait to meet this prince of yours. Any man who causes a Sunrunner of your rank to make a mistake like that—”