The Dragon Prince (27 page)

He thought of Eastra telling him not to
speak of the future. She must know things between them were doomed.
Those fleeting glimpses of ecstasy were all they would ever have.
Perhaps that was why she’d offered herself so blatantly, because
she’d understood the impossibility of their circumstances. He’d
felt tears on her face afterward, as if she grieved for the brevity
of their time together. Now he wanted to weep as well, to lie down
on the straw floor of his prison and sob like a child. But he was a
man, a man with responsibilities, people who depended upon him, men
who might end up dying if he failed them.

A sobering thought, and one that weighed
heavily against the magic of what he’d just experienced. He had a
duty not only to Arthur but to all the Companions and all the other
men who followed Arthur, believing in his dream.

He went to the door of his prison and again
tried the lock. It was as secure as ever. He gave a groan. For a
bare candlehour in heaven, he’d failed himself and his cause. But
it would not happen again.

* * *

Eastra hurried among the outbuildings of the
fortress. She needed to find Morguese and speak to her. The wetness
of Rhun’s seed trickled down her thighs as she ran. It was
uncomfortable, but also exhilarating. A tangible reminder of what
they had shared.

When she reached the corridor leading to
Morguese’s chamber, she saw someone leaving the queen’s apartments.
She pressed herself back against the wall and waited for them to
pass by, drawing in her breath in surprise when she saw it was
Bridei. “What do you here?” she whispered.

Bridei didn’t answer, but pressed a finger
to his lips and shook his head. The glimmer of a smile lit his
handsome features. He moved past Eastra and out into the night. She
stared after him, then continued on to Morguese’s room. Knocking on
the door, she waited. There was no answer. She tried again. When
there was no response, she considered going in and seeing if
Morguese was asleep. But then she realized how rude that would
be.

She went down the hall to her own chamber.
There was no sign of Nevyn. After washing her hands and face and
reluctantly wiping away the stickiness between her thighs, Eastra
lay down on her pallet. She went over the events of the night in
her mind. Why would Morguese promise to stand guard, then
disappear? Why would she say she was going to help and then insist
that Rhun could not leave his prison? And most of all, Eastra
wondered, why had she listened to Morguese? Why hadn’t she freed
Rhun and tried to escape? But she had not. Instead she had enticed
him to make love to her, to couple wildly on the straw-covered
floor of his prison.

It was almost as if Morguese had put a spell
upon her, Eastra thought. A shiver ran down her spine. What if
Morguese never meant to help free Rhun? What if the queen had some
other sort of plan in mind? And Bridei—what part did he play in all
this? The way he’d looked when she met him the hallway, like a man
leaving his lover. But who was his lover?

Her thoughts seemed to tumble over and over
and she could not sleep. Even when she finally put her doubts about
Morguese aside, the heated memories of what she had shared with
Rhun kept her awake. Had she truly done those things? Touched him
so daringly? Allowed him, nay urged him, to kiss her so boldly?

The memory was vivid and clear. Her body
felt odd, both relaxed and intensely alive at the same time. It was
a dream, a wonderful dream, and yet it was real. She smiled into
the darkness. She and Rhun were bound together now. He would not be
able to forget her.

She got up and poured herself a drink of
water. Where was Nevyn? she wondered, glancing at the empty pallet
in the corner. Never before had Morguese’s apprentice been gone all
night.

There was one tiny window in the room, very
high up. Eastra climbed on the chest beneath it and tried to see
out. All that was visible was the full moon. Morguese had said when
the moon was near dark, she would help Rhun escape.

Eastra awoke to the rustle of clothing and
the soft sounds of someone washing. Nevyn was leaning over the
bronze bowl, splashing water on her face. Where she had been all
night? With Bridei? Nevyn didn’t seem like the sort of woman who
would appeal to him, but then, from what Rhun said, his brother was
not very picky about his bed partners.

Nevyn’s freckled face was inscrutable, as
always. Eastra, dressing, asked her, “Do you know what Morguese has
planned for us today?”

Nevyn shook her head. “The queen is still
sleeping. If you are wise, you will not disturb her, but make
yourself useful in the weaving shed.”

Despite her surprise—Morguese had never
slept this late before—Eastra dutifully went to the weaving shed.
About midday, Morguese came to find her. Eastra followed her out.
“The time has come to make preparations for Rhun’s escape,”
Morguese said when they were alone. “I told my husband I visited
the prisoner and he is growing weak and sickly due to lack of
sunlight. I will insist that from now on, he must be brought out in
the yard for fresh air and exercise each day. On the day when the
Mead Moon has half waned I will arrange for the door to his prison
to be left open.”

“And the men at the gate?” Eastra asked.
“How will we get past them?”

“I will make certain they are otherwise
occupied.”

Eastra nodded, tense with impatience. In
only a few days, they would be free. “What about Bridei?” she
asked. “Will he be coming with us?”

Morguese shook her head. “His job will be to
distract my husband’s warriors with songs and stories. He will stay
in the hall and keep them content.”

Eastra returned her attention to the piece
of fabric she was weaving. She didn’t care about any of the
hardships that might be ahead of them—finding food, having to
travel on foot, the dangers of the forest. All she cared was that
she and Rhun would be together.

The next few days passed tediously. Although
she caught glimpses of Rhun when he was allowed out in the yard,
Eastra tried not let on she was aware of his presence. She must be
patient, she told herself.

At last the day of the half moon arrived.
Eastra could scarce concentrate on the tasks Morguese had assigned
to her. She moved through her duties with growing restlessness.
That night, there was another feast; one of the hunting parties had
brought back a young boar. The men drank heavily and gorged
themselves. As usual, Eastra helped serve.

After the meal, Urien announced that Bridei
ap Maelgwn, “the great King Arthur’s bard”—there was derision in
his voice as he spoke the title—would entertain them. Bridei went
to sit in the place of honor beside Urien. He drew his hand across
the strings of his harp and a ripple of silvery notes brought quiet
to the hall. Eastra stood in the corner of the room, watching with
the other servants. Her body felt taut with anticipation. At any
moment, Morguese would rise from where she sat on the other side of
Urien, cross the hall, and whisper in Eastra’s ear that it was time
to meet Rhun.

But nothing happened. Bridei sang a long
song about a battle, then a more cheerful song about a boy and his
falcon. As he began a playful, rather obscene ditty about a pair of
lovers, Eastra started toward the door. Perhaps she was mistaken,
and Morguese was not going to signal it was time to go. The queen
might be worried Urien would observe her actions and grow
suspicious.

Eastra went out into the darkness. Nothing
seemed amiss. She heard a dog bark in the distance. Then she began
to run toward Rhun’s underground prison. When she reached it, she
glanced around to make certain she wasn’t seen, then jerked open
the wooden door and let herself down into the passageway.

Reaching the door to the prison chamber, she
called out for Rhun. There was no answer.

She pulled on the door and it opened with a
creaking sound. “Rhun?” Still hearing no response, she grew uneasy.
What was wrong? Why didn’t he answer?

She entered the chamber. The little patch of
moonlight revealed only a pile of straw. She searched the rest of
the chamber, dreading to find Rhun injured or otherwise
incapacitated. She found nothing but a chamber pot. Even the
blanket they’d coupled on was gone.

She straightened, knowing she was too late.
But if she had been supposed to meet him near the gate, why hadn’t
Morguese told her? She scrambled out of the passageway, then
hurried back after remembering she’d forgotten to close the door to
Rhun’s prison. Let Urien’s men think all was well until they came
to release him for his daily exercise. By then, she and Rhun would
be far away. Or would they? As she ran toward the gate, the sinking
feeling inside her grew.

She searched the area around the gate,
thinking Rhun must be waiting in the shadows. Above her in the
watchtower, she heard two men talking. When one of them started
down the ladder, she pressed herself flat against the wooden
palisade wall. The man walked past and continued on toward the
hall. Eastra let out her breath in a sigh. Where was Rhun? Had he
been discovered by the guards and taken somewhere more secure than
the underground chamber?

She waited for what seemed like a long
while, then gave up and returned to the hall. Bridei was still
strumming his harp and singing when she entered. Morguese sat next
to Urien, looking as content and unruffled as ever. Eastra tried to
catch the queen’s eye, but Morguese’s attention, like everyone
else’s, was focused on Bridei. At last, Eastra saw Nevyn heading
toward the door. She followed her out. As soon as they reached the
yard, she grabbed the maidservant’s arm. “Nevyn, what’s happened?
Tell me!”

Nevyn stared, her pale eyes
expressionless.

“Where’s Rhun?” Eastra demanded once again.
“Did they recapture him?”

Nevyn still said nothing.

Eastra fought the urge to shake her. “What
went wrong? Where are they holding him?”

“Rhun is gone,” Nevyn answered slowly.
“Although no one must know until morning.”

“Gone? You mean his escape was successful?
But where am I supposed to meet him? Should I bring anything, or
has Morguese taken care of our supplies?”

“By now he should be far away. He left at
dusk.”

Eastra felt as if she had been struck in the
stomach. Rhun had left without her. Something must have happened
that made it impossible for him to wait for her. But what? Then
another dark fear assailed her. What if he’d never intended to take
her with him? What if their coupling had been his way of saying
good-bye?

She returned to the hall. It seemed very
bright and warm, overwhelming. Near the door, one of Urien’s
warriors—Grimlyn, who was forever teasing her—called out, “What’s
wrong, little bird? You don’t look well.”

“It was... something I ate,” she mumbled.
The misery broke over her. She half staggered over to one of the
benches and sank down. Somehow she had to pull herself together, to
act as if nothing was amiss, as if she had not been duped and
betrayed by the man she loved. Not to mention Morguese. The queen
must have known Rhun was going to leave her behind. Did she pity
Eastra for being such a fool?

By Freya, she could not bear it! Morguese
had promised to help her. Instead she had pretending to share
Rhun’s plan with her, all the while knowing he would be leaving
Caer Louarn alone.

Eastra stood and walked across the hall to
where Morguese sat. She must have looked very grim and determined
for Urien gave her a startled look. “Morguese,” Eastra said. “If I
might have a word with you.”

Morguese nodded and rose, her face a serene
mask. They left the hall. Eastra strode briskly toward the queen’s
apartments. She wanted privacy for this confrontation. When they
reached Morguese’s chamber, they went inside. Eastra turned to face
the older woman. “You lied to me. You let me believe that when you
helped Rhun escape, I would go with him.”

Morguese shrugged. “There was no lie. I
merely didn’t tell you everything.”

Eastra exhaled in a gasp of fury. “How could
you? Why tell me
anything,
if this is what you had planned?
Why get my hopes up, let me believe he cared for me...” She took a
deep breath, too overcome to continue.

“He does care for you,” Morguese said. “But
he cares more for his duty to Arthur.” She shrugged again. “It’s
the way of men to put matters of politics and war before the
desperate yearnings of their own hearts. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t
love you. He may eventually realize his folly and come back for
you. You must be patient.”

“Patient! I have waited half my life for
this man! I can’t bear to wait any longer!”

“It’s a woman’s burden to wait. For the
seasons to turn, for her belly to ripen with a child, then all the
long years as the child grows. You
will
learn patience, for,
verily, you have no choice.”

Eastra sat on a stool among the clutter. She
wanted to weep, but she could not. There was too much anger mingled
with her pain. “I loved him, believing he loved me back. That with
every kiss and caress, I was binding him to me, making him love
me.”

“And you
have.
He fled Caer Louarn
like a man running for his life. But it’s not Urien he fears, or
even the dark, enclosing walls of his prison. It’s his feelings for
you that terrify him.”

Eastra buried her face in her hands.
Morguese’s words did not console her. The ache inside her refused
to ease. Finally, she raised her head. “You have spells and potions
for many things. Have you any remedy for a broken heart?”

“I cannot mend it, but I can make you forget
for a time. Wait here. I’ll have Nevyn fix you something that will
help you sleep.” Morguese started toward the door.

“Nevyn,” Eastra called out, her tone bitter.
“Does she know what has happened? That I have given myself to a man
who cares more for his war commander than for me?”