The Dragon Prince (35 page)

“No, your poor
sisters,
you mean. Are
they to die unwed and childless because he cannot bear to part with
them?”

“I will speak with my father,” Rhun said.
“Maybe I can convince him to give them more freedom. Why, they must
be near sixteen and seventeen years old by now. Jesu, where has the
time gone? I remember when they were just little mites and I would
carry them on my back and feel like the great, strong older
brother.”

They reached the gates of the fortress and
were instantly surrounded by well-wishers. Even the guards came
down from the watchtower to greet Rhun. Other warriors, their
women, servants and craftsmen and children and dogs, all crowded
into the yard to welcome him.

“I swear.” Gwenaseth was both laughing and
crying as she embraced him. “Rhiannon said we were to have
visitors, but I never thought it would be you. It’s been so long,
Rhun. I’ve missed scolding you and trying to keep you out of
trouble. Missed it sorely.”

“And I’ve missed you and your sharp tongue,”
Rhun answered as he hugged the tiny woman.

And then the crowd parted to let Maelgwn
through. He nodded solemnly to his son, then grabbed him for a
crushing bear hug. Eastra saw the two men were nearly of a size,
although Rhun was leaner and not so massive as his sire.

Maelgwn drew back and said, “Where’s Bridei?
I thought he would come with you.”

Rhun looked uncomfortable. As Rhiannon came
and hugged him, his discomfort became even more obvious. Eastra
could tell he dreaded telling them Bridei would not be arriving.
“Bridei felt Arthur might need him,” Rhun said. “Cerdic is hosting
on the eastern shores. The order to march could come at any
time.”

Maelgwn swore at this, and Eastra thought
even Rhiannon looked distressed. Her own stomach clenched with
dread. Despite what she had shared with Rhun, nothing could change
the fact he was leaving her again and might never come back.

“We need to talk about the war with the
Saxons,” Rhun said.

Maelgwn nodded. Rhiannon took Eastra’s arm.
“Come with me. I’ll help you dress for the evening meal.”

Eastra followed Rhiannon to the bedchamber
she shared with Maelgwn. “I’ve been wanting to give you something,”
Rhiannon said as they entered. The spacious bedchamber was simply
furnished and dominated by a huge bed. Unlike Morguese and her
piles of clutter, Rhiannon kept few trinkets or decorative objects.
The room bore the mark of a man more than a woman, with heavy
wooden chests for storage arranged around the room and weaponry
hanging from the walls. Eastra thought it interesting that Morguese
appeared to shun the symbols of male power, while Rhiannon was
perfectly comfortable with them.

Rhiannon went to one of the chests and after
digging through it for a time, pulled out a wooden box. She sat on
a stool to open it, then searched through the mass of glittering
jewelry inside until she found what she was looking for. Raising
her gaze to Eastra, she held out a necklace. “Sapphires from the
far east,” she said. “They’re perfect for you. They match your
eyes.”

Eastra started to shake her head, but
Rhiannon spoke firmly. “I want you to have them, and the earbobs to
match. They’ve been gathering dust in here for who knows how many
years. This is the treasure hoard of Cunedag, Maelgwn’s
great-grandsire. Likely no woman has ever worn these pieces since
he plundered them from some unfortunate merchant ship.”

Eastra reached out for the necklace. It was
fashioned of gold squares set with stones as blue and clear as the
quiet pool they had bathed in that afternoon.

“Wear it with the blue gown I made for you,”
Rhiannon said. “Tonight you will look like a princess of your
people.”

“You’re too generous,” Eastra said still
feeling stunned. The gold in the necklace alone made it as valuable
as anything she’d ever possessed. “You should save this for one of
your daughters. They both have blue eyes.”

Rhiannon shook her head. “It doesn’t suit
them. And I have plenty of other finery to give them when the time
comes for them to leave here and marry.”

“Do you think Maelgwn will ever allow that
to happen?” Eastra asked, remembering her earlier conversation with
Rhun.

“He will have no choice. It’s the way of
life. The female in season chooses her mate and goes off with him
to create the next generation.” She stood and approached Eastra.
“Let me fasten the clasp for you.” Rhiannon helped Eastra put on
the necklace, then stepped back. There was something so satisfied
and yet enigmatic in her expression, Eastra could not help asking,
“What is it? What do you see?”

“I see you. You will be a queen, Eastra. A
powerful queen.”

“No.” She shook her head. “That’s not what I
want. I don’t want power or wealth. I only want there to be peace,
for this babe I carry to not have to grow up afraid.”

“Did you tell Rhun about the babe?”

Eastra shook her head. She didn’t know how
to explain her decision in a way that didn’t sound foolish or
selfish. “If you can see the future, Rhiannon,” she said. “Then
tell me what the future holds for Rhun. Will he...” She took a
ravaged breath. “In the battle that he says must come, will he...”
She could not say the word. To speak it seemed too unchancy, as if
she were prophesying his death.

Rhiannon shook her head. “I don’t know what
the future holds for my stepson. It seems that the closer the
person is to me, the less is revealed to me about their fate. There
is a kind of protection in that. If something tragic is going to
happen, I don’t have to suffer twice.”

“But you knew Rhun was coming today. You
even told Gwenaseth to prepare a lavish meal.”

“But that had something to do with you, I
think. I can see things regarding you.”

“Then tell me if I will be happy in the
future, for that will tell me everything!” Eastra could hear her
voice trembling with emotion, feel the tension stealing over her
body.

“I can’t tell you that. My visions are vague
and fleeting.”

“Can’t tell me? Or won’t?”

Rhiannon put her hand on Eastra’s arm. “Life
is difficult, but there is always a purpose for everything. Now, go
and dress. Make yourself beautiful for Rhun, so he will have that
memory of you. Hurry now. The food will be served soon. I will send
Melangel to help you.”

Clutching the priceless necklace in her
fingers, Eastra left the queen’s bedchamber.

By the time Eastra reached the hall, most
people were seated. She looked around for Rhun and finally spied
him surrounded by eager siblings. Gwydion and Mabon sat on either
side of him. Elen and Anwyl next to them, while Beli stood nearby.
Eastra hesitated, wondering if she should find a seat elsewhere,
but then Beli spied her and came to escort her to Rhun. “Eastra’s
our guest,” he told his brothers firmly when they reached the
table. “She should sit next to Rhun.”

“Nay, that’s not necessary,” Eastra began.
But Elen was already rising. “You can sit here, next to Eastra,”
she told Mabon. “I’m going to help Gwenaseth.”

As Eastra sat down on the bench next to
Rhun, he gave her a brilliant smile. Then his gaze took in the
necklace, and his expression turned amazed. “Rhiannon gave you
that, didn’t she?”

“Aye. I tried to refuse, but she
insisted.”

Rhun nodded. “She’s right. It suits you
perfectly.” His eyes met hers, their expression so heated and
intense that Eastra felt a blush creep up her neck. “You’ve never
looked more beautiful.” He leaned near and added, “Except when you
are wearing nothing at all.”

Now her face was flaming. But she looked
around and realized the only ones who could have heard Rhun were
Mabon and Gwydion, and they were likely too young to understand
anyway. They were also too engrossed in getting Rhun’s attention.
Mabon grabbed at his older brother’s arm, crying out, “Rhun, Rhun,
listen to me. We saw a fox family today and one of the kits almost
let me get close enough to touch it. Mama says I have a way with
animals. I’m going to train horses when I grow up.”

“But I’m the better fighter,” Gwydion
insisted, leaning across Eastra. “I’m going to be a great warrior
someday. As great as Papa.”

“Well, you’ll never be as big as Papa if you
don’t eat,” Rhun said. “And that means you must both go to your
mother. I’m not going to have any young pups dribbling their
pottage on
me
.”

“I’ll take them,” Anwyl said. “I’m sure you
and Eastra have much to talk about.” She rose and dragged her
reluctant brothers away.

Eastra looked at Rhun, then took a bite of
bread spread with butter and honey and thought about all that was
left unspoken between them. Swallowing she said, “What did your
father say when you asked him about sending warriors to fight for
Arthur?”

Rhun’s expression turned grim. “He said he
would not waste good warriors on a cause that can’t be won. He told
me if Arthur were wise, he would sue for peace with both the Saxons
and the Picts. Set up boundary lines and divide the island between
us.”

“What about that?” Eastra asked. “Why
couldn’t Arthur do that?”

“Because the agreement would never hold.
Cerdic—or some other Saxon after him—would get greedy and want more
land. And then the fighting would start all over again.”

“But this way...” Eastra shook her head.
“You yourself have suggested Arthur can’t win, so why bother
fighting? Why not accept the inevitable?”

“You sound like my father! ‘Why not just
give up?’ he asked me. I’ll tell you why—because even if we don’t
win this battle, with every month and season of resistance, we slow
down the enemy’s advance. And every year we hold them back, they
absorb more of our ways, become more like us. Look at you, Eastra.
You speak our tongue fluently, are familiar with our music and our
tales, even dress like a British woman.”

She touched the blue gown Rhiannon had made
for her, fashioned in the Cymry style.

Rhun continued, “When you have children, I
can’t help thinking they will be raised not only to honor Saxon
customs, but British as well.”

His words cut through her. Did he think when
all of this was over, she would go back to her own people and marry
one of Cerdic’s lesser thanes? That she would someday share her bed
with a Saxon and bear his children? Did he think she had so little
love for him that she could ever forget him and bind herself to a
man who had been his enemy? Her voice when she spoke was taut and
cold. “I’ll never wed a Saxon.
Never.
I could not.”

He flushed, looking as if he had just
realized what his words implied. “I was speaking hypothetically,”
he said. “Not about you, but other Saxon women like you.”

“What other Saxon women are there like me?”
she asked. “Do you know any? All the Saxon women I know who have
had any contact with the British are either dead or enslaved!”

“We should not speak of these things,” Rhun
said. “I don’t want to ruin what time we have left together.”

A fine time to consider that, Eastra thought
bitterly. The sense of intimacy, of being joined body and soul, had
evaporated as quickly as the water from the chilly pool had dried
on their bodies. The horrible conflict between their peoples had
risen up once more, dividing them, destroying any hope for
happiness they might have shared. Now Eastra was glad she had not
told him about the babe. It was her secret, a living promise of
their love. Something that could not be tainted or damaged, ruined
by the harsh words that had come between them.

She picked at her food. Rhun also appeared
brooding and morose. She wished his brothers and sisters would come
back so she would not have to be alone with him. To sit beside him
and feel his coldness was like a dagger in her breast.

The meal dragged on. A few people came to
speak to Rhun, but they did not linger long. As the servants began
to clear away some of the tables for music and dancing, Eastra
wondered how she was going to endure the rest of the night.

Then there was a commotion near the doorway
and she saw a mud-spattered warrior greet Maelgwn. The king’s face
grew grim. Then he gestured, pointing to where Rhun was sitting.
Beside her, Rhun rose, and she could feel the tension in his
body.

“Bedwyr.” Rhun’s voice sounded strange as he
spoke to the man, a small, dark warrior with hard eyes. Eastra
vaguely remembered him from the council meeting in Cerdic’s
longhouse.

“Prince Rhun.” Bedwyr bowed. “I’ve come to
tell you the truce is broken. Mordred is dead, and Arthur swears
vengeance. He says to tell you to bring what men you can convince
to join us and meet up with our forces on the march north.”

“Where will the battle be fought?” Rhun’s
voice sounded strangled.

“Cerdic has taken over the old Roman fort of
Eburacum. The Saxon seawolves have joined up there with the Pictish
curs, and they will come down upon us like a ravening pack if we do
not ride to stop them.”

Eastra saw Rhun nod. Then he glanced her
way, the briefest of looks. “And the hostage?” His voice was a thin
whisper.

Bedwyr looked at her then, too, with eyes
like a bird of prey. “You know your duty.”

Rhun exhaled, and the life seemed to seep
out of her at the same moment. Bedwyr had just ordered her
death.

A part of her accepted it. If she could not
have Rhun, did she really want to live? But then she thought about
the babe and realized she could not sacrifice its life with her
own. She would have to try to escape, to run away before Rhun could
carry out his duty—killing her. Warily, she glanced around. Maelgwn
did not answer to the high king. He was an ally, as were Rhiannon
and the rest of the people of Deganwy.

As if in answer to her thought, Maelgwn
approached and put his huge hand on her shoulder. “You have brought
your message,” he announced to Bedwyr. “If you make your way to the
kitchen, I will see you are fed before you leave Deganwy. I’m
certain you are in a hurry to return to your commander.” Maelgwn
nodded to his son. “There are things we must speak of ere you
leave.”