Dragon Prince 01 - Dragon Prince

by Melanie Rawn

  “Do I look that stupid?” He rose to his feet, grinning.

  Sioned laughed. “You look like someone who’s just found his heart’s desire. I had no idea you were so greedy!”

  “Oh, but I am!” Light-headed with his discovery and its possibilities, he laughed back. “And I found my heart’s desire at the beginning of summer, as filthy and sweaty as she is right now.”

  “The things you’ll say to seduce me,” she chided playfully.

  All the effervescent excitement died. “And you know all about seductions, don’t you? Who was it for you, Sioned?”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “Who was it?” he demanded. “The man who taught you—”

  “I don’t know. I never wanted to know. What difference does it make?”

  “What did he do, wear a robe and a mask to bed? Never say a word so you wouldn’t recognize his voice? Did you expect me to welcome the idea that you’ve been with other men?”

  Her green eyes lit with fury and her conjured Fire leaped in response. “Do you expect me to be ashamed? It’s something that happened and doesn’t have anything to do with us!”

  “How many, Sioned?”

  She gasped. “How dare you! You have no right to ask me that, as if every man at Goddess Keep had been through my bed! I never asked you about your women, did I?”

  He was so startled he almost forgot to be angry. “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t you think I’ve wondered ‘how many’ of the women at Stronghold have been in your bed?” she spat. “Neither your hands nor your mouth are exactly virginal! It was one night, part of my training as a Sunrunner that happened before I’d ever seen you in the Fire!” She took a step closer, glaring at him. “Did you think I’d try to father another man’s child on you? Is that the real reason you’re waiting so long before marrying me? How dare you ask ‘how many?’ How many has it been for you? But I promise you now, my lord prince—there’ll be no other women once you become mine! I may have no right to question you about the past—but your future is mine.”

  She stalked out of the cave and the Fire vanished with her, leaving Rohan alone and speechless in the dark. He stayed there for some minutes, his adult brain telling him he’d made a fool of himself. But something wiser chuckled softly with satisfaction. The inner laughter continued as he picked his way carefully out into the sunlight. He found his sword, the thing he’d ostensibly come for, and sheathed it before pausing at the ledge to watch Sioned’s swift descent. A little of the laughter escaped. His smile did not fade all during the long ride back to Stronghold.

  Sioned flung herself across the blue-green bedcover, having just slammed her door in Camigwen’s startled face. She had no desire to attempt an explanation of her refusal to attend the evening’s banquet, nor to hear reasons why she should change her mind. Punching an inoffensive pillow into lumps, she spent a great deal of creative energy cursing men in general and Rohan in particular. Stupid, arrogant, thick-skulled, jealous, possessive—

  A knock on the door interrupted the muttered invectives. “Go away!” she shouted, and punched the pillows again.

  The door opened and a soft voice that was not Cami’s said, “Perhaps I can help, my dear.”

  Sioned leaped to her feet, crimson as she made her bow to Princess Milar. She had spoken only once to Rohan’s mother, formal words in company with the other recently arrived faradh’im, and there could be no reason for this visit that Sioned could think of—unless Andrade had been talking. She gulped as the princess smiled and seated herself in a chair.

  “I’m glad we’re going to have this little talk,” the princess said with a disarming smile. “I’ve been waiting for the right moment, but we’ve all been so busy.” She gestured to the other chair. “Please. Unless you’d prefer I came back another time.”

  Sioned sat down, unable to say a word.

  “Now we can be comfortable while we discuss things. I was about your age when I came here to marry Rohan’s father, you know. What a difficult man he was! Nearly as bad as his son, if you want the truth. It’s a strange place, the Desert, and its rulers take as much adjusting to as its climate. When I arrived here, Stronghold was in a terrible state, without a comfort to be had. Can you imagine, the only table in the Great Hall was Zehava’s and everyone else had to stand while they ate! But I changed all that, and I changed Zehava, as well.”

  She went on in this vein for some time while Sioned wondered wildly what she was leading up to. But during the princess’ seemingly aimless chatter, the tension gradually seeped from her. Milar was as crafty as Andrade in her own way. Sioned smiled.

  The princess noticed at once and interrupted herself in the middle of a sentence about the gardens. “That’s better. You see, you needn’t be frightened of anything here, especially not of me. Certainly not of tonight’s banquet.”

  “I’m not frightened, your highness,” Sioned told her. “Only a fool.”

  “That makes you a perfect match for my son,” Milar said dryly. “But we’re all a little foolish at times, aren’t we? My sister seems to think I’ve made a career of it. You mustn’t worry about any little misunderstandings between you and Rohan. I had plenty with his father! Oh, the names we used to call each other! You really must appear tonight, you know. We want to thank you in public for saving Jahni and Maarken. Don’t worry about what to wear, I’ve taken care of that. You’ll come and enjoy yourself, won’t you? Please say you will!”

  The blue eyes were so artlessly appealing that it was impossible to refuse. If Rohan ever looked at her this way, she’d be helpless. And she told herself with a twinge of annoyance that she already was, like it or not. At the moment she liked it not at all. She nodded slowly, and Princess Milar clapped her hands together in delight.

  “Oh, splendid! I’ll send the dress to you at once, and one of my maids will do your hair. I think you’ll approve of the gown,” she finished with a happy smile, rising with a rustle of gray skirts and a wash of rose scent. “I’m positive my son will!”

  “Your highness, it’s very kind of you to go to so much trouble for me, but I think I should tell you something about myself and your son and—”

  “Oh, my dear!” Princess Milar laughed. “There isn’t anything important you can tell me that I don’t already know! And it’s no trouble at all to arrange suitable clothes for you. When you return from Waes, I’ll have filled a whole wardrobe. Women in our position have certain obligations, you know. Your friend Camigwen understands them quite well. I do like her very much, Sioned. But as I was saying about obligations—I hope you won’t find them too tedious. There are compensations, even when our men are being difficult.”

  Sioned watched the door close behind the princess, dazedly wondering if there was anyone left at Stronghold who did not believe Rohan would marry her. Was the “secret” such common knowledge that they would never be able to pull off his plan?

  The maid arrived some time later, bowed low enough to indicate that she considered Sioned a princess already, and said, “Good evening, my lady. I’ll just spread the gown on the bed and we’ll take care of your bath before we start on your hair. Her highness says not to worry if you’re a little late, because it’s the perfect night for making an entrance. If you’re ready, my lady, then we can begin.”

  Sioned began to suspect that Andrade—and Camigwen—had a hand in influencing the prevailing attitude here. They probably felt that if everyone behaved as if Sioned was Rohan’s acknowledged bride, he would be pushed into an admission of it in public. She doubted they fully understood his stubbornness.

  Sioned herself was of two—perhaps three—minds about the future. She wanted Rohan. She wanted his schemes to succeed, for she knew that their life together in peace might depend on concessions he could gain from the High Prince at the Rialla; the charade was necessary. But she also resented Andrade’s meddling in her fate, and her encounter with Rohan had given her some angry second thoughts about him.

  T
he maid gossiped away, and Sioned learned something interesting: mindless chatter was a very good thing when one wanted to avoid listening to one’s own thoughts.

  “Where is he?” Milar pleated her napkin atop her plate and glanced yet again down the length of the Great Hall.

  “If I knew, I’d find him and drag him here by his nose,” Andrade snapped. She was tired after the long ride in the heat, and wanted nothing so much as her dinner. But the vassals and guests would touch neither a morsel of food nor a drop of wine until their prince finally decided to grace the high table with his presence. He was not fool enough to be hiding, although from the expression in Sioned’s eyes during the ride back from Rivenrock, hiding would seem the wisest course until her temper cooled. Andrade could make a shrewd guess about the words that had passed between them.

  She shifted in her chair, the cushion beneath her doing little to ease the soreness of too many hours in the saddle. The rest of the company was growing nervous, eyeing the main doors. Andrade took mental inventory, matching each vassal to his battle flag draped high above the torches, which were themselves set high enough to give off light but not too much heat in this perpetually warm room. At the end of the Hall huge double doors stood wide open, as did the windows on either side of them and along the outer wall, to admit any breeze that might stray in to cool the diners. But the banners moved only fitfully and the torchflames were steady and smokeless. Andrade licked her dry lips and pushed a lock of hair from her neck, cursing her nephew’s lateness.

  All at once her eyes popped as Rohan strode through into the Hall. He walked the long aisle between the tables with the ease and authority of absolute ownership, dressed in black and silver, his golden hair gleaming as if it had been polished. Andrade choked on a giggle completely unsuited to her age and rank. The entrance was pure Zehava, son of the dragon, and she forgave him her discomfort for the amusement of seeing him dazzle everyone in the room.

  An open-necked shirt that clung to his body was tucked into snug black trousers. Silver embroidery winked from his throat, wrists, and the tops of his high black boots. Two rings—one topaz, one emerald—shone from his fingers, and a single fat onyx swung near the angle of his jaw from a silver clasp that circled his ear. The effect was perfect—and not intended solely to impress his vassals.

  Rohan paused to make his bow to his mother. The two halves of the high table had been pushed apart so that Milar sat on one side of the division and Rohan on the other. He took his seat next to Andrade, and as Walvis came forward to pour his wine the feast began at last. Andrade looked him over and murmured. “Now, what is all this in aid of, I wonder?”

  Tobin was frankly staring. “You look wonderful!”

  “Thank you,” he said airily. “But Tobin, I’m surprised at you! Your hands aren’t red from spanking your two hellions.”

  “Chay did it for me—and they won’t be able to sit down for two days. But where’s Sioned? I want to thank her.”

  “Isn’t she here yet?” he asked with a casual glance around the Hall.

  “She will be,” Milar said. “Now, don’t embarrass her, Rohan. She’s really rather shy, you know. How handsome you look, darling! I’m glad I haven’t been sewing my eyes blind to no avail.”

  “You should’ve had your women do it,” he scolded fondly.

  “Don’t be silly. It gave me something to do while Andrade bored me with her stories. Besides, my women are planning how to change the prince’s suite for you when you get back.”

  “It sounds as if you’re not coming with us,” Chay said.

  “I’ve too much to do here.” She dipped delicate fingers into a bowl of scented water held by her squire. “Rohan will want to bring his bride home to rooms suitable for her. And that reminds me—go upstairs and find her, Jary.”

  The squire hurried off. Conversation stopped for a few moments while everyone pretended not to notice Rohan’s blush. Andrade crooked a finger at Walvis. “Set a place at the high table for Lady Sioned, and don’t be subtle about it.”

  The boy bowed, his usual wariness of her dissolving into a pert grin. “My lord ordered it earlier, my lady.”

  Andrade winked at him. “Very thoughtful. I approve.” She turned to her nephew. “She’ll murder you for it, you know.”

  “She should have thought of the official consequences before she saved Jahni and Maarken today.” His eyes lit with wicked anticipation. “It wouldn’t be princely of me not to thank her in public.”

  “I still say she’ll murder you.”

  “That egg hasn’t hatched yet. But what do you think of my first portrayal of ruling prince?” He picked up his goblet and struck a pose.

  She laughed. “Very impressive. I like the jewelry. Don’t ever wear more than that, Rohan. Your hair and eyes do it all. There’s not a woman in this room who’s not drooling over you. But I suspect it’s the woman who’s not here yet whose eye you want to catch.”

  “Dearest aunt, that egg hasn’t even been cracked, so don’t anticipate its dragon’s flight.”

  Her brows arched. “My, how poetical we’ve become with our phrasing, my lord prince! Practicing for Roelstra—or for Sioned?”

  “The former, of course. Better high-flying phrases than what I’d really like to say to him.”

  “Spent days thinking them up, have you?”

  “Years.” He grimaced, lifted his winecup to his lips, and stopped in mid-motion. Andrade followed the direction of his gaze and in the abrupt hush heard Chay give a low whistle of admiration. There was much to admire as Sioned made her way across the flag-stones to the high table.

  Quietly attired, without jewels, and with her hair in a simple braid threaded with thin gold ribbons, still she was as regal as a princess dressed in dark green silk just the color of mossberries in shadow. She looked neither to right nor left and her movements were a little rigid as she paced up the center aisle, all eyes on her. Walvis started forward to her rescue, but Rohan put a restraining hand on the boy’s arm. Andrade nodded to herself; Sioned would have to get used to being stared at, for once she was Rohan’s wife she would often be on public display.

  The prince got to his feet as the Sunrunner made her bow to him. As she bent her head and her knees, gaze stubbornly directed on the floor, Rohan stepped between the tables and stood at the dais before her.

  “A moment, my lady,” he said as she rose, his voice carrying admirably to the far ends of the Hall. The girl’s cheeks were crimson as she glanced up wildly, eyes like a startled bird’s. Rohan continued, “We wish to thank you formally for your courage today on the hunt. For our sister and her lord, for our lady mother and our aunt, but most especially for ourselves we thank you. You have kept safe the two young lords who are our heirs—until we can get one of our own.”

  Andrade settled back to enjoy the show, fully approving Rohan’s words and the furious flash in Sioned’s green eyes. Naughty boy, to use the royal “we” to imply their mutual children!

  Rohan held out one hand to her. Helplessly, she put her fingers in his, and a moment later was wearing the emerald ring. Andrade nearly choked. He had placed it on her left third finger, the one reserved for a tenth Sunrunner’s ring and which for a faradhi was never circled by any other.

  “It is our desire that you wear this as a reminder of the debt we owe you,” he said. Pulling Sioned firmly up beside him on the dais, he gave her over to Walvis’ escort and as the squire took her to her place at the high table, Rohan lifted his winecup. “The Lady Sioned,” he called out.

  The assembly roared out her name and drank to her health. Sioned looked like someone whose health was in need of a few toasts. Andrade grinned behind her goblet and mused on what methods the girl would use to make Rohan pay for this.

  He waited until the Hall was quiet, then spoke again. “My lords, I’ve listened carefully to your wants and needs for the lands you hold of me. Your desires are many and varied. But I have never negotiated at a Rialla before, and I am reluctant to commit myself t
o promises I may not be able to keep. Therefore I ask that before I leave for Waes in three days’ time, you choose from among yourselves three to accompany and advise me.”

  Andrade stared. Chay would be going to the Rialla as usual, of course, but for lesser lords to accompany their prince was not done. What scheme was the boy hatching now?

  “My father Prince Zehava once told me that the promises of a prince die with him. I do not intend that this shall be the case with me. The vows he made to you in former years are unknown to me, but I do know that he concerned himself first and foremost with the wealth and happiness of his lands. If we are to keep the Desert strong and prosperous, we must work together. But it has occurred to me that—” He paused and took a deep breath, not entirely for effect, Andrade saw with narrowed eyes. “You and your families have served me and mine long and well. Yet with the exception of my lord of Radzyn Keep, who received the grant on his marriage to my sister, none of you truly own the lands and keeps you administer. Upon my return from the Rialla, what I propose is this. In autumn I will travel to each of my holdings, inspect it, allow you to show me its strengths and weaknesses. If all is to satisfaction, I will invest those who show themselves worthy with the privilege Lord Chaynal alone now enjoys.”

  Pandemonium.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing!” Chay shouted to Rohan over the racket.

  “Darling,” Milar said worriedly, “do you think this is wise? Zehava broke all precedent by gifting Chay with Radzyn, and it was for the best, of course, but—”

  “You’re out of your mind!” Tobin exclaimed.

  But Andrade understood. The vassals would be kept busy readying their keeps for Rohan’s inspection—and when he returned with whatever he decided they deserved from the Rialla negotiations, they would agree to anything in order to have true ownership of their lands. Moreover, Sioned would be accompanying Rohan on this progress, which would afford everyone the chance to get to know her. Lastly—if she read him right, which she believed she did—a war with the Merida was in the offing next spring. People who fought loyally for the prince who ruled them would fight ferociously to protect lands deeded to them by written law in a promise that would not die with this prince.