Dragon Prince 01 - Dragon Prince

by Melanie Rawn

  “I’ll go find Lady Andrade,” the squire said without being told, and vanished.

  Rohan sat beside Sioned, smoothing the hair back from her forehead, holding her hand. A deadly anger competed with the aching tenderness in his eyes. Tobin exchanged a glance with Chay, and they both pulled up low stools and sat down.

  “You and Roelstra aren’t just on opposite sides anymore,” Tobin said. “You’re enemies.”

  “I should’ve killed him,” Rohan said again.

  “Come on, out with it,” Chay said impatiently. “I want to hear it all.”

  Rohan was spare in the telling. Sioned said nothing, merely gazed up at him, until he reached the part about the two of them walking along the river. She smiled, saying, “I think he’ll forgive you the details of what happened after that.” Rohan blushed again, and Tobin grinned at her husband.

  “This morning,” Rohan went on, glowering at his brother-by-marriage as if daring him to tease, “we woke up and found Roelstra’s barge on fire. That’s the part I want to hear from Andrade. If anybody knows what happened, she will.”

  “Nobody told you?” Chay asked, all humor gone.

  “I don’t listen to rumors.”

  “Neither do I,” Andrade said from behind them. She took a swift assessing look at Sioned, frowning. “The dranath?”

  “If that’s the name of the drug, then yes,” the Sunrunner replied.

  Andrade gestured peremptorily, and Chaynal brought her a chair. She sat down, folded her hands in her lap, and announced, “The royal mistress gave birth last night. For reasons unconnected to the fact that it was another daughter, Roelstra burned Palila in her bed.”

  “Goddess!” Sioned breathed. “Rohan, I wish you had killed him!” Andrade nodded. “So do I. What are the symptoms of this drug?”

  “A grandsire dragon of a headache. It comes and goes.”

  “Was there any odd taste to the wine?”

  “It was Giladan, but I don’t know enough about the variety to say if there was anything wrong with the taste.”

  “Damn,” Andrade muttered. “Will you be able to appear tonight?”

  “Of course I will!” Sioned tried to sit up.

  Rohan pushed her gently back down. “You’re not well enough. Don’t even think about—”

  “I’ll be there,” she said stubbornly. “Try and stop me!”

  “Sioned,” he began warningly.

  “Don’t be a fool, Rohan!” Andrade exclaimed. “She must be there!”

  Tobin judged it was time to change the subject before frayed tempers snapped. “Aunt, why wouldn’t anybody let me in your tent this morning?”

  The Lady looked grimly amused. “I have a guest who doesn’t appreciate my hospitality. The Princess Pandsala.”

  Andrade showed none of her usual enjoyment for the shocked silence that followed such an incredible pronouncement. She made brief work of the story, residual horror and disgust in her eyes no matter how strictly she controlled her voice. When she had finished, she considered each of them in turn, focusing at last on her nephew. “We’ve badly underestimated Ianthe, it seems. I don’t know what Roelstra believes, but I know Pandsala is telling the truth. The whole scheme was Ianthe’s, and the implications sicken me. She sat there cool as a cloud, without a trace of guilt—and I’m sure she feels none, for she’ll get at least part of what she wants.”

  “Not Rohan,” Sioned stated flatly.

  “She’ll have other means to power, you can be sure. We’ll have to watch her carefully over these next years. It’s said he’s given her Feruche.”

  “No!” Rohan cried furiously. “Feruche is going to be mine! And I won’t have that bitch within a hundred measures of my lands!”

  “There’s nothing you can do about it,” Andrade told him roughly. “Put someone you trust completely in command of your garrison below the castle. That’s your only move for the moment.”

  “I’ll thank you not to decide the disposition of my troops for me,” he snapped.

  Sioned placed a gentle hand on his arm. “What about the others, my Lady? The crew and servants—and those other women and their children. Did they escape?”

  “The crew, yes. The servants, mostly. As for the women and babies—I don’t know. I’ve tried all morning to find trace of them, but. . . .” She shrugged, a casual gesture at odds with the cold fury in her eyes. “It’ll be a long, hard trip back to Castle Crag for the High Prince and what remains of his suite. You’ll make a tidy profit, Chay. I’ve heard you’ve upped your prices.”

  “That was before I’d heard all this!” Chay shot back. “He can damned well walk! What kind of man could murder a woman who’d borne his children?”

  “Daughters,” Tobin corrected softly. “That’s the difference, Chay.”

  “No,” Andrade told them. “Palila died because she was guilty of treason.”

  “So is Ianthe,” Rohan pointed out. “Roelstra’s arrogant, but he’s not stupid. He has to know she was behind it. Pandsala’s clever enough to think up the variation, but only Ianthe could conceive the original plan. The fact that Roelstra’s rewarding her with Feruche confirms it, as far as I’m concerned.” He held Sioned’s fingers more tightly, looking down at her. “He’ll want Ianthe’s talents directed at us now. Especially you.”

  “That makes it even more important for me to appear tonight with you as we planned,” she insisted. “It’ll be a slap in her face and I’ve been looking forward to it.” She gave him a tight smile. “I’m not afraid of her, Rohan. You aren’t, either.”

  “Exactly,” Tobin approved, winning a furious glance from her brother. “And aside from all that, she has to show up healthy and smiling tonight. There will be rumors all over the camps by now about—what did you call it, Aunt?”

  “Dranath. Shut up, Rohan, they’re both right.”

  Chay sat forward and interposed, “How can we help?”

  Andrade scrutinized Sioned once more. “You look a fright. Tobin, you and Cami will have to do something about that.”

  “Then the first thing is for her to get some rest,” Tobin decided. “Chay, Rohan—out.”

  “I’m not leaving her,” Rohan said.

  “Listen to me, beloved,” Sioned murmured. “I can’t rest when you’re sitting here looking like an avenging dragon.”

  Chay took a handful of Rohan’s collar and drew him to his feet. “Come on. We have to get you prettied up, too, you know. Walvis can bring your clothes and so forth to my tent. Let the girl sleep. Goddess knows you didn’t let her get any rest last night!”

  After a moment’s sulky rebellion, Rohan allowed himself to be led away. Sioned met Tobin’s gaze, whispering, “He was so happy. And now this.”

  “You’ll be free soon enough,” Andrade told her.

  “And with all the time in the world to be happy,” Tobin finished. “Close your eyes, Sioned. Camigwen and I will take care of everything.”

  At sundown Sioned was looking into the mirror at the face of a stranger. Her eyes had been outlined in dark green pencil, and a dusting of gold powder on her lids lent a hint of the usual sparkle to her eyes. Salves had been applied to her cheeks and lips to simulate healthy color. It had taken all Tobin’s and Camigwen’s combined skills to create the semblance of her normal face to which the makeup had then been applied. They had done her hair in a mass of thin braids that twisted around her head and looped down her neck like plaited fire. She supposed she was beautiful.

  “Where did Walvis get to with the jewels?” Camigwen fretted as Tobin lowered the gown’s skirt over Sioned’s hair and pulled it into place around her waist.

  “You’d think my idiot brother would be dressed to his own satisfaction by now, and have the decency to remember Sioned’s emeralds.”

  Sioned finished tying the skirt’s laces and stared bemused at her image. The dress was everything she had hoped when she’d first seen the heavy silk in the merchant’s booth. Was this what a princess looked like?

  �
��Perfect,” Cami announced, standing back from her.

  “I think so, too,” Rohan said softly.

  Sioned turned. Resplendent himself in a solid black outfit like the one he’d worn at Stronghold, he had added a sleeveless black silk tunic slit in front from the waist to the knee-length hem, belted in silver. He and Sioned stared at each other until Tobin broke the spell with laughter.

  “Put your eyes back in your heads!”

  “Is that my Sioned under all that?” Rohan teased.

  “Want proof?” She held up the hand wearing his emerald.

  “Oh, something a little more substantial than that,” Cami suggested, laughing.

  Sioned cast her a sidelong glance, then went to Rohan and kissed his lips. The Fire blazed up between them. She didn’t dare put her arms around him, knowing he held back for the same reason. They knew each other’s bodies now, understood the reality of ecstasy. When she stepped away from him, they were both trembling.

  “Oh, it’s you, all right,” he murmured, eyes dazed. Then he shook himself and reached into a pocket. “Tobin, you put these on her. I’d drop them.”

  Within moments Sioned saw herself alight with green fire. She could see nothing but the emeralds that pulsed with a life of their own. A black shadow crowned with golden hair moved to stand behind her, and as he placed his hands lightly on her shoulders their eyes met in the mirror.

  “Only one thing missing,” Tobin said, coming forward with two thin circlets of silver that twisted open at the back. She gave them both to Rohan, who blinked in surprise before he smiled and kissed her cheek.

  “Two things,” he corrected. “But one, in the end,” he added cryptically. Sioned smiled.

  “Now, don’t either of you leave here until Chay and I can join you,” Tobin warned. “And where is he, anyway?”

  “Dressed and waiting for you,” Rohan said absently, fingering the circlets. “Sioned, are you well? Truly?”

  “Truly,” she answered. “But let’s make it an early night, shall we?” She winked at him in the mirror, and he grinned.

  “Now I’m positive it’s you!”

  Careful of the elaborate braids, he placed one of the circlets across her brow. Then, with a shy smile, he handed her the second one. Sioned bit her lip; this was her vision come to life at last. She gave him the mark of royalty, pulling strands of golden hair into place so the circlet gleamed visible only across his forehead. Princess in every fact but the actual ceremony, she looked into her prince’s eyes for a long, silent time without doubts or strivings, at peace.

  Andrade left Urival to deal with Pandsala and the infant, secure in the knowledge that the former could not escape and the latter now had a wet nurse. Urival’s dismay had been almost funny; Andrade pitied him the impossible evening, left alone with a frantic princess, a newborn, and a girl chosen not for her brains but her breasts. But there was no one else she could trust to keep Pandsala in line. The girl had twice tried to run, getting as far as the outer row of Rohan’s tents before the faradh’im had caught up with her, the regular guards being wary of placing rough hands on a daughter of the High Prince. Urival had no such scruples. Andrade hoped he would spend the evening making a few realities clear to her. The girl was not inherently vicious, she thought—unlike Ianthe, who was so twisted it was a wonder her own guts didn’t strangle her.

  The lesser nobility would have their own feast, as would all the servants but Lord Jervis’ own. As Andrade left her tent she sniffed appreciatively of the roasts and breads being readied for the two other banquets down near the river. But Jervis had chosen the marriage hilltop as the site of the princes’ Lastday banquet, and by the time Andrade had climbed the slope she was in need of refreshment. She chose a cup of fruit juice—unfermented, for she was still fighting off the effects of a sojourn on water, and of Crigo’s death. She remembered him: proud, ambitious, thrilled to be assigned an important post, a capable Sunrunner who had been perverted by Roelstra and his dranath.

  “Greetings, my Lady,” Prince Lleyn said at her shoulder, and she turned. “Will you do me the honor of sitting with me tonight, Andrade?” he went on less formally. “I’ve been hearing things I’d like to know the truth of, if you’d be so kind. We are, in a sense, joined in guardianship of the continent now.”

  “I don’t envy you the task of sorting out border claims.”

  He gave a grimace of a smile, the lines on his face softened by mellow evening light. “I give thanks that my island is an island—and all mine.”

  “Kierst-Isel will be a problem,” she agreed. “If you wish, I’ll have my people go through the records at Goddess Keep and transmit anything of interest to your Sunrunner.”

  “My thanks. But I give Eolie enough to do, poor child, finding the best fishing waters and shell beds for me, warning of storms, and the like.”

  “And keeping track of what everyone else is up to,” Andrade finished wryly. “I assume you’re hinting for another faradhi. How about Meath? He’s the big youngster in my party who looks as if he could throttle a plow-elk barehanded.”

  “I would be most grateful. Of course, he won’t much like crossing water—but I’ll provide him with a private cabin and his own bucket.” Lleyn grinned wickedly.

  “Too kind!” Andrade glanced around at the growing darkness. Torches, lit by Clutha’s court Sunrunner, were a double row of Fire leading up to the gigantic tent at the crest of the hill. “By the looks of things, you princes are about to be trumpeted in to dinner. I’ll save a chair for you.”

  Clutha and Jervis got more ambitious every year in the marvels that accompanied the Lastday banqueting. Andrade, as Lady of Goddess Keep, took precedence over everyone else and went inside the tent first to choose the best seat at the best table. The others would, in effect, be announced into her presence—an amusement she anticipated with more than the usual relish tonight.

  A state banquet for fifty was never a simple event to arrange, especially as all of those present were accustomed to magnificence. At the Rialla they expected even greater splendor, which challenged the combined households of Meadowlord’s prince and Waes’ lord. From a simple outdoor meal to celebrate the successful conclusion of the Rialla, the Lastday feast had over the years become a showcase for culinary artisans and was now the full-time occupation of a suite of masters who commanded the resources of a princedom. Andrade, who had long since grown used to the display of riches, considered herself fairly inured to spectacles. But as she was bowed into the green tent, an exclamation of pure delight escaped her lips.

  A dozen round tables were artfully placed around a deep green carpet so thick it felt like spring grass underfoot. At each corner of the tent waterfalls splashed down rock cairns designed not only with an eye to beauty but to cooling the diners once the torches had been lit. The perimeter was a grotto of ferns, flowers, and trees in great silver pots; greenery was strewn from the ceiling latticework and decorated with more blossoms. The whole place seemed alive.

  But the real marvels were the enormous sculptures set around the tent. Each was a faithful reproduction in miniature of each prince’s major seat: Rohan’s Stronghold, Roelstra’s Castle Crag, Vissarion’s Summer River, Lleyn’s Graypearl, and all the rest. Andrade was surprised and flattered to find a rendering of Goddess Keep as well. The images had been worked in spun sugar and colored with the essences of a rainbow of herbs and flowers; masters of the confectioner’s art had reproduced the blue-gray waves below Andrade’s keep, the fine golden sand around Stronghold, the extensive formal gardens of Volog’s New Raetia in all their brilliant colors. Clutha’s faradhi must have assisted in the making of these master-works, for none but a Sunrunner could make such detailed observations of land and keep to be recreated thus.

  Andrade chose a seat with the best view. The wives, sons, and daughters of the princes—those who had chosen to make the sometimes dangerous journey from their lands to Waes—filed in and exclaimed in wonder before remembering to bow to her. Tobin and Chay came in l
ast, seated at this feast rather than the one for the athr’im by virtue of her relationship to Rohan and his importance in his own right. Andrade smiled as they bowed to her. Any other man would have used his unique position to establish his own princedom, but not Chay. Rohan was luckier than he knew.

  Soon places were left only for the princes themselves, and after a pause three trumpets began a silvery fanfare. Each prince was announced by a short blasting chord and a bellow from Clutha’s high chamberlain that the Most Noble Prince So-and-so of Wherever graced the humble soil of Meadowlord, all hail His Highness’ Grace. A ceremony Andrade always found pompous at best suddenly moved her, for soon she would see Rohan make his entrance. A pity Sioned had evidently not been well enough to come tonight; she would have enjoyed it, too.

  Whatever wind your soul rides now, Zehava, look on your son and be proud. He’s well worth the trouble he’s caused us all. And here’s the dragon’s son himself—oh, Goddess! He’s got Sioned with him!

  The breach of protocol might have been due to many things. Rohan might be pretending to be so young and inexperienced that he didn’t know a prince was supposed to enter alone; he might be so genuinely careless in his joy that he’d simply forgotten; or he might want only to show off his faradhi prize. But Andrade knew that he was putting everyone on notice that his wife would share his princely station and his power as well as his bed.

  The high chamberlain was horrified. The trumpet chords had faded into the stunned silence before he drew a breath that nearly popped the laces of his tunic. “The Most Noble Prince Rohan of the Desert, and—and his Chosen Wife, the Lady Sioned!”

  Rohan’s eyes snapped with glee at the shock he’d engineered. He was all in black and silver, the perfect foil for Sioned’s white and emeralds. They came forward to make their bows, and Andrade held back a gasp; each wore circlets of royalty. Rohan escorted his lady to the table where his sister and her lord sat, and at last the applause began for them as for the other princes. But there was wariness in some faces, and shock in others. Andrade’s gaze traveled around the tables, quelling all outward signs of rebellion. There would be no trouble, no protest at this marriage of prince and Sunrunner.