The Dragon Prince

by Mary Gillgannon

  She melted into his arms and he gave a gasp at the feel of her slim body against his bare chest. With effort, he struggled to think of things to say to reassure her. He was vaguely aware he should find out the real reason she was afraid. But it was hard to think. His being was flooded with such wondrous sensations. Such urgent feelings.

  He moved his fingers to her face, cupping her delicate chin, stroking the impossibly smooth skin of her cheek. She shifted in his arms and raised her head to look at him. Now her breasts were pressed against his chest. He looked down at her, at her beautiful face, her moist, pink, tempting lips. He bent his head...

  There was a sudden sound from the hallway. He froze, bare inches from her lips, and listened. Footsteps. Light. Careful. They paused, seemingly right outside the door.

  They both waited, breathless. A servant would surely knock. But the person seemed to simply be standing there, waiting. Rhun’s mind shifted through the possibilities: An assassin, listening to see if he was asleep. Bridei, returning early and not certain if he should burst in, what he might interrupt. At the thought, he released Eastra and moved away from her.

  A moment later, the footsteps retreated. Rhun exhaled the breath he’d been holding. “They’re gone.”

  Eastra nodded. “Maybe it was Calida. She might have come to see Bridei, then lost her nerve.”

  “Aye.” He took another step away from her. What if it had been an assassin rather than a lovesick maid? What if the killer had come a few moments later, when they were kissing, when he was too lost to be aware of anything but Eastra? The thought chilled him, reminding him of the dangers they faced. And of the power of this woman to so enrapture him that he was oblivious to everything else.

  “I’ll take you back to your bedchamber,” he said. “Lock the door behind you. I’ll keep watch outside.”

  Her eyes widened. “You think someone would try to harm me?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. But I will stand guard and make certain you’re safe.”

  “But...” Her eyes were pleading. “Could you not keep watch in my room?” She looked around. “Or, I could stay here until Bridei returns.”

  “Nay. You’re too great a distraction. If I’m going to protect you, I must keep my wits about me.” He smiled at her, trying to soften the refusal.

  She gave him a desperate look. “I’m sure it was Calida we heard. I even think I smelled her perfume.”

  “Maybe,” he said. “But we can’t take that chance.”

  Chapter 6

  Rhun woke to a knock at the door. “Who is it?” he called.

  “Bridei.”

  Rhun climbed out of bed and moved wearily toward the door. He’d waited outside Eastra’s bedchamber for a long while, then finally returned to his own room and gone to sleep.

  He opened the door. Seeing his brother’s rumpled clothing and bloodshot eyes, he asked, “Rough night?”

  Bridei grunted as he moved into the room. “Not so bad. Just didn’t get much sleep.”

  As Bridei removed his tunic, Rhun caught a whiff of a potent scent. “Jesu, what’s that smell?”

  “Regina gets a bit carried away with the perfume. Says in her business it’s essential. A lot of her patrons aren’t very fragrant in their persons.”

  “Ah, so Regina is her name.”

  “It isn’t what you think, brother. She’s just a friend. We didn’t even go to bed, just sat up talking all night.”

  “Talking? About what?”

  “About Arthur and the Saxons... and the Jutes and the Irish and everyone else who seems to want a piece of Britain these days. Learned quite a bit, I’d say. Rather more than Aurelius had to tell us.”

  “So?”

  “She thinks the Saxons may be planning to join up with the Picts in the north, and maybe the Irish as well. She suspects Cerdic is using this truce as an opportunity to make alliances so when he comes at us again, he will be even stronger.”

  “By the Light! That could be disastrous!” Rhun began to dress. “Why does she think this? Did she hear it from one of her customers?”

  “She didn’t divulge her sources.”

  “But you trust her?”

  “Aye, I do. The women who work for her are often former slaves. Having either escaped or been freed somehow, they seek to be their own mistresses and to earn their own bread. They make the most formidable group of spies a man could ask for. They listen to the patrons when they are in their cups, and they overhear a great deal.”

  Rhun sat on the bed and jerked on his boots. “I can’t believe Cerdic would plan something so treacherous. I wonder if Eastra knows any of this.”

  “Probably not. Indeed, I suspect only Cerdic’s closest advisers are aware of his plans.”

  “But if he betrays Arthur, then Eastra will be...”

  “Useless as a hostage,” Bridei finished for him. “Arthur is not a brutal, vindictive man. Even if Cerdic breaks the truce, Arthur would never order Eastra’s death. Now, if something happened to Mordred, that would be different. But I believe Cerdic is too clever for that. He’s using this truce and the exchange of hostages to buy time, time to sort out this alliance before he goes out on the war trail once again.”

  Rhun nodded. “Will you take this information to Arthur?”

  “I’ll send a message.”

  “Would it not be better to go yourself and explain things in person?”

  Bridei cocked his head. “Are you trying to get rid of me, brother?” He smiled. “That would be convenient, wouldn’t it? You would be alone with Eastra, with no one to see when your fine resolve weakens and you—”

  “That’s not what I meant!” Rhun exclaimed. “I merely thought you should take this information to Arthur yourself. After all, it’s a touchy business. What if someone intercepts your message?”

  “It will mean nothing to them. I’ll send it in code.”

  Rhun shook his head. “Arthur charged you with this mission to Londinium. I think it’s irresponsible of you not to carry your news to him directly.”

  “He also charged me with helping guard our hostage on the journey to Gwynedd.”

  “But that was before he knew Eastra spoke Briton,” Rhun argued. “Since we don’t need you to translate, there’s no real purpose in your accompanying us.”

  “Ah, but I have a fancy to go home to Gwynedd to see my mother anyway, and this journey gives me an excuse.”

  Rhun clenched his jaw. If he tried to argue any more, his brother would only become more convinced that he wanted to be alone with Eastra. And in truth, he did not want that. The more people around them, the better. He thought about last night, about how close he had come to kissing Eastra... and more, so much more. Fortunately, the sound of footsteps had interrupted them.

  “All right,” he said brusquely, “I accept your decision to accompany us. When do you think we can leave Londinium? Today?”

  Bridei sat down on the other bed. “Today, I’m going to sleep. By tomorrow, after I’ve talked to a few more people, perhaps we can set off. In the meantime, why don’t you take Eastra to the market and see the sights.”

  “This isn’t a pleasure trip!”

  “But we did tell Eastra our reason for coming to Londinium was to purchase goods to take back to Gwynedd. So unless you want her to think we lied to her, you’d best go out and buy a few things. If you think wine is too difficult to transport, then at least purchase some cloth goods for Rhiannon.” Bridei fetched his saddle pack and dug out a leather pouch. “Here,” he said, throwing the pouch to Rhun. “There’s plenty of gold in there, enough to buy a bauble or two for Eastra as well as some silks and linens for Rhiannon.”

  “What do I know of cloth goods?” Rhun grumbled.

  Bridei shrugged. “Nothing. You’ll have to ask Eastra to help you, I guess.” He stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes. “Unless you can think of something else to buy to make our story plausible.”

  Rhun glared at his brother. Bridei was always spinning tal
es and getting him tangled up in them. But it was true they had to give Eastra some story. Although he mostly trusted her, it was probably best if she didn’t know they were in Londinium to get news of her uncle’s plans.

  He took a deep breath, remembering the night before. From now on, he’d have to be on his guard. Last night he’d been convinced Eastra desired him, that she wanted him as much as he’d wanted her. But did her eagerness represent her true feelings for him, or was it an attempt to seduce him so she could learn his secrets?

  Nay, he could not believe that of her. She was sweet and guileless, and her warm feelings for him were based on the fact he had saved her life all those years ago. She wasn’t a treacherous spy, but a naive young woman who didn’t really understand the effect she had on men. Although she’d seemed to want him to kiss her, she likely had the same silly daydreams about him Calida had for Bridei. How fortunate he was that the footsteps in the hall had broken the spell and kept him from doing something dishonorable. He took a deep breath. And today he would be subject to the same temptations—damn Bridei!

  He glanced at his reflection in the polished bronze mirror on the wall and stroked his jaw, trying to decide whether it was necessary to shave. At least he was not a black-bearded man like Bridei. He decided the gold stubble was tolerable. Besides, having a scratchy jaw was good reason not to let Eastra get too close. After last night, he realized he needed all the incentive possible to make certain he kept his distance.

  A servant came to tidy the room. Rhun pointed to Bridei’s prone form on the bed and told the woman to come back later. Then he asked the servant where he might find his host and was told Aurelius had gone down to the docks to see oversee unloading a ship that had just come in from Less Britain. Rhun decided to fetch Eastra and leave immediately for the market.

  He knocked on Eastra’s door, and she came out in a Saxon-style gown of buttery yellow. She bid him enter, then looked down at herself. “Do I look all right? I’m not comfortable in the Roman stola, yet I fear Lady Aurelius will think ill of me if I wear my plain traveling gunna.”

  “You look glorious.” He smiled at her. “Like a golden iris in a mountain meadow. No man in the market will be able to tear his gaze away from you.”

  “Is that where we’re going—the market?”

  Rhun nodded. “We must buy some supplies for my father’s household. I’m going to fetch our escort from the stables, or wherever they found to sleep. You can wait in the garden while we saddle the horses.”

  After Rhun left her in the garden, Eastra walked down the stone pathways, admiring the flowers and herbs, the splash of water in a small stone pool with a bronze statue of a plump naked little boy standing in the center. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply. As the sweet scents of lavender and rose filled her senses, memories of the night before rushed over her. Rhun, his hair gilded gold in the torchlight, his strong neck and broad, well-muscled chest making him look like a warrior out of one of the legends.

  At the sight of him, she’d forgotten she’d come to tell him about her conversation with Skena. All words had fled from her mouth and she could only mumble and stare. And then when she did speak, she’d told him about Calida instead of Skena. Somehow she couldn’t bear the thought of making him angry, as she was afraid he would be if he knew she’d revealed so much to a slave.

  She shook her head. It made her ache to remember how he’d looked. And the expression in his dark blue eyes...such a beguiling mixture of hunger and tenderness.

  “Dreaming of your lover?” a scornful voice sounded behind her. Eastra whirled around to see Skena. The slave girl cocked a dark brow. “I know he didn’t share your bedchamber last night. Does that mean you’ve quarreled?”

  “Nay, we did not quarrel,” Eastra protested.

  “Huh,” the slave responded.

  “This a beautiful place,” Eastra said changing the subject.

  “A foolish waste of time. There isn’t a single thing growing here man or beast could eat.”

  “There are a few herbs,” Eastra pointed out. “Some plants that can be used for seasoning food, or for healing—chamomile, basil, sage.”

  “Luxuries,” said Skena contemptuously. “The Britons are soft and weak. I don’t see why your people have not wiped them out by now.”

  “Few Britons live like this,” Eastra answered. “I think Aurelius is more Roman than British anyway.”

  “You would defend your people’s enemies?”

  Eastra shook her head. “I don’t share your hatred of the Britons. In fact, my goal is to have my people and theirs live alongside each other.”

  “That’s not possible,” Skena said in a cold voice. “The Saxons and Britons are different races. They will never be able to forget their hatred of each other and live in peace.”

  Eastra approached the herb patch and bent down to pluck a sprig of mint. She crushed the leaves in her fingers and breathed the fresh, pungent scent. Most of her people, the men at least, believed the same as Skena. But that did not mean they were right. What if Saxon and Briton intermarried and had children that were neither one race nor the other, but both? “I refuse to give up,” she said loudly. “I will not be defeated, no matter what anyone says.”

  “Will not be defeated? What do you mean?”

  At the sound of Rhun’s voice, Eastra whirled. “Oh, I didn’t know you were there.” She looked around for Skena, wondering how long ago the slave girl had left. Had Rhun seen them talking? His eyes still gazed at her questioningly, and she knew she must answer him. She glanced around, searching desperately for some explanation for her words. “I... I was thinking about the weeds in the garden in my uncle’s fortress. It’s a kitchen garden, nothing like this. But I’ve always struggled to get rid of the pesky weeds.”

  It was a stupid lie. She could see by the expression on his face he did not believe her. She started to talk rapidly. “It seems somehow wasteful to grow things simply for their beauty. Except for that small plot over there, I vow there’s nothing here that man or beast can eat.”

  Rhun raised his brows. “I’m surprised you’re such a practical woman. I would have thought you would be admiring the splendor of the flowers and all the lovely scents.”

  She looked at him, feeling embarrassed. She did not want him to think she was an embittered shrew who despised flowers. “I’m not against cultivating plants for their beauty. I merely meant it seemed wasteful for them not to grow any vegetables here. Where do they get their food, anyway?”

  “They probably buy it in the market,” Rhun answered. “Which is where we must be off to if we mean to catch the best bargains. Come. Our horses should be saddled and ready by now.”

  He led her down the peristyle, then out a gate into the street. Their escort was waiting for them, fully armed and mounted. Looking at the troop of soldiers, Eastra knew a sinking feeling. She had hoped to have some time alone with Rhun, to encourage him to resume the amorous mood of the night before. Daringly, she said, “Do all those men have to go with us? We’ll make a spectacle in the market. Everyone will take note of the fact that I’m a Saxon accompanied by a guard of Britons.”

  He gazed at her thoughtfully. “There’s something in what you say. We would attract less notice by ourselves. But we do need to have some sort of protection. Perhaps they could accompany us to the market. Then we could leave our horses with them while we explore the shops and stalls on foot.”

  Rhun helped her mount and they set out, the horses’ hooves echoing on the crumbling pavement. As they rode along, Rhun pointed out the remains of the Roman part of the city—streets and temples, the sprawling complex of the baths, its once vast pools now filled in with dirt and rubbish, a huge stone archway where swallows nested. Much of the masonry of the old buildings was crumbling away, while other parts had obviously been deliberately knocked down and the stonework removed to be used in other structures. Here and there among the tumbled stones were newer timber buildings, with signs outside them indicating their purpos
e—cookshops and cobblers and taverns.

  At last they reached the open-air market. Rhun called a halt and dismounted, then engaged in conversation with the dark-eyed, silent man who was the leader of their guard. The man cast a careful glance at Eastra, then nodded. Rhun came to help her dismount and they left their horses with the group of warriors.

  Eastra felt a lightening of her mood as they left their guard behind and began to walk among the stalls of the market. This was what she wanted, to be alone with Rhun with no mocking Bridei to spoil his mood, no soldiers to remind him she was his hostage. The market itself was a delight. She gazed in wonder at the dozens of stalls full of luxury goods. Lush furs spilled over a counter, spotted, striped, gray, white, and tawny. Rhun saw her glance at them and took her arm to guide her nearer. “It gets cool in Gwynedd at night. Would you like a fur cloak to warm you?”

  Eastra examined a pelt from some sort of spotted cat, admiring the soft, plush texture and the glowing gold and cream and rich brown of the pattern. “In truth, I think fur looks better on the animal than it does on any man or woman. And I own a cloak lined with red squirrel already.”

  She moved away from the booth and went to the next one, where colored glassware winked and glimmered in the sunlight. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” she said to Rhun. “But hardly practical for taking on a journey.”

  “I can pack it in straw in a stout box,” said the man behind the stall counter. “That’s how these things were safely carried here from Byzantium.”

  “Where’s that?” Eastra asked.

  “Far to the east, on the other side of Rome.” Rhun spoke behind her. “It’s a vast distance to travel, especially for something so delicate and fragile.”

  Examining the man’s fair hair and blue eyes, Eastra wondered if he were a Saxon. “Are you from Byzantium?” she asked.

  “Nay, I’m from Mickelgard. Traders come to the market there from all over the north.”