The Dragon Prince

by Mary Gillgannon

  “And so you returned home and joined Arthur’s retinue as an interpreter?”

  “Not exactly. I was not so sure of myself as that. No, instead I went north, to my mother’s people, to the place I was originally supposed to go to serve out my sentence of banishment.”

  “And what happened there?”

  Bridei laughed. “Why are you so certain anything happened? I might have lived quietly and uneventfully there for several years.”

  Eastra regarded him dubiously.

  “All right.” He gave another rumbling laugh. Despite his lean, graceful build, Bridei had the deep, rich voice of a larger, more robust man. “I got into trouble there as well. That’s when I decided to seek out my brother. I figured he would not refuse to help me. Besides being a tenderhearted soul compelled to rescue the hapless—as you well know—Rhun has always felt a kind of responsibility for me, poor bastard.”

  “And he took you in and suggested Arthur make you his interpreter?”

  “No, that came after. All Rhun promised was that I would entertain the men and inspire them with tales of the old heroes. But then Arthur found out I knew Saxon and urged me to cultivate the skill. I used to drive the slaves in his camp to near distraction by pestering them to speak with me.” Abruptly, Bridei paused and, eyebrows lifted, said, “Sorry. I forgot you were once a slave yourself.”

  Eastra stiffened, waiting for the familiar distress to grip her. To her surprise, it didn’t come. Knowing Rhun accepted her for what she was and did not care about her years as a slave made all the difference. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, meaning it. “Although I feel sorrow for those who suffer the humiliation of slavery, I don’t want to dwell on that part of life, but instead look forward to the future.”

  “And now you are hostage,” Bridei said. “Is that a better sort of captivity?”

  Despite herself, Eastra could not help casting a glance at Rhun, riding a half dozen paces ahead of them. “Aye, it is better,” she agreed. “For if I am not mistress of my fate, I am at least treated as someone of worth.” And I am near the man I love, she added in her thoughts. For all the good it has done me.

  * * *

  Rhun forced himself to scan the densely forested hills surrounding them, searching for any hint of soldiers—the flash of a shield boss, the furtive movement of an archer, the restless movement of horses. He must be on his guard. Be ever vigilant and alert. But, curse it, it was damned difficult when a part of him was constantly distracted by the awareness of Eastra and Bridei riding behind him, talking companionably.

  He could not hear a word of what they said, but once in a while he would catch the inflection of their voices or even their soft laughter. Whatever they spoke of, it was not unpleasant, or at least Bridei was telling it in a way that was amusing.

  Harsh, grinding jealousy made Rhun’s muscles go taut. He should be the one to entertain Eastra and make her laugh, not Bridei! But then he told himself he was being a selfish, arrogant fool to think such thoughts. He had decided he must stay away from her, and yet it was only simple decency to provide their royal hostage with companionship and put her at her ease. If he could not do it himself, at least his brother could try to relieve her loneliness and the hardship of travel.

  If only Bridei were not so good at it, so skilled at beguiling people, especially women. And so remarkably handsome. While Rhun had never had reason to doubt his own attractiveness to women, he knew he could not compare to his brother. The maids always swooned over Bridei, murmuring about his “raven tresses” and his “eyes like wood violets,” cooing over him as if he were a girl. Rhun knew his own physique, however impressive, was marred by battle scars, his hands battered and gashed from years of wielding a weapon, his skin weathered from spending so much time outside. He looked very much the nine years older he was than Bridei.

  And then there was Bridei’s skill with words. He knew how to coax and cajole, how to tease and flatter. When he sang, men said he could charm the very stars out of the heavens with his voice. It was a voice to bring tears to the eyes, to wring emotion from the depths of the soul. Between Bridei’s voice and his looks, Rhun had always thought there was a kind of magic about his brother, some sort of enchantment he had from Rhiannon, who more than a few people believed was a sorceress.

  But he had no magic, although fortune had smiled upon him in many ways. He knew he was a skilled warrior, and Arthur valued his judgment and his ability to read people and make decisions. To be among the high king’s inner circle was no mean accomplishment. And yet with women... many had approached him, but he always feared they did not really care for him, but sought him out because he was a prince, heir to Gwynedd, and one of Arthur’s Companions.

  Somehow it seemed a better thing to be like Bridei and have women love you for your face and your voice. At least those things were part of the man, while status and power were not real. They could be lost. And once they were lost, what happened then? Did the women drift away, although they’d once spoken words of devotion and love? He wanted a woman who cared for him because of himself, his very essence, the secret, hidden part of him no man really knew. Eastra, his mind told him. She could love him and know him that way.

  But then he reminded himself of all the complications between them. It was dangerous to get close to her—he could not think clearly when she was near. And this was a treacherous journey they embarked on. He could feel it the farther they rode west. The landscape was changing from farmland to pastureland. The scenery becoming more rugged, the trees denser. Soon they would be traveling much of the time in forest, and they would have to be alert every moment. The incident in Londinium had made it clear they had enemies watching them. Watching and waiting.

  And there were other reasons not to yield to his urge to be near Eastra. Even if they made this journey safely, what then? She was still a hostage, and bore the blood of the enemy. If war broke out again, it would be cruel to have grown too close to her. For how could she endure it, to be torn between what she felt for him and what she felt for her own people? To face the day when he rode out to kill her kin?

  The thought was chilling, and Rhun told himself he must keep it ever present in his mind. Eastra was innocent and naive. If she had yielded to the moment in that hidden alleyway and kissed him willingly and eagerly, it was because she had not thought far into the future, had not considered the pain and grief that could come about from their falling in love.

  A sharp pang went through him. What splendor had been in that kiss. He’d never known he could feel such things with a woman. It was as if her very being was made of light and music, filling him until he was bursting. It seemed they floated above the ground, away from the squalid alley where they stood, and glided into the heavens.

  He took a deep breath, then looked around guiltily. For a moment, he had relaxed his guard and been caught up in his own thoughts. In that moment, danger could have struck. At least they had an escort. If they had to depend upon him to spot all the hazards ahead of them, he feared they would be lost!

  But wary and cunning as were the warriors accompanying them, it was his duty, his responsibility to see them safely to Gwynedd. And he could not do that if he were riding beside Eastra and gazing on her beautiful face. Aggravating as the current situation was, he dare not change it. Bridei would have to remain her companion, and he her protector.

  * * *

  “Still mooning over my brother, are you?” Bridei’s sly words startled Eastra. She gazed at him openmouthed, then said, “Am I so obvious?”

  “Just a bit. Let’s say if he was a fat fowl and you were a fox, you’d have leaped upon him and devoured him by now, every feather and scrap of gristle.”

  Eastra sighed. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”

  “Obviously not.”

  When Bridei did not speak further, Eastra asked, “Do my feelings for your brother offend you?”

  “No. In fact”—he grinned—“they amuse me quite a bit. Not very kind of me to say when
I know you’re suffering, but I’ve never seen my brother like this before. Gone is the cool, calm, unruffled commander, the keen, dangerous warrior. He seems almost human these days.”

  “No, that’s not very kind,” Eastra agreed. “And furthermore, we were speaking of my feelings, not his.”

  “Oh, but his are the same, I assure you. He’s eaten up with it, absolutely devastated by the knowledge that he wants you, almost more than he wants to be a good and dutiful soldier.”

  “Almost?”

  Bridei shrugged. “He hasn’t given in yet. Oh, I know he kissed you—and likely a little more—before you were attacked in Londinium. But that’s just a taste that’s whetted his appetite. Right now, he’s trying to be good, trying to stay away from you. And I’m actually helping him, can you believe that? If I were ignoring you, he would feel even guiltier, and maybe he would weaken sooner. But I’m bored, I’ll admit it, and you are an intelligent and interesting woman. Why shouldn’t I flirt with you a little? It makes the time pass by, at least.”

  Eastra was nonplussed. Bridei talked so openly about things she had some inkling of, but felt she must hide in the name of discretion and good manners. Finally, she said “That’s all it is, isn’t it? You’re talking to me to be kind, and also to make the time pass?”

  “Actually, I don’t usually do things to be kind.” Bridei’s grin was wicked. “But your second assumption is true. Also, it’s entertaining to see my brother squirm and writhe with jealousy. It’s a perfectly normal emotion, but he probably hates himself for feeling it. He’s remarkably virtuous and boring about that kind of thing.”

  Eastra frowned at him. “Some of the things you say—sometimes I wonder at your character.”

  “Oh, don’t bother wondering,” he answered. “I’m as bad as you think. Rhun is the one whose calling in life is to be good. I’m the evil one.”

  Eastra was startled. “I... I don’t think that’s true. Otherwise you wouldn’t talk about it like that. You must have some conscience and kindness inside you or you would not...” She paused, struggling to understand what she meant to say.

  “Or I would not be charming and pleasant—is that what you think? But evil is not always dark and repulsive. Sometimes it’s just the opposite.”

  “No, I was thinking that if you were truly evil, Rhun would not spend time in your company.”

  “Why not? He’s my brother. He feels a sense of responsibility to me. Maybe he even thinks some of his goodness will rub off.”

  Eastra shook her head. She could not put her finger on it, but something inside her told her Bridei was not truly wicked, that he was more like his brother than he knew.

  “Still don’t believe me? What if I told you that the reason my father banished me when I was fourteen was because I raped a woman?”

  Eastra stared at him. “Why would you...” She shook her head. “From what I can see, any number of women would lie with you willingly. Why would you need to force one?”

  Bridei shrugged. “I was young and arrogant. I didn’t really think she meant it when she said no. And by the time I understood, it was too late.” He paused, then continued, “It wouldn’t have mattered if I’d stopped. She still would have gone to my father, and he still would have acted the same. He wouldn’t even listen to my side of the story. Shouted at me, told me I was a monster and I had inherited the tainted blood of his line. I guess both his sister and his mother were real pieces of work, and I look a lot like them. So he banished me.”

  While what Bridei said shocked her, Eastra was still not convinced he was as bad as he said. “But if you regret what you did...” she began cautiously.

  “But do I?” Bridei raised his dark brows, his expression hard. “At least I discovered what my father truly thinks of me. And now I’m free. I’m not bound by duty and honor like Rhun is. I can do what I want, whatever pleases me.”

  Eastra was unsettled by Bridei’s outlook on life. She couldn’t help thinking that if everyone thought like that, there would be no tribes, no duty and law, no sense of order and structure in life. “What about your mother?” she asked. “Don’t you care what she thinks? Rhun says she is kindhearted and loving and good. Even if your father has turned from you, don’t you want to make her proud of you?”

  Bridei shrugged. “My mother will love me no matter what. She doesn’t judge people or close her ears to them because of something they’ve done. She’s not so obsessed with right and wrong and good and evil. She believes people must follow their own path in life.”

  Eastra found herself even more intrigued than she had been previously by this woman called Rhiannon. But her son—the way Bridei talked about things made her feel as if the ground had shifted between her feet.

  “I’ve said things that trouble you, haven’t I?” Bridei spoke softly. “I do the same thing to my brother. He dislikes how I make things seem complicated, until they twist and turn around like the twining knotwork on a piece of Irish jewelry. He prefers the old Roman way, with everything organized and logical. Or the Christian one, with the world divided neatly between good and evil.”

  Eastra nodded at Bridei’s insights into his brother. She could see Rhun was like that and such an attitude appealed to her a great deal. It seemed somehow solid and secure, the way Rhun’s arms felt when they were around her.

  “Unfortunately, the way Rhun thinks allows little room for entanglements like beautiful Saxon princesses.” Bridei’s grin was back. “For him, you’re a problem... and a delicious temptation.”

  Eastra blushed. It was clear Bridei understood all too well what had occurred between her and Rhun back in Londinium.

  They rode in silence a ways. Then Bridei said, “Now, here’s a proposition for you. If I could contrive a way to make Rhun pay attention to you once again, to make him fall hopelessly in love with you—would you go along with it?”

  Eastra regarded him cautiously. “Are you suggesting something dishonest or deceitful? Because if you are, then I will warn you that I won’t do it. I value my own honor more than that. I won’t betray my own people, and neither will I betray Rhun.”

  “It’s not dishonest, although it could, perhaps, be dangerous.”

  “Dangerous to whom?”

  Bridei shrugged. “To both of you. Once you’re caught up in the throes of passion, you will be vulnerable. I will do my best to see no harm comes to either of you, but I am not Rhun, the mighty warrior who can slay six men by himself.”

  “So,” she said slowly, “the danger you speak of would come from Rhun’s enemies?”

  “Where else?”

  Eastra chewed her lip. Bridei had just told her he was untrustworthy. Now he offered to help her win Rhun’s heart. “Why are you doing this?” she asked. “You’ve made it clear you think primarily of yourself and your own interests. What have you to gain by bringing Rhun and me together?”

  “Perhaps I care for my brother’s happiness.” Bridei’s voice was bland. “It’s clear having to stay away from you is eating him up inside. Besides, I will benefit as well. While Rhun fancies himself more alert and better able to look after you if he does not spend time in your company, I think otherwise. I believe if he were not so agonized over the conflict between what he sees as his duty and what’s in his heart, he would actually be better equipped to get us all to Gwynedd safely.”

  Something about Bridei’s explanation did not sound right. Eastra decided he was probably up to some mischief. In fact, she was certain a lot of his interest in helping her was based on a childish urge to stir up trouble. But even knowing that, some part of her could not help responding to his offer. Rhun did need to forget his sense of duty for a time. It would be good for him to cast aside his worries and sense of responsibility and enjoy a few moments of pleasure. Their breathless, thrilling embrace in Londinium had ended all too quickly. Her heart was in her throat as she said very softly, “Tell me, what is your plan?”

  * * *

  He could not bear it! Rhun shifted away from the
camp-fire, his whole body taut. There was something so intimate, almost conspiratorial, in the way that Eastra and Bridei were behaving this night. They sat next to each other, eating pieces of the roasted hare that Dewi had brought down with his sling and cooked over the fire. They did not talk much, but what they did say was exchanged in a murmur, as if they wished no one else to overhear.

  Soon after they had stopped for the night, Bridei had offered to take Eastra down to a nearby stream so she could wash. As they walked off together, Rhun had felt a wave of fury rise up inside him. He should be the one who guided Eastra among the cool forest glades and pointed out the pale dewdrops and purple bog orchid growing in among the fern and bracken. The one who showed her how to creep quietly through the woods so they might spy a fawn and its mother come down to drink at the water, or catch a glimpse of a bright lapwing or blue tit flitting among the trees. He was the one who should share these wild pleasures with Eastra, not jaded Bridei, who was familiar with the fleshpots and markets of Narbonne and Londinium, but knew little of woods lore.

  A little while later, Bridei and Eastra reappeared and joined the rest of the company around the fire. While the fact they sat next to each other galled Rhun, it reassured him to think that at least they were in his sight. The meal passed slowly. Afterward, Bridei rose to his feet. Rhun exhaled a sigh of relief. Perhaps now they would all seek out their beds and he would have a moment’s peace from the raging jealousy that was eating him alive. But then he saw Bridei head to his saddle pack, piled with the others, and get out his harp. Rhun closed his eyes, fighting off frustration. He wanted to throw Bridei into the nearest tree, then smash his harp into pieces on the ground. Anything to keep Bridei from playing for Eastra.