“Yes?” Feylin was the type who would eventually speak her mind without prompting. She just enjoyed being prompted.
“The Merida surrounded us, you’ll recall. And then my solid gold fool of a husband led the charge that annihilated them.”
“After they’d breached Tiglath’s walls, wasn’t it?”
“Exactly.” She nodded her satisfaction.
“Feylin, would you care to expl–” He stopped. “Oh. I see.”
“Nobody ever accused you of being stupid.” She lifted her wine cup to him approvingly.
He slanted a thoughtful glance at Andry. It made sense. He could use the rest of the family to surround Andry from all sides, then allow him to think there was a weakness in Rohan’s own position—and thereby trap him. Using military metaphors to describe an underhanded action against his own blood-kin left a very sour taste in his mouth.
But no one had ever accused Feylin of being stupid, either.
Tobin and Chay had unwittingly begun the maneuver this morning. They had met their son alone, but the only thing they had shared was a formal expression of grief over Sorin’s death. Andry’s coolness had puzzled and hurt them—an emotional strain on him, surely. He loved his parents deeply. Sioned had come at him from another direction. Rohan would have to wait for a detailed report of their conversation, but that Andry was looking uncomfortable was a good sign. Maarken could be next; Andry adored him and Maarken was now the only brother he had left. If he still held out, Pol could—no, Pol must be perceived as Rohan’s weakness that would lure Andry in.
And what in the name of the Goddess and all her works was he thinking?
Disgusted and feeling unclean, he got to his feet. Feylin’s hand on his arm stopped him.
“He’s no longer a child, Rohan,” she murmured. “He rules Goddess Keep and does it very, very well.”
Rohan stared down at her. “I can’t lay a trap for my own kin.”
“You’re an honorable man. Will he behave the same?”
“If he doesn’t, he’s not Chay’s son. Or my sister’s.”
Her eyes turned the pale gray of new steel. “Because he is their son, he will believe as powerfully and completely in his own truths as you do in yours. Belief is much more dangerous than deception.” Then her gaze softened and she gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “I know you, Rohan. You only lie to people who deserve nothing better. Walvis was already cast in your mold when he came to you as a squire, but you had the final forming and polishing. Gold I called him, and so he is. So are you. But lying to people who matter tarnishes you both. And no, I wouldn’t have either of you any other way.” She gave a rueful shake of her head. “But it would be so much easier if you were.”
Rohan smiled down at her. “And you’d love to be ruthless, wouldn’t you?”
“It’d be a help.”
“Don’t try. It doesn’t suit you. I can be ruthless enough for all of us.”
“But not with Andry?”
He pulled in a deep breath. “No. You’re right—I would feel tarnished. And, Goddess knows, I’ve enough muck sticking to me after thirty years of rule.”
“None where it shows.” Feylin slid her hand into his and pressed it.
He remembered her words later on when, according to his original plan, he invited Andry upstairs. Perhaps the dirt wouldn’t show if no one but he and his nephew witnessed it.
Sioned, obedient to Rohan’s glance but not liking the exclusion, left them alone in the outer chamber, saying she was too sleepy to sit up late over wine. Arlis served them, then bowed his way out to wait in the hall if Rohan should require him.
“He’ll make an excellent prince,” Andry said to begin the conversation.
“I hope his grandfather agrees with you. Volog’s been helping rule Isel since Saumer’s death two winters ago, complaining constantly that he’s too old for so much work.” He paused to take a sip of wine. “But you know, I think he was devastated when Saumer died—though he’d never admit it. Sometimes losing a lifelong enemy is worse than losing a lifelong friend.”
“They worked together fairly well those last years.”
“Yes. But Volog will be as glad to hand over Isel to Arlis as I was when Pol was ready to take on Princemarch by himself.”
“Latham can’t rule Isel in his son’s place?”
“As regent, he’s fine. But the Iseli think of Arlis as the heir, not his father.”
“Also reminiscent of the way you handled Princemarch.”
Rohan shrugged. “It was the only wise solution.”
“Wisdom seems to be in short supply in Gilad these days.”
“You always did have an interesting way of putting things.” Rohan smiled.
A bit unwillingly, Andry’s mouth lifted at the corners. But few people were able to resist the High Prince’s smile, no matter their grievances against him. Rohan hated having to use it on Andry.
“Let’s be wise and state things plainly, shall we?” he went on. “This Sunrunner of yours has put us all in an awkward position.”
“I wanted to thank you for getting Gevlia out of the dark. That was an incredibly cruel thing to do to her, and for that alone I’m going to fight Cabar on this.”
“I can’t side with you and I can’t side with him,” Rohan warned. “I can’t stay neutral, either. It’ll come down to my deciding the disposition of the case and we all know it.”
“Surely you understand my position,” Andry said smoothly. “Gevlia is faradhi. No one has the right to judge her but me.”
“Cabar insists she was not acting as a Sunrunner, but as a physician.”
“Nonetheless, she is a Sunrunner.”
“Andry—”
The young man made an impatient gesture. “What do you think Aunt Andrade would have said?”
“Exactly what you’re saying now. And my reply would have been the same.” He shook his head. “So many times I’ve listened to myself throwing words at a problem—endless words, as if the sheer numbers of them would crush the difficulty into the dust. Words are the weapons of the civilized man, I tell myself. There’s nothing that can’t be solved if people only talk to each other instead of reaching for their swords.”
“If Cabar reaches for his, he’ll be in for a shock.”
Rohan’s eyes narrowed. “So. It’s true, then.” He saw the shift of candlelight on Andry’s shirt as shoulder muscles tensed.
“Is what true?”
“Don’t play games with me, Andry. I know about your—what are you calling them? Ah, yes. Devr’im.”
“You’ve been a ruling prince the length of my life and have ten times my experience at these little skirmishes.” Andry shrugged. “Especially with rulers of Goddess Keep. But though I may not be Andrade, I have my own—”
“Games and secrets? Do you suppose such things make you her worthy successor?” Rohan knew he should not grow angry, or at least should not give in to it. But he was tired of this and sick with the knowledge that Feylin had been right. He was used to this kind of conversation with other princes who tried to outwit him. But to encounter it within his own family—irritation got the better of him and he snapped, “Do you think it a secret from me that during one of your little practice ‘wars,’ the mother of your son died!”
Andry turned white to the lips. But his voice was low and controlled as he said, “Othanel believed in what I’m doing.”
“Can’t you see the danger?”
“More danger than you know.” The bleak reply startled Rohan. Andry got to his feet and put down his untasted wine. “You’re still trying to talk your way to a solution. Do you seriously think these sorcerers will sit still long enough to listen? Have a care, High Prince. You’re going to need me and my devr’im, perhaps sooner than you know.”
Rohan waited until he was at the door, fingers on the crystal knob. “The Sunrunner will not be handed over to you on your order.”
Andry froze. “I will be the one to judge her. Not Cabar, and not you. It is my right.”
“By whose reckoning?”