“I won’t ask it now, either. Because I was a fool years ago. Somehow, in spite of my stupidity, I gained a son who’s my pride and my hope. What I did at Feruche is my responsibility. It shames me that Pol is suffering for what I did. But, cold as it may sound, better him than the men and women who’re sworn to march out and die if I order it.”
“You’ve always had too much conscience,” she observed. “You’d fight Ruval yourself if you could, wouldn’t you?”
“It’s not my fight. I’m insignificant. I’m only the High Prince. Pol’s Sunrunner and diarmadhi both. I envy him, if you want the truth.” He gave a rueful smile. “Not for the battle he must fight that I can’t, but because I’m too old, I haven’t his gifts, and I’m not even in the running to try.”
“Ah, so you’re ancient, decrepit, useless, and powerless,” she mocked. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t agree.”
“You can hardly do otherwise. You’re six winters older than I am.” He sank into a chair and frowned. “Damn it, where’s Arlis?”
“Didn’t sleep much, did you?”
“Enough.”
“I’d take bets you won’t be able to eat a bite.”
“Fainting from hunger isn’t in the plan for today.”
She leaned forward eagerly. “Then you have plans. Tell me.”
He sighed. “Tobin, you’re my sister and I love you dearly. I honor your opinions and your wits, and I’ve relied on your counsel for years. Your marriage brought me my best friend. You’ve supported me, schemed for me, and given me absolute honesty all your life.”
“And if I don’t shut my mouth and get out of here, you’ll have me forcibly removed.” She came to him and took his face between her hands. “We’re not as young as we used to be, I’ll admit. But I think we’ve held up pretty well, all things considered. I love you, too, little brother. More than that, despite my irritating questions, I trust you.” She kissed his brow tenderly. “You’re my brother and my prince. So do what you must. Whatever it is, it will be the right thing.”
He closed his eyes under the caress, wearier than he would have shown to anyone but her. “I’m glad someone thinks so.”
“Those who know you could think nothing else.”
Rohan looked up. “Oh, but you were right to begin with, you know. We could have avoided the whole sordid mess by killing them outright. I should have killed Masul days before I actually did. But I got forced into a position where I had to behave as a barbarian, not as a civilized prince. And now I’ve gotten Pol into the same fix.”
“The circumstances are hardly civilized,” she reminded him, fingers resting lightly on his shoulders. “What’s civilized about sorcery?”
“But Pol still must choose between the two—prince or savage.”
“He’s your son. You and Sioned raised him. Lleyn and Chadric and Audrite fostered him. Urival and Morwenna trained him. You told me you’re sure of him because you have to be. I tell you now, Rohan, that you’re sure of him because of who he is. Your faith in him is your faith in yourself—and I’ve rarely seen you lacking in that. And if you do have doubts right now, please recall that the rest of us do not.” She smiled down at him. “Do us the honor of believing us, please?”
He couldn’t help smiling back. “Now I remember why I long ago forgave you for the torment you made of my childhood.”
“Torment? Oh, you mean like this?”
Rohan yelped as she tweaked his ear. “Stop that! I take it all back, you’re as much of a monster now as you were then!”
“And you’ve gotten stuffy, pompous, and boring!” She attacked his ribs and in the next moment they were rolling on the floor, tickling each other and giggling like the children they had not been in forty years.
If Arlis was slack-jawed at seeing the royal siblings behave as if they had never left the schoolroom, Chay was not. He surveyed the battle and commented, “They must be mellowing—neither of them fights as dirty as they used to.” Then he gestured to the squire to place the tray on a table and proceeded to help himself to Rohan’s breakfast. “By the way,” he went on as the pair got in a last few scores, “if anybody’s interested, Miyon’s packing up.”
Both sat up at that, gasping for breath. “Who does he think he is?” Tobin demanded, while Rohan exclaimed, “Leave me a crumb or two, Chay!”
His sister stared at him. “Doesn’t it worry you?”
“Not at all.” He got to his feet, extending a hand to help her up. She took it, gathered her legs under her—and sat back down hard as he let her fingers slip from his. “Serves you right. You and those damned nails of yours.” He rubbed his side.
“Never mind that,” she snapped. “What are you going to do about Miyon?”
“Have Sioned ask him in her sweet inimitable way why he intends to miss the proceedings. If his answer amuses me enough, I might even let him leave.” He claimed his breakfast tray and carried it to the bed. Seating himself, he began munching on a marsh apple.
“Rohan, you know he’s behind much of this,” Tobin insisted. “You can’t just let him go!”
“Don’t worry,” Chay soothed. “I don’t think any answer would be amusing enough. Unless he admits flat out that he’s sure Ruval’s going to lose.”
“Exactly,” said Rohan. “Because Pol said something else last night. You recall Meiglan’s hysteria? It’s a bit complicated, but she recognized Marron as having met with her father—who also foisted off Mireva on her as a second maidservant. I don’t know if Miyon knows that his own daughter gave him to us, but I don’t think he wants to wait around here in any case.”
Tobin frowned worriedly. “If he does know, the girl’s life is at risk.”
“I don’t think so,” Rohan murmured. “Not when Pol hears.”
Chay blinked. “He can’t possibly want to marry her!”
“What can we do to stop him?” Tobin fretted.
“Plenty! She’s the bastard of a lying, scheming, power-hungry—”
“So,” Rohan said very quietly, “is Pol.”
Sioned had spent a weary dawn sitting on the edge of Princess Milar’s fountain in the early sunshine. As she had suspected, faradh’im from Dorval to Goddess Keep itself had heard Ruval’s starlit claim and challenge. And their reactions distilled to a single truth: If this man wins, there will be war.
At least they all realized it. There was unity among Sunrunners such as there had not been since Andrade’s death. And how it would gall Andry to know that they rallied in support of Pol, not him.
She splashed water on her face to banish fatigue, plunged her hands over and over into the coolness. Pol had told them last night that he would ride to Rivenrock at sunset to face the challenge. She had plenty of time between now and then to—to do what? Nothing. If it had been necessary to construct the Sunrunner half of the starfire dome, she would have drilled Maarken and Hollis all day in the technique. But Rohan’s neutralization of Mireva had canceled the need. Pol had spent part of yesterday reading the Star Scroll and would return to it today. If he asked, she would help. But if he did not ask, she would not offer. Rohan was right; he must do this on his own. It was his testing ground as a prince, as a Sunrunner, as a man.
She ranged out on sunlight once more, out to Rivenrock whence the challenge had come. Measures of flower-strewn Desert stretched below her, the very trail she had ridden thirty years ago this spring. She lingered over the exact spot where she had first seen Rohan, and again saw herself: the untried Sunrunner who had been ordered to marry a prince glimpsed in Fire and Water. The sight of her vision-made-flesh riding toward her across the sere and forbidding landscape had taken her breath away. He could still do that to her sometimes. She could still feel the first rush of joyful, bemused excitement at his presence. With him she had gone places she had never dreamed of going. It’s a long journey we’ve had, my love, she thought. We’ve walked beside each other almost every step of the way.