Pallia could not wake herself from the nightmare. She was awash in white silk that billowed around her swollen body like a vast ocean of snow. Above her wailed a chorus of birds, bright creatures with frightened eyes and chill hands that made her flesh shrivel at their touch. Through it all was the pain, lancing through her until she screamed with it, writhing through the white silk sea to find dry land, sunlit land where she could be free of everything and rest.
But there was no rest, and no respite from the agony, and as it spasmed through her again she remembered. Palila shrieked, seeing again Crigo’s open, lifeless eyes gaping at her from his moonlight-pale face.
“You idiots, let me by!” came a new voice, crisp and decisive. “Don’t stand there like cattle! Make everything ready for her! Get out and don’t come back until you’ve found Lady Andrade!”
“No!” Palila cried, struggling to sit up. But lanthe bent over her, dark eyes wide and avid, relishing every twist of pain.
“Be still. Yes, it’s me. Stop behaving as if you’d never had a baby before. Lie back and relax or you’ll make it worse for yourself.”
Palila cringed away from the hands that stroked her hair. She could not be in labor, it was impossible. Where were her comfortable, familiar rooms at Castle Crag, her personal physician, her minstrel to play soothing tunes? She could not be having this baby now. She was not due until well into autumn. But as another cramp tore through her body, arching her up from the white silk sheets, she remembered again Crigo’s pale, dead stare and the horrible cry of the dragon. lanthe’s hands, cool and surprisingly capable, supported her during the spasm. The princess wiped Palila’s face, gave her a sip of water, all the while with that sleek, pleased smile on her lips. As the pain faded, Palila glared feebly up at her in sick loathing.
“Why don’t you want Andrade here?” lanthe murmured sweetly. “What happened tonight, Palila, that we found Crigo dead in here and you unconscious on the floor? Father’s physician is busy sewing up a wound he says he got in a fall. Nobody believes him, of course. Why is Crigo dead and Father wounded, Palila?”
The mistress shuddered away from the ministering hands. “Clever lanthe,” she whispered. “Can’t you guess?”
“If you don’t admit the truth now, then certainly you’ll tell Andrade when she arrives. Oh, don’t worry, Crigo’s body has been hidden. But unless you tell me how and why he died, I’ll have the corpse thrown into her tent.” She placed one hand on Palila’s belly, still smiling. “The others are gone. You can talk. I can lie to Andrade very nicely. I don’t think you’re going to have breath soon to do anything but scream.”
“All right—I’ll tell you—“ She shifted away from the princess’ chill fingers. “Roelstra wanted the Sunrunner girl.”
“I know that,” lanthe said impatiently. “It wasn’t as difficult to get her away from the others as Father thought it might be.”
“You helped him?”
“Of course. I don’t like you, Palila. I never have. But I like this Sioned even less, and the idea of her as my father’s mistress and Sunrunner is, quite frankly, more than I’m willing to put up with. Yes, he came to me and asked my help.” She shrugged. “He trusts me, you know. As much as he trusts anyone. But you ruined it by having Crigo warn the girl, didn’t you?”
“No—yes—I don’t know! I wanted him to and he agreed, but I don’t know what he did or what happened after he—he—“ She squeezed her eyes shut against the memory, but the dead face followed her no matter where she fled in her own mind. lanthe’s voice brought her back. “So instead of a new mistress and a new faradhi, Father will have only a scar or two to show for his night’s work. I see. And that bitch of a girl is unsullied. Damn! I ought to be very angry with you, Palila.” She paused to let that sink in, then asked, “Is one dose of dranath enough to addict?”
“A large enough dose might even kill—oh, Goddess,” Palila moaned, clenching her teeth. “How did you know its name?”
“I know more than you ever gave me credit for. I hope the dose was huge—I hope she dies of it! But just think, Palila. I’m not going to have my revenge on you by betraying you to Father about this. Isn’t that kind of me? In a few hours you’ll present him with his first son.” She grinned, “No matter that it won’t be his own!”
Palila found strength enough to strike out at the princess’ smug face. lanthe laughed and caught her clawing fingers, stroked them almost gently.
“Keep wondering how I knew,” she suggested. “It’ll give you something to take your mind off the pain.”
“lanthe—don’t betray me! I’ll do anything—name it— don’t ruin me!”
“Oh, you’ll do anything I ask, believe me. That was the whole idea. I’m going down to see Pandsala now. Three other women are in the same state you’re in, thanks to us. Think of it, Palila. Can you be sure I’ll substitute your girl for a boy? Or will I take your son and put another useless daughter in his place?”
Palila howled with rage and terror and the renewed agonies of childbirth. lanthe laughed at her and left the cabin, pausing in the narrow hallway to savor the sound. She imagined Sioned screaming in similar pain and fear as her body succumbed to a furious demand for dranath. If the dose Roelstra had given her did not kill her, perhaps withdrawal would. Or, what might be even better, she would survive addicted. Not that she’d allow herself to live for very long, enslaved to the drug. No, she was too proud to endure the shame. In any case, the
Sunrunner would not be marrying Rohan. And neither would Pandsala. lanthe climbed down the staircases to a room below the waterline. Cramped, windowless, and stuffy, the only light came from a candle set into a tarnished holder on the wall, and by its weak glow lanthe surveyed the occupants thoughtfully. Three of the sweating faces were drawn into lines of agony, their labor coming too soon. The fourth woman was Pandsala, tense with waiting, fidgeting with anxiety. She rose from her chair as lanthe entered the room.
“I thought I told you to keep them tied up,” lanthe said, gesturing to the three women who lay on straw mattresses on the floor.
“How could they escape now?” Pandsala retorted. “We’ve been ruthless about this, lanthe. There’s no need to be cruel as well.”
The younger princess shrugged. “I’m told the blonde has already borne three boys. Watch her carefully.”
The fair-haired woman propped herself on one elbow, hate gleaming dully in her brown eyes. “You’ll have to kill us. Did you think I didn’t know that?”
“Perhaps we’ll only have your tongues yanked out.” lanthe smiled. “Can you write? I thought not. I don’t need to tell you not to learn, now, do I?” She turned to her sister. “Palila’s women will do what they can for her. But one of us must be there when Andrade arrives.”
“Who sent for her? She can’t witness the birth!”
“Of course not. But I sent for her because she’ll be an impeccable witness to what we wish everyone to believe happened. I’ll provide distraction enough, don’t worry. Did you remember to bring the blankets?”
“Over there.” Pandsala nodded to three large squares of folded velvet, gold thread winking on violet. “They’re identical to the one made for Palila’s brat. You do think of everything, lanthe.”
She smiled as the blonde woman groaned and clutched her belly. “Oh, yes. Everything—and more.”
Andrade recovered from the shock of the Sunrunner’s death because she had to. She was sitting in a chair when
Urival returned, and listened to his report impassively. She ordered someone to go out looking for Antoun, the Sunrunner assigned to watch over Sioned tonight, and summoned Camigwen to her tent, all with absolute calm. While they waited for the girl to arrive, Andrade questioned Urival thoroughly on everything Roelstra had said, and then considered it in silence.
Camigwen came in with Ostvel, and Andrade spared a raised brow for their rumpled clothes, obviously donned in some haste, before giving them a brief description of the night’s events.
“1 don’t know if you remember Crigo. He was older than you by several years. He was a good man, a decent man. Exactly what Roelstra did to him is unclear right now, but with tomorrow morning’s sunlight I want you to see that all faradh’im are warned. I believe we can keep this quiet and among ourselves, but every one of us must be made aware of this.”
Camigwen exchanged worried glances with her Chosen. “How much of a danger is this drug? Do we know the name?”
“Roelstra didn’t mention it,” Urival replied.
“He’ll tell me,” Andrade said grimly.
“No doubt,” her steward commented. “He said something about being able to control faradh’im with it. I don’t think Sioned was in full possession of her powers, though,” he added musingly. “And that makes me wonder how Crigo was able to do what he obviously had done for Roelstra for years.”
“But how vulnerable are faradh’im to this drug?” Ostvel asked.
Andrade shrugged. “Once I’ve gotten the information from Roelstra and Sioned tells us how this drug feels, we should be fairly safe.” She glanced up as her name was called from outside, expecting that someone had returned with information about her missing Sunrunner. But instead a man wearing the violet of service to the High Prince came into the tent, breathing hard. He dropped to one knee after a scathing look from Urival.
“My Lady, you must come at once.”
Andrade drew herself upright in her chair, ready to blister the man’s ears with her views of rude interruptions. “Let Roelstra’s own physician stitch him up!” she began, but the man shook his head.
“Not the High Prince, my Lady. I was sent by the Lady Palila’s women to fetch you immediately.”
“Palila? Whatever for?” She stared, then traded a swift glance with Urival. “Oh, Goddess! She’s in labor, isn’t she?”
“Yes, my Lady, evidently so. I’m told it’s early. Her women are frantic, for the High Prince’s physician is unavailable.”
Considering what Urival had told her of Roelstra’s wounds, Andrade could believe it. She got to her feet. “Very well. I’ll come.” To the protests of the others she replied, “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll be perfectly safe, and Palila will need help. Urival, stay here and question Antoun when he’s brought back—in one piece, I devoutly hope. Cami, you and Ostvel meet with the other Sunrunners and tell them what was said here tonight. They’ll help you tomorrow morning. And no arguments!” She turned to Roelstra’s man. “You, whatever your name is—“
“Gernius, my Lady.”
“Well, Gernius, you will have the honor of carrying my bag of medicines and conducting me to the High Prince’s barge. Let’s get started.”
The instant she set foot on the ship her stomach rebelled. Gritting her teeth against nausea and the fiery throb behind her eyes, she clung to her dignity and followed a maidservant into Palila’s luxurious cabin. She saw at once that the mistress was in a bad way. Snapping out orders to the useless women around her, she was disgusted to find that they, like their lady, were pathetically glad to have someone take charge. She conducted a swift, thorough examination and gave orders that would ease Palila’s suffering somewhat. Andrade had seen enough birthings to know that this one would take some time yet, but she did not mention this to Palila—who screamed loud enough to waken the Storm God for the winter.
“Oh, stop it,” she advised, not unkindly, as she sat on the bed beside the thrashing figure. “Don’t fight so hard.
You’re using up all your strength in yelling.” Pallia’s nails dug into Andrade’s arms and she philosophically added this new pain to the grotesque hammering in her skull. “Quiet down now. You’re doing just fine.”
“My Lady?” The murmur at Andrade’s shoulder made her-turn, and she found Princess lanthe, of all people. “Three more await you below,” the girl said.
“Three more?” Andrade repeated blankly.
“Giving birth.”
“Sweet Goddess!” she exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I am,” lanthe said, her lips quivering as she tried to suppress a smirk. “Besides, they’re only servants.”
“They’re women like you and me!”
Palila moaned, “Don’t leave me!” The terror in her eyes went beyond that of an essentially cowardly woman in labor. Her gaze was fixed on the princess, and Andrade surmised that hatred ran even deeper at Castle Crag than she’d previously thought.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she told Palila. “lanthe, stay with her.”
“No!” Palila shrieked.
But lanthe settled into a chair next to the bed and stroked Palila’s hand soothingly—having to hang onto it hard to create the pretty picture of solicitude, Andrade noted sourly. She shrugged off her uneasiness and left the cabin.
Down a steep, dark staircase she went, swearing under her breath as the barge’s gentle rocking made her stumble and threatened to deprive her of her dinner. She hung onto the rope raii, breathed with stern regularity, and refused to be sick. Following the sound of pain-weary groans, she arrived at a stifling little room where Princess Pandsala—of all people—had charge of the three women. One had brought her labors to a successful conclusion and held a newborn jealously to her breast. One was too deep in her pain to notice anything. But the third, a pale-haired woman with burning dark eyes, glared in silent loathing at the princess and held her swollen belly as if to keep the child safely within her.
Andrade knelt beside the new mother, fighting dizzi- ness and renewed nausea at the stench of blood and sweat in the room. “Don’t tell me you delivered this child,” she said over her shoulder to Pandsala.
“lanthe helped. It was very quick, really.”
“Small wonder,” the blonde woman hissed.
Pandsala shot her a vicious glance of warning. “She’s had a baby before—and so have you. Fine sons, aren’t they, back at Castle Crag?”
The woman turned her face away. Andrade, puzzled at the byplay, wondered if there was something she was missing. Her head hurt too much to chase down the idea right now. The new mother was doing nicely despite her inexpert assistants. Her infant girl was pink, healthy, and in possession of the correct number of limbs, fingers, and toes. Andrade had never been a mother herself, but there was a deep vein of maternal feeling in her that found its safest expression in admiration of babies in which she had no personal or political interest. She congratulated the new mother warmly, and moved to the woman beside her.
“Why does the Goddess make so many daughters?” Pandsala asked suddenly.
“There does seem to be an abundance of them at Castle Crag. Perhaps it’s the air.” Andrade eased the struggling woman into a more comfortable position, murmuring, “There, my dear, you’ll do better now. Only a little while longer, I promise.”
One born, three to go, Andrade told herself. It strained credulity that four women were giving birth on the same night at the same time, but what explanation was there other than bizarre coincidence? What matter if these servant women birthed their children the same night as Roelstra’s mistress? Andrade rubbed the center of her forehead where the pain had settled, and tried to put her wits in proper order. Most Sunrunners on water lost their ability to think as well as their dinner. But not this Sunrunner, she vowed.
“They say it takes longer to have a boy than a girl,” the princess went on. “Is that true?”
“I’ve no idea. Come here, Pandsala, and wipe her down. She’ll take a while yet. I’ll send one of the women down to help you.”
“Make it lanthe,” Pandsala said quickly. “Those others give me the fidgets.”
“As you like. Though why a princess should be attending three servant women in their labors—“
The girl shrugged. “You saw upstairs how hopeless those others are. We have an obligation to our people, after all. Besides, somebody has to take care of them while we’re waiting for Father’s physician.”
Urival’s vivid description of the knife-fight came to mind. Roelstra would be twice as dangerous now— wounded animals always were—but Andrade savored the mental picture of Rohan’s blade slicing the High Prince’s flesh. A pity it hadn’t been his heart that had been cut, but Andrade doubted that such a thing could be found in Roelstra.
She turned at last to the blonde woman, examined her carefully, and nodded her satisfaction. “You’re doing excellently, my dear. Keep an eye on your friend, if you would. You can reassure her, since you’ve been through this before.”
“Please the Goddess, make my baby a girl,” the woman whispered.
Puzzled by the vehemence, Andrade replied, “Be easy, now. Boy or girl, you’ll soon have another fine child in your arms.”
“My Lady—please don’t leave me alone with her!” The woman clutched at her arm.
“She has more important concerns than you!” Pandsala snapped.
“Everything will be all right,” Andrade soothed, then gratefully escaped the strange, tense room and went up on deck, hoping the night air would cool and clear her head. The crew, unnerved as men always were by women’s hurryings during childbirth, stood about in clumps and speculated about the mystery of babies. Andrade spared a tired smile as she thought of Rohan waiting for his child to be born. Chay would get him so drunk he wouldn’t remember his own name, let alone how to worry about Sioned.
Chill river dampness began to seep into her bones, adding a new ache to those in her head and stomach. Roelstra would owe her for this, she promised herself, then staggered as a tiny wavelet rocked the barge out of the rhythm she had more or less grown used to. She clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified, and felt a strong arm supporting her.
“Nothing to be ashamed of, my Lady,” said a gruff, kind voice. “It’s expected of you faradh’im.”
A moment later her dignity became irrelevant. The sailor Gernius skillfully held her head over the rails as she lost her battle with the river. She struggled not to faint as well, and after he had wiped her mouth and given her a swallow from his pocket flask, the stars stopped spinning.
“There, now, my Lady,” Gernius said. “You’ll do better now. I’ve sailed with faradh’im before, and it’s always for the best to give in to it at once.”
Andrade nodded curtly, thanking him for his care of her with a complete lack of graciousness that only made him smile. She expected her head to crack open like a dragon shell any instant as she made her way back to the hallway outside Palila’s cabin. The door was blocked by women who were supposed to be inside assisting with the birth. Anger sent new strength rushing through her—and also set a whole new chorus of nerves screaming in her skull. “Why aren’t you in there?” she demanded.
“She ordered us out, my Lady! All but the princess.”
“Damn you, lanthe!” Andrade swore under her breath. One princess attending servant women, the other helping the mistress they all loathed. She would understand this if it took all night. “Let me pass. Somebody send for the High Prince. Two of you, get down below and—“
A thin wail from within the cabin interrupted her, the unmistakable cry of a newborn. The women gasped and surged forward, jostling Andrade away from the door.
“It’s locked!” one of them called.
“lanthe! Open this door!” bellowed Andrade, and winced at the volume of her own voice. But she knew the princess would literally have her hands full, and ground her teeth with impatience. The servants shifted nervously, and one of them suggested calling a few sailors to break the door down. Andrade was about to order that very thing when the door was flung wide. lanthe stood there, holding a violet-wrapped bundle in her arms and wearing a sweet smile. Andrade spared her a searching glance, then went past her to the bed.
“You’re all right?” she asked Palila.
“Hmm?” Dreamy eyes smiled at her. “Oh, yes. Yes! I have a son!” She began to laugh. “A son, Andrade! A son!”
“Goddess blessing,” she responded automatically, although her thoughts whirled as she tried to project the implications of this birth down a dozen different paths. She called Palila’s women, who came forward to make her comfortable and dress her to receive the High Prince. Roelstra triumphant, Andrade thought sourly as she watched. So he had a son at last. Damn him.
She turned, looking around for lanthe. But the princess had disappeared—and with her, the child. lanthe gazed down at the murmuring bundle in her arms and laughed softly with excitement. Its sex made no difference to her. Boy or girl, she had won. Now it was merely a choice among advantages; she had thought them all through.
She paused in the hallway, listening, and laughed again as the ship’s bell pealed a shrill announcement of the birth. It was the agreed-upon signal and Pandsala would be up here soon. Without a boy-child to hand, she would have to bring up a girl. A pity Roelstra had not yet arrived—but Andrade would do even better as a witness. She heard the fretful crying of another infant, quickly hushed, and caught her breath. Her own game was about to begin, the one for which she had devised the rules.
“lanthe?” Andrade said behind her, and she hid her jubilation at the perfect timing. “What are you doing? The baby will catch a chill.”
“Oh, no, it’s a very thick blanket.” She turned, smiling. “I thought all that chattering in there would scare the poor little darling. Such a beautiful child—I long for one of my own.”
Andrade’s expression clearly indicated her doubts that lanthe was the motherly type. “Let’s take a look at him,” she said, pushing the blanket away from the baby’s face. “A fine child. Look at all that hair!”
They had been speaking in normal tones, but the ringing bell and the chatter from within Palila’s cabin obliterated their voices at a few paces. Thus Pandsala came with total innocence into the hall from the stairwell, calling out, “lanthe, I brought another baby back up with me, but—“ She stopped cold and gasped, “Lady Andrade!” lanthe knew her own face was the perfect picture of astonishment; she had practiced the expression in a mirror until she had it without a tremor of betraying amusement. “Pandsala! Why is that baby away from its mother?”
Pandsala turned sickly white. She staggered slightly against the wall, arms tightening convulsively around the violet-wrapped bundle. lanthe paused a moment to enjoy the shock in her sister’s eyes, then turned to Andrade.
“Yes,” the Lady said smoothly. “Why have you brought that baby up here?”
Pandsala was still staring at lanthe, horror congealing her face as she realized how she had been tricked. Her lips parted, moved, but no words came forth. Another peal of the bell signaled the arrival of the High Prince, and they all heard Roelstra’s joyous shout.
“By the Goddess! Can you believe it? I have a son!” lanthe looked at Andrade. “Who told him thafi” she whispered.
Light spat from the many rings as Andrade gripped her arm bruisingly. “Is it a girl? A daughter?”
“A very sweet little girl,” lanthe responded with just the right amount of bewilderment. “Father’s used to them by now.”
Roelstra’s presence filled the narrow hallway. “Andrade! What brings you here? Surely you’re not here to congratulate me on my son!”
“For lack of your own physician, I attended your lady. But I hardly think the corridor is the best place to greet your new child.” She commanded Pandsala and lanthe into the cabin with a cold glance. Roelstra followed, sensing something not quite right. Andrade ordered the servants to take the baby from Pandsala’s frantic grasp and leave the room. Then she locked the door and faced the room’s occupants with a frigid smile.
“Now,” she said, “I will know the truth of this.”
“What are you talking about?” Roelstra demanded. “I want to see my son!” He looked from one princess to the other, then at the closed door. The second child had been taken out by a maid. His eyes slowly darkened. “I do not believe there were twins,” he added, his voice deadly.
“You have no son,” Andrade told him, and lanthe heard the grim satisfaction in her voice. “I’m wondering which of your daughters will explain this.”
The High Prince swung around to spear Palila with his-‘ glance. “What do you know of this?” he shouted.
“Nothing!” she gasped, huddling back into pillows that were no whiter than her cheeks.
Roelstra turned on his daughters. “Whose child was just taken away?”
“Father—please!” Pandsala cried out, and lanthe judged it a nicely inopportune moment to present her father with his eighteenth daughter.
“I’m sorry it’s another girl, Father, but she’s very pretty.”
Roelstra ignored her. “Andrade, discover the truth of this. If I speak again, it will be to order them all executed.” He strode to the windows, ripped back the tapestry, and clasped his hands behind his back. He was shaking. lanthe sat down, the baby in her lap. “I don’t understand, my Lady. You saw me with this child, and then Pandsala came with another. What’s going on?”
“Shall we find out?” Andrade asked calmly enough, but lanthe had a moment of raw terror as piercing blue eyes searched her face. She had faced that same look from Rohan a few nights ago. She forced herself to relax, for even if Andrade figured out the whole plot, nothing could be proven against her.
“Those vipers!” Palila suddenly screamed. “They stole my son!”
“First you know nothing, and now you know whose fault this is,” Andrade said. “How interesting. Pandsala, explain this little comedy.”
“I — “ She flung an anguished look at lanthe. “It v,as her idea! She planned that we would exchange a girl for the boy — “
“What!” lanthe exclaimed, wide-eyed.
“Be silent!” Andrade snapped. “Go on, Pandsala — from the beginning.” lanthe listened as the story gushed from her sister’s mouth, delighted by Pandsala’s guilty incoherence. Andrade’s expression slowly changed from cool composure to shock. Palila lay back against her pillows looking as if she wished herself dead. Roelstra turned and stared at Pandsala as if she had grown talons and a tail. lanthe sat, cuddling the baby.
“If I understand you,” Andrade said heavily when Pandsala had sobbed to a halt, “things progressed as follows. lanthe suggested substituting girl for boy, should Palila have a son. To this end you arranged for those poor women to be brought along, and induced labor in them when Palila began her own. I’ve no doubt we’ll find the appropriate herbs in your things, Pandsala, not lanthe’s.
“But then you struck a bargain with your father’s mistress. In exchange for her help in winning Prince Rohan for you, you would substitute a boy for a girl, should Palila produce yet another daughter. Because the only woman who had given birth thus far had a daughter, you had no choice but to bring her up, just in case there was a son to be rid of. Palila would have been no use to you in such a case, so you reverted back to lanthe’s original plan. Is this the essence?”
Pandsala nodded, tears streaking her face. “Father — I’m so sorry — I only meant to give you the son you wanted — “
“Roelstra!” Andrade called out sharply as he took a threatening step toward his daughter, arm raised to strike her. lanthe saw the white bandage as his sleeve fell away, and wondered if that bitch Sioned had given him the wound while defending her nonexistent honor. Her lip curled, and she bent her head to the child.
“We have yet to hear from you, lanthe,” Andrade said.
She looked up. “What can I say? I never heard so ridiculous a scheme in my life! How could anyone be sure those women would have babies of the right sex for whatever exchange Pandsala seems to have planned? Quite frankly, I’m confused. Am I supposed to have plotted to give Father a son, or deprive him of one?”
“Go on,” Andrade invited icily. lanthe shrugged. “What kind of monster would give over a royal prince—and her own brother!—to be raised by common servants? I’m not so base as that, Father, nor so stupid. Do you truly think me capable of so horrible a plot? And one which, moreover, is so incredibly impractical?”
“No,” Roelstra said very softly, his green eyes glittering. “If it had been a boy, you would have arranged to have him killed. I know you, lanthe.”
“Father!” And for a moment she was terrified.
“Stop it, both of you!” Andrade surveyed them in disgust. “You’re all vipers, every one of you. What do you plan to do about this, Roelstra?”
“I’m more interested at the moment in what was planned for the women down below.” He kept on staring at lanthe. “What would you do, my dear?”
“Nothing, because I have nothing to do with it,” she replied promptly.
“But if you did?” he pressed.
“Father—do you seriously think I could have those women murdered?”
“I thought you’d see the necessity. You’ve always been clever, lanthe.” He turned to Pandsala then and asked, “Do you know the penalty for treason?” His gaze flickered to Palila, who gave a wordless cry.
“Father—no!” Pandsala slipped to her knees, shuddering.
“Treason,” he repeated softly.
Andrade stepped between them. “Roelstra,” she said in a low voice. “Don’t do this.”
“It’s none of your concern, faradhi.”
“Don’t kill her. Give her to me.”
“What? Why?”
“You owe me. The Sunrunner you corrupted died tonight.”
“Crigo’s dead?” Roelstra looked shaken.
“It was an accident,” Palila said feverishly, leaning forward, hands outstretched and quivering like delicate leaves. “He took too much, and I—“
“Silence!” Roelstra shouted at her, and she cringed back again.
“I’ll take Pandsala as payment,” Andrade said, and lanthe chortled inside. “And the new child as well. The last thing you need is yet another daughter. Give them to me.”
“Living death in Goddess Keep,” he mused, eyes shining with cruel humor, and Pandsala screamed. “Very well. They’re yours.”
“Father—no!”
“What about Palila?” Andrade asked,
“You won’t deny she deserves death for killing your faradhi. I’m sure your precious Sioned has told you all about dranath by now, hasn’t she? Pity I didn’t kill her with it tonight.”
The High Prince and the Lady of Goddess Keep confronted each other and lanthe watched, bewildered. What had really happened tonight with Sioned?
“Don’t interfere, Andrade. I warn you.” He paused, “lanthe.”
She stood, wary in spite of the victory she was almost sure she’d won.
“Show her to me.”
She came forward and held out the baby. He looked at it for a moment, then unwrapped the violet blanket to make sure the child was indeed female. “Chiana,” he said. “Name her that, Andrade, so she’ll always know.” lanthe hid a flinch. The word meant “treason” in the old tongue. Andrade took the child from her and glanced down at the weeping Pandsala.
“Get up. The first thing you’ll learn is that a Sunrunner kneels to no one. Not even a High Prince.”
“Unless he is my Sunrunner, not yours,” Roelstra said, and Andrade shot him a vicious glance. lanthe looked into Pandsala’s eyes, eyes that were glazed with hopeless terror, unable to believe what had happened. All at once she seemed to recognize lanthe and surged to her feet, hands closing around her sister’s neck.
Roelstra dragged his daughters apart. Pandsala collapsed onto the carpet and lanthe swallowed hard past the ache in her throat. The High Prince flung open the cabin door, shouting for guards to take Pandsala to Andrade’s tent—bound and gagged if necessary. lanthe heard her scream once in the passageway, a howl of hate and despair, and she shivered.
Then there was silence. Palila was too frightened to do more than lie mute with terror in her bed. Andrade held the baby close, staring at Roelstra.
“Where is Crigo?” she asked.
“I’ll have him delivered to your tent, if you wish.”
“Do that,” she snapped. lanthe drew back from the fierceness of their emotions. This was an ancient loathing, far more powerful than any she had ever seen before. It had a bitter life all its own and writhed almost visibly in the space between them.
“I’ll destroy him,” Roelstra said suddenly. “His marriage will finish him.”
“You wished a similar marriage long ago with another Sunrunner.”
“So that’s what gave you the idea. Did you take my anger into account when you arranged it?”
“Your anger is your own problem. I arranged nothing. The Goddess—“
“Usually does what you tell her to. Make what excuses you like. If you believe his sons will follow after him, you’re mistaken.”
“This from the man who still believes he can have a son of his own?” She laughed maliciously. “Find yourself another mistress, Roelstra! Get another dozen women with child! There will be no son for you!”
“Get out!” he roared.
Andrade’s laughter seemed to echo in the cabin long after she had slammed the door behind her. lanthe sank into a chair and closed her eyes. She had won. If Roelstra believed her—and even if he did not—she had won. He had not condemned her along with Pandsala.
“Roelstra—oh, no, my lord, please—for the sake v->: our children—“ lanthe’s head snapped up. Palila cowered back into white pillows, her eyes huge as she stared transfixed at the candle Roelstra had taken from a table.
“I remember the fire, Palila,” he said almost tenderly, and she whimpered. “Did you hear the dragoncry tonight?” lanthe leaped to her feet. She had never heard that note in her father’s voice before—and she wanted out. Now. He sensed the movement and, without turning, commanded, “Stay.” lanthe froze, barely breathing. Roelstra moved closer to Palila’s bed, holding the naked candle. Its flame licked hungrily at the air.
“Do you know where Feruche is, lanthe?” he asked.
“Yes, Father.”
“It sits on the border between Princemarch and the Desert,” he went on. “I’ve been thinking about Feruche for some time now, and whom 1 could place there. It must be someone I can trust.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Do you still wish possession of the princeling?”
“Yes,” she answered forthrightly.
“Your luck has run out for the night, my dear,” he told her, grimly amused. “Feruche you may have for your own, but Rohan you may not have. It seems the-Sunrunner has a prior claim.”
“The Sunrunner,” lanthe whispered. All at once she understood the hatred that had lashed the air between her father and Andrade. Fury and wounded pride and the desire for vengeance swept through her, creating a hatred she embraced as if it was a lover. She had been empty all her life, waiting to be filled with this sweet, hot thing that grew inside her, singing of blood and revenge. And at last she had found her definition of power—not through a princely husband or her father or any other person—power stronger than the paltry gifts of a Sun-runner. This thing was what made her father so powerful a prince. He knew how to hate.
“I see you understand me,” he said. “Return to the camp, lanthe, and wait for me. We have much to discuss after I finish here.”
As she closed the door she glimpsed the candle flame hovering near Palila’s stricken face. And as she stepped off the ship onto the dock, she heard the first of many, many screams.
Dawn’s light filtered through pale silver-green leaves, light as velvety as new roses. Sioned, sensitive to color like all faradh’im, lay on her side and wondered if she had ever seen light this beautiful. She smiled at her own foolishness; it wasn’t the color or even the softness that caught at her heart. It was the sleeping face that the light caressed.
He had been shy at first, trembling, uncertain—until the fastenings of her skirt had frustrated him into a muttered curse that brought a burst of laughter from her. And all at once they were both giggling like children, the knotted ties of her clothes and the tight fit of his boots ridiculous obstacles after the other things they’d endured for this moment.
Sioned smoothed the sunsilk hair from his forehead, knowing now that her vision of years ago had been true. She was the one who had made him a prince and a man. For a little while the two had been ensnared within each other. Sired by a dragonlord whose virile image lingered, the prince had wanted to live up to an imagined, impossible standard and the man had been unsure of his ability to do so. But in her arms he had found both identities. The prince and the man joined in becoming her lover.
His caresses had sighed along her skin and his whispers shone like sunlight in her mind, kisses glowing rich with his colors that she touched in all their power and purity: diamond, sapphire, topaz. All her senses awakened to him, knowing the Sunrunner blood within him would merge with hers and make their son a faradhi prince.
“Just so long as he has your eyes, beloved,” she whispered, fingertip skimming along the silky curve of his lashes. She smiled as his eyelids slowly opened, almost too heavy to lift.
“Ohhh. . . .” he whispered, voice slurred. “What’d you do t’me?”
Sioned stroked his cheek, relishing the rough stubble of blond beard. “Would you like me to do it again?”
“Some other time, when I’m alive enough to enjo> it.” he replied drowsily. Pulling her into his arms, he settled her head on his shoulder. “Damn. I forgot to undo your braids. I wanted to see your hair loose.”
“Oh, save something for our marriage bed,” she chuckled.
“But I did. Chay told me once about—“
“Rohan!”
“—something I’ve always wanted to try,” he finished. “I’ll let it be a surprise.” He rubbed his cheek to her hair. “Mmm, but you smell good.”
“Not me, the mossberries. I think we crushed them into wine.” She rolled onto her stomach and pulled her skirt from under his head where it had been their pillow. “See?” She poked a finger under the moss where the plump green berries were hiding.
Rohan turned over with an inelegant grunt. “Are there any we didn’t mash to a pulp? I’m starving.” He pulled aside the moss and plucked a few of the plump spheres. “Here—open your mouth.”
“Again?”
Rohan’s eyes went wide with shock, but in the next instant they were both giggling again. They lay side by side and fed each other mossberries while the sunlight warmed the leafy canopy above them. At last she said, “That’s enough, we’ll get sick. We’d best sneak back to camp now, before they miss us.”
“I swear to you, this is absolutely the last time I sneak anywhere with you because I have to. Not having to will be fun. But no more of this!” Rohan sat up and reached out lazily to part the curtain of branches. “It’s awfully bright upriver, for it being only dawn. Take a look.”
She moved closer, rested her chin on his shoulder, pressing herself to his muscular back. The light hurt her eyes a little and her head was beginning to throb again. But she kept silent, not wanting to spoil the peace of the morning. She squinted into the daylight and frowned. “Rohan, that’s the wrong direction for the rising sun.”
“Smell the wind,” he said tightly.
“Fire,” she breathed.
“Get dressed. Hurry.”
They ran upriver hand in hand, the rising sun at their backs, the smoke thickening as the breeze shifted. “Is it the bridge?” she asked.
“No.”
They emerged from the trees. Roelstra’s barge was an inferno rocking gently on the water, its violet sails crimson wings of flame.