flung halfway across the track, did not move.
She heard Tobin cry out and forced herself to return to the others. The three princesses were hurrying down the steps. Sioned waited until she could breathe without gasping, then followed, careful to keep her distance.
They were waiting for Rohan in the paddock by the time she joined them. He rode up slowly, dismounted, and ignored everyone as he walked the lathered stallion, crooning to him and rubbing his neck and flanks tenderly. A groom came up and flung his arms first around the prince and then around the horse before leading the latter away for a much-needed rest. Rohan wobbled a bit on his feet, winced, and gratefully accepted a large winecup from another groom.
Worry competed with pride as Sioned saw the slashed shirt and the bloody scrapes on his back, face, and arms, much worse than she had thought. She wanted to go to him, scold him for his foolhardiness, and then hug the breath out of him before resuming her verbal abuse. Forbidden these things, she watched enviously as his sister did them all.
“Your clothes are shreds, you’re scratched raw, and I’m positive you’re limping, you idiot,” Tobin said sharply. “Take off those rags and go wash this minute. There’s no telling how many of those cuts will fester if you don’t.”
“Yes, Tobin,” he replied with teasing meekness. “Just don’t hug me again, please!” He seemed to notice the other women for the first time. “Don’t look so appalled,” he said, smiling slightly. “It was only a race.”
Ianthe’s delicate fingers plucked at his sleeve. “You took a very great risk, cousin,” she said. “The horse behind you was not so lucky.”
Rohan’s expression tightened, and Sioned glanced away.
“We heard on the way here that the rider is dead of a broken neck,” Pandsala said. “The horse will survive, although he’ll never race again. As for what actually happened—no one seems to know, or to have ever seen anything like it. They’re investigating now.”
Sioned looked anywhere but at Rohan. She had killed a man for him. Moreover, she had done it using her faradhi gifts—a thing absolutely forbidden, the worst thing a Sunrunner could do. She could hear herself confessing to Andrade that she had not meant to cause a death, she hadn’t—but as she looked at Rohan again, she learned a bitter truth: he was her price.
“He was a Merida,” the prince said.
“What?” Tobin’s cheeks went white.
“He tried to unseat me during the race. Oh, stop it, Tobin, I’m fine,” he added irritably, shrugging off her concern. “Pity he’s dead. I wanted to talk with him.”
Sioned saw a warning glance pass between brother and sister, and rallied to provide the necessary distraction. In as sharp a tone as she could muster, she said, “It’s a risk that might have been very expensive for your highness.”
“No word of congratulation on my victory, Lady Sioned?”
She could have strangled him for the look in his eyes. Tobin came to her rescue by saying, “Go dunk yourself in the river. I swear I was able to smell you all the way from the stands.”
He smiled down at her. “Sister dear, you’re so soothing to my conceit.”
“Well, you’re not soothing my nose! Chay!” she called out as her lord came toward them. “Take Rohan to the river and throw him in.”
“No time,” Chay responded, and paused to lift Rohan off his feet in a hug that made the prince’s face screw up with the pain of his cuts and bruises. Setting him down, Chay went on, “Wonderful ride, you daredevil! I’ve got to get ready for the last race, but tell me all about it over dinner tonight!” He leaned down to kiss his wife and strode off.
“Perhaps we should return to the stands and watch Lord Chaynal’s race,” Sioned suggested coolly.
“You still haven’t congratulated me,” Rohan said with his sweetest smile and a wicked gleam in his eyes. “But perhaps you bet against me and lost?”
“Oh, I have a wager going, my lord,” she replied with equal sweetness and a glance at Ianthe. “But on another race entirely.”
Chay won his race by a handy third of a measure, leaving Lord Reze’s horse breathing dust as promised. After this the highborns left for their tents to rest before making ready for the evening’s banquet. The commoners returned to the Fair, the servants to their duties within their masters’ camps. Sioned knew she could have attended the feasting if she’d wished, for Tobin had firmly established her