direct route toward a goal—preferably with a solid right to Roelstra’s jaw. He still smarted over the blocks the High Prince had tried to place in the way of his harmless trade of glass and horses for the craftmasters and cattle skins. It had been nearly impossible to keep his mouth shut and look bewildered while Volog and Clutha did his arguing for him.
A mild commotion outside the tent distracted him, and through the window opening he caught sight of Camigwen directing the placement of a dozen long tables. Rohan belatedly recalled that this evening he would be hosting an informal dinner. There would be dancing afterward, and a very late night—for all the work was done and it was time to enjoy the social life to the fullest before tomorrow’s Lastday ceremonies.
“Camigwen? May I interrupt for a moment?”
She turned, squinted to see through the mesh, and said, “Of course, my lord.” She hurried around to the entrance and ventured inside, her eyes darting around curiously at the furnishings of his private quarters. “Everything’s going splendidly, my lord,” she reported. “There’s no more rain coming up from the south, so no danger of our outdoor feast turning soggy. The cooks are well in hand—they’ve finished the roasts and the ices and wines are chilling in the river, and I’ve timed the breads to be nice and hot just as dinner begins.”
“You’re a marvel,” he said, smiling. “You’ve taken wonderful care of me here and on the journey—and I’ve been wondering if you’d like to make the arrangement permanent.”
Camigwen frowned. “I can write down all the directions—”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” he scolded gently. “Sit down, won’t you?”
She sank onto a small upholstered stool, hands folded in her lap, and he spent a moment in silent admiration of her extraordinary dark eyes. It was as if one could see her heart and mind through them, so limpid and clear were they. For an instant he envied Ostvel the sight of those eyes smiling at him every morning of his life, then smiled. There would be another pair of eyes, green as summer leaves and just as extraordinary, to gaze at him.
“You’ve lived at Stronghold,” he began, “so you know how complex life there can be. I need someone who won’t drive me to distraction the way my present chamberlain does. He’s really my mother’s man, not mine. I also need someone to oversee the guards and all those other things my father used to do for himself, but that I’ve never been much interested in. Would you and Ostvel consider coming to live at Stronghold and taking on those duties? I know it’s not very important work compared to what you could be doing at other courts as a Sunrunner. And I know Ostvel has the talent and ambition to become chief steward at Goddess Keep one day. But I wish you’d both think about it.”
A flush rose into her dark skin. “You’re kind to ask, my lord.”
“No, I’m selfish. I need you both. I’d consider it an honor if you made Stronghold your home.”
Walvis burst into the tent just as Camigwen started to reply. The boy skidded to a stop on the carpet, nearly dropped the velvet pouch he carried, and gasped out, “My lord, they’re finished—just look!”
He upended the pouch onto the desk. Eight emeralds as big as Rohan’s thumbnail were set in a maze of delicate silver, as if moonlight had been faradhi-spun around the stones. Two more emeralds had been worked into matching earrings, and yet another surmounted a fantastic silver hairpin sprinkled with tiny diamonds. Rohan had neither specified those last two nor provided the diamonds; the jeweler had evidently been inspired.
“Lady Sioned will outshine the starlight,” Walvis said proudly.
“Oh, yes,” Rohan murmured. With an effort, he tore his eyes from the jewels and slid them back into the pouch. “Lock these up for now, please, Walvis. And thank you.”
“You do mean to marry her!” Camigwen exclaimed.
“I thought you knew!” he answered, startled.
She sprang to her feet and threw her arms around him. “Of course we’ll come to Stronghold, Ostvel and I! We thought you didn’t want her!”
“Now, what ever gave you that idea?” he growled, hugging back.
“You did, my lord,” Walvis contributed, grinning.
Cami stepped back, hands on hips, dark eyes dancing. “You’re a dangerous man, my lord prince.”
“I’ve been called a lot of things, but—dangerous? There’s a condition for your coming to Stronghold, by the way.” He tried for sternness, but