have for killing you? My squire, cast as assassin? The ropes will leave marks on him. There’d be questions about that, you know. As for the lady—why should a Sunrunner wish you harm? They are expressly forbidden to kill. And why would I want to murder you? I’ve been looking over your daughters—and a man doesn’t do away with his prospective father-by-marriage, you know. Who would believe I’m smart enough to realize that with you dead and one of your daughters as my wife, I’d control Princemarch? No, Roelstra,” he said, smiling. “I’d kill you after the wedding, not before.” He was in the middle of the carpet now, next to the table, within decent range—if only he could get to his own knife before Roelstra slit Walvis’ throat. The boy’s head was wrenched painfully back on his neck, but he gazed at Rohan with absolute faith. It hurt.
“My daughters will have to live without your infantile charms,” Roelstra answered. Releasing Walvis, he took a step away from the chair. “I think it’ll be you first, little prince. I grow weary of the sound of your voice.”
“You’re not thinking again,” Rohan said, shaking his head as if at a muddle-headed student. “I thought the idea was to marry me to one of your charming girls, wait until we had a son, and then kill me. What profit to murder me now?”
“Roelstra!” Sioned moved on the bed, making the wooden frame creak, attracting the High Prince’s attention. “Let them go and I’ll do as you like!”
Rohan blessed her for the distraction. As Roelstra’s eyes flickered involuntarily to her, Rohan pulled the knife from his right boot. Its blade winked in the lamplight, as sinister as the sudden smile on Roelstra’s face.
“Good,” he approved, circling around behind Walvis’ chair, gaze riveted on the young prince now. “That makes it more interesting. You’re not as smart as you like to believe, princeling. Drawing your knife is treason against the person of the High Prince. I’m perfectly justified in carrying out the death sentence myself.”
“Try,” Rohan said pleasantly. “Your Merida allies failed—but then, you never really wanted them to succeed, did you? Oh, yes, it could only have been you behind them, I’ve known that all along. You wanted to frighten me into grabbing at a marriage bond with you as protection against them—and what could be more understandable than my eventual death at Merida hands?”
He moved warily away from Roelstra as he spoke, one part of his mind analyzing the man. The High Prince had height, weight, and reach on him, but to Rohan’s advantage were youth, strength, and quickness, as well as a genuine affinity for this kind of combat. Though he was good with a sword, he had discovered early on that the cunning necessary to a knife-fight came naturally to him. He smiled as Roelstra lunged for him and he sidestepped neatly.
“Then again, if I refused your delightful girls, was I to find a glass knife in my guts on the way back to Stronghold? The Merida would rule the Desert—but only until you could arrive with your armies according to that mutual defense treaty.” Again he rocked lightly out of the way of Roelstra’s blade. “Is there no end to your absurdity? My vassals would never stand for your army on their soil. And it is theirs now, you know—hadn’t you heard?” Another taunting avoidance of the gleaming knife. “A man will do battle at his prince’s side, but he’ll destroy anyone who marches across land lawfully his.”
“Can you fight, or only talk?” Roelstra demanded, punctuating the words with a powerful thrust. Rohan had been waiting for the impatience as his father and Maeta had taught him to do. Now he grinned tightly and answered Roelstra’s question with his knife.
He discovered that Roelstra’s heavier movements had advantages, and was surprised when the High Prince continued a surge forward even after Rohan’s own knife had torn into his shoulder. The hot slice of pain along his ribs was another surprise, and as he rolled down and away he heard Sioned gasp as if she had felt it, too. Roelstra’s boot lashed out. Rohan’s knife went flying into the shadows and he bit back a groan at the pain in his hand and wrist. As the High Prince stepped back, laughing down at him, Rohan came up onto one knee.
“Quickly, through the heart?” Roelstra asked solicitously. “Or slowly, across your throat, so I can watch your life bleed away?”