“There’s more where it came from, but only I know where to get it and how to refine it. It was Palila’s gift to me, the knowledge of dranath—poor darling.”
The blue eyes regarded him coldly. “Butcher.”
“She deserved to die. So do you, but much more slowly than she. Now that you have what you came for, get out.”
“I wanted this, yes,” Rohan said slowly. “But I also wanted to look at you one last time.”
“And which of us will die before the next Rialla, do you think?” Roelstra chuckled.
“I don’t have to kill you. Much as you need killing, Roelstra, all I have to do is break you.” The finely shaped lips curved into an unpleasant smile. “And I will break you.”
“Try,” Roelstra invited.
“My word on it.” Rohan gave him a mocking little bow and disappeared.
Roelstra folded his arms and leaned back to wait. After a time he heard more footsteps that announced the arrival of his originally intended guest. He called to the guard, who entered and stood at attention.
“Bring my daughter Ianthe here at once.”
“Yes, your grace.”
The man who stood just inside the tent flaps was thin, intense, with a ritual scar on his chin like all his noble Merida relations. He frowned at Roelstra. “A woman? Here? What help could she be to us?”
The High Prince smiled. “Beliaev, my dear scion of a dead dynasty—you have yet to meet my daughter.”
Interlude
The journey back to Castle Crag was as long and difficult as any of his enemies could have wished on High Prince Roelstra. Denied Radzyn’s strong, fleet horses, he had to make do with lesser animals. Without baggage carts of his own, he had to wait while Prince Clutha rounded up wains sturdy enough for the hard roads through the mountains. The delay meant that Roelstra was caught in the first torrents of autumn while negotiating a pass treacherous enough even in summer. Rain tumbled mud and rock down the cliff sides to block the trail, drench everyone, and make a journey of twelve days in good weather into one lasting over thirty. When at last the exhausted party reached Castle Crag, Roelstra locked himself in his chambers with Beliaev and Princess Ianthe in attendance, and emerged several days later in a temper only slightly less foul than the one he’d taken in with him.
The journey back to Stronghold was of an entirely different nature. Lady Andrade accompanied Rohan to a remote hilltop just inside the Desert border where, surrounded by family and friends and with the Faolain River singing below them in the sunshine, the Lady of Goddess Keep celebrated her nephew’s marriage to his red-haired Sunrunner witch. Afterward she returned to the great castle on the western shore of Ossetia with her faradh’im while the prince and new princess made a leisurely trip back to their fortress. Rohan then locked himself in his chambers with Sioned and emerged several days later looking sunnily pleased with himself and all the world.
By the following spring, Ianthe was established in Feruche Castle. There was no proof—not that anyone expected to discover any—that she was behind the Merida attack on Tiglath that season. Young Lord Eltanin, flushed with pride in his beautiful wife and their expectations of an heir, fought off the Merida with assistance from Rohan’s armies and his father-by-marriage’s money. Faced with three hundred troops and the knowledge that Jervis of Waes would provide endless supplies to keep his daughter’s new home safe, the Merida withdrew. They marched back to their northern wastes and seethed, making occasional forays into Rohan’s territory and trusting that time, Roelstra, and Ianthe would work in their favor.
Rohan and Sioned rejoiced when Eltanin’s gentle Antalya was delivered safely of a strong son. It was a year for childbearing, it seemed; only a few days after news came from Tiglath, Tobin gave birth to twin boys and at the beginning of summer Camigwen presented the astounded Ostvel with a son. But for the prince and princess, there was no similar happy event.
The next year brought rumors that Ianthe had borne one son and was carrying another. The garrison below Feruche confirmed the rumors, and the procession of handsome young noblemen through Ianthe’s bed made it impossible for anyone to determine exactly who had fathered the children. Rohan made a sour comment that nothing less could be expected of Roelstra’s favorite daughter. Everyone wondered if the High Prince would name one of her sons as his heir. None of