might be in charge of the work until Hadaan made his decision. If all was agreed, then Sioned could start looking for a bride for the boy—a redhead? came the whimsical thought. Rohan would elevate Walvis to athri of Remagev Keep, Hadaan could live out his remaining years untroubled by duties he had never liked anyway while giving Walvis the benefit of his experiences in the Desert—and Rohan would end up with a revitalized keep, a loyal vassal, and the satisfaction of having rewarded the landless youth for his many years of service. Yes, he reflected with a smile, sometimes being a prince was an excellent thing indeed.
With Rohan gone, attention turned to preparations for Sioned’s departure for the south. She and Ostvel would head straight for Radzyn and spend several days there before following the line of holdings along the coast to the Faolain. Sioned’s brother, Lord Davvi, would cross the river and meet her for a private visit at Rohan’s suggestion for the twin purposes of family duty and political soundings. Prince Jastri, kin to the athr’im of River Run, had succeeded to his father Haldor’s princedom, and Rohan had a few ideas about expanding the small port at the river’s mouth in a joint venture that could prove profitable. From there, Sioned would travel northward and visit the rich lands bordering Syr and Meadowlord, whence most of the Desert’s substance in foodstuffs came, and wait there for Rohan before they journeyed together to Waes.
She looked forward to the progress. Although she wished Rohan could be with her, she was eager to confirm her standing with those she now thought of as her vassals as well as her husband’s. She sat up late at night to review everything about each lord and holding, choosing gifts for wives and children, discussing possibilities with Ostvel. But toward midnight on the day before she was due to leave, the moonlight called her outside to the gardens.
She stood before Princess Milar’s fountain, watching the water turn to a shower of silver light. There was no breeze; drops fell in a perfect rippling circle out to the blue and white tiles that had been brought all the way from Kierst. Sioned sat on the edge of the pool and dipped her fingers into the water, her rings glittering. What had she brought to Stronghold? she wondered. Milar had made the rough keep into a miracle of comfort and beauty. Her touch was everywhere. What would Sioned leave behind?
She knew her own worth both in private and in politics; six years as wife and princess had challenged her and not found her lacking. Except for a child. But if a wife was expected to give her husband sons, even more were they expected of a princess.
Tobin had sons. One of them would continue Zehava’s line if Sioned could not. Ianthe had sons, she reminded herself bitterly—three of them, where her own father had produced none. It seemed Sioned had something in common with Roelstra after all. But Rohan would never be like him, would never seek sons in other women’s bodies. She shook her head, knowing that she should have consulted the Mothertree back at Goddess Keep before she had left. But if she had, and had been shown herself with empty arms, she would never have come to the Desert. The girl she had been would not have known that a princess was worth more than her production of male heirs.
But whatever else she was to Rohan, she knew she would not be the mother of his children. She splayed her fingers in the water and counted off her rings—this for calling Fire, that for conjuring with moonlight, another declaring her to be a Master Sunrunner. She would give them all for a son—all except the great emerald on her left hand. The stone was a symbol of hope and renewal, the springtime jewel of fertility. Her lips curved thinly. How the gem mocked her.
And how its green fire suddenly blazed, catching her with a lash of color. The fountain of water drops became a fountain of fiery sparks falling in a perfect circle just beyond her fingertips. And within that green-gold-silver light she saw herself, and a child in her arms.
The newborn boy cuddled naked against her naked breasts, Rohan’s golden hair a silken cap framing his small face in light. The Fire put greenish shadows into his blue eyes as he reached a tiny fist for her unbound hair. Sioned saw