the north; Roelstra and Jastri with troops in the south. No sane prince—or princess—could ignore either threat.
“You know what the High Prince is after, of course,” Davvi went on. “Jastri will do his work for him. Under the guise of teaching the boy how to be a general—every prince must be that, and Haldor didn’t live long enough to tutor his son in the arts of war—Roelstra will have troops positioned to invade the Desert. Sioned, he’s only a day’s march from the Faolain. You have my people if you need them. I don’t give a damn about breaking my oath to Jastri. He’s broken his to me and every other athri in Syr by throwing in with Roelstra.”
“But—”
“You wanted to hear it, so let me get through to the end.” He swallowed more wine and straightened his back. “If I were you, I’d send to Lord Chaynal at once and tell him to make ready for war. Roelstra will find some excuse to cross the Faolain. Maybe your Rohan can use that dragon-clever tongue of his to talk his way out of it, but I don’t think so. I’m convinced that by the Rialla, Roelstra wants Rohan out of the way so the Desert can be his own—or the Merida’s, which amounts to the same thing.”
“Rohan—” She choked on his name, and steadied herself by staring fiercely at the emerald on her left hand. “The Merida will attack soon in the north. I just had word on the sunlight. Our forces will be cut in half, Davvi. I was going to call the summons and send them all—”
“By the Storm God—Sioned, that’s Roelstra’s excuse! The Merida attack—it will put those damned mutual defense treaties into play! That’s how he’ll do it, cross the Faolain pretending to go to Rohan’s aid against the Merida! It’s a damned long march to Tiglath, and anything could happen on the way!”
“What does the excuse matter?” she cried. “You don’t understand! Ianthe has Rohan! She’s holding him at Feruche!”
Davvi’s eyes went wide and he dropped the cup on the floor, rising to put his arms around her. “Oh, Sioned,” he whispered.
It would have been so good to cry. During childhood, before Lady Wisla had come to River Run as Davvi’s bride, brother and sister had been close. Sioned wanted to hand everything over to him and trust him to mend what was wrong. But that feeling belonged to the little girl she had not been for a long time. She could not even weep in his arms; his embrace was not home to her, and it was impossible to find comfort when being held by a man who was not her husband.
She pulled away and found she was still clutching her winecup. Taking a large swallow, she raked the hair from her face. “You’re right, I must send to Radzyn. There’ll be moonlight enough tonight.”
Davvi gave a start, then shook his head. “I keep forgetting what you are. It’s funny—I can accept you as a princess, but—”
“But not as a faradhi witch?” she finished for him with a tiny smile. “When the moons rise, brother, you’ll believe.”
“Until they do, sit down and rest. Don’t argue. Princess and Sunrunner or not, I’m still your older brother, girl.” He pushed her gently onto the bed and sat down beside her. “Now, tell me how this happened.”
She told him as much as she knew, cursing herself as he paled at mention of his son. “He’s safe, don’t worry,” she added hastily. “Ianthe let him go, probably to come back to tell me exactly how she plans to kill Rohan.” Sioned gazed unseeing down into her wine. “I’ll kill her, Davvi. I swear I will.”
“Lady Andrade—”
“Can take it up the Goddess at her leisure! I’ll see Ianthe dead by my own hand! Faradh’im may be forbidden to kill, but princes are not. Hadn’t you heard? Killing is one of a ruler’s privileges.” She saw her hand tremble and put the cup down. She had already killed; how many more times before she accepted that she was no longer a Sunrunner ruled by vows impossible for a princess to keep? Vows broken for Rohan’s sake. “Oh, Goddess, my Rohan—” Wrapping her arms around herself, tight against the stabbing ache in her breast, she rocked back and forth in a vain attempt to escape the pain.
“She won’t kill him.” Davvi rubbed at her back.
“Not until she’s finished toying with him! They’ll pay for this with their lives. They want the