He took a step toward her, the fire between them, and there was nothing boyish or gentle about him now. “What do you plan for me, Andrade?”
Years and responsibilities, old hates and hopes and even a few dreams settled on her like a cloak of iron. “Rohan—it’s all as you’ve said about Roelstra’s daughters. I was afraid the offer would come before I could speak to you. Your father would never listen to a word I said. He doesn’t entirely trust me.”
“Should I?” he asked, his voice cold.
“If not me, then Sioned.”
“So she has a name. I’d wondered.”
“She’s very dear to me, Rohan. What I want doesn’t matter. She was the one who saw you years ago in the Fire.”
“Did she?”
“Couldn’t you feel anything when you looked at her tonight?”
“What I feel isn’t your concern. Have you sent for her?”
“She’ll be here soon.”
“And you call me arrogant! It runs in the blood—like the faradhi gifts that Tobin has and I don’t. That’s what you wanted from my parents, wasn’t it? A faradhi prince. Sorry to have disappointed you. But now you’re about to try the same thing, aren’t you? Does Sioned know it, I wonder?”
Andrade met his gaze stoically, not reacting to his sarcasm—for she heard how he tasted the girl’s name as if schooling his tongue to its syllables and his ears to its sound. “You need not marry her if she doesn’t please you. When she arrives, you’ll both know one way or the other.”
“Haven’t you planned it all out?” But in the next moment his expression changed and he murmured, “I’m sorry.”
She watched him, this manchild with the deceptively gentle eyes, this princeling who would soon rule over the vastness of the Desert—and perhaps one day, if her misted visions were accurate and the Goddess had not teased her with lies. . . . It would be enough if Rohan and Sioned could be together. They were right for each other; she knew it. “I apologize for my sharpness,” she said. “You’re right—I really ought to keep in mind who you are.”
“No, it was the right way to do it. I can’t sit up here feeling sorry for myself. But it’s awkward, you see. Waiting for Father to die. Being afraid and having to hide it. Being—alone. I can’t really admit things to anyone but you. Do you understand?”
She nodded, thinking that the day he could admit everything to Sioned would be the day he was no longer alone. “Go downstairs and get some sleep. Zehava will live for some days yet. He’s too stubborn to let death have him quickly. Your mother will need you to be strong.”
Rohan smiled sadly. “No one will need me for anything until it comes time to acknowledge me as prince. And then they’ll need even more than I can give. What I have to offer won’t seem like much to them—not compared to my father.”
Chapter Three
The higher peaks of the Veresch were smothered in white and would remain so well into summer, crowning the heights above Castle Crag. The keep itself was lower down in the hills, perched on the side of a terrifying gorge like a dragon with its claws sunk deep into the cliffs. Land on either side of a canyon carved out by the Faolain River was summer-green, thick with trees and bright with flowers below a sky pierced in the distance by the highest range of snow-capped mountains.
Lady Palila had absolutely no interest in any beauty but her own. She stood on the steps above the thick lawns of the trellis garden, frowning in annoyance because the groundskeepers had shorn her favorite rosebush, the one that produced blossoms exactly the pink of her cheeks. Instantly she reminded herself that wrinkles resulted from unpleasant emotions, and smoothed her face. Her power for the present lay in her looks, and these she had in abundance, starting with but not limited to the wealth of auburn hair that was held back by a thin gold chain studded with brown agates that matched her eyes. Skin the color of pale honey; a bone structure that sculptors dreamed of and had paid homage to in silver, bronze, marble, and even gold; delicate arched brows and a finely carved, passionate mouth—Palila was the most beautiful woman of her generation, and it was only fitting that the High Prince had chosen her as his mistress. She had been careful not to allow her four pregnancies to mar the perfection of her