The sword slipped from Maarken’s fingers and brushed a silvery note from the shield on its way to the carpet. “Do you feel that way?” he whispered, his cheeks white. “Do you?”
“Yes. And it took this to make me realize it.” He shook his head wearily. “Do you have any idea what Andrade did by marrying her sister to your grandfather?”
“I’ve thought about it. Meath and Eolie and Prince Lleyn make sure I think about it. I was born as I am, and I couldn’t change it even if I wanted to. But it’s not just me, is it? It’s Sioned’s children, when she has them. Prince and Sunrunner both. How do you think we’ll all turn out, Father? Power-mad and ready to slaughter everyone who gets in our way? Is that what you think?” he accused bitterly.
Chay bit his lip, then said, “I think that I have a son I’m proud to call mine. Maarken, the world is changing and people like you will change it further. Born to one kind of power—but born with quite another.”
“We’re not one thing or another, Andry and I. Will we grow up to rule the lands you give us, or will we be ruled by Andrade?” His eyes were haunted now. “What am I to be, Father?”
Rohan would understand, Chay thought suddenly. He loved dragons and had been forced to kill one; he wanted desperately to live by rule of law, not by the sword. Rohan would understand the division in Maarken’s soul. But Sioned would understand even better, for it was the choice she lived with every day of her life.
Chay could and did take that choice from his son now. “I’m your father and your commander, and you’re doubly bound to obey me. You will not call Fire, Maarken. I forbid it.”
Rebellion and relief warred on the boy’s face for a moment. But he bent his head in submission. “Yes, my lord.”
Yet they both knew this was only a postponement of the inevitable choices Maarken would one day have to make on his own.
“Come,” Chay said, “time for bed, whether we sleep or not. One of the first rules of war is that the commander must always appear to be resting easily in his tent at night.”
The Flametower at Stronghold was an excellent vantage from which to observe the arrival of the Merida host. Tobin and Maeta stood at the windows, watching the hundred armed soldiers on horseback, their battle harness gleaming in the last evening light. The two women exchanged a glance.
“Will they try tonight or wait for morning?” Tobin asked.
“First light,” the warrior replied. “Look at them down there, setting up camp right in the shadow of Stronghold! Arrogant idiots. They act as if we’re already beneath their swords.” Her smile turned feral. “I’ll enjoy this.”
They started downstairs and Tobin said, “Chay would, too. As it happens, Maeta, I’m not a bad shot myself. And there’s a nice little niche left of the gates that would fit me like a glove.”
“I’m not afraid of your great roaring stallion of a husband, if that’s what you’re hinting. He can shout all he wants at me for putting you into the fight. The place is yours, along with as many Merida as you care to bring down.” She chuckled. “I remember when my mother gave you archery lessons.”
Instruction by Myrdal herself was recommendation enough, it seemed. “I’ll find a bow of the right weight, then, and be ready before dawn.”
“What about your boys? Locking them in their rooms won’t work, you know. Would you permit them to run arrows for us? If I give them the first section of the relay, they’ll be safe in the inner court the whole time.”
“Thank you. I really had no idea how to keep them out of this, and your way, they’ll be useful without being in danger.”
Well before dawn, Stronghold was ready—and absolutely silent. Tobin, dressed in riding clothes that blended with the stones around her, wedged herself into a narrow stone shelf cut exactly for this purpose in the outer walls of the gatehouse. Slung at her back and in a second quiver at her feet were arrows she had spent the night repainting in her husband’s red and white. There was nothing to be done about the blue fletching, but she wanted the Merida to know that Radzyn was represented here. When her fifty ran out, she would use those stockpiled in Rohan’s armory. But with a hundred Merida out