keeping up with their watchful elders on the journey from the caves around Skybowl and Feruche to the cool heights of the Catha Hills in the south.
Rohan felt his throat tighten, his eyes sting. His dragons, more than he had ever seen before in his life, free and proud and alive. His dragons.
As they flew from the Desert across the Faolain, the chant began again. But it was not his name that rumbled along the riverbank, growing louder, following the dragons over Roelstra’s camp as hundreds of wings cast shadows on the violet tents. Someone knowing the old tongue had renamed Rohan, given him the single powerful word that would be his for the rest of his life.
Azhei. Dragon Prince.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Pandsala stood on a hillock, staring moodily at the storm clouds to the north. They were a distant threat for now, both to encamped troops and Sunrunners, but soon they would shadow and then drench the pastures of Meadowlord before slinking to Syr. She simultaneously dreaded and welcomed the anticipated downpour, first of autumn. Six winters at Goddess Keep had taught her to loathe overcast skies, but here in her comparative freedom, storms would keep the armies mired down and all faradh’im effectively caged—not just those ordered so by her father.
He paced beside her, still raging—though in merciful silence now—about the note that had flown in on an arrow from Rohan’s camp that morning. Prince Jastri was dead without a son or brother to assume his title, and only a sister, Gemma, left of his branch of the Syrene royal house. Rohan had proposed, and Andrade had agreed, that subject to the approval of the other princes, Lord Davvi of River Run was to be elevated to the princedom. His lineage was of the princely house; he was the heir. Young Gemma, at barely ten winters old, could not inherit without treaties stipulating that her assumption of the princedom had been agreed to by all the other princes and the athr’im of Syr. Of course, if Roelstra had had a son, he could have had him marry the girl at once, no matter her tender years. Of course, if Roelstra had had a son, he would not be in his present pass. The thought gave Pandsala grim amusement.
“Smiling?” her father sneered. “Is it the beautiful day that pleases you, daughter mine? Or the fact that that whore’s brother has been named Prince of Syr? I’ll have Rohan spitted and roasted over a Sunrunner’s Fire—and his witch with him!”
Pandsala stayed wisely silent.
“Declaring him prince and putting him in High Kirat are two different things! The Syrene lords will defend their princess—just as I intend to do! And as for her dear uncle of Ossetia—Chale will send troops. Yes. He’ll want to see Gemma as ruler of Syr.”
“But will he want to make war against Rohan?” she murmured.
“He will if I tell him to!” Roelstra bellowed. “And he’ll raze Goddess Keep as well, with Andrade in it!”
Pandsala felt she ought to say something soothing. “Surely the other princes will realize how powerful this action will make Rohan. If they don’t, you can point it out to them. They can’t acclaim Davvi until they’re all met in one place, and we’re past time for the Rialla this year. Between now and whenever Rohan is able to call a convocation—”
“He won’t be alive past midwinter!” he roared.
“Of course not, Father. Forgive me.”
His glare softened. “You have your mother’s temperament. She always spoke softly, no matter what threatened. I loved her well, you know. Goddess, if only one of you had been a son!” He frowned, then shrugged. “Another three hundred troops should be here before the worst rains begin.”
“Who has such strength on short notice?”
“My greedy friend Prince Saumer of Isel, for one. And Lyell of Waes, your sister Kiele’s Chosen, will allow him to land his soldiers in Waes. He’s decided that his interests lie with his future wife, not his dead sister’s husband in Tiglath.”
She nodded. “There was a courier yesterday.”
“Yes.” Roelstra looked grim. “It seems the Cunaxans want more money. The courtiers who’ve ruled since Prince Durriken’s death find the current jingle of my gold too soft a sound, and wish to hear it ring louder. If only those stupid Merida had attacked when I planned it! They were to wait until Tiglath had emptied of troops gone to rescue the princeling. They could have walked right into the city and used it as a base when Rohan was forced to