all to you alone. Remember that. Not a grain of sand or a breath of wind over the dunes is anyone’s but yours. You’ll have your battles to keep them. I wish I could see those, too.” He paused, looked up, and gave his son a tiny smile. “I never told you how proud I was, did I? My scholarly fool of a son in common trooper’s harness, covered in Merida blood. . . .”
“You didn’t tell me, but I knew.”
“You’ll have to become a better liar,” Zehava observed wryly.
“Not with those I love,” Rohan replied firmly.
“Do you?”
He held tighter to his father’s hand. “Yes. I never really knew you, either. And I’m sorry for it. But I do love you.”
Sunlight crept a finger’s width across the bed before the old prince spoke again. “A pity we never really talked before now.”
“But we are talking, and that’s what’s important.” Rohan tried to believe it, tried to forget all the years when one approached the other and found only incomprehension.
“If you have daughters—and I hope you will, for there’s no delight in a man’s life like a daughter—” He coughed and again Rohan gave him the square of damp silk. Zehava nodded his thanks and continued, “Indulge your daughters as shamefully as I’ve done with Tobin. It’s a husband’s duty to tame a woman, not her father’s.”
Rohan chuckled. “Chay hasn’t had much luck that I can see!”
Zehava grinned at him. “Remember that with your own wife! Don’t break her spirit, but let her know who’s master in your bed. Have you ever had a woman?”
Rohan cursed himself for blushing. “I’m not entirely ignorant.”
“A nice, evasive answer. You’ve a talent for them. I wish I could meet the girl who’ll make a man of you. But remember to make a woman of her at the same time. Your woman.”
Again he thought of the grave, earnest face framed in fire-gold hair, and said nothing.
“Be tender of your mother’s feelings, but don’t let her meddle. Your wife will be princess here, and you mustn’t let Milar trod the girl underfoot.”
“I’m sure Mother will understand.”
“Your mother understands nothing except that I’m dying.”
“She loves you so much,” Rohan whispered. “I hope I’m as lucky in my wife.”
Zehava sighed quietly. “Take my ashes to Rivenrock and blow them in the face of that damned grandsire who killed me.”
“I’ll do better than that,” Rohan promised. “I’ll mingle his ashes with yours and let the winds take them the length and breadth of the Desert.”
The black eyes gleamed. “If you aren’t the most perverse son a man ever had! Yes, do that. I’d like that. Two old dragons.”
“Exactly,” Rohan replied with a smile, amazed and grateful that his father had not questioned his ability to kill the dragon.
“Let me sleep for a while, and then send your mother to me. She’ll need you, Rohan. Tobin has Chay, and you’ll have your duties. But Mila won’t have anyone.” He sank deeper into the pillows. “Poor Mila. My poor darling . . .” He paused for a moment, then repeated, “You’ll have your duties. It’s good that you’ll go through them alone. That’s a cruel thing, but necessary. You’ll have to stand alone, my son. Do it proudly. Not even your wife can share it all. Find someone who understands that.”
Rohan hesitated, then decided to tell him. “I’ve already found a wife.”
Zehava struggled for a moment to sit up, eyes blazing, then collapsed back into the pillows with a grunt. Rohan didn’t fuss over him, knowing it would only irritate him. “Who is she?” the old prince demanded. “What’s her name?”
“Sioned,” he murmured.
“Does your mother know?”
“No one knows except Andrade.”
Another short laugh escaped his lips. “Andrade, eh? Well. The family witch. Don’t let her trap you. She’s sly and does as she pleases for her own reasons.”
“I know. I’ve learned a few things from her over the years.” He grinned down at his father.
Zehava choked again on laughter, forcing himself to calm down as a spasm of pain hit him. “Oh, by the Storm Devil, I wish I could see the prince you’ll make! I never knew you before, Rohan. Promise me you’ll talk to your own sons more than I talked to you.”
He could think of no reply, so he merely nodded. Then he bent and pressed his lips to his father’s hand in token of homage and love. Before the stinging in his eyes could become tears, he said, “Rest now. I’ll send Mother to you in a little