Dragon Prince - By Melanie Rawn Page 0,40

his well-being and the latter’s glowering countenance. When the family began to move toward the stairs leading up to the main hall of the keep, Ostvel looked around in complete bewilderment. “Sioned—nobody’s even welcomed you!”

“There won’t be a welcome for me, not in the way you’re thinking,” she said, following the prince with her gaze.

Camigwen stared. “What? How dare he!”

“Please, Cami! His father is dead. We can’t expect—”

“I can and do expect!” she retorted.

“Cami—not now,” Sioned told her.

Lady Andrade separated from the others at the foot of the steps and approached Sioned, grim-faced. “You made decent time getting here.”

“We came as quickly as we could,” Sioned answered.

After a withering glance up and down her travel-stained clothing, Andrade said, “So I see. Go upstairs. Urival will see to your comfort, since no one else has any time for you. I’ll expect you ready to receive me before nightfall, Sioned.” And with that she stalked away.

“Why is she so angry?” Camigwen complained as they crossed the courtyard. “We haven’t done anything wrong!”

“If anyone’s in the wrong, it’s the prince,” Ostvel said. “What sort of welcome is this for his bride?”

“I don’t want to hear anything more about it!” Sioned exclaimed. “And don’t talk about me as if I’m his betrothed, because I’m not—and I don’t even know if I want to be!”

She regretted the shock and hurt in their faces. They cared only for her honor and happiness; they loved her. She hoped Rohan would give her leave to tell them why this charade was necessary—and she began her journey back to rationality with the thought that he had better provide her with an adequate explanation first.

Urival, Chief Steward of Goddess Keep, was in the banner-hung foyer, and called Sioned’s name as the three tried not to gape at the display of carpets, fine furniture, and carved wood around them. His smile was sympathetic as he came forward to greet them.

“You must have expected better greeting than this, but what with the old prince’s death before dawn this morning and this crazy dragon hunt of Rohan’s to kill the beast that killed his father. . . .” He shrugged. “You couldn’t have chosen a worse time to arrive, Sioned.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She knew it had been the best possible time. No one would notice her in the press of events and she would be able to get a feel for the place and personalities of Stronghold.

“I’ve arranged for rooms, baths, and fresh clothes. Mourning gray,” he reminded them. “I had to guess at the sizes.”

Camigwen sighed. “That means I’ll be tripping over my hem and Sioned’s ankles will be showing. If only we hadn’t lost all our baggage in the river!”

“Now, that’s a story I want to hear,” Urival commented. “But for now I’d better tell you something about this place so you don’t get lost.” They started up the main staircase, a wonder of silky wooden banisters and thick blue carpeting. “To begin with, it’s huge. Five floors about the ground, one below for cold storage—or as cold as anything ever gets here—and the Flametower is so high it’s said that some days you can see to the Sunrise Water. The fires are burning there now for Prince Zehava’s passing.”

“We saw as we rode in,” Ostvel said. “When is his ritual?”

“Tomorrow night. I don’t know if you’ll be expected to attend.”

“Of course Sioned will attend!” Camigwen bristled.

“As one of the faradh’im, nothing more,” Sioned told her firmly.

“But you’re going to be—”

“No!” She glared at her friend for the first time in their lives, and Cami’s dark skin flushed with the shock. “I’m not sure, I tell you. It may be I’ll accept him, and it may be that I won’t.” And after only a brief talk with Rohan she was ready to behave this way to friends of a lifetime. What had he done to her? She began to realize that he was a dangerous man indeed.

She tried to smile, to make amends. “Come, we’re all tired, and I didn’t mean to be so sharp with you. Urival, tell us more about Stronghold, please?”

His eyes were an unusual shade of golden brown, huge and beautiful below thick brows in a thin, angular face. She had never been able to hide anything successfully from those eyes before, and the expression in them now made her nervous. But he chose to oblige her with a recital of the rooms and wonders of the keep. They reached the second floor, turned down several long

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