his wound. She then let him know precisely what variety of fool he was to do such a dangerous thing—before she suddenly started to cry.
Andrade appeared at last, ordered the princess to her own chambers, and wordlessly pointed to the bathroom door. Rohan balked.
“I washed you the morning you were born,” she reminded him tartly. “You put your fist in my eye then. Once is all you’re allowed, prince or no prince, so stop looking murderous. I want to talk to you in private.” She eyed the young squire, Walvis, who had attended her into the chamber. “Go on, child. I’m perfectly capable of handing him soap and towels.”
Walvis glanced uncertainly at Rohan, who nodded and told him, “Come back later. I have work for you.” The boy bowed and fled.
Rohan went into the bathroom, stripped—blushing as his aunt’s critical gaze ran over him—and slid into the cool water. The lecture began at once, as he had expected.
“I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, but I’m not overly fond of intrigues not my own. Especially when the master of the plan is my own kinsman who won’t tell me what he’s up to.”
“Why do you think I’m up to anything?”
“Sweet innocence! You do it very well, Rohan, but don’t try it with me! Why didn’t you give that girl her proper welcome? Oh, not as your future princess, I’ll admit to a marginal understanding of that. But if Urival hadn’t seen to her comfort, she’d still be standing out in the courtyard!”
“I knew I could count on him.” Rohan scrubbed determinedly at a dirty foot.
“You did, eh? And are you counting on Sioned as well? She says very little—your instructions, I assume—just that you both agreed to wait until the Rialla.” She snorted. “As if you needed all that time before you know each other, when you’ve already felt the Fire!”
“Have you ever felt it?” he asked suddenly.
“None of your damned concern,” she snapped.
Unsuccessful in his attempt to take the skirmish onto enemy ground, he decided to return to a subject that concerned him profoundly. “What else did she say?” he asked, his nerves tightening. If he could not trust her, then everything would be ruined.
“That you have interesting eyes,” Andrade replied in disgust.
Rohan hid a smile. “You haven’t really told me much about her family.”
“I thought genealogy was Mila’s hobby, not yours. On her father’s side, Sioned descends from a prince of Syr whose younger son inherited the lands at River Run. Her maternal grandmother was a Sunrunner before Prince Sinar of Kierst winked at her and carried her away to his island. Her ancestry’s quite good enough for you.”
“You chose her for me, so I never doubted it,” Rohan said with deliberate sweetness. “What is it you think I’m planning?”
“Learn to be more subtle,” she said scornfully and he felt color sting his cheeks. “The part about the Rialla tells me a great deal, you know. I’m looking forward to watching you blink those big eyes of yours at Roelstra as you trick him into thinking you’re an imbecile.”
He laughed. “Slightly foolish and very young, but not a complete idiot, please!” He rose from the bath and wrapped a towel around his hips.
“Sioned also had things to say about parts of you other than your eyes,” Andrade drawled maliciously.
If she intended to make him blush, she succeeded admirably. He damned the curse of a fair complexion and glared at her. “I assume you’ll tell me what she said after you’ve finished embarrassing me.”
“Oh, no,” she chuckled. “You’ll have to find out for yourself.” She draped a towel around his head and rubbed his hair dry. “Make your plans as you wish. I’ll help, if you’ll trust me enough to let me. But you must promise me . . .”
“What?” he asked warily, peering at her from under the towel.
“Marry her, Rohan. You’re both very dear to me,” she said, looking anywhere but at him. “And you’ll never find any woman more suited to you than Sioned.”
“And if I don’t promise?”
She laughed again. “Your body already has, at the very mention of her name.”
Rohan thought she hadn’t noticed, and was humiliated. But his sense of humor was still in working order, and he grinned. “What do you suggest? A longer tunic?”
“Or a nice, concealing cloak,” she answered wickedly.
Rohan waited, hidden among the trees near the grotto his mother had designed to be a refuge during the worst of the summer heat. Fruit trees had been brought at