It was obscene, this murder of hatchlings as they emerged into the sunlight for the first time, wings barely dry as they staggered about on unsteady legs. He glanced at Chay over the boys’ heads. Neither did his brother-by-marriage have much liking for this unequal contest. But Chay had no doubts about the necessity of eradicating the dragons, either. Rohan asked himself yet again why he wanted so much to protect these creatures that ravaged lands and herds. He could never come up with a better answer than that they were beautiful and free, and a part of the Desert. But what better answer was there? he argued with himself. Something within him cried out against their destruction. The vassals would find excellent sport today and brag about the hunt for the next three years. Rohan could do nothing but watch in bitter silence and refuse to join in.
At the mouth of the canyon, beneath its rocky spire, the hunt paused. Skins of water and wine were broached and food was brought from saddlebags, guards demoted willy-nilly to squires as they served luncheon. Rohan ate nothing. The holiday atmosphere nauseated him. As the company refreshed itself, Maeta and two other riders ventured into the canyon and returned to make their report to Rohan.
“The she-dragons are indeed gone, my lord,” Maeta told him. “Three cave walls have been battered down and the hatchlings are flown, but there are twelve more by my count that are in various stages of being demolished.” She glanced at the vassals who had crowded close to hear the news. “Good sport to you, my lords.”
Rohan’s face set in stone and he gestured wordlessly for Maeta to help Chay organize the hunt. He would witness this if he must, but he was damned if he’d participate in it.
The hunters rode into the canyon laughing, shouting jests and challenges back and forth. Soon they abandoned their mounts to take the slippery, narrow paths on foot, and Maeta waited with her detachment of guards in the bright sun, holding the horses. None of the hunters was so foolish as to break down the remaining layers of wall in any of the caves, for beyond was an unknown number of hatching dragons. Though small and unsteady on their feet, they could nevertheless exhale a searing fire. The flames dried and toughened their wings—and could crisp human skin right through leather clothes. The trick was to wait until the dragons had torn down most of the wall themselves and then, when they staggered out into the dazzling sunlight, kill them.
Rohan shut his eyes. Goddess, what do I allow here? They attack our herds, so we kill them. But what about wolves, birds of prey, the monsters in the sea? Aren’t dragons part of our world, too? How do I justify this? How do I stop it?
“It seems we’re alone, my lord,” said a soft voice at his side.
He flinched. His stallion reacted to the movement and danced delicately over the rocky soil. He reined in and patted the horse’s neck soothingly.
“Rohan, what’s the matter?” Sioned went on.
“I hate this,” he whispered, staring at the canyon walls so he would not be tempted to look at her. “I’ve always hated this. But I can’t stop it.”
“If you were any other man I’ll tell you that as their prince, you could order them as you like.”
“But I’m too much of a coward to use my power, is that it?”
“No. I wasn’t going to say that, and you know it. Rohan, look at me, please.”
He did so because he could not help doing so. There was nothing but tender concern in her eyes. She loved him; he felt the emotion reaching out to wrap him in strength and light like a Sunrunner’s weaving.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
“The day.” He dug his heels into his horse’s sides and cantered into Rivenrock, unable to bear the look in Sioned’s eyes. He heard another horse following and reined in. But it was Andrade, not Sioned, who rode to his side.
“What have you been telling Sioned?” she demanded.
“Leave me alone.”
“Stop behaving like a child. I know how much you hate what’s happening here today, but directing your anger at her won’t cure anything. Being a prince isn’t all it’s rumored to be, is it?”
“No.” He could stop the hunt with a single command. No one would disobey him. He was their prince. The knowledge that he could order anything he pleased frightened him for no good reason he could