Dragon Prince - By Melanie Rawn Page 0,7

by now she could barely remember a time when Stronghold had not been as gracious and comfortable as it was now. Radzyn’s luxuries she took for granted, but her soul still belonged to the Stronghold of her ancestors, and she gloried in the beauty her mother had brought to this place.

She chose a stone bench in full sunlight and spread her skirts out to dry. Rohan obliged her by unplaiting her long black braids and helping her finger-comb her hair.

“Remember when Father used to play dragon for us?” he asked.

“And you always let me have the best chance at him,” she replied fondly. “He didn’t have quite your flair with a cloak, though. You’re a born actor.”

“I hope so,” he answered a bit grimly.

“Jahni and Maarken adore you,” Tobin went on, pretending not to have noticed his tone of voice. “You’ll make a wonderful father to your own boys.”

“Not you, too,” he muttered. “Mother’s been talking of nothing else all spring. At the Rialla she’ll find me some fecund, bovine fool of a noblewoman to make babies with.”

“Nobody will force you to marry a girl you can’t love. You’ll have your pick of women.”

“I’m twenty-one and I haven’t found a single girl I’d spend two days with, let alone my life. You and Chay were lucky to find each other so young.”

“Goddess blessing,” Tobin said. “And you really haven’t gone out looking yet, you know.”

“Mother and Father intend to do it for me,” he sighed. “And that’s the problem. Mother’s looking for someone so highborn she probably won’t know how to get dressed without the help of three maids. And Father wants somebody pretty and fertile—says he wants handsome grandsons.” Rohan laughed ruefully. “And as for what I want—”

“Don’t you dare pay meek and obedient with me,” she told him severely. “I know you, little brother. If you don’t want to marry a particular girl, you won’t, no matter what Father and Mother have to say.”

“But sooner or later I’ll have to play stud to some girl or other. Are your clothes dry yet? Father will be back with his dragon.”

“This one should have been yours.”

“No, thank you. I’d rather watch them than kill them. There’s something about their flying, Tobin, and listening to them roar when they’re hunting. . . .” He shrugged. “Oh, I know they’re a nuisance. But the Desert would be poorer without them.”

Tobin frowned. Everyone knew the dragons had to be killed off. They were more than a nuisance; they were a threat. Radzyn had lost six good mares and eight promising yearlings this spring to dragons, and caravans crossing the Desert were never safe. Dragonwings had swept destructive winds from Gilad to the Veresch Mountains for centuries, dining off livestock and crops.

“I know you don’t agree with me,” Rohan said with a smile, correctly reading her expression. “But you’ve never been interested in watching their dances or finding out about them. They’re so beautiful, Tobin—proud and strong and free—”

“You’re a romantic,” she said, and brushed the drying hair from his eyes. “The dragons have to be killed off, and we both know it. Chay says that once they get down past a certain number, nature will do the rest of the work for us. There won’t be enough dragons to repopulate the flights.”

“I hope that never happens.” He got to his feet and patted the damp material of his shirt. “I don’t think we’ll drip too much. We should get back inside and get ready for the come-home feast.”

“And to sew up the rents in Chay’s hide.” Tobin grimaced.

“He only takes a few scratches so you’ll have something to yell at him about. I never saw a man more willing to accommodate his wife’s temper!”

“I have a very sweet, docile, placid nature,” she protested sententiously.

He nodded, blue eyes dancing. “Just like the rest of the family.”

Right on cue, the twins came squabbling through the garden gates, calling for their mother to settle an argument. Tobin sighed, Rohan winked at her, and they went to bring some order to her unruly offspring.

Lady Andrade, having soothed her sister’s fears after purposely provoking them, had suggested a game of chess to while away the time until Zehava’s return. The two women left the solar for the family’s large, private chamber, elegantly furnished and currently decorated with Jahni and Maarken’s toys. For all that the fortress was said to have been carved out by dragons in ages past, Stronghold was remarkably civilized, even beautiful. Andrade knew this to

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