she told herself with a twinge of annoyance that she already was, like it or not. At the moment she liked it not at all. She nodded slowly, and Princess Milar clapped her hands together in delight.
“Oh, splendid! I’ll send the dress to you at once, and one of my maids will do your hair. I think you’ll approve of the gown,” she finished with a happy smile, rising with a rustle of gray skirts and a wash of rose scent. “I’m positive my son will!”
“Your highness, it’s very kind of you to go to so much trouble for me, but I think I should tell you something about myself and your son and—”
“Oh, my dear!” Princess Milar laughed. “There isn’t anything important you can tell me that I don’t already know! And it’s no trouble at all to arrange suitable clothes for you. When you return from Waes, I’ll have filled a whole wardrobe. Women in our position have certain obligations, you know. Your friend Camigwen understands them quite well. I do like her very much, Sioned. But as I was saying about obligations—I hope you won’t find them too tedious. There are compensations, even when our men are being difficult.”
Sioned watched the door close behind the princess, dazedly wondering if there was anyone left at Stronghold who did not believe Rohan would marry her. Was the “secret” such common knowledge that they would never be able to pull off his plan?
The maid arrived some time later, bowed low enough to indicate that she considered Sioned a princess already, and said, “Good evening, my lady. I’ll just spread the gown on the bed and we’ll take care of your bath before we start on your hair. Her highness says not to worry if you’re a little late, because it’s the perfect night for making an entrance. If you’re ready, my lady, then we can begin.”
Sioned began to suspect that Andrade—and Camigwen—had a hand in influencing the prevailing attitude here. They probably felt that if everyone behaved as if Sioned was Rohan’s acknowledged bride, he would be pushed into an admission of it in public. She doubted they fully understood his stubbornness.
Sioned herself was of two—perhaps three—minds about the future. She wanted Rohan. She wanted his schemes to succeed, for she knew that their life together in peace might depend on concessions he could gain from the High Prince at the Rialla; the charade was necessary. But she also resented Andrade’s meddling in her fate, and her encounter with Rohan had given her some angry second thoughts about him.
The maid gossiped away, and Sioned learned something interesting: mindless chatter was a very good thing when one wanted to avoid listening to one’s own thoughts.
“Where is he?” Milar pleated her napkin atop her plate and glanced yet again down the length of the Great Hall.
“If I knew, I’d find him and drag him here by his nose,” Andrade snapped. She was tired after the long ride in the heat, and wanted nothing so much as her dinner. But the vassals and guests would touch neither a morsel of food nor a drop of wine until their prince finally decided to grace the high table with his presence. He was not fool enough to be hiding, although from the expression in Sioned’s eyes during the ride back from Rivenrock, hiding would seem the wisest course until her temper cooled. Andrade could make a shrewd guess about the words that had passed between them.
She shifted in her chair, the cushion beneath her doing little to ease the soreness of too many hours in the saddle. The rest of the company was growing nervous, eyeing the main doors. Andrade took mental inventory, matching each vassal to his battle flag draped high above the torches, which were themselves set high enough to give off light but not too much heat in this perpetually warm room. At the end of the Hall huge double doors stood wide open, as did the windows on either side of them and along the outer wall, to admit any breeze that might stray in to cool the diners. But the banners moved only fitfully and the torchflames were steady and smokeless. Andrade licked her dry lips and pushed a lock of hair from her neck, cursing her nephew’s lateness.
All at once her eyes popped as Rohan strode through into the Hall. He walked the long aisle between the tables with the ease and authority of absolute ownership, dressed in black