onshore, and she scanned the assembly once again. There was still no sign of Rohan. Surely it was unwise to be late for the High Prince’s arrival—and even worse to miss it altogether. She began to be afraid, for there was no conceivable reason for him to insult Roelstra in this fashion.
With the first step Roelstra took onto the wooden planks, every highborn sank to one knee—everyone except Lady Andrade, who only bent her head. He gestured graciously for them to rise. Some of them wore respectful faces, others looked guardedly resentful of the act of homage. Lord Chaynal’s bright gray eyes were without emotion, but Princess Tobin looked carved of ice in her gown of white and red, her husband’s colors. Roelstra distributed smiles all around, then turned to Andrade.
She smiled with poisonous sweetness visible even at a distance when Roelstra presented his mistress to her. Sioned shared a grin with Cami. “I’d give a lot to listen in,” she whispered, and their escort chuckled.
A commotion at the steps to the pier turned all heads. “ ’Way! Make way!” a man bellowed. “Move aside for His Royal Highness Prince Rohan!”
Sioned clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle giggles—not that anyone would have heard her in the sudden buzz of speculation and outrage that followed close on this arrogant proclamation of Rohan’s presence. He strode up the steps two at a time, tugging at the cuffs of his shirt and running a hand through his hair as if he had dressed in such hurry that he hadn’t had time to comb it. A masterpiece of effect, Sioned noted gleefully. He had arrived late on purpose so he would not have to bend his knee to the High Prince.
Andrade had come to the same conclusion, though she was more successful in hiding her amusement. She slanted a look at Tobin, who was red-cheeked and tight-lipped, black eyes snapping with mirth. Chaynal prudently hid his grin with a fit of coughing that made it necessary for his hand to cover his lower half of his face. His quicksilver eyes danced merrily as Rohan gave Roelstra a short bow that was perfunctory courtesy between princes.
In a breathless voice the young man said, “Pardon, cousin! Today of all days I overslept! I didn’t hear a single murmur of all the fuss, can you credit it? Why didn’t you warn me, Aunt?” he asked plaintively of Andrade, his eyes little-boy wide. “High Prince Roelstra must think me the worst kind of scattershell!”
“Not at all, cousin,” Roelstra responded smoothly. “I understand that the demands of fatigue on healthy youth are answered only by enough sleep.”
Rohan bestowed on him his most endearing smile. “My father always said you were a generous to a fault—and I’m glad you’re generous with my fault!” His gaze went to the woman behind Roelstra and his eyes rounded to their largest. Andrade nearly choked. The effort not to laugh brought tears to her eyes.
“Are you all right, Aunt?” Rohan asked solicitously, without a hint of wicked enjoyment in his eyes. When she nodded helplessly, he turned again to Roelstra. “I know it’s not polite to stare, but—” He shrugged, sighed, and stared anyway.
“It is I who have not been polite. I have failed to introduce you to my daughters. Come forward,” Roelstra snapped at them over his shoulder.
They were presented: Naydra, Lenala, Pandsala, and Ianthe as princesses, Gevina and Rusalka by the title of Lady. Rohan bent over six slender hands and pressed his lips to the insides of six braceleted wrists. Naydra openly looked her appreciation of Rohan’s golden looks; Lenala simpered; Pandsala turned crimson. Ianthe looked Rohan straight in the eye, holding his gaze for a long bold moment before glancing away. Gevina giggled and protested that he tickled her skin, and Rusalka snatched her fingers away as quickly as she could.
“My daughters,” Roelstra said casually when Rohan had finished saluting them. “The ones old enough to make the journey with me this year.”
“And with even more at home!” Rohan exclaimed admiringly. “What luck for you, cousin, to live in so fair a garden! My father always said that his daughter was his greatest treasure—and you have seventeen of them! Oh—do you know my sister, Princess Tobin? And her lord, Chaynal of Radzyn Keep?”
They were introduced. Andrade promised herself a good long laugh when she had time and privacy to enjoy it.
“But you must be weary,” Rohan went on to the High Prince with the sweet solicitude of a