“She also said she didn’t find Rohan much to her tastes,” Pandsala added. “I think that’s much more important. She doesn’t seem the type to bow to Lady Andrade’s wishes if they went opposite to her own. Frankly, she strikes me as being incredibly stubborn.”
“I like her more and more,” Roelstra drawled, just to see them react. A smile teased Ianthe’s lips, Palila’s eyes narrowed, and the others began a chorus of protest about the foolishness of disobedient women. Roelstra lifted a hand for silence. “No reflection on any of you, my dutiful darlings. Her headstrong nature will only make it easier for you to contrast yourselves to her in front of the prince—to your advantage.”
Palila gestured languidly with one hand, and Roelstra noted how thick and puffy her fingers had become. “Your interest in him will be a soothing pleasure after her indifference,” she told the girls. “You must remember to be soothing, my dears. Men do not like contention. And Rohan is very young. He will want to be admired and fussed over, made to feel important as a man.”
“I liked his looks,” Lenala said wistfully.
“Everyone is aware of that, my treasure,” Roelstra said.
The daughters returned to shore and their tents, but Roelstra lingered in Palila’s room for a time. The sight of her disgusted him, but there was nothing wrong with her instincts.
“And so?” he asked, arching a brow at her.
“Pandsala wants him. Ianthe seems not to care, but she wants him just as much. I would wager on Sala, however.”
“She may overplay it.”
“She’s not a fool, my lord. And Ianthe looks her wits too much—Rohan is too young to appreciate intelligence in a wife.” An elaborate bedrobe concealed most of her bulk, but her fingers were bare of rings she could no longer slip on, and bracelets around her wrists bit into swollen flesh. She gave him an alluring smile in a face still beautiful, and he toyed for a moment with the idea of the pleasures to be had from her even in this state. But he found himself thinking instead of a slim girl with red hair and tanned skin, a girl he had not yet seen but intended to, very soon. “Will you stay here with me tonight, my lord?” Palila invited.
“I have other things to attend to, or I would stay all night,” he lied, smiling. He started for the door, then turned. “Why Pandsala?”
“Why not?”
“You championed Ianthe before.”
“I’ve changed my mind after seeing Rohan.”
“You may be right, my dear. Sleep well.”
Chapter Twelve
By the next day Rohan was already monumentally weary of playing naive prince for Roelstra’s benefit. He chafed against the role, and the fact that it was self-imposed did not improve his temper. The plan that had seemed so clever at the beginning of summer was more of a strain than he had ever imagined it would be—and not all of it was due to the unexpected addition of Sioned to his plans. The scheme had been hatched by a prince-in-waiting, a boy who had spent his life effacing himself (never very difficult in his father’s overpowering presence), listening, learning everything he could from everyone who crossed his path. Fooling the High Prince had seemed only a briefly necessary extension of those years of deception.
But between the hatching and this time of flight, he had known power. Killing the dragon that had killed his father had shown him his skill and wits in a deadly fight. Meeting Sioned had shown him another kind of power—the Fire that bound them together and was capable of burning his soul. Presiding over his father’s pyre, over his vassals, over the banquet in the Great Hall, had given him a heady taste of being master of the Desert. And he admitted to himself that the journey from Stronghold had brought a freedom he had never known before. Out from under the eyes of his parents, commanding the entire company, all the decisions his—no, it was not easy to play the idiot’s role when he knew himself worthy of the position he could not yet claim.
He pretended to be guided by the advice of his vassals, and it was a good thing their suggestions were wise ones; he was prevented from having to overrule them, which would ruin the impression he struggled so hard to create. The other princes were firmly convinced he could be led like a lamb. But the tension was fraying his nerves.
Roelstra hinted constantly about his daughters, which