his mind that perhaps he might give into their maneuverings—just once—and see what sort of experience he could acquire. But he banished the notion instantly. One did not do such things to princesses, and especially not when one was in love with another woman who was a Sunrunner into the bargain. Being an honorable man was a bother.
Prince Clutha gave an outdoor dinner for his fellow princes and a select group of athr’im that second night, and Rohan was profoundly grateful that all the talk was of the next day’s races, not of politics, trade, and defense. Almost all the talk.
“—and the river of fire-gold hair down her back? Incredible!” Lord Ajit of the five wives smacked his lips and grinned at Lord Bethoc beside him, directly across the table from Rohan. “You’re a young man, Bethoc, and wifeless—but I tell you from experience that redheads are fire inside and out!”
“She’s a Sunrunner,” Bethoc sniffed, thereby ending any doubts Rohan might have entertained about which lady they were discussing. The Lord of Catha Heights selected a ripe plum from the fruit tray, squeezed it to pulp the innards, and slit the skin with his knife. “The faradhi bitch assigned to my keep—fah!” He sucked at the plum and discarded the emptied skin on the grass. “I asked her to conjure me a little Fire on a cold night, and she told me I could strike steel to flint as well as any man and had an army of servants to do it for me if I was getting feeble!”
Ajit grinned wider, his dark eyes gleaming in the torchlight. “So you tried to seduce her, eh? A mistake, my friend. Try it again and you’ll have Andrade looming over you like a she-dragon.”
“I note that doesn’t keep you from lusting after this fire-haired girl.”
“Lust is one thing, prudence quite another. Not even Roelstra dares anger Andrade. There are times when I believe she truly is a witch.”
“You just noticed?” Bethoc asked sarcastically. “They all are, including this girl.”
“Good women are so boring. My third wife was a positive miracle of dullness. The most exciting thing she ever did was die in her sleep.”
Rohan wondered if they thought him so dull-witted that he was unable to hear his aunt’s name spoken right in front of him. So Sioned was admired, was she? He felt at once smug and jealous, and suspected he’d be feeling only the former if she was his acknowledged lady.
Prince Lleyn of Dorval, who sat to his right, caught his attention and asked, “I don’t suppose I can convince you to persuade Lord Chaynal not to ride tomorrow? The very least you could do is limit him to entering only half the races. He takes away all the sport, for he invariably wins.”
Rohan laughed. He liked the old man, whose son Chadric had been a squire at Stronghold when Rohan was little. “You’ll take away all his sport if you forbid him to race. He likes to terrify my sister, then laugh at her when she blisters his ears for not being more careful of his precious carcass.”
Lleyn’s blue eyes, faded with age but merry as a boy’s, twinkled with pleasure. “I take leave to doubt that, Rohan. I don’t believe your sister has ever been frightened in her life, and I’m positive that even a scold from her would be purest music to any man’s ears.”
Rohan leaned over and tapped Chay’s shoulder. “Did you hear that? He thinks Tobin’s rages ought to be set to music!”
“War drums,” Chay agreed. “She smiles at you, Lleyn, because you dandled her on your knee when she was a child and gave her sweets to make her fat. And you still flirt with her until I ought to run you through! But being her husband isn’t all it’s rumored to be!”
“Then to escape her wrath, you’ll not race tomorrow?” Lleyn asked with a sly grin.
“Not a chance! My Akkal is more than ready, and he’ll win unless somebody has something hidden away with four good legs on it.”
“If I were thirty years younger—” Lleyn chuckled.
“But I thought you were!” Rohan said. “You’re certainly about to drink everyone right under the table.”
“When you’re old, the only pleasures left are food and drink—and winking at pretty girls like Tobin. But if I could ride anything capable of more than a trot, I’d give Chay a run for that prize money.”
“Hadn’t you heard?” Chay asked. “We’re racing for jewels this year, not money. Pity I