feels he knows what he should of faradhi arts, he’ll take over Princemarch from Ostvel and rule from Dragon’s Rest.”
Urival nodded. “How close to completion is the new keep?”
“It’s coming along slowly,” Rohan admitted. “I hope to have one large building and two smaller ones finished by the Rialla.”
Morwenna was startled. “Five years you’ve been working on it, and only three parts done?”
The basics of a small defensive keep could be finished in a year. Upper stories and embellishments—what Sorin was doing now—could take up to two more. The fancy work of towers, spires, and so forth could go on forever, depending on the ambitions, tastes, and funding of the builder. Feruche was taking a long time because it was something of an experiment; techniques used there would be applied to Dragon’s Rest. But the latter was not a keep; it was to be a palace.
Rohan said, “We’re not creating a castle, but an impression. It must be perfect for the first Rialla held there.”
“What you’re saying is that your three parts of Dragon’s Rest will be completely finished, down to the rugs and doorknobs,” Urival mused.
“Yes.” He rose and opened the shutters, letting in light and air.
“I’ll wager Princess Gennadi is relieved not to have the responsibility of the Rialla at Waes anymore,” said Morwenna.
“But young Geir is not,” Rohan reminded her. “He’s sixteen, and that’s a proud age. Gennadi allowed him to preside with her at the Lastday banqueting, when the move to Dragon’s Rest was formally announced. If looks were daggers. . . .” He shrugged.
“Taking the Rialla from Waes wasn’t perhaps the smartest thing you ever did,” Urival remarked. “But I can see the necessity. Bring the princes to Pol once every three years and make your—impression. Be that as it may, we will need more than that, his status as your heir, and the Princemarch title to fulfill Andrade’s scheme.”
“And that’s what it’s about for you in the end, isn’t it?” Rohan asked softly. “She chose Andry to succeed her because she could choose none other—and was just as trapped into accepting Pol as her faradhi prince.”
The old Sunrunner got to his feet and said with dignity, “Your own schemes mesh with hers, my lord High Prince.”
“Not necessarily.”
“Lying to yourself was never one of your vices.”
“I have others more interesting,” Rohan said smoothly, “but this is hardly the time to discuss them. I tell you now, my lord, that what Pol learns he will use as he sees fit. Sunrunner arts or sorcery, neither you nor Andrade’s memory nor anything else will rule him in their use.”
“Just like Andry,” Urival snapped.
“With a subtle difference.” He gave the old man a hard smile. “You trust Pol.”
Chapter Five
725: Dragon’s Rest
The roses had not performed to expectations. Everything and everyone else had, this first Rialla at the new palace, but not the roses. Pol had been extremely irritated. How dare flowers not bloom precisely when and as he wishes them to? Sionell asked herself acidly as she paced the water garden. Ruler of Princemarch, High Prince’s heir, Sunrunner—thwarted by uncooperative roses. Serves him right—arrogant swine.
Reaching a little hillock at the garden’s edge, she sat with her back to a sapling and began shredding the leaves of an inoffensive bush. It needed a trim anyway, she thought—just like Pol’s conceit. Newly knighted, awash in compliments for the beauty of the Princes Hall—and hip-deep in pretty girls—he’d had a lovely Rialla. Just lovely.
She had seen him at least once a day for the past twenty days. He positively oozed self-confidence for all that this was his first year as a ruling prince, mingling with his highborn guests or striding purposefully to yet another meeting (where he was undoubtedly brilliant, tactful, and wise, she told herself snidely). Everyone’s model of perfection, was Pol of Princemarch.
Who had come to greet his parents riding on the back of a cow.
Sionell felt her mouth defy her mood by twitching upward at the corners, remembering her first sight of him after six years. Any romantic notions about his riding back into her life (or, more accurately, she into his, through the narrow gorge that protected the valley of Dragon’s Rest) on one of those golden horses had crumpled like old parchment. Rohan had blinked in astonishment, Sioned had sighed and rolled her gaze skyward, and Pol had smiled innocently.
“You caught me in the middle of trying her paces! Actually, she’s quite comfortable, once you get seated right. I may start a new fashion. No, really,