tunic of Princemarch’s violet, his shoulders beginning to broaden toward maturity, he had been a prince to his fingertips.
But no faradhi rings sparkled on his fingers. Nor had Lord Andry offered them. Only the moonstone that had been Lady Andrade’s, reset into a ring sized to his hand, told of his Sunrunner gifts. The unspoken, unacknowledged antagonism between Pol and Andry had not been allowed to spoil the work or the festivities of the Rialla, but everyone knew it was there. Only a matter of time before they clashed, Sionell’s father had muttered one evening, shaking his head. She hoped it wouldn’t happen. But she also knew who would win.
Seating herself on the blue tiles at the fountain’s rim, she trailed her hand through the water to wash leaf-stains from it and smiled grimly at her own unadorned fingers. Like Pol, she would never wear faradhi rings. But, unlike him, she had no choice in the matter.
“What are you doing out here all alone, Ell?”
She glanced around. Pol strode lithely toward her from the shell of his future home, long legs encased in tan riding leathers and tall black boots, white shirt open at his throat. His waist was circled by a belt dyed blue and violet, decorated with the gold buckle of his new knighthood and by a dagger set with amethysts that had been Chay and Tobin’s gift. Energy and power rippled from him; sunlight crowned his sun-bleached head with bright gold.
How can I want him and hate him at the same time? Then, chiding herself disgustedly, Oh, grow up! You’ve always known it was hopeless—
“It’s quiet here,” she said aloud. “After all the fuss, I was enjoying the silence.”
“If it’s quiet you want, why are you staying to watch the dragons? Goddess, the racket they make! You will stay until they get here, won’t you?”
“Of course. My mother wouldn’t miss them.”
Pol chuckled and propped one boot on the fountain rim. “Feylin’s almost as scared of dragons as she is fascinated by them. But they don’t frighten you, do they? Remember years ago at Skybowl, when you nearly fell out a window trying to fly after them?”
Sionell laughed easily. “As if you never wanted to do the same thing!”
Grinning wry agreement, he gestured to the Princes Hall. “I haven’t had the chance to ask you how you like my two-fifths of a palace.”
“It’s magnificent—as you don’t need me to tell you. Now that everybody’s gone, I suppose you can get back to work on the rest of it.”
“Only until the rains. That was our big mistake—we never considered how much time we lose to winter. But no snow, thank the Goddess.”
“Better to thank the Storm God. But I’d like to see it snow someday. I’m told it’s beautiful.”
“I’ve ridden through it, walked on it, and even slept on top of it, but I’ve never seen it fall, either.”
“From what Princess Iliena says, it’s rather like a freezing sandstorm—only it blows down, not across.”
“Down, if you’re lucky,” Pol corrected. “Across, with a vengeance if you get stuck in a blizzard.”
Such polite, social conversation; they might have been friendly strangers. “Iliena must find Graypearl a nice change after Snowcoves.”
“Strange, isn’t it? That she and her sister married brothers.” He hesitated, then shrugged and went on, “And that Ludhil and Laric visited Snowcoves and fell in love at exactly the same time.”
He sounded wistful. Perhaps his parents were hinting that with Dragon’s Rest livable, if not finished, he ought to start looking for a wife. If she steered the talk away from love, he might suspect—no, he had never suspected a damned thing. Arrogant, insufferable, and blind.
“I think Iliena got the better geographical bargain by marrying Chadric’s heir,” she replied lightly. “Lisiel may be Princess of Firon now as Laric’s wife, but she’s still in blizzard country.”
“Do you know what Firon means in the old language? ‘Silent hoof.’ A tribute to the snow, no doubt.” He paused again. “I’m supposed to go find myself a princess, you know,” he finished irritably.
So he wasn’t ready yet. Interesting. “In your position, they’ll come looking for you.”
“Don’t I know it. In a way, I’d like it to happen quickly—it’d save me years of nonsense. Trying to find the right person must be awful. I haven’t even started yet.”
“But they have,” she said before thinking, remembering all the highborn maidens who had clustered around him during the Rialla. Sionell had removed herself from the vicinity as often as possible, accompanied by her own clutch of