simply staring awestruck at the dragons. Only Sionell saw Pol take a deep breath to steady himself, fix his gaze on a large blue-gray three-year-old with silvery underwings, and close his eyes.
The young dragon stood with wings spread out to dry after his swim. Well-grown for his age, as an adult he would be a sire of formidable size. His head with its long face and huge eyes turned toward Pol, then away, then shook as if insects irritated him. Shuffling to one side, he bumped into another youngling who growled at him.
Sionell held her breath, willing Pol to succeed. How could he not? Nothing had ever been denied him; the world and all its dragons were his by right.
But not today.
The dragon shrieked, head lashing toward the sky. Pol cried out at the same time, a terrible groan that shuddered his whole frame. Sionell flung her arms around him to keep him upright, calling his name.
“Pol! You idiot!” Rohan gathered him from her and lowered him to the grass. His eyes were open and he mumbled incoherently, the muscles of his legs and arms quivering. Sionell knelt, shifting Pol’s head to her lap. Rohan framed his son’s face with his hands and called his name.
The dragon howled again and took wing, circling the lake in panicked flight. All at once Pol’s eyes opened startled and wide. He gave a great sigh and went bonelessly unconscious.
“Idiot,” Rohan said again, but in a relieved tone this time. “Maarken, Tallain, get him out of here and put him to bed.”
The young Lord of Tiglath gently assisted Sionell to her feet. “He’ll be all right now, my lady. Let us take care of him.”
She nodded numbly, grateful for his strong supporting arm as he gave her over to Arlis. Pol was slung between the two young men and carried away, utterly oblivious.
“Whatever possessed him to try such a thing?” Hollis asked. “He knows how difficult it is—”
“You just answered your own question,” said the High Princess. “If he’d gotten tangled in that dragon’s colors—”
“He wanted to ask about Elisel,” Sionell murmured.
“Perhaps,” Sioned conceded. “But what he really wanted, what he’s always wanted, is to touch a dragon himself.”
Rohan rubbed a hand over his face. “If he wasn’t already to be punished by a sore brain for the next two days, I’d take him over my knee.”
“I’d take him by the ears and shake some sense into him—if I could reach up that far,” Sioned countered. “Has that poor dragon settled down yet?”
“Sunning himself and having a snack,” Arlis reported. “Are you all right now, my lady?”
Sionell managed a shaky smile for the future Prince of Kierst-Isel. “Thank you, my lord.”
Pol woke in time for dinner, sat up, moaned, clutched his aching skull, and collapsed back into the pillows. Tallain came downstairs to inform them that the prince had wisely decided to stay in his room.
“How long did it take you to bully him into it?” Rohan asked curiously.
Tallain grinned. “Two tries at standing, one at getting his pants on, and some very creative cursing, my lord. I hardly had to say anything at all.”
“Good man. Let him convince himself. Walvis, I assume Feylin is lost in her statistics again, and won’t be joining us for dinner?”
They were a small group that night, seated around a table in what would one day be the guards’ mess. Sioned had chosen to stay upstairs and wait for first moonlight to contact Riyan at Skybowl; he would know about Elisel. Chay, Tobin, and Maarken were at the stables tending a mare suspected of colic. So Arlis served Rohan, Walvis, Sionell, Tallain, and Hollis from a cauldron of stew made of leftovers from the Lastday banquet. When sweets and taze were presented at the end of the meal, the young prince was dismissed to his own dinner.
Despite the day’s events, conversation was not of dragons or Sunrunning. Rohan plied Tallain with questions about an agreement signed only days ago with Miyon of Cunaxa regarding the border between princedoms. The gist of the matter was, could Tallain live with the terms?
“Kabil of Tuath and I had a long talk this spring. With Sunrunners at our holdings able to contact Riyan at any time, we both feel fairly secure. And glad to give our people something better to do than patrol.”
“Trust my son to need more iron than even Sioned was able to trick Miyon out of,” Rohan sighed. “And trust Miyon that the only way to get it was