Sunrunner's Fire Part 40

"To what what?" Sionell asked softly, and when the small hand tried to escape she held it fast. "How was he trying to use you, Meiglan?"

"I-I don't know-"

"Of course you do."

"No!"

"I knew it was Pol you saw that night at Tiglath. Or claimed claimed to have seen." to have seen."

"But I did-he was in my room, I saw him-"

"Did you?"

"Yes!" she wailed, struggling to free herself, tears welling in her soft eyes. "Please, you're hurting me-"

Sionell let go. Memory gave her the farcical little scene played out that night-for whose benefit? Hers? Meiglan's? Pol's? Whose, Whose, G.o.ddess d.a.m.n it to all h.e.l.ls- G.o.ddess d.a.m.n it to all h.e.l.ls- Meiglan was rubbing her wrist. It astonished Sionell that she had not fled. Surely she knew there would be more questions.

"My lady," the girl said with a pathetic dignity, "I can't make you believe me. I only know what I saw. And-and what I felt when we came here to Stronghold and it was him. him. I think my father used me as a d-diversion. So you would all look at me and s-suspect me. And so Mireva could c-come along and be free to work-he used me to bring a sorcerer here to destroy you-" I think my father used me as a d-diversion. So you would all look at me and s-suspect me. And so Mireva could c-come along and be free to work-he used me to bring a sorcerer here to destroy you-"

Seeing that her moment of self-command had vanished and tears were imminent again, Sionell looked down into pleading eyes and knew she had to make a choice, one way or the other. She could believe Meiglan innocent or suspect that she was not. This had nothing to do with Pol or Miyon's plots or anything else. This was between the two of them. She had offered Meiglan friends.h.i.+p before; she could continue to do so and have it be the truth or a lie, or reject her outright, now.

No one could possibly be so innocent. No one could possibly be so guilty and gaze up at her with such guileless liquid eyes.

As Sunrunners from Dorval to Kierst had heard Ruval's challenge on the last starlight, thus did they hear Pol's acceptance on noon sunlight.

Strong and sure, with a power previously felt only by those who had had contact with such masters as the late Lord Urival or those of Pol's own remarkable family, colors flowed along rivers of sun. Diamond-white, deep emerald, iridescent pearl, glowing golden topaz, the jewel tints of his mind were as a pattern in stained gla.s.s through which light streamed without shadow.

A few of those touched responded in words. Meath, who had been Pol's first teacher, paused in a meander through the ruins of a faradhi faradhi keep on Dorval where he had found the scrolls. Donato, who had accompanied Sioned to the Desert on Andrade's order thirty years ago, spoke from Pol's own Dragon's Rest. Several others who knew Pol or Sioned or both gave proud answer. One who would have could not; Alasen, playing with her children in the coolness of the bowl-shaped garden at Castle Crag, lacked the training to respond. But for the first time in her life she wished she did know how. She wanted to tell Pol how sure she was of his victory. keep on Dorval where he had found the scrolls. Donato, who had accompanied Sioned to the Desert on Andrade's order thirty years ago, spoke from Pol's own Dragon's Rest. Several others who knew Pol or Sioned or both gave proud answer. One who would have could not; Alasen, playing with her children in the coolness of the bowl-shaped garden at Castle Crag, lacked the training to respond. But for the first time in her life she wished she did know how. She wanted to tell Pol how sure she was of his victory.

The rest received the communication in silence. Of these, the Sunrunners at G.o.ddess Keep were the most troubled, just as they had been by the challenge of the previous night. For they, like Rohan, understood that it was not just Pol and his princedom at stake; it was all faradh'im. faradh'im. When they responded, it was to seek out Andry. When they responded, it was to seek out Andry.

He confirmed their suspicions and soothed their worries. What he did not reveal was that while Pol did battle with Ruval, he had other plans for Mireva. Andry wanted to be here even less than Rohan and Pol wanted him here-but here he would stay until this was over. Nialdan and Oclel chafed at the delay, not understanding why he had not ridden out immediately after the High Prince's unfair decree. He knew they suspected he was hoping for a softening in Rohan's position; Andry didn't bother to tell them that until Ruval and Mireva were dead, he would stay if he had to learn shape-changing himself in order to do it.

Pol finished his work and rested in the shade on a bench circling a tree in the gardens. Instinct had guided him to choose sunlight rather than stars. Diarmadhi Diarmadhi blood he might have, but he had been trained as a Sunrunner and thought of himself as such. Eventually he would get used to the idea that he possessed other powers-things he expected to use tonight-but for now he was strictly a Sunrunner. No one must ever know otherwise. blood he might have, but he had been trained as a Sunrunner and thought of himself as such. Eventually he would get used to the idea that he possessed other powers-things he expected to use tonight-but for now he was strictly a Sunrunner. No one must ever know otherwise.

One of the few people who did know appeared quite suddenly from the grotto pathway. Pol straightened from his weary slump at the sight of Sionell. She saw him at the same instant and her step faltered. Emotions tangled in his throat: shame, regret, resentment, longing for the old Sionell with her ready smile-and for the old Pol, who had been so blithely innocent. He sat there staring at her, unsure of his reception at her hands for the first time in his life. Speech or silence, either might bridge the chasm between them or widen it.

She spared him the trouble of deciding. After another moment's hesitation she approached and said, "I understand Ruval has made challenge to you."

Pol nodded. "I've just finished accepting. On sunlight."

"Of course." Her eyes, a deeper and truer blue than his, were calm and quiet. "I would have liked to have heard it."

"Just arrogance and posturing," he replied, shrugging. "It's expected. I'll meet him tonight, at Rivenrock."

"Alone?" Her voice betrayed a hint of bleakness, of pity. Then she answered her own question. "No, plenty of witnesses, of course."

But still alone, her eyes said, and he wondered why he deserved her compa.s.sion. "I'd like you to be there, Ell." her eyes said, and he wondered why he deserved her compa.s.sion. "I'd like you to be there, Ell."

"Invitation to an execution by sorcery," she mused. "A thing not to be missed, obviously."

The muscles of his arms, shoulders, and back tensed as if preparing for a battle of swords, not words. "If you'd rather not-"

"Oh, I'll be there. It ought to be very educational, even for those of us who know nothing of what Andry now calls magic." She paused, raking the dark red hair from her eyes. "You know, when I was little I wanted more than anything else to be one of you. To fly on sunlight the way dragons soar through the sky. . . ." Sionell clasped her hands behind her back; he wondered if it was to hide their trembling. "The art of being faradhi faradhi is one thing. The power of magic-I wouldn't have it now if someone offered it to me." is one thing. The power of magic-I wouldn't have it now if someone offered it to me."

"Why?" he challenged. "Are you afraid of it?"

"Of what it does to people. Your mother and Morwenna and Maarken and Hollis-they have such joy in what they can do. Such delight in the chance to fly. Andry doesn't. He might have had, once. But not anymore. You can see it in his eyes. He's learned how to use his gifts to kill." The blue eyes became piercing. "What about you, Pol? How much joy will you take in your powers once you've used them to kill your own brother?"

"What else can I do? Why are you making this worse for me? To pay me back?"

"Do you think I'm like that?" she flared. "That I'd deliberately-" She stopped, calmed herself with visible effort, and finished, "I said it because I don't want to see you become like Andry. With no joy left in your eyes."

That stung. "Ell-"

"I owe my first loyalty to your father as my prince, but you'll be in his position one day-High Prince and Sunrunner both. I want to see you become what you can can be, not what events bludgeon you into becoming." She looked as if she would have said more, but ended only with a little shrug. be, not what events bludgeon you into becoming." She looked as if she would have said more, but ended only with a little shrug.

"So your worry is for what kind of prince you'll have to deal with in the future," he said bitterly, and the hollow where certainty of her love had been ached anew. He was a political reality to her now, not a man. And it was his own fault; he had destroyed anything she might still feel for him.

A wiser part of him whispered that it was better so. Tallain deserved all of her heart. But it hurt; G.o.ddess, how it hurt to know that his own words had cost him Sionell's caring, lost him that part of her he had always thought of as his alone.

He got to his feet, more drained now than even the strain of a powerful Sunrunning had made him. "Thank you for your honesty. What was it Mother told you when we were little? That a prince who reminds others of it isn't much of a prince? How much less a prince he is if others have to remind him! him! If you'll excuse me, I'll have preparations to make for my coming act of fratricide." If you'll excuse me, I'll have preparations to make for my coming act of fratricide."

"Stop it, Pol!"

But he strode away from her, seeking the shaded silence of a little grove near the grotto from which she had come. She did not come after him. And perhaps that hurt most of all.

"So," Miyon drawled. "My little hothouse rose, so carefully nurtured, has grown thorns."

Meiglan froze. Miyon smiled down at her where she sat on a flat rock near the grotto pool. His quiet, silken approach had terrified her more than if he'd come here roaring out his rage. Good.

"You have few usable wits, but enough to understand that this has not endeared you to me. Had you thought about what will happen once you have no highborn allies to protect you?"

She looked sick, her skin turning slightly green.

"At Castle Pine there will be no one to rescue you when I whip the skin from your bones."

"I won't go. I'm staying here."

The defiance infuriated him, but he made himself laugh. "By the G.o.ddess, it has a brain after all! Yes, you will will stay here! Can you guess why?" stay here! Can you guess why?"

"Stay-?" she whispered. "You will let me stay?"

Miyon loomed over her, and menace replaced the laughter. "Until the Rialla Rialla at Dragon's Rest. After that, you will at Dragon's Rest. After that, you will stay stay there. As Pol's wife." there. As Pol's wife."

Meiglan stared up at him dumbly. Breath rasped in her lungs and she trembled like a captive wild thing.

"He can't keep his eyes from you. It should be fairly easy for you to trap him into a formal Choice. Use these newfound wits of yours. Because only when you are his wife will you be safe."

Her mute anguish ignited his temper at last. Plucking her up by the shoulders, he shook her until her bones rattled. But she did not cry out, which angered him even more.

"Do you understand? Do you hear what I'm telling you, daughter of a wh.o.r.e? Your mother schemed to become a princess. You will be High Princess High Princess once that dragon-sp.a.w.n who sired Pol is dead. It's the only way to save your own life." once that dragon-sp.a.w.n who sired Pol is dead. It's the only way to save your own life."

"And yours," she breathed, and light came back into her eyes.

Miyon dropped her to the ground, where she crumpled like a rag doll. "I was afraid I'd have to use words of one syllable," he snapped. "You're quite right, my precious jewel. Rohan can scarcely execute the father of his son's wife."

"No." But it was not agreement with his a.n.a.lysis; rather, defiance.

"You will do it," he said. "Wed him and bed him and make him the perfect little princess. G.o.ddess help him!" He managed a real laugh this time. "A mouse has more spirit, a plow-elk more intelligence! You have beauty and music, and that's all. No use to a prince. He'll rule alone. You'll never be any worth to him except in breeding his heirs and playing him to sleep with your lute."

She flinched, but there was something in her eyes-something. He must not lose his advantage of terror over her, lest she see his own fear. His life was in the hands of the daughter he despised. She held the whip now; he could not let her feel it in her fingers.

"No," she said again, this time with more voice in it. "I won't do this. Sionell will protect me-she's my friend, she said so just now-"

"Brave try," he sneered. "There's only one problem. You want Pol. Don't you, sweet little flower? Don't you!"

He had her now. It didn't much matter why she obeyed him-through fear of him or love of Pol-as long as she did obey. And she would, or lose the dragon's son forever. She bent her head to her knees and quivered, but the sound that came from her was not a moan. It was "Yes."

Satisfied, Miyon gazed down at her for a moment more. Then he hauled her up by the shoulders again. "Future High Princesses do not bury their faces in the dirt," he mocked, "not even to their fathers."

She looked up at him, dark eyes sparking with some of the courage of that morning. He slapped her across the face, snapping her head to one side and nearly breaking her nose.

"Remember that," he growled, and released her. She staggered but managed to keep her feet. With a last contemptuous glance that hid his relief, Miyon turned on his heel and strode away.

Meiglan's ankle stabbed painfully as she limped to the pool. She knelt to wash her face, crying out softly when her sc.r.a.ped and b.l.o.o.d.y hands contacted the cold. The water she splashed on her face dripped dark. Her cheek was on fire, her nose not quite numb. With movements which after a time became automatic, she kept rinsing her face until the bleeding stopped.

For the second time that day she was startled by a voice behind her. But this one-soft, worried, weary-caught her heart. "My lady? Are you all right?"

Frantically she sluiced more water onto her burning face. Though there was no more blood, she could feel the bruises swelling her cheek and nose. Yet she could not avoid him. So she stood, trying not to favor her injured ankle, and met his gaze with what she hoped was pride enough.

His reaction was immediate and frightening. His eyes kindled with fury, lips thinned to a lethal slash, it was a face she had never seen him wear. "Your father?" he demanded.

She nodded helplessly. "I don't want to go back to Castle Pine! Ever!"

He came toward her, mist from the waterfall gathering in his hair. As he pa.s.sed from shadow into a shaft of sunlight through the trees, the droplets shone like a crown of tiny rainbows. "Ah, Meggie," he whispered, brus.h.i.+ng the curls from her brow. "You needn't be afraid of him ever again. I promise."

The sound of her childhood name was so piercing sweet that tears came to her eyes. And again she surprised herself, for she had not wept in front of her father, not even when he had slapped her. But now-now a sob strangled her breathing. It escaped as a soft moan and she turned away.

"You don't believe me?" he asked.

She made herself answer. "If you say it, then it must be true."

His hands rested on her shoulders, light and tender over the bruises her father had given her. "It helps me, knowing you trust me. That seems to be in rather short supply."

She risked a glance over her shoulder. His face was pensive, solemn. "How could anyone not not trust you?" trust you?"

Her honest amazement made him smile, and he turned her to face him. "You are the most wondrously innocent person I've ever met. There's no subterfuge in you, is there? None of that proud cleverness that surrounds me-that I flatter myself I possess."

She remembered her father's mockery, and flushed.

"That's the difference between me and my father," he went on, more to himself than to her. "He has a patience I envy but will never possess. It's the patience of cunning-but I'm not comfortable with it. I can't emulate him."

She struggled for understanding. "You have your own way of doing things, my lord."

He continued as if she hadn't spoken. "I think what it must be is that he feels things more deeply than I do. He takes them personally. Not in the sense of being offended, but-as if he's responsible even when he isn't. I don't have the courage to inflict that on myself. I don't know how he does it, quite frankly-or why. I don't have patience or strength to fight the way he does."

"But not everything that goes wrong is your responsibility," she ventured, trying to comprehend him. "Your way is better than his."

"Do you think so?" He was truly concerned with her reply. She gave it without hesitation.

"Yes, my lord. You are not your father. Your battles are not his."

"And there's a battle coming tonight for me that he can have no part in." Pol touched her hair again. "Meggie-afterward, if I survive this-"

"Of course you will survive! You must!" She could not conceive of what might happen if he did not; the very idea terrified her.

A smile came to his face again, softening his expression. "Thank you. Whether you said that because you know it's what I needed to hear, or whether you truly believe it, thank you."

"I trust in you, my lord. You will win."

He must.

Pol leaned down and kissed her mouth: gently at first, quietly, but with a growing pa.s.sion that not even an inexperienced virgin could mistake. As his lips traveled slowly down her throat, she gave a tiny, s.h.i.+vering sigh.

She was confused when he lifted his head and looked into her eyes again. Had she done something wrong? Was she supposed to say something, do something?

"So innocent," he whispered, "you are are innocent, Meggie." innocent, Meggie."

Her cheeks burned anew. Of course he was used to women who knew how to kiss a man. He was her first. It humiliated her that this was so obvious to him.

He was smiling at her now, a wistful smile that melted away all emotion but newly discovered love for him. He was powerful; he would protect her with his cleverness and his strength; she would be safe. The notion was as foreign to her as the love, as the sudden desire that trembled through her while looking up at the sweet curve of his mouth.

"May I watch tonight, my lord, when you take the battle to your enemy?" Surprise flickered over his face. "I want to see you win."

"You really do believe it, don't you?" he mused.