Dragon Prince 01 - Dragon Prince (79 page)

But this year of war and anguish had taught him that the past lived inside him—all the impulses toward killing rage and rape that had governed his world for so long. They were all within him, all the acts that marked him as a barbarian, all the things said and done that made his soul writhe with shame. He knew what he was, and admitted it.

Rohan had looked into his own heart and seen Roelstra’s gleeful manipulation of one prince against another; he had seen Ianthe’s scheming need for power; he had seen his father Zehava’s warrior instincts victorious, the urges that had slain dragons even when he had known full well their importance to the Desert.

But had Rohan truly seen the worst of himself? Probably not—for all those things were nothing compared to what power could make of him.

Only Sioned knew how deeply he despised the princes and lords who had so cravenly handed such power to him, the ones who had bowed to him the way they had bowed to Roelstra without ever seeing the truth of power itself. Only Lleyn, Davvi, Chay, those who knew Rohan as a man, understood a little of what being High Prince would mean to him. He would use it to create new laws that, please the Goddess, would feel like old laws by the time he died. Chay had told him that he was their only chance; Rohan knew that his was the only risk. It was his heart that power might twist, his dreams it might warp.

Yet he would not have given up knowledge of what he was. He had seen himself, recognized all the things he had feared as the enemies of the life he wanted to make—and he was no longer afraid of them. The only thing he feared was power. Taking it into his hands, making sure all accepted his authority, still he knew that it could become an enemy even more deadly than the barbarian within him. Yet for his son he would dare it, knowing that as both prince and Sunrunner, Pol’s struggle with power would be even more fearsome.

Rohan watched his wife and son for a long time in silence, wondering how the boy had so quickly won him. There had been bad times after his return to Stronghold, times when he had deliberately hurt Sioned, seeking to ease his own pain and guilt by causing deeper pain in her; times when she had lashed out at him for the same reason. But always there was the child, and in many ways it was through him that they had found their way back to each other. Pol had a way of fastening his wide blue-green eyes on his father that seemed to see into his soul. Rohan had not wanted to acknowledge this son who was not of Sioned’s blood or bearing, but Pol had been the one to claim
him
with those eyes. It was love for their child that linked Rohan and Sioned those first difficult days after his return—love that had reawakened the Fire between them.

Rohan stroked his son’s downy head, smiling as the child wriggled contentedly to Sioned’s breast. She might believe that what they had done had been for themselves, but Rohan knew it had been for Pol. He had forgotten for a long time something he had always known, something Roelstra’s taunts in the circle of starfire had caused to rise up within him once more. He supposed Sioned’s barrenness had made him forget on purpose; he had not dared think too much about children when there was so little hope. But, driven to his knees beneath that dome of silvery light, he had known again that all he dreamed and planned and did was for his child. Pol, innocent of the past, would have the best future he and Sioned could give. A life meant little if the world it had had the power to fashion was no better than the one it had been born into.

“I think our hatchling is finished for the moment,” Sioned murmured. “Would you like to hold him?”

Rohan accepted Pol into his arms. Sleepy eyes blinked up at him and the child gave an inelegant burp. Rohan grinned. “He doesn’t seem too impressed by the honor.”

Sioned chuckled and tied up the laces of her bedgown. “You get quite enough bowing and praise from everyone else. The last place you’ll find such things is in your own family.”

“Would you believe me if I told you that’s a relief?”

“Of course—and I can hardly wait to see the back of all these highborns so we can be just ourselves again.”

“They’ll be gone soon. But it can’t be the way it was before, Sioned,” he warned gently.

“I know. Too much has changed—especially us.” She smoothed the hair from his forehead, where the silver circlet had left marks. “I understand what’s happened, but understanding isn’t the same as forgiving.”

“I can’t say I care whether Andrade forgives us or not.”

“Nor I,” Sioned admitted. “I love you, and that’s stronger than any
faradhi
vow I ever made. It frightened me at first. It still does. But I think the one who’ll have to do the forgiving is Pol.”

They put the child to bed in the next room where his nurse waited in the soft lamplight. The carved wooden cradle had been a gift from Chay and Tobin at the New Year. Pale green silk was draped over half the cradle, gathered above the baby’s head in the jaws of a benevolent ruby-eyed dragon whose carved wings spread out on either side to guard him. Rohan and Sioned stayed long enough to make sure Pol was asleep, then returned to their own chamber.

She sat down on the bed to brush out her hair. Rohan lay at her side to watch. Candlelight was soft on the graceful lines of her shoulders and arms, shone golden in her red hair. He was beginning to get used to the single emerald on her hand. Though Andrade had offered to replace the other rings, Sioned had refused. This had been a major point of contention between them, signifying as it did that Sioned, while a Sunrunner, was no longer to be ruled by those at Goddess Keep.

“Lleyn told me something the other day,” Rohan mused. “Andrade may have thought she was mating the powers of a prince to those of a
faradhi
—but he said that what she really did was join those powers in love. I think that makes us dangerous people, Sioned.”

“More dangerous than Roelstra and Ianthe?”

“Much. They found their power in hate. What if they’d won? There’d be nothing left for them to take their vengeance on. But for us, love—there’s nothing we can’t do, and nothing Pol won’t be able to do. And that makes us very dangerous indeed.”

“No wonder Andrade’s not speaking to me,” she said lightly. Then, setting the brush aside, she smiled and went on, “Now that you mention it, there
is
someone who’d give full appreciation to being held by the High Prince—dangerous or not. And with the hatchling asleep, there’s a Fire to be rekindled here.”

“My lady, it never went out—and it never will.”