within earshot. He told them about the incident in the tavern, Pol’s conclusions about it, and especially Lleyn’s conversation with him, Chadric, and Audrite afterward. Chay’s fists clenched and Tobin’s black eyes narrowed dangerously, but neither said a word until Meath had finished.
“Does Sioned know?” Tobin asked.
“I told her yesterday on the sunlight, my lady. She wasn’t pleased,” he added with gentle understatement.
“I can imagine,” Chay muttered. “Well, Pol will be watched by even more eyes than usual, though none of us will breathe easy until he’s safe back at Graypearl. But the Rialla worries me. Do you think Rohan might be persuaded to change his mind and not take the boy?”
“Sioned didn’t tell me otherwise, so they must feel they can protect him,” Meath answered.
“And Rohan’s had this progress planned since last year. Damn!” Tobin kicked at a rock, her fists jammed into the pockets of her trousers. “I thought we’d rid ourselves of those damned Merida years ago!”
“I don’t like to leave Pol,” Meath said slowly. “Not even to the care of his own parents. He’s that important to me, and not just as the future High Prince and the son of my old friend. I love that boy more than if he was my own son. But I must go to Goddess Keep at once.”
“What you carry is that important?” Chay asked, then held up a hand. “Forgive me—I won’t question you any further about it, whatever it is. My best horses and two of my best people will be waiting for you tomorrow at dawn. They know the fastest and safest route.” He smiled slightly. “And they’ll look after you when you cross the rivers.”
Meath winced. “Please, my lord—don’t remind me!”
The faradhi left them. Chay and Tobin continued walking along the cliff path, mulling over the news. At last they sat down on a stone bench, their backs to the sea. Their castle rose before them: coveted, never breached, holding a young boy safe as he slept.
“There’s not a hint of her in him,” Chay said suddenly. “His hair’s a little darker than Rohan’s, and his jaw’s going to be longer, but otherwise it’s as if he had no mother at all.”
“More to the point, it’s as if Sioned very well could be his mother.”
“When are they going to tell him?”
“I don’t know. It’s not something anybody ever talks about. He must be told one day, I suppose—but when he’s older and can understand.”
“You mean when circumstances force it. You know as well as I that left to herself, Sioned would never let him know she’s not his real mother.”
“She is his real mother! In all but birthing him, Pol is Sioned’s son, not Ianthe’s!”
Chay pressed her hand in his own. “I don’t need convincing. But what would it do to him if he found out from somebody other than her or Rohan? Every year the chance grows.”
“Diminishes,” Tobin replied stubbornly. “There’s never been the slightest whisper. If anyone knew, they would have spoken up before now.”
“There’s knowledge and then there’s proof,” Chay reminded her. “It’s the latter I worry about.”
“Find me proof,” she scoffed. “The few who were at Skybowl and Stronghold love us and him and will say what Sioned and I tell them to say. As for those at Feruche—bah!” She dismissed them with an arrogant shrug. “The word of a few servants against that of two princesses!”
Chay knew that the surge of royal arrogance meant she felt threatened. “Let’s make a case,” he suggested despite the flash of warning in her eyes. “Let’s say there are women still alive who helped Ianthe that night, washed the baby, rocked the cradle—”
“They’d never be believed.”
“Then count how many hundreds knew Rohan was held at Feruche. And how many of them can count the appropriate number of days without using their fingers.”
Tobin was unperturbed. “She delivered early. They’ll think she was pregnant before she
“Does Sioned know?” Tobin asked.
“I told her yesterday on the sunlight, my lady. She wasn’t pleased,” he added with gentle understatement.
“I can imagine,” Chay muttered. “Well, Pol will be watched by even more eyes than usual, though none of us will breathe easy until he’s safe back at Graypearl. But the Rialla worries me. Do you think Rohan might be persuaded to change his mind and not take the boy?”
“Sioned didn’t tell me otherwise, so they must feel they can protect him,” Meath answered.
“And Rohan’s had this progress planned since last year. Damn!” Tobin kicked at a rock, her fists jammed into the pockets of her trousers. “I thought we’d rid ourselves of those damned Merida years ago!”
“I don’t like to leave Pol,” Meath said slowly. “Not even to the care of his own parents. He’s that important to me, and not just as the future High Prince and the son of my old friend. I love that boy more than if he was my own son. But I must go to Goddess Keep at once.”
“What you carry is that important?” Chay asked, then held up a hand. “Forgive me—I won’t question you any further about it, whatever it is. My best horses and two of my best people will be waiting for you tomorrow at dawn. They know the fastest and safest route.” He smiled slightly. “And they’ll look after you when you cross the rivers.”
Meath winced. “Please, my lord—don’t remind me!”
The faradhi left them. Chay and Tobin continued walking along the cliff path, mulling over the news. At last they sat down on a stone bench, their backs to the sea. Their castle rose before them: coveted, never breached, holding a young boy safe as he slept.
“There’s not a hint of her in him,” Chay said suddenly. “His hair’s a little darker than Rohan’s, and his jaw’s going to be longer, but otherwise it’s as if he had no mother at all.”
“More to the point, it’s as if Sioned very well could be his mother.”
“When are they going to tell him?”
“I don’t know. It’s not something anybody ever talks about. He must be told one day, I suppose—but when he’s older and can understand.”
“You mean when circumstances force it. You know as well as I that left to herself, Sioned would never let him know she’s not his real mother.”
“She is his real mother! In all but birthing him, Pol is Sioned’s son, not Ianthe’s!”
Chay pressed her hand in his own. “I don’t need convincing. But what would it do to him if he found out from somebody other than her or Rohan? Every year the chance grows.”
“Diminishes,” Tobin replied stubbornly. “There’s never been the slightest whisper. If anyone knew, they would have spoken up before now.”
“There’s knowledge and then there’s proof,” Chay reminded her. “It’s the latter I worry about.”
“Find me proof,” she scoffed. “The few who were at Skybowl and Stronghold love us and him and will say what Sioned and I tell them to say. As for those at Feruche—bah!” She dismissed them with an arrogant shrug. “The word of a few servants against that of two princesses!”
Chay knew that the surge of royal arrogance meant she felt threatened. “Let’s make a case,” he suggested despite the flash of warning in her eyes. “Let’s say there are women still alive who helped Ianthe that night, washed the baby, rocked the cradle—”
“They’d never be believed.”
“Then count how many hundreds knew Rohan was held at Feruche. And how many of them can count the appropriate number of days without using their fingers.”
Tobin was unperturbed. “She delivered early. They’ll think she was pregnant before she
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