The Dragon Prince (33 page)

For all the sarcasm in Bridei’s voice, there
was a kind of wistfulness there as well. Rhun understood that. The
tale of Maelgwn and his first wife was touching enough to inspire a
dozen laments. To think that out of grief over losing Aurora in
childbirth, his father had actually given up his kingdom for over
five years and dwelt in a priory. Knowing how impatient and
contemptuous Maelgwn was of the clergy, it seemed even more
remarkable. But if Eastra died Rhun knew he would feel the same, as
if a part of his soul had been cut out. That was why he was going
to see her, against all his better sense and reason.

He grabbed up his saddle pack and began to
rummage in it for something to eat. As soon as the fog lifted they
would set out. They were not far, just a few valleys over from a
long vale that led down to Deganwy. At the thought, his body
tightened with expectation and yearning. Eastra would haunt his
dreams for the rest of his life. He wondered if the same were true
for her. If he died, would she mourn for him for years? He didn’t
want that. It grieved him to think of her being unhappy. Another
reason to be careful what he said to her. He could make no
promises. If war came, he might be dead in a fortnight.

He sighed. It seemed cruel to bind her to
him even more closely, to make her hope for a future that could
never be. But he knew he would not be able to help himself. His
feelings for her were too intense, too overwhelming. And if he were
really going to die, why should he not know some happiness in the
brief time left to him? He’d cursed himself for becoming like
Bridei, for forgetting his duty and seizing pleasure and
satisfaction in the moment. But right now it seemed like the only
thing to do.

He wondered if some of Morguese’s love spell
still clung to him. Or maybe it was this place, this ancient,
haunted land of mountains and mist. Time did not seem to matter
here, and the goals and dreams of one man’s lifetime seemed as
inconsequential as one small stone skittering down the
hillside.

“Hand me the wineskin,” Bridei said. “And
I’ll sing you a song to cheer you up.”

Rhun nodded. For once, he was willing to
listen to his brother’s advice and drown his sorrows in wine and
music.

“Let me carry the basket!” Mabon cried.

“Let me! Let me!” echoed Gwydion. “I’m the
eldest.”

“By a few heartbeats only,” Mabon returned.
“We’re the same age in truth. Mama said so!”

“Come now, don’t squabble,” Elen, their
older sister, said with a laugh. “If you’re going to walk with us,
you have to behave. What do you say we let one of you carry the
basket there, and the other the way back?”

“It will be full on the way back,” Mabon
said. “I’m the strongest, so I’ll carry it then.”

“Nay,
I’m
the strongest.”

“Are not!”

“Hush, children,” Rhiannon said softly. “If
you’re too noisy, I won’t show you the fox den on the way to the
berry patch. You’ll have to be quiet if you want to see the kits
playing.”

The twins immediately went silent. Eastra
glanced at Rhiannon, amused by her ploy to distract her youngest
children from their fighting. She hadn’t raised her voice or
threatened them with any sort of discipline, but the quarrelsome,
rambunctious five-year-olds obeyed their mother instantly. Rhiannon
had a gift, Eastra thought, of bringing calm and peace where ever
she went. But then, for someone with such lively children, such a
skill was probably necessary for survival.

As Eastra followed Rhiannon and the children
along the worn pathway to the forest, she could not help musing on
the different natures of Rhun’s half siblings. The red-haired twins
seemed to take after Maelgwn and were quick and passionate as fire.
They had the sort of competitive natures that made it easy to
imagine them as warriors someday. Sixteen-year-old Elen had near
black hair, but appeared as cool and ethereal as the mist, very
much like her mother. Her younger sister Anwyl had reddish tresses
and a fiery temperament to match her coloring. And then there were
Beli and Bridei—one red-haired, one dark; one dutiful and sweet,
the other rebellious and cynical.

Eastra decided Rhun must have taken after
his mother, Morganna. Not only was his coloring much different than
the rest of his family, but he was not hot-tempered and excitable
like Maelgwn, but more like the earth, solid, real, dependable. A
fierce ache shot through her at the thought. How she needed him,
his big, strong arms around her, the tender glow in his beautiful
blue eyes warming her, his smell, so alive and male and
intoxicating. She thought of his babe growing inside her. When
would she have a chance to tell Rhun about the baby? When would she
ever see him again? Rhiannon had said he was on his way, but days
had passed and there was no sign of him. Sighing, Eastra turned to
glance back toward the fortress.

Rhiannon gave her a sympathetic look. “I
thought if you went berrying with us, it would lift your
spirits.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be in such a
melancholy temper.”

“Of course not. But if you are unhappy,
perhaps it would be best if you returned to the fortress.”

Eastra nodded. She didn’t really want to
leave, but neither did she want her mood to ruin things for the
others.

“Why don’t you take the path along the
river?” Rhiannon suggested. “The cranesbill and foxglove are
especially pretty right now. And you might find some early
raspberries there if you decide to do some berrying after all.”

Eastra turned and took the path to where the
trackway ran along the river. She could feel her despondency
increasing, like a terrible weight inside her. Rhun wasn’t coming.
Now that she was safe at Gwynedd, he had no interest in her. She’d
never meant anything to him. A few hours of pleasure, that was all
she’d been to him.

Even as she wallowed in her bitter thoughts,
a voice inside her screamed “no!” She did believe he didn’t care
for her. It was only that his sense of duty was stronger than his
feelings for her. That must be why he didn’t come. Arthur needed
him. Another wave of anxiety swept over her. Was the truce broken?
Would there be war again, the endless fighting that had destroyed
everything she ever cared about?

Tears filled her eyes. Tears for herself,
for the loneliness she felt even surrounded by Rhun’s family. Tears
for the babe she carried that it might never know its father. Tears
for her own dead kin, for the child she had been, that playful,
innocent girl whose life had been altered forever. And tears for
Rhun, the man she loved more than her own life. She would give up
everything if only he would be safe.

As she neared the river, the way grew
slippery. Eastra swiped away her tears so she could focus on where
she placed her feet. When she finally glanced up, her heart did a
sudden lurch. She could see two figures leading horses, approaching
Deganwy from downriver. She stared. They looked so familiar, so...
She gasped. It was Rhun and Bridei!

She wanted to run to him and throw herself
into his arms. Instead, she forced herself to walk toward him at a
steady, sedate pace. Rhun saw her and handed the reins of his mount
to Bridei. He started toward her. When he’d almost reached her, he
stopped. Eastra also came to a halt and faced him uncertainly. He
stared at her. “I’d forgotten,” he said. “Forgotten how beautiful
you were.”

Eastra closed the distance between them.
Then she was in his arms, eyes closed, reveling in the feel of him,
the wild, earthy male scent she remembered so well. He stroked her
face. “Eastra, my darling. Everything was worth it for this.
Everything.”

His voice, the rumbling, warm sound of it,
filled her soul until she thought she would burst. His arms
tightened around her and she felt him rub his stubbled jaw against
her hair. Then he began to kiss her. He kissed the side of her
head, then her face. Tender kisses, although his whiskers were
rough against her skin.

Their mouths mated, merged. Their bodies
entwined, desperate to be close. Their essences combined. The magic
rose between them, warm and alive, swirling around them like a
glowing light. The rest of the world fell away, and there were only
the two of them. Finally, Rhun pulled away. He looked at her, his
expression so tender, his face so beautiful.
Now,
she
thought, now is the time to tell him about the baby.

“Sorry to interrupt, but as soon as I’m gone
you’ll have the whole place to yourselves.” Bridei spoke from
behind them. “I left your horse over there, Rhun, tied to that
thorn bush. Give my regards to my mother.”

Rhun slowly disengaged himself and turned to
face his brother. Eastra could feel the magic that had surrounded
them fading away like mist in the sun. “You’re leaving?” Rhun said.
“You come this far and then run off without seeing anyone?”

Bridei shrugged. “I would have liked to have
seen my sisters. And the twins. They were barely born when I
left.”

“They’re in the woods.” Eastra pointed. “At
the berry patch. Even if you won’t go into the fortress, at least
see your mother and your brothers and sisters.”

Bridei hesitated. Eastra could see the
longing in his face. For once he didn’t look cynical and distant.
Then his mouth quirked into a grim smile. “Like as not, I’ll be
dead in a month. Or so my brother predicts. Under the
circumstances, it would be kinder for me not to see them. They’ll
mourn me less if I’m but a vague memory.”

Dead in a month.
She turned to Rhun.
“What does he mean? What’s happened?”

“Nothing’s happened yet. But...” He shook
his head. “Cerdic is said to have allied himself with the Picts,
and possibly even the Irish.”

Eastra felt ill. He was coming to say
good-bye before he went off to war. She could sense it. She turned
away, unable to face the expression on her lover’s face. A part of
her wanted to rage at him, to strike him with her fists, to demand
to know how he could leave her, how he could leave his child
growing inside her. She thought briefly of telling him about the
babe, wondering if it would make a difference.

A wave of hopelessness gripped her. She knew
Rhun, and he would do his duty no matter what. A child could not
hold him back from fighting for his people, any more than she
could. If she told him now, it would change things. And she wanted
whatever little time they had together to be shared only between
the two of them, without worrying about the complication of the
babe.

“You think Cerdic will break the truce?” she
asked.

Rhun nodded. “I don’t think he ever meant to
honor it. It was merely an excuse, a distraction, so he would have
time to seek allies among Arthur’s enemies.”

“What about me?”

Bridei spoke. “Arthur will take no action
against you while his own hostage is safe. And it serves no purpose
for Cerdic to harm Mordred.”

“But there will still be war?”

Rhun nodded solemnly. Eastra turned away
again. She didn’t know if she could bear to lose Rhun all over
again, to have him leave her, knowing she might never see him
again.

“Well.” Bridei cleared his throat. “I’ll set
off. I’ll see you, brother, on the battlefield, if not before.
Princess Eastra, fare you well.”

She faced Bridei. He’d kept her company
through many trying times. She couldn’t let him leave without
saying good-bye. Embracing him fiercely, she whispered, “Fare
you
well.” She drew away. The lump in her throat was agony.
But she would not let herself cry. If she started weeping, she
feared she would never stop.

She watched Bridei leave, thinking what a
waste it was. He was so handsome, so witty, with a voice that could
charm the very stars from the heavens. And all that might well be
destroyed by one swift swordblow, that silver tongue silenced, the
sparkle in his dazzling blue eyes quenched forever.

She inhaled sharply, blinking back tears.
Then she faced Rhun resolutely. “You’ve come to say good-bye,
haven’t you?”

He nodded, looking almost as miserable as
she felt.

“How long? How much time can you spare away
from the high king?” She spat out the last words. Her anger was
rising once again. It was better to be angry than to weep.

“Only a day or two. I want you to know I...
I lied to Arthur. I told him Rhiannon was ailing and that was why I
must come here.”

“You lied to your commander? I’m amazed. I
must stand very high in your favor to cause you to go against your
noble principles of duty and honor.”

“I had to see you.” Rhun’s voice was an
anguished whisper. She wanted to close her ears to it. “I have been
able to think of nothing else for weeks. I’m half mad with loving
you.”

She moaned, feeling all her bitterness melt
away. She could not be angry with him. He was too dear to her, too
precious. Her gaze drank in his compelling, handsome face. How she
loved him, this magnificent, golden warrior, this man who had
haunted her dreams since she could remember. “Show me,” she said.
“Show me how you love me.”

She heard his sharp intake of breath. Then
he nodded. “I will show you. I know the very place—a hidden glen
where no one will disturb us. An enchanted place, where nothing
will matter but you and me.” He reached for her hand. “Come. It
will be faster to take my horse, and I have all the things we need
in my saddle pack.”

He led her to his stallion and lifted her up
on the animal’s broad back. He didn’t climb up behind her, but
instead untied the reins and began to lead the horse. He guided the
stallion back toward the forest. After following the edge of the
woods for a while, he drew the horse into the trees. The sweet
scent of growing things enveloped them, and the sound of water
running filled their ears. The ground was mossy and damp, and hazel
and rowan bushes crowded the pathway. Delicate fronds of fern and
bracken were crushed beneath the horse’s hooves, giving up a scent
of earth and shadow. Eastra saw a little runnel off to their left,
at first no more than a little ribbon of glistening water tumbling
over the rocks, then getting bigger and bigger until it was a
good-sized stream. The air grew more moist, dense and thick, the
foliage an even brighter, more vivid green.