The Dragon Prince (6 page)

“Aren’t you going to thank me?” Bridei
chortled as soon as they were out of earshot of the others. “I’ve
arranged for you to spend some time with your ladylove. And Gwynedd
is clear on the other side of Britain. That should give you plenty
of time to—”

“Hush, damn you!” Rhun whirled around, his
voice taut. “You know I’m not pleased with any of this. I don’t
want her to be the hostage. It’s too dangerous. At least if she
stayed in Cerdic’s camp, her life wouldn’t be at risk!”

“But you said yourself she was unhappy
here.”

“Unhappy, aye, because she is held in poor
regard by her own people. Now she is to be a hostage, and far away
from anything familiar to her. It’s not much better than being
Cerdic’s servant, or being a slave, for that matter!”

“Ah, but with you as her captor, she might
be content,” Bridei sniggered.

“By the Cross, I’m sick of your disgusting
innuendoes! You act as if I intend to bed her as soon as we are out
of sight of Arthur!”

“Well, don’t you? If you’re honest with
yourself, that is.”

“Of course not! I have more honor than that!
I would never take advantage of any woman that way, let alone one
under my protection.”

“But what if she wants you to? I’m not
blind, brother. I saw how she looks at you. She would lie with you
in a heartbeat. You have only to find a safe—”

“Stop!” Rhun grabbed his brother by the
front of his tunic and gave him a violent shake. “I won’t have you
impugning her virtue, you lewd, disgusting bastard!”

“Hah! You see, I’m right! You wouldn’t get
so angry if you didn’t care for her!”

Rhun twisted the fabric of his brother’s
wool tunic, wishing it was Bridei’s neck he was wringing. Then he
realized the angrier he became, the more his brother would taunt
him. The only way to deal with Bridei was to refuse to rise to his
bait.

Slowly, he loosened his grip. “I’m not like
you,” he said coldly. “I do think about someone other than myself
sometimes. There are a dozen reasons I cannot lie with the Saxon.
But even if there weren’t so many arguments against it, I still
wouldn’t do such a thing. She’s a princess of her people, not a
whore or serving girl. The only man fit to take her to bed is the
one who takes her to wife.”

“But you said she is unlikely to be married
because of her years as a slave.”

Rhun took a deep breath. For every argument
he came up with, clever Bridei would find one to refute it.
Already, he could feel a part of himself weakening. Eastra had said
herself it was doubtful she would ever wed. Why should she not know
some happiness in life? If she truly wished for him to love
her...

Nay, he could not think like that. She might
want him now, then hate herself later. Besides, he had a duty to
Arthur’s cause. His commander would expect better of him than to
become involved with a hostage.

He shook his head. “My vow to Arthur must
come before everything else.”

“Of course,” Bridei said, still
grinning.

Eastra placed the gold and garnet necklace
around her neck, then lifted the polished bronze mirror to gaze at
her reflection in the lamplight. The dozens of stones in the heavy
piece shone like drops of blood. Sighing, she lowered the mirror.
Her plan had succeeded but even so her stomach fluttered with
anxiety. What if she were wrong about Rhun ap Maelgwn and he cared
nothing for her? She was delivering herself into the hands of the
enemy, and, having heard many tales of the Britons’ ruthlessness
and barbarity, she was more than a little uneasy. Cerdic was right.
She must go to them in all her splendor, decked in jewels and
finery, so they would know she was valuable to him and that if she
were abused or wronged in any way, he would avenge her most
cruelly.

Of course he would avenge her, she thought
bitterly. Not because he cared for her as his kin, a living,
breathing woman, but because she was a symbol of his pride and
power. She had been reduced once again to being an object, a piece
of property. Which was the reason she was doing all this. She
believed that to Rhun ap Maelgwn, she was more than an object, that
he saw her as a woman and cared for her feelings.

But what if she assumed too much? What if he
had no real interest in her? It had all happened so fast. She’d had
no time to tell him about her plan and watch his reaction. And now
she was trapped, trapped in a plot of her own making. She adjusted
her best gunna, smoothing the saffron-colored fabric embroidered
with flowers on the bodice and sleeves, then left her sleeping
chamber.

When Mordred arrived from Londinium, the
hostage exchange took place in the open area outside the Saxon
fortress. A faint queasiness spread through Rhun’s stomach as he
watched Arthur’s bastard son walk to meet the enemy. Mordred moved
easily, almost nonchalantly. His lean, graceful build reminded Rhun
of Bridei. Like Bridei, Mordred had a cunning, handsome face that
appealed to women, but made men wary.

Rhun had observed the meeting between Arthur
and his son the night before. Mordred had behaved in his usual
manner, mocking and scornful of his father, his words edged with
sarcasm and hostility. And yet he’d agreed to serve as hostage.
Even he could not defy the high king of Britain. But what sort of
hostage would he be? Could they trust him not to conspire with the
enemy? Arthur seemed sure of his son. Maybe he had some sort of
hold over him no one else knew about. Rhun hoped so.

As Mordred reached the Saxon contingent,
Rhun saw Eastra step forward, staring straight ahead. A bodyservant
leading a heavily laden packhorse followed behind her. With the
rich buttery shade of her gown and the heavy gold jewelry at her
neck, her fair skin and silvery-blond hair, she was as dazzling as
the sunrise. Rhun heard the other men’s indrawn breaths and knew a
moment of fierce possessiveness. He would keep her safe! No man
would touch her!

But by what right did he claim the role of
her protector? Was it because Arthur had charged him with the
responsibility, or because he felt in some way she already belonged
to him? A dangerous notion, and one that could easily lead him to
disaster. He must not forget his allegiance to his commander, the
solemn oath he had sworn. That oath must come before any feelings
he had for Eastra.

Now she was walking directly towards him. He
frowned and shook his head faintly, trying to indicate it was
Arthur she must present herself to. Gradually, she shifted course
and approached the high king with a cool, regal grace. Arthur
greeted her with a bow, then said, “Princess Eastra, no matter what
you may have heard about us, we are not crude savages. As long as
Cerdic honors the truce, I promise you will be safe and well cared
for.”

Bridei, standing a little behind Arthur,
immediately translated his words into Saxon. Eastra looked puzzled,
and Rhun wondered if she had not realized the implications of being
a hostage and was unsettled by the threat implicit in Arthur’s
words. But then she spoke in clear Briton, and he understood what
had confused her. “I speak your language,” she said. “I have no
need for anyone to translate for me.”

Arthur looked surprised, then nodded. “I’m
pleased you know our tongue. Perhaps you will not feel so lonely
and isolated during your stay with our people.” He motioned to
Rhun. “This is Rhun ap Maelgwn. He will take you to a fortress in
the north where you will be safe.”

Rhun bowed. As Eastra met his gaze, he
struggled to keep his face expressionless. Arthur said, “Rhun,
escort Princess Eastra to the cart she will ride in.”

“Please.” Eastra put up her hand in an
imploring gesture. “I would rather ride astride.”

“It’s a long journey.” Arthur regarded her
intently. “You might well be more comfortable in a cart.”

“Nay, I would rather ride.”

Rhun was impressed by her stubbornness, and
also relieved he would not have to stay to the back of the army
train with the slow-moving wains and other baggage. He smiled at
her, then thought better of showing such warmth. He wasn’t supposed
to know this woman.

Arthur motioned for one of the young armor
bearers to come forward and take the lead of the packhorse from the
Saxon servant. Then he turned to Bedwyr, his captain of the horse.
“Find her a mount. Some beast with an easy gait, but enough spirit
to keep up.”

Bedwyr nodded and hurried off.

Arthur motioned across the field to Cerdic,
indicating with a formal salute that the hostage had been accepted.
Cerdic motioned back. Then the Saxons seemed to swallow up Mordred
as the mass of warriors moved back to the fortress. Beside Rhun,
Cador muttered an oath. “I don’t like it. I can’t help feeling we
have offered the seawolves a willing spy rather than a
hostage.”

“Watch your tongue. Remember the woman.” Cei
motioned with his head toward Eastra.

Cador barely spared a glance for her. “She
may speak our tongue, but she’s naught but a helpless female.”

An angry retort rose on Rhun’s tongue, but
he bit it back. Let Cador ignore her and think her of no account.
She would be safer that way.

Everyone began to move off. Arthur motioned
to Rhun. “Wait here until Bedwyr brings her horse.” To Eastra he
said, “Is there anything else you require, princess?”

She shook her head.

As soon as Arthur left, Rhun moved nearer to
Eastra and spoke in a low voice. “Do you mean to travel wearing all
your finery? Would you not be more comfortable in a plainer, looser
garment?”

“Cerdic bid me dress as a princess.”

“But did he not also provide you with a
bodyservant to help you dress and care for your needs?”

“He offered one, but I declined it.”

“Why?”

“Having been a slave, I’m not comfortable
with having some other woman forced to wait upon me.”

“That’s generous of you, but I still fear
you will find it awkward traveling with an army camp. Who will comb
out your hair and aid you in dressing?”

He was sweet to worry for her, Eastra
thought. In truth, she hadn’t thought ahead to such matters. Cerdic
had not offered her a bodyservant, although he probably would have
provided one if she’d asked. But she had not asked. Her mind had
been too focused on her plan to find a way to stay as near to Rhun
as possible. Fortune clearly favored her, since Arthur had chosen
Rhun to serve as her guard.

“I’m certain I will manage,” she said. “I do
have plainer clothing in my pack.”

Rhun nodded curtly. “I will fetch it. Then
we will have to find some place for you to change.” There was more
than a hint of exasperation in his voice. As he walked away, Eastra
bit her lips. She had not done well in angering him.

“Don’t mind him.” She turned at the sound of
a familiar musical voice. Bridei stood a few feet away, smiling at
her. “He’s always a bit ill-tempered in the morning.”

Eastra regarded Rhun’s brother with
wariness. He appeared to have made a jest, but she could not tell
for certain. She wondered what Rhun had told Bridei about her.

“What I mean to say is that he is not really
angry at you,” Bridei said. “It’s Arthur he’s wroth with.”

“Why?”

“Because he didn’t want Arthur to find you
acceptable as a hostage.”

Her heart sank. She had hoped Rhun would be
pleased with the arrangement. Apparently, she was wrong to think he
cared for her.

“Ah, princess, don’t look so sad. It’s not
what you think. I believe my brother dreads your company not
because he mislikes it, but because he likes it all too well.”
Bridei’s grin deepened and the skin around his blue eyes crinkled
with mirth. Eastra found herself blushing. It was almost as if this
man could read her thoughts. She stared at him, not knowing how to
respond.

“Here he comes now,” Bridei said. “Smile at
him and, I assure you, he will regain his good nature in a
heartbeat.”

She turned and saw Rhun approaching.
Remembering Bridei’s words, she smiled tentatively. Rhun’s face did
seem to change, as if some of the tension left it, replaced by a
brief look of longing that made her heart twist in her chest. He
paused a few feet away, holding her pack. “I have brought your
things.” His voice sounded out of breath, although he didn’t appear
winded. “There’s a stand of trees over there where you can change.
I will stand guard.”

“Do you need any help, brother?” Bridei’s
voice was mocking.

Rhun shot him a hostile look. “Come.” He
motioned for Eastra to proceed him. She obeyed, wondering again at
the relationship between Rhun and his brother.

As she walked toward the stand of beech and
oak, she felt nervous and unsettled. Rhun was so close. If she
turned around and reached out, her hand would graze his body. But
she dare not do such a thing. Even if Rhun desired her, they could
not act on it here, not within arrowshot of his commander and her
uncle. There would be plenty of other opportunities for them to be
alone on their journey. And if, as Bridei said, Rhun truly felt
something for her, his hunger would only deepen and intensify the
longer they were together. For now, she would appear maidenly and
demure.

She turned her head to ask, “Where is the
place we are traveling to?”

“We’re traveling to my homeland,
Gwynedd.”

“Gwynedd?” They had reached the trees. She
finally deemed it seemly to turn around and look at him.

“Aye. My father’s fortress is there. You
will be safe under his protection.”

“Is it very far?”

He nodded gravely. “On the other side of
Britain.”

They had a long journey ahead of them. There
would be plenty of time to convince Rhun that even if she was a
Saxon and he a Briton, they might have a future together.

She took her pack from him and went off in
the trees to change. Carefully removing the gold and garnet
necklace and her earbobs, she wrapped them in some clothing in the
bottom of her pack then unfastened the matching girdle from around
her waist. As she pulled the heavily embroidered gunna over her
head, a feeling of relief washed over her. The gold jewelry around
her neck had felt as confining as she imagined a slave collar might
feel. She would be much more comfortable in her loose, faded blue
gunna, and she was grateful to Rhun for suggesting the idea. Now
that she was away from Cerdic and the rest of her countrymen, she
could finally act like herself.