"Rawn, Melanie - Dragon Star 2 - Dragon Token" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragon Stories)

Hesitating a moment, he said, "Meath asks if you will

permit the High Pr—Princess Sioned to ride with you and your daughters today."

When had Sioned ever needed anyone's permission to do anyth—then she belatedly heard the slip and its correction, and her jaw fell open. No wonder he bowed. No wonder he called her "your grace."

Rohan was dead. Pol was High Prince. And that meant she was—

Walvis saw it in her face. He went white beneath his tan. "Forgive me," he whispered. "I thought you knew—"

She stared up at him, her fingers clutching Jihan's hair. It was only when the little girl tugged away and said, "That hurts, Mama!" that she realized there was anyone else in the world.

"Forgive me," he said again, awkwardly. "I'll—I'll go get the horses."

"Yes," Meiglan replied mindlessly, and barely saw him bow again and move off. A long time later she dragged herself up onto the horse Kierun held for her. Let someone else give the orders, make the decisions. She could not.

It wasn't until they were nearly at the ravine leading to the Court of the Storm God that she understood why Walvis had treated her with so much ceremony. It was a subtle reminder, given with great gentleness, of her new position. Her new responsibilities. She was High Princess now. But she also knew what it must have cost him— how cruel a reminder it would be of the man they had lost, each time they addressed someone else as "High Prince."

Did Pol know yet that his father was dead? Sioned met them—straight-backed and composed, as always, but her eyes were lifeless. Meath, riding at her side, bowed wordlessly to Meiglan. She wondered if she should speak to Sioned. She kept silent. What in the Goddess' Name could she say?

Hollis rode up to them, looking too stunned even for grief. "Sioned," she murmured, and Meiglan learned her own wisdom in staying silent. Green eyes stared straight

ahead, not even acknowledging Hollis' presence—or indeed that anyone else existed at all.

The Sunrunner cleared her throat and turned to Meath. "There is something you must know. Myrdal died last night."

"But she was uninjured—" Meiglan began.

"In her body, perhaps," Meath said quietly. He closed his eyes for a moment, looking unbearably weary. Sioned did not seem to have heard anything. "Where will she be burned, Hollis? We can't take her all the way to Feruche."

"Skybowl. Chay will meet Maarken and Pol there— Tobin hasn't the strength to ride much farther."

Meiglan leaned forward. "I'll go with them. I should be with my lord."

Hollis glanced at Meath, who said, "I think that would be unwise, your grace. You and the princesses will be safer under Lord Walvis' protection."

"But I must go to Pol! He'll need me!"

Hollis touched her wrist. "It'll be only a few days—"

"I'm going to Skybowl," she stated. She was High Princess. Nobody could stop her.

"No," Sioned murmured, and though her voice was soft they all flinched at the sound of it. "You will not go to Skybowl. You will come with me to Feruche. Feruche," she repeated, with a strange, frightening smile on her lips.

Meath looked at Sioned as if she might crumble to dust right before him.

Meiglan bent her head. "Yes, my lady." There could be no doubt about who was still High Princess here.

Pride and anger had sustained Pol through half the night and uncounted measures of open Desert. But he no longer knew what was keeping him in his saddle. Stubbornness, perhaps. Maybe pain. Though physically unharmed—a few scratches, plenty of bruises, but no wounds to signify—he was utterly exhausted. But the