"Gentle G.o.ddess," he whispered with no voice at all.

"Ianthe couldn't change her shape, so she changed your perceptions with dranath, dranath," Sioned told him in lifeless tones. "This woman Mireva-what she must have done-would Pol have sensed sorcery? Even if he didn't, once he finds out about Meiglan, he'll put it together. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to protect him."

"We can't. Not anymore." He knew it now for certain, and there was a strange relief in the knowing. "He must be told who he is."

She sprang to her feet, terrified. "No! Please, Rohan-please!"

"It's time. It must be tonight."

"No!"

"Would you see him die because he can't use power he doesn't know he has?" he lashed out.

Green eyes blazed in a face the color of chalk. "We could tell him he gets the diarmadhi diarmadhi blood from one of us, we could-" blood from one of us, we could-"

"Lie to him? Again? When do the lies stop, Sioned? Who are you protecting now-Pol or yourself?"

"And what happens when he finds out the man who wants his death is his own brother?"

"He'll just have to accept that, won't he!" Rohan turned for the door, but her next words stopped him in mid-stride.

"The way you accepted him when you returned to Stronghold that winter? You could barely look at either of us! I'd brought you a son you didn't want, and Pol was living reminder that you weren't perfect! Shall we tell him that, too?"

He heard his voice become the chill, brittle one he used when forced to address someone he loathed. "He will be told who is he tonight. You may attend or not, as you choose. But he will will be told." be told."

Chapter Twenty-four.

Stronghold: 34 Spring.

By sunset Stronghold had been turned inside out. The guards and Sunrunners scoured the area around the keep while light lasted, reporting nothing out of the ordinary. Rohan expected as much. Ruval and Mireva would a.s.sume there'd be a search of this kind, so he had to provide it. He hoped the show would satisfy them so that his next gambit would come unantic.i.p.ated.

But before he began it, there was Pol.

They met in the library again at Rohan's request. Pol had just arrived when Sioned entered and sat down on her side of the double desk. Rohan would have bet half his princedom that she wouldn't come, especially after their clash today-that she would flee this thing she had dreaded for so long. But she met his eyes squarely, unflinching.

Pol had pulled up a chair near Sioned's desk, curious at his parents' tense silence. "What is it you wanted to talk about?"

Rohan locked the door and leaned back against it. He had struggled with the words a thousand times, trying to imagine this moment, to find the right way to say it that would spare Pol and Sioned any pain. But the words escaped him, and there must be pain.

Sioned folded her hands atop her desk, her shining head bent, the graceful lines of her throat and shoulders highlighted by candle-glow. Rohan had lit the candlebranch earlier, knowing that if she had done it by Sunrunner means, the flames would leap and flare with her emotions. Refracted light from the emerald ring on her left hand trembled slightly, the only sign of her terror.

Aware that he was delaying the inevitable, he glanced around the room. Tapestry map, books, parchments piled on the desks, boxes containing the seals of their princedom-perhaps he should have chosen another place. This was, after all, a political room. But it was too late to move to a private chamber, one in which they could be people and not princes.

Drawing in a deep breath, he began. "Pol . . . you are everything we ever wanted in a son." The young man's head tilted to one side in a gesture of puzzlement. "You know your own strengths. You've explored your abilities as a prince and learned how to use your faradhi faradhi gifts with confidence and wisdom. You gifts with confidence and wisdom. You are are a Sunrunner." a Sunrunner."

"That's made painfully obvious every time I cross water," Pol said, smiling a little. "What are you trying to say, Father? That my Sunrunner skills can defeat Ruval's sorceries? If so, keep talking-because I'm dreading it, even knowing what's in the Star Scroll."

Sioned murmured, "You have no cause to fear, Pol. You are are everything we ever dreamed you would become." She hesitated, glancing once more at Rohan. "And you are everything you always were, no matter what you might hear about-about who you are." everything we ever dreamed you would become." She hesitated, glancing once more at Rohan. "And you are everything you always were, no matter what you might hear about-about who you are."

Blue-green eyes widened. "Mother! Don't tell me you're worried about that old rumor?"

"What rumor?" Rohan asked, sharp-voiced.

"I heard it first while I was at Graypearl. The gist of it is that I'm not really your son-that Mother couldn't have a child with you. Some say my real father is someone here at Stronghold, and others say a Sunrunner was brought here in secret. It was merely insulting until they got to the part about Mother only marrying you because Lady Andrade told her to, and that she never loved you at all. That That made it ludicrous! I always laughed it off-and so should you," he added with gentle chiding to Sioned. made it ludicrous! I always laughed it off-and so should you," he added with gentle chiding to Sioned.

"I never heard that one," Rohan mused.

"There are others. All of them just as ridiculous. Mother, don't concern yourself with-"

"Pol, please!" She shied to her feet like a nervous cat and paced to the other side of the desk. "Just listen. Don't make this any harder."

Obviously bewildered now, Pol looked to his father for an explaination. Rohan said softly, "There's no easy way to tell it. Pol, do you believe that possession of diarmadhi diarmadhi power is inherently evil?" power is inherently evil?"

"I've already been through this with Riyan. If I ever did believe that, which I don't, he's ample evidence otherwise." He shifted impatiently, flinging a look at Sioned. "Will you please just tell me whatever it is you feel you have to tell me?"

Her shoulders straightened as though she was bracing herself. She stood behind Rohan's desk chair, gripping its carved wooden back. She drew a slow breath-but Rohan spoke first.

"You are a Sunrunner, Pol," he said. "But you are also diarmadhi. diarmadhi. You are my son, but not hers. Your mother was Princess Ianthe, youngest daughter of High Prince Roelstra and his only wife, Lallante." You are my son, but not hers. Your mother was Princess Ianthe, youngest daughter of High Prince Roelstra and his only wife, Lallante."

Shock froze the young face. His eyes went blank, his skin colorless. Rohan watched confusion, denial, suspicion, a hundred emotions play across his son's features. At last Pol's lips moved in a deathly whisper. "Why would you tell me such a lie?"

Rohan could hardly breathe. Sioned clung to the chair so hard her hands were bloodless.

"How?" Pol's voice was harsh, hollow.

Sioned answered. "I lost every child I ever carried. All failings of a princess are forgivable but one: failure to bear a son. But I-I saw myself in a vision of Fire and Water. I was holding a newborn. You. So much your father's son that there could be no doubt you were his. Yet I knew I would never conceive again." She stood very still, staring down at her hands. "You know that Ianthe held your father captive at Feruche. I was there, too. When she was certain she was pregnant, she let us go."

"I do not excuse myself, Pol," Rohan said quietly. "I-"

"The first time," Sioned went on as if he had not spoken, "she went to him while he was drugged with dranath dranath and fevered from a wound. She . . . pretended to be me. She wished an heir to Princemarch and the Desert both, her vengeance on him for Choosing me instead of her." and fevered from a wound. She . . . pretended to be me. She wished an heir to Princemarch and the Desert both, her vengeance on him for Choosing me instead of her."

"The second time, I raped her." Rohan heard the revulsion he'd sworn he would never reveal, and cursed himself. "I prefer to believe you were the result of that first-" He stopped, swallowed hard. "When-afterward-I joined our armies already in the field. Sioned stayed at Stronghold and emptied it of all but a few servants. Tobin and Ostvel were here as well."

Pol flinched. "Then . . . they've always known. Who else?"

"Chay. Myrdal. Maeta." She p.r.o.nounced the names slowly, reluctantly.

"And the servants?"

"All dead now, but for Tibalia." Her eyes, liquid with anguish, beseeched him. "People who love you, Pol. Who-"

"-don't hold it against me?" For the first time there was an edge to his voice, a strange spark in his blue-green eyes.

Rohan said softly, "She kept watch. She waited just as if she was the one carrying you in her body. You were hers, hers, Pol. Do you understand? She'd seen you in her arms. Pol. Do you understand? She'd seen you in her arms. Our Our child." child."

"I watched Ianthe grow big with the son she had stolen from me. From him. Her time came early. Ostvel and Tobin and I rode to Feruche." She looked up then, memory swirling in her darkened eyes. "I took you from her in secret, reclaimed what was mine. I brought Feruche down around itself with Fire. Everyone thought that the child she bore died with her. But he did not. You You are that child, Pol. We went to Skybowl. Few saw us there-the workers had all become warriors in defense of the Desert. Skybowl was nearly as empty as Stronghold. For those who did see, there was . . . an explanation." are that child, Pol. We went to Skybowl. Few saw us there-the workers had all become warriors in defense of the Desert. Skybowl was nearly as empty as Stronghold. For those who did see, there was . . . an explanation."

"A lie," Pol said in a toneless voice.

"Yes," she agreed steadily. "That I had expected the birth of my own son to occur in midwinter. That I had started for Skybowl on whim, Tobin and Ostvel in attendance. I . . . was not myself that summer and autumn. I don't remember much about that time- not from the night Ianthe took me, put me into a cell without light . . . I think perhaps I went a little mad." Her hands twisted around themselves. "My actions were understood to be part of this. It was plausible. Women with child have strange fancies sometimes." A deep breath to calm herself, and she went on, "We told them at Skybowl that you were born along the way. That night I Named you with Ostvel and Tobin witnessing. And also that night-"

"I killed Roelstra," Rohan said curtly. "You've heard how it happened. A dome of starfire constructed all the way from Skybowl, catching into it every faradhi faradhi-gifted mind there and at the battleground-including you. Roelstra knew you had been born. He didn't know his daughter was dead."

"Wh-who killed her?"

Rohan met Sioned's haunted eyes.

"Oh, G.o.ddess," Pol breathed. "Mother-"

"No!" Rohan exclaimed.

"I didn't kill her." Sioned looked at Pol and her eyes were hard. "But I wanted nothing more in the world. She imprisoned us, tortured your father, shut me away from the sunlight-and she would have raised you to be as foul as she was. I couldn't let that happen, Pol. She had the bearing of you, but you were never her son." Her voice held a note of pleading now. But Rohan recognized that even in her anguish she had managed to avoid revealing another truth: that Ostvel was the one who had killed Ianthe. They could never tell Pol that.

"Then . . . then Ruval is my half-brother," Pol said slowly, as if awakening from a long sleep to find that even words were strangers. "And my life is a lie."

"Pol!" Rohan went to him, grasped his shoulders. "You are no different now than you were before you knew! What's changed? You were born of princes, you are faradhi, faradhi, and you are my son. And Sioned's." He stared into his son's face, willing Pol to say words that would free Sioned of her terror. and you are my son. And Sioned's." He stared into his son's face, willing Pol to say words that would free Sioned of her terror.

"No different?" the young man asked incredulously. "Knowing I'm diarmadhi, diarmadhi, that I'm the child of rape, that my father killed my grandfather, that my mother-" He gave a small, choking laugh. " that I'm the child of rape, that my father killed my grandfather, that my mother-" He gave a small, choking laugh. "Which mother?" mother?"

"Pol-"

"No different? different?"

"Are you anything less than you were before you knew?" Rohan snapped.

"I'm more, more," he replied in soft, deadly tones.

Rohan stood away from him. "This can only change you if you let it. Ianthe may have birthed you, but you were never her son. Never. Never. Do you feel any kinship to Ruval? Any pull of brotherhood? Who was it who nursed you, raised you, loved you, taught you-" Do you feel any kinship to Ruval? Any pull of brotherhood? Who was it who nursed you, raised you, loved you, taught you-"

Sioned moaned low in her throat. Rohan turned to her, stricken by the look in her eyes. What she had always feared had come to pa.s.s. Pol was blaming her, rejecting her-for something Rohan had done.

He faced his son once more. "This is no easier for us than it is for you. If we'd had a choice-"

"You never would have told me. That's obvious. You would have gone on letting me believe a lie!" He surged to his feet.

"That you're Sioned's son? Is that truly a lie? Pol, look into yourself. Are you Ianthe's?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Pol cried. "Why did you keep it secret?"

"If you need to blame someone, blame me," Rohan said.

"Do you know what they planned for him, Pol?" Sioned spoke with deliberate harshness. "Do you know what they would have done, your birth-mother and her sire? He and Ianthe were to marry. Once an heir was born, Rohan would have been killed. The Desert would become part of Princemarch. Ianthe's son would rule both as High Prince once Roelstra was dead. Do you want to claim such people for your own? They had nothing to do with your life!"

"Except that they gave it to me! And things haven't worked out too differently, have they? I've got Princemarch, and eventually I'll have the Desert and be High Prince-G.o.ddess, it's all happened as if my-my grandfather grandfather was still alive!" was still alive!"

"Stop it!" Rohan commanded. "I killed Roelstra because he needed killing, not because I wanted his power for either of us. If you believe otherwise after so many years, you're a fool! All this was my doing, Pol. All of it. It's my fault that they plotted against me, my fault that your mother was captured and shut away in the dark and-"

Sioned made a small, animal sound, her hands lifting as if to ward off the memory of rape, darkness in her eyes that would devour her if the words were spoken. He bit his lips closed and dug his fingers into his palms, speaking again only when he could do so with relative calm.

"I raped Ianthe and I killed Roelstra and I allowed you to think you're what everyone believes you are. All these things you may blame me for. But Tobin knows the truth of your birth, and Chay, and Myrdal, and Ostvel-and so did Maeta. Would she have given her life for you if she believed you to be truly Ianthe's son? Do any of the others watch for signs of Roelstra in you? Your real mother is here before you, not in the ashes beneath Feruche!"

At last Pol looked at Sioned. She had wrapped her arms around herself, shivering, eyes huge with pain and pleading. He stared at her a long, silent time, without accusation or understanding. Then he turned and left the room.

He didn't know he was running until there was nowhere else to go.

The door to the uppermost chamber of the Flametower stopped him. He stared at the carved wood without comprehension for some moments, then slammed it open with one shoulder, colliding instantly with a blast of searing heat from the constant fire. The door reeled on one hinge; he shoved it closed, leaned back, tried to catch his breath. Intense firelight stung his eyes and all the colors he had ever seen or dreamed whirled in the center of the windowed room, reaching out as in faradhi faradhi vision to a.s.sault his senses. vision to a.s.sault his senses.

Air rasped into his lungs. He staggered to a window, unable to breathe around the ache in his chest. Lied to, betrayed, deceived-and by the two people he loved and trusted and honored more than anyone in the world. He cried out a wordless, mindless protest. This could not be happening to him. It wasn't right, it wasn't fair-how could they have lied to him? They were supposed to love him, to want the best for him. And yet they had done this thing to him.

The cool scented darkness of the Desert spread beyond Stronghold. Above, the night sky was drenched with stars. He clenched his fingers on the stones as if he could tear them asunder, push them into the placid garden of roses and water below, then take flight like a dragon into the sky.

That was what had brought him up here. The need to escape, to find freedom, solitary and wild, to flex the muscles of his wings and fly. He stared down at his useless hands and a low groan of rage broke from his throat.

Fire blazing behind him soaked him in heat and sweat, and he knew that if he turned he could conjure visions in that Fire. He could bring into being scenes of the past. The Star Scroll had taught him that today. A rape, a stolen child, a castle gutted by Sunrunner's Fire. Scenes to bear silent witness to the lie that was his life.

Or he could urge the flames higher, hotter, and in them be consumed.

"Pol?"

He swung around, livid with fury that someone had dared intrude. "Get out!" he snarled before he even recognized the young woman who stood beside the drunkenly tilting door. Her dark red hair was already thick with sweat that sheened her skin. "Leave me alone!"

Sionell hesitated, then moved inside and managed to wrench the door shut behind her. She leaned back against it as he had done, her voice almost casual as she said, "You're lucky I'm the only one still about at this hour to see you tear through the hallways like an avenging dragon."

Small solace that no one had witnessed his flight. Sionell had. And he would never forgive her for it. "I don't have to answer to anyone-least of all you!"

"Now, that sounds just like the arrogant little boy I used to know. The one who found me such a nuisance. You still do, I take it."

"Don't make me order you out of here, Sionell. Just go!"

Her brows arched. "Once when I was about eleven winters old, your mother interrupted one of our constant arguments. She told you that a prince who has to remind others of his rank isn't much of a prince."

His whole body stiffened at mention of his mother. Not his mother. His mother was Princess Ianthe, dead the night of his birth.

"What is it, Pol?" Sionell asked, more softly now. She raked damp hair from her face, blue eyes shadowed by a concerned frown, and took a step toward him. "We've known each other a long time. You can talk to me, you know."

"Really?" he asked in cutting tones. "I can talk to you, tell you anything, no matter what, and you'll love me just the same?" Some vicious part of him wanted to hurt someone else as deeply as he'd been hurt. It was Sionell's misfortune that she happened to be handy. "Do you think I haven't known all these years?"

That struck home. All the natural color drained from her face, leaving ugly red patches on cheeks and forehead where the fire's heat blazed against white skin.