Prince of Magic (23 page)

In her lifetime, Ariana had traveled much more often than most females of her age. More than most females of any age, thanks to her family's need for frequent reunions and their fondness for adventure. Her experience was not limited to the long journey from her home to the capital city of Arthes. Protective as her father was, he had never hesitated to take his daughters as well as his sons on hunting trips or simply away from home for a few days of exploration. She had never cared for hunting, which was a shame since it would have prepared her in some ways for what was to come, but she had loved the journeys to the seashore or to unexplored places high on a mountain.

Those journeys had prepared her for this one in many ways. She did not mind long hours on a horse's back, eating sparsely, or sleeping on the ground.

Merin's most trusted sentinels, and Merin himself, surrounded her as they traveled along the road which would take them to that village at the foot of the Mountains of the North. The horses were sturdy, and so were the men. The soldiers Merin had chosen were protective of her in some ways simply because she was a woman, but more staunchly because she was Duran's sister. Before this journey was over, she would have to cure them of that. If they were too intent on protecting her, they would not protect themselves well enough.

All were silent as they led their horses down the road at an easy pace. Some soldiers spoke to one another in lowered voices, but most rode silently, their thoughts churning with the possibilities of what might lie ahead. Most of them were dedicated, but she sensed a few were already questioning their decision to rush toward an unknown enemy.

This was their first day, and they had a long way to travel. They had no choice but to treat the horses, and themselves, well. As this battle they were heading toward was promised to be momentous, she imagined the silent soldiers were thinking of what was ahead of them… or what they'd left behind.

Ariana thought of what she'd left behind, while absently fingering the thrice-wrapped cord at her throat. If only she hadn't followed her impulse to peek at the prophesy Sian had kept secret from her. If only she had left the palace with the hope that one day she would return, and what had begun between her and Sian would be allowed to continue, and even perhaps to grow into something more.

No wonder he had been so insistent that she not conceive a child. She'd thought him to be cautious. She'd believed him to be determined not to tie himself to her in any way other than the sexual. Now she knew the truth.

He did not want to send his unborn child to a certain death.

Do not mourn that one. He is not worthy.

True.

There are other men who would be glad to take his place. Many of them surround you now.

I do not want another man.

The one called Merin, he is quite handsome, and on a cold, dark night he would serve you well, if you asked it of him. Cut that unattractive rope from your throat and cut the last of your ties with that unworthy enchanter. Merin would do quite nicely.

Ariana started slightly. Where had that thought come from? She liked Merin, and she trusted him. But she had never been attracted to him in that way. He was her brother's friend, and in many ways felt to her like yet another brother.

He is not your brother.

I don't love him.

Love is not necessary.

Again, Ariana twitched. For her, love was necessary. Perhaps not the grand love her mother had spoken of, but at the very least a special affection. She was not an animal content to sate her urges with any available man. What she'd had with Sian was special and she was grateful that she'd known those days and nights. That did not mean she was willing to try to re-create them with just any man.

Time is slipping away…

I need love.

You'll be sorry
.. .

No, I won't. Ariana pushed the odd thoughts down, and after a momentary struggle, they faded. If she had not been so horribly disappointed by Sian's lies, her mind would not wander so.

Sunset was upon them when Merin pulled his horse alongside hers. "There is a comfortable campsite just ahead, with fiat ground that is not overly rocky, and a small lake of drinkable water. We could travel for a few more hours, as the moon will be full tonight, but I suggest we stop there for the night."

"I agree," Ariana said. "We have more than enough harsh traveling days ahead of us. If there is a suitable place for us to camp, then we should make use of it."

Merin nodded, and glanced back at the line of sentinels who filled the narrow road. Ariana took a moment to study his profile.

He is handsome, is he not? What a lover he would be.

The idea came from nowhere, and Ariana suddenly wondered if the thoughts she'd been fighting were her own.

It couldn't be Diella. Both times that Diella had taken over, Ariana herself had known nothing of what was happening to her.

But what if that had changed? What if she and the mad empress now shared mind and body?

In order to leave the palace unescorted, Sian had been forced to braid his long hair, as he often did for travel, and don clothing that was unlike his own. He had even tucked the telling black braid beneath the back of the vest he wore, in case anyone looked at him too closely. Without an explanation as to why, the palace sentinels had been told that Sian was not to leave the palace unaccompanied, so the disguise had been necessary. Arik apparently thought Sian would be tempted to run from this new and surprising development. More specifically, the father was anxious to make sure his newly claimed bastard son didn't run away.

Sian had been thinking about the revelation all day, which was only natural, he supposed. He barely remembered his father… rather, the man he had always believed to be his father… who had passed away before Sian reached the age of eight. But he did remember moments when the man looked at his son as if he found the child to be strikingly odd. Sian had always thought that odd expression existed thanks to the magic the ordinary man did not share with his son. Now he wondered if the man he'd called father had hated him. He wondered if those looks that had appeared to a child to be wonder had indeed been hate. What man wants to raise another man's son as his own? Were he and his mother simply sacrifices made to ensure the success of the revolution, and nothing more?

No matter how the man who had raised him might've felt, Sian did not want him to be disrespected now, so long after his death. He didn't want his mother whispered about in unsavory tones either. They were good people, and he did not want their memories tarnished by gossip and supposition.

Sian was, in many ways, very much like his mother. He had inherited her magic, her eyes, the shape of her strong chin. He even had her nose, though his was much larger than hers had been. The long and prominent shape was much the same. As far as he could tell, there was nothing in him of his father… of either of his fathers.

He quickly moved away from the palace. For a while he had tried to convince himself that Arik had panicked and quickly concocted a tale to produce the heir he so desperately needed. But the detailed story that had followed—the story of one night with a woman, of a revolution he could not abandon for his own contentment, of discovering one day that the woman he had loved so briefly had birthed him a son. It was a story of a loyal friend who had willingly offered to give the woman a husband and the child a father, when his wounds made him no longer suitable for fighting the revolution they both desperately believed in, at a time when a family would've hindered Arik.

Gareth Chamblyn had walked with a severe limp. It was that injury to his hip that had made it impossible for him to fight as a soldier. Apparently he had sacrificed in the only other way presented to him. To the outside world, the child and the woman were his. No one would know that the bastard son who claimed the throne had produced his own bastard son. A son who could be used against Arik if his enemies found their way to the small village. A woman he loved dearly, who could also be used if his enemies knew of her existence.

So Arik had ridden away from them and left them in the care of his friend. A woman and child were luxuries he could not afford at that time.

All others worries aside, Sian did not want to be emperor, and so he had spent the day riding and wracking his brain for a solution. Could Ciro be saved? No. That was impossible. Was there another possible heir, someone more suitable for emperor, someone who would be willing to take Arik's place when the time came? Perhaps the emperor really could improve his health and make another child before it was too late.

With this argument, Sian had been able to convince the emperor not to share the news. Not just yet. Arik had written the story of Sian's birth in a shaky but legible hand, and he added to it his wish that his illegitimate son take the throne when he was dead. He'd hidden these papers in a place where they would be discovered should he die, but would remain safe should he cling to life for a while longer.

It wasn't that Sian thought himself completely unsuitable to be leader of Columbyana. He could make the decisions that needed to be made. He was well acquainted with reason and logic, and did not allow his decisions to be colored by emotion. No, he would have no trouble making decisions.

But there was more to being emperor than leading. As night crept upon him and he led his horse down the road, Sian actually grimaced. Emperors were expected to host palace guests, to throw parties and dinners for decorated ministers and ambassadors and even visiting royalty. In the name of being
cordial
, they were expected to speak endlessly of things that meant nothing. There was talk that a shipman who'd sailed from a port
off the
southernmost point of the Southern Province had reached a country that was farther from Columbyana than any man had ever been, and he'd returned to tell the tale. If there were new countries recently reached and still to be reached, there would be an endless stream of people in and out of the palace. Ambassadors. Kings or queens or emperors. There would be new political relations to forge, smiles to cast, allies to woo.

Sian was not very good at wooing. Not at all.

Worst of all, if he were emperor, he would be obligated to marry and produce at least one heir. He'd spent most of his adult life avoiding such social obligations, and here they were, thrown into his lap without a hint of warning.

Had his grandfather seen this coming? Had the old man known? If Sian had been born before the soldier had returned to marry his daughter, the wizard must've known something. Unless, of course, he had been convinced that this wounded rebel was the man who'd impregnated his daughter.

Even seers and prophets could be fooled at times. They didn't see everything. Perhaps his grandfather had not known that when he sent Sian to the emperor with the prophesy, he was also sending his grandson to confront his father. His real father.

Sian did not feel a great obligation to return to Arthes and take up his place as heir. It was a position he did not want, and if war resulted from the lack of a clear heir, then that was not his concern. Unless this battle with evil was won, a civil war would not matter in the least.