The Star Scroll (Dragon Prince, Book 2)
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As Prince Rohan's son, Pol, grew into the knowledge of statecraft and Sunrunner magic. But Pol was not the only prince who could lay blood claim to the crown, and soon Rohan's enemies would be ready to light a torch to set a dynastic war of succession sweeping across the land.
sympathy as the pair woke up bleary-eyed. “I remember it all too well myself. But you both look as if you’ll live.” Meath glanced at him balefully. “I had my doubts last night.” Turning to Pol, he asked, “Are you recovered, my prince?” “More or less. It never gets any easier, does it?” Pol sighed. “Never,” Maarken affirmed. “Do you want something to eat?” Their winces made him grin. “All right, stupid question, I know! There are horses outside if you feel capable of sitting a saddle without
gently. “She’s been a sister to me for many years now. It’s my wish that we become sisters in fact as well as in feeling.” Rohan exchanged a puzzled look with Chay. “I’ve been a princess all my life, though my title will change somewhat when I go to Ossetia after my lord Tilal and I are wed.” She blushed becomingly at mentioning his name. “But Danladi is just as much a princess by blood as I am. I would consider it a great favor if you’d ask Prince Davvi if it would be possible for Danladi to
act on whim, and he took most of the party north, leaving Meadowlord for Princemarch’s lowlands. The rest would return to Stronghold and Radzyn by the usual routes, but there was a pass through the Vere Hills which, though not particularly steep or arduous, was not often used. The way was long and twisting, and it was shorter and faster to follow the river south. But they had time, and Hollis needed time to wean herself from the dranath. That alone clouded the soft, warm early autumn. Sometimes
scattered chess pieces while Tobin replaced the board and righted an overturned chair. Rohan and Sioned tidied each other up, then grabbed their son on his way by and performed the same service for him. They slid into seats, Maarken standing behind his mother’s chair as was proper for a young lord in the presence of his princes, just as a knock sounded on the door. “Come,” Rohan said, raking his hand one last time through his hair. The Fironese ambassador was a thin dark woman aged somewhere
Audrite caught her breath, Lleyn nodded. “I see you’ve taken my meaning, my dear.” Chadric’s plain, pleasant face tightened to grimness. “If you’re talking about that possible son of Roelstra’s—” “He’ll be nearing twenty-one. Pol’s barely fourteen,” Lleyn remarked. “But it’s ludicrous!” Audrite protested. “Even if the boy is Roelstra’s, he’d have to rally all Princemarch behind him. And that won’t happen. Rohan has done well by them in making Pandsala regent—no one but a fool would trade