Sunrunner's Fate

Chapter Three

Prince Roelstra of Princemarch, Andrade thought through the haze of fear in her mind. So that was his name. It was harsh in her thoughts. She whispered it to herself, and it was just as harsh on her tongue.

Her father sat back, looking as smug as a cat. "Show him in, man!" he ordered the servant who had brought the news of Roelstra's arrival. The servant skipped quickly back out of the hall, and the lord of Catha Freehold looked back at his daughters. "Be on your best behavior," he advised, calmly scooping eggs onto his plate. "Princemarch is one of the wealthiest princedoms on this whole continent. It would be in your best interests to please Prince Roelstra."

I'm sure, Andrade thought grimly, struggling to keep her fluttering stomach from releasing her breakfast. And I'm sure it would also be good for you, Father, to be allied with Princemarch by marriage. She took a gulp of water to steady herself. Milar, sitting across the table from her, was much whiter than she had been when breakfast began. Andrade did not think it was with eagerness.

The servant returned, more collected than he had been before, and announced with a flourish, "My lord, I present to you Prince Roelstra of Princemarch!" He stepped away from the door as Roelstra and his entourage smoothly invaded the hall of Catha Freehold's lord. Andrade bristled as she caught the prince's coolly appraising look, which passed over her entire body and on to her sister's as well. Roelstra seemed to sense her antagonism – the corners of his mouth twisted for an instant into the sneer she had seen in her worst nightmares. Andrade shivered and clutched the sides of her chair as Roelstra made his bow to her father. She barely heard any of the words they spoke, but she did catch her father's invitation that Roelstra join them for breakfast. At the words, Andrade broke out in a cold sweat of terror. She could not stand to be with this man for more than a minute! She dropped her napkin onto the table, stood up – and caught a glimpse of Milar's face. Her sister was pronouncedly pale, and Andrade recognized the shaking hands, a sure sign that Milar was scared as well. All her resolve was replaced by pity and sympathy for her sister, and she remained seated. Milar shot her a look so painfully grateful that it hurt to receive it.

Roelstra sat down next to Andrade. "I was lucky enough to pass through most of your lands on my way," he said, reaching for a plate of small pastries. "This is a lovely holding, my lord."

"I'm afraid that my wife must take the credit for that," demurred Andrade's father. "It was her concern to see that the holding was prosperous. I have continued with her work after her death, but it is not the same." Andrade picked at her food as her father and Roelstra continued making polite conversation.

Suddenly her father exclaimed, "But where are my manners? My lord prince, may I present my daughters, Milar and Andrade." Milar looked up and gave Roelstra the most perfunctory of nods before devoting all her attention to her remaining food. Andrade did not even look at him. "They're a bit shy," her father said quickly, to cover for their lack of hospitality. "They're not at their best in the morning."

"No?" Roelstra raised his eyebrows. "Then it would be an even greater pleasure to see them later in the day." Andrade saw how his eyes gravitated to Milar, and she clenched her hands in the tablecloth. No one may look at my sister that way, not even you, my lord prince! she fumed silently. "As it is," Roelstra continued, "they are feast enough for the eyes."

Andrade stood up so violently that she knocked her chair back. "Excuse us both, Father. Neither Milar nor I are very hungry." With what might have been a gasp of relief, Milar too stood up, and she followed Andrade out of the hall and into her room.

Andrade made sure the door was bolted securely before she turned to her sister. "Mila," she asked tentatively, using their mother's pet name for her twin, "are you...?" Milar had sat down on the bed and was clutching the bedpost, breathing fast and heavily. "Milar?" Andrade tried again.

"Yes," Milar whispered. "Yes, I'll be all right." She looked up at Andrade. Her eyes were as wide as a frightened child's. "I hate him already," she whispered. "I don't even know why – there's certainly no reason to – but I hate him."

For perhaps the first time in her life, Andrade felt as though she could love her sister. Milar normally irked her no end, but now they were united against a common enemy, and she sat beside her and put her arms around her. Milar reached out and clung to Andrade. She didn't cry, but her back heaved up and down as though she were. Her face was dry, though, when she lifted it. "Andrade, you hate him too, don't you?" she asked.

"Yes," Andrade admitted. "Mila, there's something I never told you. I saw Roelstra in a vision."

Milar's eyes shot open. "In one of your faradhi visions?" she asked breathlessly.

Andrade nodded. "When I asked for a vision of my future, I saw his face overshadowing mine." She took her sister's hands and held them. "So whatever comes, Mila, if he's to be the fate of one of us, he'll be in mine, not yours. I didn't see you anywhere in my vision."

With a broken gasp of relief, Milar threw her arms around Andrade. "But he mustn't be for either of us! Isn't there something we can do?"

"No vision is written in stone," Andrade whispered, repeating the words that the Lord of Goddess Keep had told her when she came to him that morning. "Fate can be changed." Milar, evidently accepting this as a promise that it would be, relaxed and patted Andrade's back. Andrade, however, stared unseeingly at the stone wall of the chamber, wondering if she would make the right choice that would rid her of Roelstra, or if she would, by trying to do that, set the snare for herself. "Fate can be changed!" she whispered fiercely, staring out the window. "Fate can be changed."