He had lifted her and was heading for the far door before Meolorne reacted. She.charged at him, claws out, and he rammed into her with Inos. The fat woman recoiled and sat down heavily on the rug. Foronod was yelling and struggling to rise. Krath was retching.
Rap staggered up the stairs with Inos a dead weight in his arms. He fumbled awkwardly with the handle and stumbled into the Robing Room. He kicked the door shut, reeled off balance for a moment, then managed to turn around and grope for the bolt with hands he could not see below his burden. It slid with a satisfying click.
Thereafter he felt as if he were enacting a bizarre replay of another flight up this same tower, when he and Inos and the others had been pursued by the impish army. He was dismayed at how weak he felt and how heavy Inos soon became. He could feel the warmth of her through her nightgown; should have brought blankets in this cold. His heart was pounding as if about to explode, his breath was coming in harsh gasps, making white clouds in the icy air. His body streamed with sweat and there was a bitter taste in his mouth.
Antechamber . . .
All the doors had long since been repaired and fitted with shiny new bolts. The metal was so cold it stuck to his sweaty fingers. He had time, though, because it would take a while for the pursuers to find axes and enough strong men—Krath at least would not be participating.
Rap’s next meeting with friend Kratharkran was going to be a painful experience.
Well, it was worth it if he could save Inos—and he felt tremendous satisfaction in pulling this off without the aid of any despicable sorcery at all!
The stairs were dark, the rooms gloomy, all the casements caked with snow.
Withdrawing Room . . . more stairs . . .
He still had his farsight. He could watch the pursuit. Oh, Gods! The new doors were flimsy, shoddy affairs compared to the old. And jotnar were not imps. Two enraged young giants had just shattered the first one with benches.
Dressing Room . . .
Another door collapsed into splinters without a struggle. They had thrown away the benches and taken to using feet and shoulders. Would even a stone wall stop a really mad jotunn? They were gaining on him!
The Royal Bedchamber . . .
He was at the limits of his strength. His head throbbed and dark patches swam before his eyes. He must rest or he would faint. With legs like strips of hot dough, he wobbled over to the bed and dumped Inos down on it.
He sprawled unexpectedly on top of her, his breath rasping like a saw.
There was an arm around his neck.
He raised his head and peered into the only truly green eyes in Krasnegar.
“You stink like a stable,” she said quietly. Rap said, “Awrrk,” or thereabouts.
“I do think you might have washed or something first.”
“Inos! Oh, Inos!”
“Husband!” she murmured. Her eyes had closed again.
Rap made another incoherent noise. “You were awake?”
“I heard some of it,” she said sleepily. “That was a very romantic way to carry me to my bridal bed, but was it wise?”
He tried to get up, and the arm tightened like a saddle girth.
“Kiss me.”
“I smell like a horse.”
“Kiss like a horse, then. But kiss me.”
He kissed her—gently, tentatively, excitedly, joyfully, wildly, passionately . . . prolongedly.
Joy! Inos! Love!
“My!” she said at last. “I didn’t know you cared.” Then she opened her eyes in astonishment. “You’re weeping!”
“Of course I’m weeping, you crazy, idiotic, headstrong nincompoop!”
“Oh, you do care!” Sudden anxiety . . . “You don’t mind what I did?”
“No, not It’s wonderful. I never wanted to be a sorcerer, darling!”
Relief! “Darling! To hear you say . . . What is that confounded racket?” Inos was no longer an adept, but the royal glamour was still there, and the green eyes flashed with regal annoyance.
“Foronod and the rest of your loyal subjects. They think you’re being raped. They’re just breaking into the Dressing Room.”
She smiled contentedly and closed her eyes again. “Then we just have time for another kiss before I send them all away and it happens.”
“You’re all right?”
“One more kiss should do it.”
“But—”
“I suppose we shall have to slip down to Kinvale in a day or two and make this wedding official,” she mused. “But that can be our little secret.”
A stableboy? A wagon driver? A horsethief? A flat-nosed, ugly faun?
The royal glare was switched on again as she looked at him. “I distinctly remember ordering you to kiss me.”
“But—”
But she was queen. The glamour was still there. He obeyed.
They would all obey, always. She was the queen.
Alteration find:
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
If this be error, and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
— Shakespeare, Sonnet CXVI
EPILOGUE
Irksome words
“Charming!” Kadolan said. “No, you look much more than charming! Beautiful! Ravishing!”
“Gods, Aunt! Is that an appropriate expression for a bride on her wedding day?” Without turning, Inos grinned mischievously from the dressing-table mirror.
“You know what I mean! You look absolutely divine!”
Inos’s happy smile faltered slightly; she shivered. “Not that, either!” Then she laughed. “But I accept the compliment. In fact, I agree wholeheartedly. Considering the short notice, I think I’ve done not badly. Even Eigaze would approve. And it’s fortunate Tiffy isn’t here—he’d certainly find a well to jump into.”
“Tiffy’s married, dear. And expecting. Didn’t I tell you about Eigaze’s letter?”
“Mm? Perhaps you did. The marriage doesn’t surprise me, and I think I know what you mean otherwise.” Inos poked thoughtfully at the heap of pearls before her. “One string, do you think? Or two?”
“None. You make them look dull and lusterless.”
“My!” Inos murmured, pleased. “That sounds like one of Andor’s lines. Just the tiara, then? After all, it was a present from Rap.” She chuckled softly. “The only present he’s given me since a nest of quail eggs he found on . . . no, that’s not true! He gave me my kingdom.”
Kadolan muttered agreement. Truth be told, she was seeing her gorgeous niece as a blur of emerald silk. It had been common knowledge for years around Kinvale that one infallible cure for drought was to invite Princess Kadolan to a wedding; she invariably wept enough at a wedding to irrigate every farm for leagues. Already she needed her hankerchief, and soon.
“It’s almost sunset,” she said hastily. “Why don’t I go and see if the other half of the ceremony has arrived?” She headed for the door.
Dabbing her eyes, she proceeded along the corridor. The groom and the best man were supposed to come at sunset, and she realized that she had completely forgotten to ask who was going to be best man. Probably some castle flunky she had never met. She sighed wistfully, thinking that the most appropriate choice would have been Captain Gathmor. Or Minstrel Jalon, maybe.
At least it would not be that terrible goblin! Planning a wedding had always been one of her favorite occupations, and she felt cheated at having been allowed only three days to arrange this one. Yet that was not so surprising. Of all the young ladies she had introduced to matrimony in her years at Kinvale, none had proved so difficult to bring to the altar as her niece.
Because of Rap’s lie to Foronod, this must be a very intimate affair; a secret wedding, really. And that was a shame, too. Kadolan had many happy memories of Holindarn’s wedding, when all Krasnegar had rejoiced and partied for days. Still, it was fortunate that Marshal Ithy happened to be visiting Kinvale at the moment, returning from his inspection of the Pondague lines. He had happily agreed to give away the bride.
And Inos had decided to hold a full-scale coronation in the summer. She had never been formally crowned, and now Krasnegar had a king to crown also. Kadolan certainly intended to be present for that. She would sneak in through the magic portal, which still remained a close-guarded state secret, and pretend that she had come by ship. She reminded herself that Rap knew nothing of those plans yet, so she must be careful not to mention them this evening.
But a formal wedding would have been nice. The imperor would have sent a representative, and royal gifts. And what was the use of having so many relatives if you couldn’t summon them all to lavish affairs like weddings? Even Eigaze and Epoxague might have come to a Kinvale wedding, but they could hardly be invited to Krasnegar. Some distant relatives were just too distant!