“Of course my niece is kept very busy with her music lessons.”
“But my time here is so short!” Andor lamented. “Surely a week or two’s delay in her musical career would not prejudice her future irreparably? The water caves will take a couple of days’ preparation, but tomorrow . . .”
Eventually some of the other ladies decided that he had been monopolized too long, and he was delicately removed to make conversation elsewhere. Inos sighed deeply and smiled down at her neglected embroidery.
Suddenly Kinvale no longer seemed quite so much of a prison. If that stunning young Andor man was going to deliver on a fraction of what he had promised in the way of entertainment, Kinvale was going to be fun. There had been no one in Krasnegar who could even approach him for charm. Or looks. There was an excitement about him that Inos had never met, or even known existed.
She realized that the silence was becoming too expressive.
“What a . . . pleasant person.”
“It is nice to see something well done,” Aunt Kade agreed complacently.
Inos wondered what exactly that remark implied. “Perhaps something is going to happen at last! “
“Perhaps, dear.” Aunt Kade held her knitting away from her again and squinted at it. “But it’s my job to see that it doesn’t.”
2
The moon was a silver boat floating above the sunset as a sodden punt drifted down the river, bearing Inos and Andor . . . and some others.
“You did not scream, Highness.” Andor’s eyes twinkled like the first stars wakening in the east. “All the other ladies screamed.”
“Did you wish me to scream, sir?”
“Of course! We brutish men gain savage pleasure from hearing you ladies scream.”
“I must ask my aunt to arrange for me to take screaming lessons.”
“Do so! And what did you think of the water caves?”
“They are ugly and dull. They cannot be viewed without getting soaked to the skin.”
“This is true, ma’am.”
“Which is why my aunt declined to come.”
“And several other aunts.”
“Do you think we can go back there—often?”
He laughed, leaning on his pole, bright eyes and white teeth gleaming in the dusk. “I think the water caves only work once. But there are other possibilities.”
The moon was a giant pumpkin, flooding the midnight world with golden light, as the revelers in the hay wain returned from the berry pickers’ ball . . .
The moon was a thin grin in the east as the astonished occupants of Kinvale were awakened at dawn by the strains of a small private orchestra performing on the terrace below their windows, being conducted by Sir Andor in a serenade to honor the birthday of Princess Inosolan . . .
There was no moon as Andor led Inos out on the balcony. The heavy drapes closed behind them, muffling the tuneful sounds of the ballroom. Stars had been poured liberally across the deep black sky, but there was a taste of fall in the wind, and the air was cool on her flushed skin.
Very gently Andor slid his hands around her and turned her to face him. At once her heart began dancing far faster than all those prancing couples they had just left.
“Inos . . .”
He paused. She wondered if he would dare try to kiss her, and how she would react. It was rare indeed for the two of them to have a moment alone, but she sensed that this was for more than idle chat. How long until Aunt Kade tracked them down? Then she noticed the concern in his face.
“Andor?”
He seemed to be having trouble finding words, and that was rare indeed for him. Suddenly he broke away from her and pounded his fist on the balustrade. ”I should never have come here! “
“What? But—”
“Inos . . . your Highness, I . . . I told you the first time we met! I said then that I could not stay long. A month, I said. I have been here five weeks. ”
How her heart stopped dancing. Indeed it seemed to stop altogether. “You are leaving?”
He spread his palms on the marble and stared out over the dark-shrouded trees. “I must! It tears me to ribbons, but I must leave. I have given my word.”
Happiness cracked, shattered, crashed down in a million shards like breaking ice. And a brainless little princess could find nothing better to say than: ”When?”
“Now! At once! My horse is to be ready at midnight. I have stolen every minute I could. I must be in Shaldokan by dawn.” Inos took several deep breaths and forced herself to consider the matter rationally. She was only a child, after all. Andor was a man of the world—charming, learned, cultivated, experienced . . .
“There is an elderly friend . . .” Andor paused.
“Please! The details do not concern me.”
It had been inevitable. She should have known. She had known, but she had not admitted it to herself. While visiting friends, as the gentry of the Impire so often did, Andor had taken pity on a lonely youngster. He had amused himself by passing the time in her company. It had been light entertainment for him. He probably did not even realize that for her it had been life itself, that he had saved her sanity in the boredom of Kinvale, that he had shown her what life was really for, that if she lived to be a hundred—
“Yes, they do concern you. To this man I owe a great debt. He is frail and he needs make a long journey. I promised to escort him, and the time is come.”
After all, Inos should be grateful that she had enjoyed five whole weeks of such a man’s company. The fact that the rest of her life was going to be a barren desert . . .
Andor turned to her again. He took her in his arms again. “But I swear to you, my darling, that I will return! I vow by the Powers and by the Gods that only my solemn word already pledged would drag me from you now.” Her heart went mad. Darling?
“I have asked you for no commitment.” His voice was taut, his manner intense. “And I ask none now. I beg you only to believe two things-that nothing in this world but honor itself would drag me from your side, and that nothing save death will keep me from returning as fast as I am able.”
“Andor . . . Oh, Andor! There is danger?”
He laughed, as if to dismiss such childish fancies. He paused. Then he sighed. “Yes! There may be danger. I could deceive most women, but you would see through my lies if I denied it. And I owe you the truth. If this task were something—anything at all!—that I could delegate to others, my love, then I would never hesitate. But there is some risk.”
Oh, Andor! Danger? And had he said LOVE?
“I will return! And when I do return, my most adored princess, then I shall kneel and beg you to accept my service-” He pulled her against him, and the whole world seemed to whirl away into nothing. There was only Andor, Andor’s so-powerful arms clutching her tighter than she had ever been held, Andor’s superb male body hard against her, as she had often dreamed that one day it might be, Andor looking down at her with starlight shining in his big dark eyes-eyes that should be full of joy, and instead were haunted by the agony of parting.
“My service,” he repeated softly. “My life. I came to Kinvale to while away a few days until I must go to aid an old family friend. You lost a brooch; I returned it and lost my heart. Even that first day, I knew. You are like no other woman I have ever met. If you want a knight to slay your foes, then my arm is at your command, and my blood is yours to spill. If you want a stableboy, then I will be your stableboy. Kennelmaster, poet, boatman . . . I will be for you whatsoever you want, your Most Wonderful Highness. Forever. And if, once in a while, you might condescend to smile in my direction, then that would be all the recompense my soul would ever seek.”
She could not answer. It was unbelievable. She had not dared to hope. She raised her lips to be kissed—
Light flamed across the balcony as Aunt Kade pushed aside the drape. “Inos, my dear, they need another couple for the quadrille.”
3
Summer aged gracefully.
As the first blush of fall was tastefully tinting the leaves at Kinvale, the legions of winter marched in triumph into the hills of Krasnegar. Like a defeated army in retreat, the workers fell back on the shore cottages, there to regroup and make a last defiant stand. The hilltops were white, the skies dark, and even the salt tide pools showed ice in the mornings. Wild-winged geese, wiser than men, fled southward overhead, honking sad warnings.