Blue Moon Rising (Darkwood) (37 page)

“Then you can damn well unarrange it.”

“The contract’s been signed.”

“Not by me.”

“Your signature isn’t necessary,” said Harald calmly. “Neither is your consent.”

He ducked at the last moment, and Julia’s fist just brushed his hair in passing. Harald took the precaution of stepping back a pace while the Princess regained her balance. Being around Julia was doing more for his combat reflexes than all the Champion’s years of training put together.

“Julia, we’ve been through all this before. This marriage is going to take place no matter how we feel about it. Why not just accept it, and make the best of things?”

Julia glared at him. “Look, Harald, I’m going to say this once and once only, so listen carefully. I don’t love you. I don’t like you. I have about as much feeling for you as I have for what they shovel out of the stables every morning. I wouldn’t marry you if the alternative was leprosy. Got it?”

“You’ll learn to love me, after we’re married,” said Harald complacently. Julia kicked him in the shin. Harald hobbled up and down for a while, swearing under his breath so as not to upset his father. He’d learned to anticipate the punches, but the kicks were still getting through.

Julia turned her back on him and indulged in a quiet fume. Given her somewhat precarious standing in the Court, the last thing she needed was an open feud with the heir to the throne, but she just couldn’t help herself. Any woman in the Court was Harald’s for the asking, and he had to pick on her. She’d known rabbits that were less determinedly amorous. He brought her presents and paid her compliments and couldn’t seem to understand why he wasn’t getting anywhere. Julia had to admit that Harald could be pleasant company on occasion, but the persistence of the man was matched only by his infuriating assurance, and sometimes just the sight of Harald approaching was enough to set Julia’s palm itching for the hilt of her sword. Her hand dropped automatically to her side, and caressed the pommel briefly.

It felt good to have Rupert’s sword on her hip again. After her journey into the South Wing, she’d lost no time in throwing away her formal gowns and replacing them with a simple tunic and leggings. Fighting in that damn dress had nearly got her killed. If demons could get into the South Wing, no part of the Castle was safe any more. Julia wore a sword at all times now, and at night her scabbard hung from her bedpost, close at hand.

Strange
, she thought sardonically,
when I was living with the dragon in his cave, all I ever dreamed of was being rescued by a dashing Prince who’d take me to live in his Castle. And what happened? I got rescued by the most undashing Prince I’ve ever known, and now that I’m at the Castle I can’t wait to get out of it.

“Sweetness …” said a plaintive voice behind her.

“Lay a hand on me and I’ll tie your fingers in knots.”

“I hadn’t even considered it,” said Harald earnestly, and Julia’s mouth twitched. “Why don’t you like me, Julia? Everyone else does.”

Julia turned back to face him. “Harald, I don’t love you. Can’t you understand that?”

“People like us don’t marry for love.”

“I do.”

“But I’m going to be King one day,” said Harald, with the air of a man laying down his fourth ace.

“I don’t want to be Queen,” said Julia, trumping him.

“Every woman wants to be Queen.”

“I don’t.”

“Then what the hell do you want?”

Julia looked away. “I don’t know.”

There was a pause, and then Harald moved forward to stand beside her.

“It’s Rupert, isn’t it?”

“Maybe.”

“He’s only a second son. He’ll never be King.”

Julia whirled on him furiously. “That’s all you can think about, isn’t it? You and everybody else in this damn Castle. Well I’ll tell you this, Harald; Rupert may not be the eldest son, and he may not be good enough to sit on your damned throne, but he was good enough to make the Rainbow Run, and good enough to stand beside me and the dragon when we fought off the demons!” Julia’s voice broke suddenly, and tears started to her eyes. Somehow, she fought them back. She wouldn’t give Harald the satisfaction of seeing her cry. When she looked at him again, her eyes were dry and her voice was steady. “Rupert is the finest and bravest man I have ever known; a warrior and a hero.”

Harald raised an eyebrow. “Are we talking about the same person?”

“He had the guts to go back into the Darkwood again, to summon the High Warlock! I don’t remember you volunteering to go!”

“That would have been foolish,” said Harald. “It’s quite straightforward, if you think it through. We couldn’t both go; if by some misfortune we were both killed, it would leave the Forest Kingdom without a direct heir to the throne. At the very least, that would mean chaos; at worst, civil war. On the other hand, it was quite clear that one of us had to go; only a Prince of the line stood any chance of persuading the High Warlock to return. So, it had to be me, or him, and Rupert was the most expendable.”

“He volunteered. You didn’t.”

Harald shrugged. “My place is here, defending the Castle from its enemies. Let Rupert run around playing the hero if he wants to; I have more important considerations.”

“Such as what? Chasing me round the Castle like a billy goat in heat?”

“I won’t dignify that comment with an answer.”

“Rupert should have been back months ago! He’s your brother! Don’t you care about him at all?”

Harald stared at Julia steadily. “If Rupert dies, I’ll avenge him.”

“I’m sure that’ll be a great comfort to him.”

Harald smiled crookedly. “Don’t expect anything more, Julia. Court life isn’t conducive to brotherly love. You should know that; how many of your sisters stood up for you, when you were sentenced to death?”

“That was different. I was guilty.”

“No more than any of us, Julia; you were just unlucky enough to get caught. When father dies, Rupert and I could end up fighting on opposite sides of a civil war, to decide who finally inherits the throne. We’ve known that since we were children. You can’t afford to get too close to someone you’re probably going to have to kill someday.

“But I promise you this, Julia; if Rupert is dead, I won’t rest till I find out who’s responsible. And even if it turns out to be the High Warlock himself, I will avenge my brother.”

Julia looked at Harald sharply. His voice had gradually become cold and hard, quite different from his usual casual tones, and for a fleeting moment, harsh lines showed in his bland, placid features. The moment passed, but Julia didn’t look away, holding his eyes with hers.

“You think he is dead, don’t you?” she said quietly.

Harald nodded slowly. “It’s been five months now. Face it, Julia. He’s not coming back.”

And then they both fell silent, as a guardsman entered the antechamber and hurried past them into the Court, carefully closing the doubledoors behind him. There was a long pause. Harald and Julia looked at each other in silence. Eventually the doors swung open again, and the guardsman bowed to them both.

“Prince Harald, Princess Julia; the King will see you now.”

“Remember the cess pits,” murmured Harald, as he and Julia entered the Court side-by-side.

“How could I forget?”

“Then smile, dammit; it won’t kill you.”

“Want to bet?”

With heads held high, and wearing gritted-teeth smiles, they walked quickly forward to bow and curtsey respectively before the throne. The King regarded them both, and grinned sardonically.

“Drop the smiles, my children; you’re not fooling anyone.” He gestured for the guard to leave, and waited patiently for the doors to shut behind him. King John studied Harald and Julia a while in silence. Harald stared calmly back, while Julia shifted impatiently from foot to foot, her hand never far from the pommel of her sword. The King had made a decision about them; she could see it in his face.

“You two aren’t getting on at all, are you?” said King John, finally.

“Early days yet, father,” said Harald brightly. Julia sniffed audibly.

The King stared at her, and sighed audibly. “Princess Julia, how can anyone cause so much trouble in so short a time?”

“Practice,” said Julia briskly. “What have I done wrong now?”

“According to the latest report, you’ve been organizing the Castle women, everyone from the scullery maids to the Ladies-in-Waiting, into a last-ditch militia. This has apparently included drilling them in swordsmanship, archery, and dirty tricks. Such as where best to kick a man when he’s down, and how to smear your swordblade with fresh dung so that any wounds you make will fester.”

“That’s right,” said Julia. “Some of my ladies are shaping up rather well.”

“That is not the point!” snapped the King. “Women don’t fight!”

“Why not?”

King John spluttered speechlessly for a moment. “Because they’re not suited to it, that’s why not!”

“That right?” drawled Julia. “Want to strap on a sword and go a few rounds with me? I’ll give you a two-points start and still beat you three out of five.”

“What are you grinning at?” growled the King to Harald. “I suppose you’ve been supporting her in all this!”

“No,” said Harald. “I hadn’t heard about this latest venture, but I really don’t see the harm in it. If and when the demons decide to storm this Castle, we’re going to need all the defenders we can muster. I don’t care if there’s a man or a woman guarding my back, as long as they know how to use a sword.”

“Every now and again, you have moments of sanity,” said Julia approvingly. “Not often, I’ll admit, but it’s an encouraging sign.”

King John took a deep breath, held it, and let it go. It didn’t calm him as much as he’d hoped. “I am also told, Princess Julia, that when my guards quite properly tried to break up your latest training session, you and your ladies drove them off at swordpoint. Is this true?”

“Pretty much,” said Julia. “Served them right for interfering; it wasn’t any of their business. And what’s more, half your guards turned out to be really lousy swordsmen. They should have stayed and watched. They might have learned something.”

The King shook his head disgustedly. “I don’t know why I waste my time arguing with you. You have no sense of the fitness of things.”

“None at all,” said Julia cheerfully. “Is that all? Can I go now?”

“No you can’t! You’re here to discuss your forthcoming marriage to Harald.”

“I’m not marrying him!”

“We’ve been through this before, Julia; you don’t have a choice in the matter. Twenty-two years ago, your father and I signed a Peace Treaty to end the Border War between our two countries. Part of that Treaty was an arranged marriage between my eldest son and the Duke’s youngest daughter, as and when said daughter should come of age. You are of age, Julia, and the marriage will take place as planned. I will not risk another war because of your stubbornness. The postponements are at an end, Julia. I have spoken to the Castle chaplain, and the wedding will finally take place two weeks from today.”

“Two weeks?” Julia shot a furious glance at Harald, but he seemed just as surprised as her.

“Two weeks,” said King John firmly.

“Last I heard, you’d put it off till next month,” said Harald. “Why all the rush?”

“Yeah,” said Julia suspiciously. “What’s happened?”

The King gave her a grudging smile. “I have received a communication from your father, my dear. From what I can gather, he wasn’t at all surprised to learn you’d survived your encounter with the dragon. Now that he knows you’ve arrived here safe and sound, he states quite clearly that it is his wish that your marriage to Harald should take place as soon as possible. In fact, he was most insistent. Vague threats of invasion and war hovered in between every line.”

“Right,” said Julia. “That sounds like Dad. Once he’s made up his mind about something, he won’t budge an inch, come hell or high water. Damn him.”

“He wouldn’t really go to war,” said Harald. “Would he?”

“Oh yes,” said Julia bitterly. “If he thought he was being insulted, he’d fight to the last drop of everybody else’s blood.” She stared grimly at the King, her hands curling into fists that trembled impotently at her sides. “It seems you were right after all, your majesty; I don’t have any choice in the matter.”

The King looked away, unable to meet her accusing eyes. Harald reached out as though to comfort her, but drew back his hand when she turned her glare on him.

“I take it my father won’t be attending the wedding himself?” said Julia harshly.

“No,” said the King. “Apparently he’s very busy just at the moment, and with travel as hazardous as it is … He did send you his love.”

“No, he didn’t,” said Julia.

King John and Harald looked at each other, and for a long time nobody said anything.

“Come with me, both of you,” said King John, rising suddenly from his throne. “There’s something I want you to see.”

He made his way carefully down the dais steps, waving aside Harald’s offered help, and led the way to the rest of the Court. Next to the door leading to the King’s private chambers hung a huge, faded tapestry. King John pulled at a concealed rope, and the tapestry slid jerkily to one side, revealing a hidden alcove in which stood a simple glass display case, some seven feet tall and six wide. Beyond the dusty fly-specked glass stood two wooden mannequins, each displaying an ancient and intricately stitched wedding outfit.

“Splendid, aren’t they?” said King John. “These are your wedding robes, my children. Nine hundred years and more, it has been the tradition of this family that the first-born son and his bride shall wear these robes at their wedding. Your mother and I were married in them, Harald. There’s no call to look at them like that, Julia; they’re a great deal more comfortable than they appear.”

Julia studied the two outfits skeptically. The groom’s robe was a dark somber affair in black and gray, relieved only by a few silver buttons. The bride, on the other hand, was to appear in a light frothy concoction of laces and silks, all in purest white. Julia glanced at Harald, and then shook her head solemnly.

“I don’t think much of yours, Harald. White just isn’t your color.”