His Eminence glanced up, sighing. “It is for her own good. And yours.”
“Well, I don’t like it. How can it appear that consent is given voluntarily if she weds me looking as if she is shackled in some mysterious way? Even the appearance of coercion is unacceptable. Signing the consent is sufficient, I should think. Set her free!”
Craswell Crabbit shook his head firmly. “That would be immensely foolish, my Lord.”
“I promise not to try to escape,” Mistaya said quickly. “I won’t run from you. You have my word as a Princess of Landover. I have made my decision, and I will see the wedding through to its conclusion. But don’t make me marry you like this.”
She tried to sound pathetic and put upon instead of desperate, casting a pleading glance at The Frog.
“Crabbit seems rather convinced that it would better if you did.” Laphroig was experiencing doubts, as well. “The word of a Princess of Landover ought to count for something, I realize, but you are known for your troublesome nature, Princess.”
“But I promise! What more can I do?”
Laphroig smiled. “I am sure I could think of something.” He leered. Then he shrugged, refocusing on the matter at hand. “I can’t see that it would do any harm. Not if you give us your promise.”
His Eminence looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “You are seriously contemplating setting free a young woman with magic enough at her command to burn us all to ash? Have you lost your mind, Laphroig?”
“Watch your tongue, Crabbit! Unlike you, I am not afraid of a fifteen-year-old girl. I have fifty knights waiting just outside the door, and should she prove too troublesome, I might give her over to them for a bit of sport.” He gave Mistaya a look. “So I don’t think we need be concerned.”
“Your Eminence,” Mistaya said quickly, ignoring the threat. “My word is good. I will not break it. I have more than one reason not to do so, as you well know.” She flicked her eyes toward the office door, reaffirming her commitment to Thom. “Besides,” she added, “won’t I need my hands free to sign the documents of marriage? Won’t I need them in order to don my wedding dress? You do have a wedding dress for me, don’t you?”
His Eminence stared at her for a long moment. “Naturally, I shall provide you with a wedding dress, Princess. And since Lord Laphroig seems set on this, I shall set you free. But I warn you, disobedience at this juncture would be a big mistake. The matter is in your hands. Be careful.”
He made a few quick gestures, spoke a few short words, and the swirling ball that held her hands imprisoned faded away. She rubbed her wrists experimentally as His Eminence watched her like a hawk and then allowed them to drop harmlessly to her sides. “There, you see?” she said.
His Eminence went back to preparing the documents of marriage while Laphroig launched into a long, rhapsodic dissertation on the joys that awaited her once she was married to him. She nodded along agreeably, thinking through her plan as she did so. It was a risky gamble, but it was all she could do. If it failed, she was in deep trouble.
She found herself wishing momentarily that she could use her newfound freedom to break from the room, race to her bedroom, produce the rainbow crush, and stamp on it while calling for her father. But her father might be as much at risk as she was—perhaps more so, if what she had heard His Eminence say earlier was to be believed—so she would die before she summoned help from that quarter.
In any case, there was no time left for second-guessing and nothing to be gained by wishing for what might have been. She had made her choice, and she was going to have to live with it. If she were given half a chance, things would work out.
His Eminence straightened at his desk. “All done. Please sign on the lines here and here,” he advised Mistaya and Laphroig, indicating the required spaces.
Laphroig signed without reading, impatient to get on with things. Mistaya took her time, skimming quickly but thoroughly, and found the promise not to harm Thom embedded deep in the document in language that was clear and concise. Whatever happened to her, she would have protected Thom to the extent that she was able to do so. She took a deep breath and signed, knowing that if the marriage went through now, it would be binding on her and on her parents under Landover’s laws.
She sat back, thinking that if all else failed, perhaps she could leave Landover behind and go back to school at Carrington for the rest of her life.
“Now, about my dress?” she queried His Eminence.
Crabbit moved her back a few steps, worked a quick conjuring with words and gestures, and she was suddenly clothed in a stunningly beautiful white gown that left Laphroig with his eyes wide, his mouth open, and his tongue hanging out.
