Her mother rose and bade all to silence. She placed a gentle hand on her husband’s arm. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Perplexed, her father stared at her.
Clarysa watched with bated breath. What are you going to say? Her mother met Clarysa’s gaze briefly before turning back to her husband.
“Our daughter has chosen Prince Stellan whether we approve or not. So I must ask you this–does not your impassioned blood flow in her veins? Great ambition marks your sovereignty, yet you express surprise that similar ambition marks her love.” She turned to Stellan. “And he,” she said, indicating the sorcerer, “he has maintained the royal decorum by making his proclamation in public before the King. By his very right, he deserves fair consideration. Tell me, young prince, is her hand worth so much that you will renounce your family and the corruption for which they stand?”
Clarysa stared at him expectantly.
Stellan bravely met the Queen’s gaze. “It is.”
“Will you promise that no harm will befall her by the hand of you or any other warlock?”
“I will.”
“There, Leopold, my husband and king, you have your answer.” Looking satisfied, her mother resumed her seat.
Clarysa noted with wonder the persuasive look that passed from her mother to her father. The Queen noticed her gaze and flashed a brief smile in her direction. She then leaned toward her husband and added a few final words. “Her mind is made up. Tell me, would you have us lose a daughter or gain a son?”
Her father sat with a brooding expression. Several uneasy minutes passed. A deep silence permeated the room as he contemplated his decision. After a long time, he finally spoke.
“So be it…Stellan. You and Clarysa may marry. And now to the war chamber, if you please.”
The words were low, unenthused, but they came–oh, they came! Clarysa feared she would faint from excitement. She gave Stellan an exuberant smile. He stared back, appearing flush with relief.
Then Clarysa remembered all was not reconciled. Her words came out in a mad rush. “Stellan, I’m so sorry for my inconsiderate statements. I never meant to imply you’re a coward. You’re the bravest man I’ve ever known. And I’m sorry I suggested–”
“Clarysa,” he interjected with a squeeze of her hand. “It’s all right. Don’t torture yourself.” His emerald eyes swam with tenderness.
She sobbed sharply, even as her parents’ entourage moved past them. “You’re being so kind, when I’ve been so horrid.”
“That’s not true.” The prince glanced briefly toward the doors. “I must go, but I wanted to tell you something. Look at me, Clarysa.”
Wiping her face, she glanced up.
“It took some time, but I realized you were right. Old fears were holding me back, and it prevented me from being the man you deserve. Could you have confronted me about it using a little more tact?” His lips curved in a half smile. “It would have been easier, but the truth is I might not have taken your words to heart as strongly. You’ll have to forgive me–I’ve never done anything like this before. But from now on, whatever happens, we’ll find a way through it. I wanted you to know.”
He drew her to him in a tight embrace and delivered a kiss so intense the act knocked the breath from her. Relief and happiness tore through her entire body, followed by an unparalleled surge of arousal. It was unrealistic to think the kiss could go further right here in the court, but she parted her lips anyway. Stellan slipped his tongue into her mouth for a warm, shivery, glorious moment.
All too quickly, he pulled away. “I’ll see you later,” he said before turning about sharply to follow the King.
Clarysa stared after him, nursing the hand he had squeezed the entire time in his earnestness.
While Stellan sat huddled with her father and his top commanders in the war chamber, Clarysa wasted no time making wedding preparations. After bandaging her arm, she set a date for three months hence. Messengers sped off in every direction. The first, of course, was dispatched promptly to Lionel in Belleressort.
Happiness filled her every fiber. She paused by a window, gazing out onto the grounds below. Pestilence was still out there. With such a threat looming over the Five Lands, a wedding seemed like a trivial matter. But the event would bring hope, as well.
Clarysa shuddered. She would stand by Stellan regardless of the outcome–even if Pestilence struck at the height of their wedding day.
Chapter 24
Stellan arrived home late after his meeting with Leopold, so late even the moon slept. Feeling confident and enthusiastic–for once–he wanted to share his good news. Gretchen and the others were already in bed, however, so it would have to wait until morning.
The decision to approach Leopold had been a sound one, fraught with intriguing possibilities. Pestilence’s infiltration of Aldebaran was regrettable. Stellan could only hope his resources would be sufficient to eradicate it. They had to be, for Clarysa’s sake. Nothing must happen to her. Nothing!
He brewed a pot of tea in the kitchen. After filling his mug, he reclined in a chair by the hearth. The fire was modest this time of night but it provided sufficient warmth.
Reality caught up to him in the form of a wedding. Being a married man was one thing; the whole idea of a wedding ceremony both amused and terrified him. He would have to learn some more dances, for he could scarcely expect Wind in the Willow to satisfy their guests.
He sipped the tea, catching his reflection in the liquid. Hmm. Him. Married. He had almost given up on the idea. Actually, it was more like he had never thought about it. Marriage was an exclusive fellowship from which he had been summarily blacklisted. A destitute prince with inadequate social skills and a despised pedigree. Who would want him? And now a parvenu by way of marriage. How a man’s fortune could change in a moment!
And what about children?
