Ruins of Camelot (7 page)

Before she had reached the corner of the bell tower, however, Darrick had spoken again.

"I like you, Gabriella," he'd said, his voice cool and thoughtful.  "Not because you are the Princess, but because you are… special.  There's something about you that I can't forget.  There's more to you than anyone else sees."

Gabriella had stopped at his words.  "You should not say such things," she had said without turning around.

"You feel the same way about me, I would wager," he'd commented in a lower voice.

Gabriella had turned quickly and looked back at him.  She'd expected him to be grinning at her, mocking her, but he wasn't.  He'd merely looked at her calmly and then gone on.

"If you did not feel the same for me, you would not care so much, I think.  You'd just ignore me.  Do you know what I think, Gabriella?  I think we are made for one another.  Perhaps that only happens in stories, but I don't think so.  I think we're like those two magnets in Professor Toph's laboratory.  We're either going to come smack together like two pieces of hot iron, red from the forge, or push apart like God and the devil.  It's all just a matter of which direction you're facing.  You've been so busy raging against the truth that I daresay you've never even really seen it."

Gabriella had felt strangely terrified.  It was as if he could see through her armour and clothing, even through her skin, right into her deepest being.  Suddenly, for the first time in years, she'd remembered the kiss that he had given her, back when they'd both been children, quarreling over a pilfered bag of Whisperwind powder.

"You should not say such things," she'd said again, nearly whispering.

"Perhaps I shouldn't," Darrick had replied with a half shrug.  "But that's never stopped me before."

In her bed, Gabriella smiled, remembering it all.  She had walked away from him that day feeling the strangest mixture of emotions: shame and embarrassment, yes, but also an unexpected, giddy excitement.  She had grown so used to impressing people as the Princess that it had never even occurred to her that she could impress anyone as Gabriella.  Suddenly, the thing that she had most detested about Darrick—that he never called her by her title, but by her given name—became the thing she was most intrigued by.  Was he right?  Were they like magnets, destined either to repel or attract?  Even if it were true, how could it ever possibly be?  She was the King's daughter after all, and kings' daughters simply did not marry the sons of blacksmiths.  Of course, even then, some small part of her had known that such things didn't really matter.  Gabriella was a sensible girl, but she was still a girl.  Even for her, no amount of imperial politics could win out over the possibility of true love.

She did not love Darrick from that day forwards, of course.  But she did begin to turn around, to not defy and resist him at every opportunity.  And just like the magnets in Professor Toph's laboratory, the turning around made all the difference.  Soon enough, repulsion turned to irresistible attraction.  Once she gave in to it, the force of it was so strong, so pervasive, that it was rather frightening.  It pushed all of her practicality aside, made all of her sensibility and reasonableness seem insipid, like paper castles on a child's windowsill.  She still attempted to goad him sometimes, to command his respect or cow him into submission, but it never worked, and deep down, she was glad.  He loved her because she was Gabriella and not because she was the Princess.  Over the past three years, this fact had stricken her as simultaneously incredible and sublime.

Now, on the morning of their wedding, it still did.

The door of the bedroom burst open, wafting the curtains that surrounded her bed and admitting a staccato of bare feet on the wooden floor.  A moment later, the curtains were thrust aside, and a figure jumped up onto the bed.

"Sun's up, Bree!  Who's ready to be the royal blushing bride?"  It was Rhyss, of course, who had spent the night in the adjacent bedroom.  She knelt on the bed and bounced with excitement.  "Because if it isn't you, I'll be happy to take your place.  What are friends for, hmm?"

Gabriella smiled.  "You had your chance already.  You ended it with him, remember?"

Rhyss shrugged languidly.  "I was a child then, but I do end it with all of th
em eventually.  I'm born to be a
breaker
of hearts
.  It's my lot in life.  Come, let's sneak down to the kitchens before Sigrid knows we're awake.  It's our last chance to breakfast with the cooks like old times!"

Gabriella looked at her friend affectionately, knowing this really was the last chance they would ever have to simply be girls together.  "Race you," she said, throwing off her covers and pushing Rhyss backwards on the bed.  Both girls scrambled up.  Laughing and shushing each other, they bolted out the door and down the hall.

"It's bad luck for you to see me before the wedding," Gabriella scolded Darrick when she met him in the King's reception room four hours later.

"I was summoned, same as you," he smiled, reaching for her as she joined him near the room's only window.  The window was tall stained glass, decorated with the stern visage of King Arthur in his armour, his sword gleaming steely blue and his beard streaming regally down his chest.  Gathered behind the glassy King was a line of handsome knights resplendent in their own armours, shields bearing the red dragon and holy cross of their order.

Gabriella laced her fingers through Darrick's and stood in front of him.  They kissed briefly, and she said, "Father did not tell me you would be here.  I hope all is well."

"All is well," Darrick nodded, touching his forehead to hers.  "I have spoken to the King already this morning."

Gabriella frowned quizzically up at him.  "You have?"

He nodded again.  "We're not even married yet, and already I am going over the Princess's head for councils with the King," he smiled, teasing her.  "Truth be told, he sought me out.  His messenger arrived just after breakfast, bearing the details of my summons."

"Then tell me," Gabriella said with a sigh, plopping onto the bench that ran beneath the window.  "I don't like surprises.  Especially on a day like today."

"It is your father's news to tell," Darrick replied.  "I won't steal his thunder except to say that it seems to involve a story and a mysterious box."

Gabriella glanced up at him from beneath her eyebrows.  "It means a bit more than that by the look on your face.  What did you discuss?"

Darrick laughed and lowered himself to the bench next to her.  He put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her.  "If you must know, we discussed my position in the Kingdom."

This made Gabriella sit up ramrod straight.  She looked aside at him seriously.  "Your position?  But we've already arranged that.  When you asked for my hand…"

Darrick nodded.  "Of course, and nothing is changed.  I no more wish to be King than you wish to be a herring.  When you become Queen, I will be the royal consort, Viceroy of Camelot.  I will assist you and represent you on those few occasions when a beard may carry more weight than a bustle, but you will be Queen Sovereign, ruler of the Kingdom."

Gabriella studied his face for a moment and then shook her head and slouched.  "I'd rather be a herring than Queen.  I wish you
could
become ruler someday rather than just Viceroy. 
But i
f that
arrangement still stands
, then what did you discuss?"

Darrick was silent for a long moment.  Gabriella glanced aside at him again.  He met her eyes, pressed his lips together, and then looked away, out over the dimness of the room.

Gabriella narrowed her eyes.  "You're going to be knighted," she said.

"More than that," he answered, returning his gaze to her.  "I have been promoted to commissioned officer in the Imperial Army."

"Commissioned officer!" Gabriella gasped, jumping to her feet and rounding on him.  "You've barely graduated the academy!"

"I received best marks in our class for Strategy and Battle Skills if you recall," Darrick reminded her.  "Besides, it isn't as if I will be High Constable or any such thing.  That post is still occupied by Sir Ulric.  I shall be his field marshal.  The post will provide invaluable experience for when you are Queen and I am your viceroy."

"Those are my father's words, not yours," Gabriella interjected derisively.  "Why should you require such experience?  As Viceroy, you will have your own men to advise you on military issues."

"The Kingdom does not need another
administrator
right now, Bree," Darrick said in a low voice.  "Your father fills that role quite nicely.  People are fearful.  News from the outposts gets more worrying every day.  There are rumours of bands of villains raiding towns, recruiting new members by the point of the sword.  Worse, there are tales of wanton bloodshed, of whole villages being wiped out."

"But surely, if these tales were true, father would have received reports…"

Darrick shook his head slowly.  "Not if the messengers were killed before they could deliver them," he said meaningfully.  "Five of the fourteen provinces have not been heard from in almost half a year.  Their tax manifests are overdue.  Most troubling of all, there is evidence that two of the manifests from the reporting provinces have been falsified."

"Falsified?" Gabriella repeated, lowering her own voice.  "But how can that be?  The chamberlains are all loyal to my father.  They would not cheat him."

Darrick's eyes had grown hard.  "They would not unless they were forced to."

"Forced to… but by whom?  And why?"

"The question of why is the simple one.  Your father's advisers believe that there is a brute army on the march.  The unreported taxes are being used to support and pay them.  The tributes of the Kingdom are being used to fund an insurrection force against it."

Gabriella was shocked.  Why had her father not told her about these things?  Had he believed that he was protecting her?  How could she be expected to be Queen someday if she was not welcomed into the council of the King on such matters now?  For the first time, she wondered if perhaps her own father did not believe she was capable of the task.  Did he himself doubt her ability solely because she was a woman?  Her face reddened at the thought.

"I hate that I must learn of these things from you, beloved," she said rather more stiffly than she had intended.  "But who does my father believe is responsible for this treason?"

Darrick shook his head.  "No one knows for certain, but there are rumours as you well know."

"Merodach," Gabriella breathed, drifting slowly to her seat again.  "Goethe told me.  On the battle floor.  I thought he was just trying to frighten me."

"Again, dearheart, no one knows for certain.  The name does not matter.  The point is the people are worried.  As I said, the Kingdom does not need another administrator."

"What
do
they need?" she asked without looking at him.