Текст книги "Dragonfly"
Автор книги: Julia Golding
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spec-tate. In the palace on Rama she had always known that her sisters were performing the
same service at exactly the same time in other parts of the palace, as were the priests and
priestesses in the temples throughout the Blue Crescent. It had felt like one great
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service, all for the Mother. As the only one performing these rituals for thousands of miles,
probably at a different time as even the sun was strange here, she found her voice sounded very
thin and weak, the bell insignificant, the responses feeble.
The evening service complete, the Etiquette Mistress displayed the gown she had selected for
the banquet: white silk, decorated with golden dragons.
Tashi nodded her agreement. She didn't really care for it, but then again she didn't care what
she looked like. No one would mind as this was not about her at all: it was about the joining of
two nations, not a girl and a boy. Her hair was hidden under a sunburst gold headdress and veil,
her face paint retouched.
"You are ready, Your Highness," declared the Etiquette Mistress, noting with quiet approval the composure of the Crown Princess, whom she had always considered too free with her emotions.
"You do honor to our people," she added with a rare touch of warmth.
The Royal Chamberlain led the way to the feasting hall where the Gerfalian court was already
assembled. Tashi peeked over his shoulder at the open door and saw that there were hundreds
of strangers all waiting for her. She felt terrified. And one of them was to be her husband. They
all seemed the same to her–the bearded men with long wild hair and strange clothes, the
women with low-necked gowns that clung to their shapely forms, leaving little to the
imagination, so unlike the fair-haired, pale-skinned people of her own
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court. If a woman ventured in public like one of these Gerfalians, she would be considered half-
dressed; an unshaven man would be censured by the priests.
"Her Highness, Taoshira of Kai, the Fourth Crown Princess of the Blue Crescent Islands and
dependent territories," announced the Chamberlain.
The room fell silent. Tashi walked smoothly up the central aisle, keeping her eyes locked on the
man at the center of the long table in front of her. She reached the bottom of the dais and
bowed as befitted one ruler greeting another.
"Your Majesty," she said in Common.
"Princess Taoshira, you honor all Gerfal with your presence." King Lagan came down the steps to greet her, kissing her hand in Gerfalian style. Tashi had been warned to expect this so did not
flinch at the contact. "Please be seated at my side."
He led her to her chair. Tashi noted with pleasure that it was of equal magnificence to his own.
She swept her gown into an arc as she sat. A dog promptly flopped down on it, drooling on the
priceless fabric. King Lagan bent and stroked the beast.
"My favorite hound," he said in explanation. "Do you like dogs, Princess?"
Warming to this fatherly man, Tashi was about to tell him about her own dog, the one who
helped her keep her flocks safe on Kai, but then remembered her status.
"I love all animals created by the Mother," she replied, giving the answer the priests had taught 44
her.
"What, even wasps and wolves–and pigs?" A young
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man snorted on her other side.
Tashi turned to him with a frown. He looked different from the others–his skin was darker and
his black hair tightly curled like a Southerner. She wondered if he was some kind of entertainer,
a court jester perhaps. He was very sloppily dressed and had already spilt something on his red
velvet tunic.
"Yes, even those, for they all have their place in the Mother's plan for her world," she said in a haughty tone that the Third Princess would have been proud of.
King Lagan was looking thunderous but he struggled to keep his temper.
"Princess, may I introduce my son, Prince Ramil, to you."
Tashi faltered. "This is Prince Ramil?"
"Yes, this is Prince Ramil," the young man repeated, giving her an insolent smile and tapping his chest.
"Ramil!" warned the King.
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"Oh, I apologize, Princess. I am hopeless at these sort of introductions."
Ramil seized her hand and kissed it quickly. "You-honor-us-with-your-presence," he gabbled.
Tashi was aware that all eyes were upon them. She wanted to slap the boy for his behavior but
instead clasped her hands in her lap. It was worse than she had feared: he was unspeakably rude
and not even trying to be pleasant to her.
"Thank you, sir," she replied quietly, trying not to show that she was upset.
"Your welcome to a stranger displays all the qualities I have come to expect of Gerfalians."
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Ramil frowned. If he was not mistaken, the little peasant had just reprimanded him.
"And your present to me on your arrival–apologies that I was unable to attend, by the way–
shows all the generosity of your people." He pulled a sorry-looking piece of paper out of his
pocket. To Tashi's horror, he spread it flat, obliterating her model, and made a crude paper dart.
"Here, accept this with my dutiful best wishes." He dropped it in her lap.
"What's this?" said King Lagan, picking up the dart and looking at it in confusion.
"A love token, Father," said Ramil, tucking into the plate of meat in front of him.
"Strange token, my boy. There's nothing written on it."
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Ramil merely smiled and shrugged. "The Princess understands. It's a Blue Crescent tradition."
Tashi swallowed and dug her nails into her palm to control herself. She feared she was going to
burst into tears in front of all these barbarians. The gold trimmings of her headdress trembled.
"I am sorry, Your Majesty, but I find I am tired after the long voyage. I will retire. Please enjoy the feast in my absence." Tashi rose to her feet and swept from the hall before anyone could
stop her.
Everyone jumped to their feet to bow as the Princess made her escape. King Lagan narrowed his
eyes at his son.
"What?" said Ramil innocently.
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Chapter 3
The King and his ministers were holding an emergency meeting. The Crown Princess had refused
to leave her quarters for the last week, and
preparations for the wedding were making no progress as the Blue Crescent delegation was
withholding its cooperation.
"What has got into the girl?" asked the King. "She said she was tired. She can't still be tired!"
Prince Ramil sprawled in his chair, feeling quietly pleased with this development. Perhaps his
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father might be having second thoughts about the advisability of the union.
"Your Majesty, I have spoken to the Etiquette Mistress," replied Lord Taris,
"and, after much prevarication, I persuaded her to explain the situation. It appears our greetings turned out in Crescent culture to be a catalogue of insults to the Princess."
"Insults! But you met her yourself! We held a feast in her honor. What more could Her Highness
want?" King Lagan stroked his favorite hound's silky ears to
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calm himself. His country was on the brink of disaster and all because of some white-faced girl
who was keeping to her room in a tantrum. He wanted to box her ears. Didn't she understand
what was at stake?
"I fear we got it wrong from start to finish. The worst insult apparently was offered by Prince
Ramil himself."
The King rounded on his son. "What did you do?"
Ramil sat up indignantly. "Nothing. You were there. She sent me this stupid paper bird. How
about that for insults!"
"That 'stupid paper bird,' Your Highness, was her personal sign, the dragonfly," said Lord Taris.
"Didn't look anything like a dragonfly," grumbled Ramil.
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"To hand your symbol to another is to entrust them with yourself–the fragility of the paper
expressing the delicacy of each person's soul."
"Oh." Ramil started to have an inkling of what he had done.
"Your son took this gift, flattened it out, and made it into a paper dart."
"Ramil!" growled the King.
"I didn't know!" he protested. "What was I supposed to think? She came thousands of miles and gave me a squashed paper model."
"Actually, the squashing was my fault," admitted Lord Usk, his blushing cheeks clashing with his coppery hair. "It was very neat the way she made it, but by the time it reached Prince Ramil, I'd .
. . er . . . sat on it."
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King Lagan buried his face in his hands and groaned. "So we have a stranger in our midst, a
princess, but also, let us remember, a girl of sixteen.
She's come to do her duty by giving herself in marriage to my son, behaving with decorum
beyond her years, and what do our young people do? They snub her, sit on her gifts, then fling
them back into her lap."
Ramil and Usk looked at each other guiltily.
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"Suggestions?" rapped Lagan.
"Send her home," mumbled Ramil.
The King scowled at his son.
"I think we owe her an apology," said Lord Taris. "Your Majesty, if you could perhaps speak to her?"
"I'll talk to her, but Ramil is the one who should apologize."
Ramil felt hot under the stares of all the ministers. He knew that Hortlan and Yendral would
tease him unmercifully for crushing his future wife's gift like an ill-mannered oaf. But it hadn't
been his fault. He'd warned his father that the two cultures were completely incompatible.
"Of course I'll say sorry," Ramil said grudgingly. "I did not intend to insult her."
"No? I am surprised to hear that." Lagan felt like shaking his son. He sat there so sullen and uninterested in the business, almost as if it were someone else's betrothed they were talking
about. He acted as if he had no inkling of the true seriousness of the situation. Gerfal could not
afford the failure of this union. "I'll seek an audience with Her Highness and then perhaps,
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Ramil, you can make your own peace with her in a suitable setting, away from the confines of
the court. Do something that shows that you do have a good side. Sometimes I need reminding
you have one too!"
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"The Princess shows an interest in the horses, Your Majesty," interjected the chamberlain as the King and his son exchanged stony glares. "She apparently visited the stables early this morning."
"That's it!" Lagan thumped the table. "Take the girl riding. Show her you can be considerate, if you try."
"So I'm allowed out again, am I?" Ramil said, folding his arms across his chest.
"Even you, Ramil, would not abandon a foreigner in the forest. I trust you to show her the
courtesy of a host," Lagan replied, moving on to the next item on the agenda.
Tashi was in a terrible state. She realized she had to face the Gerfalian court again, but now that
she had hidden in her rooms for a week it was doubly difficult to come out. She felt humiliated–
and knew she was a failure.
Wrapped in one of the furs bought in the Ice Archipelago, she paced the private terrace in front
of her chamber, staring down on the city below her with unseeing eyes. She already hated it
here and suspected that the people despised her. Even in the stables, the servants had all gazed
at her like some curiosity in a menagerie. No one lowered their eyes respectfully as she passed.
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On her desk lay the many drafts of the letter announcing her decision to return home
unmarried. She hadn't plucked up the courage to send it yet, but she knew with a fierce
certainty that she could not abide to be married to that sneering boy who'd insulted her so
publicly. All who had travelled with her were whispering about it behind her back. She
understood that scuffles had broken out down at the docks between sailors from the two navies.
If she stayed much longer, she'd end up causing a war, not bringing about an alliance.
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The Etiquette Mistress appeared at her elbow.
"Your Highness, the King wishes to speak to you. He is waiting outside and asks if you are at
leisure?"
Tashi felt a momentary panic: she couldn't refuse to see the King though she would've liked to.
She smoothed her robe. There was no time to change into more formal attire. She was wearing
barely any makeup apart from the everyday kohl around her eyes. At least her hair was decently
covered.
"Tell the King I will receive him now," Tashi said stiffly.
The Mistress departed and returned swiftly with the King. He strode towards her, arms
outstretched.
"My dear princess! It grieves me that we have offended you."
Tashi flinched back but, before she knew it, found herself hugged to his chest and patted on the
back.
"You have been so brave to travel all this way and we failed you. My son is heartily sorry for the incident
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with the paper dragonfly. He had no idea of its significance and thought you were playing a joke
on him."
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Tashi disentangled herself from his robes. "A joke, sir?"
"Come, sit by me." King Lagan slapped the seat beside him. "Damn chilly out here, isn't it?"
He was swearing and talking about the weather now. Tashi did not know what to do.
"Don't be scared: I'm not going to eat you, if that's what you're thinking,"
continued the King. Without all that make-up and glitter, he could see that she was a pretty little
thing. And so young. It made him sad to think that she'd come to the other end of the world to
marry his inept son when she should be growing up peacefully in her own home. Another
sacrifice. He pulled her gently to the seat beside him. "There, that's better, isn't it?"
Tashi nodded, finding it easier to do as he asked than explain why it was inappropriate for a
Crown Princess.
"We got off on the wrong foot last week, but I would like us to start again. I think it wise for you to get to know Ramil away from everyone. He's a good boy really."
Tashi supposed she could forgive a father for blind prejudice but she could see no redeeming
feature in the Prince.
"He's offered to take you riding, if you would like that."
"Your Majesty is very kind, but I do not ride."
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"What! Not ride! Well, then there's a treat in store for you. Ramil is an excellent rider–gets it from his mother, Zarai, a princess among the Horse Followers. He'll have you in the saddle and
away before you know it. He's a very good teacher."
Tashi did not trust Ramil to come within a foot of her, let alone teach her to ride, but she did not
know how to refuse this attention without seeming rude.
"I would not dream of taking up the Prince's time. If I am to learn to ride, I would be happy with one of the ordinary instructors."
"Time? Why, there is nothing more important than him spending time with you. Say nothing
more on the subject. Tomorrow morning, just after nine, he'll be waiting for you in the stables."
King Lagan rose and patted her again on the shoulder.
"I hope to see you at dinner, my dear. Good afternoon."
Tashi watched him leave, in a state of shock. He'd patted her several times–
no man had touched her like that since her father said goodbye to her on Kai four years ago.
He'd called her "my dear" as if they were already kin. Clearly he did not respect her, regarding her as a wayward daughter to be cajoled into accepting his son's grudging attentions.
She returned to her desk, folded up the latest missive, and slipped it into the tube for the carrier
pigeon. It was no good. The alliance could not go ahead.
Her embassy had failed. Let the Third Princess take her place if she wished.
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Tashi was going home.
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Ramil waited in the stables with Leap and a white mare he had selected for the Princess.
Whisper was a gentle animal, suitable for a novice. Ramil's spirits lifted now that he was back
among the horses: at the very least he'd get beyond the walls, even if it was with his ball-and-
chain of a princess dragging behind him.
He heard feet on the cobbles and turned to see the Princess approaching with two attendants,
her painted face ghostly in the dark of the stables. She was wearing a ridiculous gown covered
with dragonflies. Was that a reminder of his mistake?
"Your Highness," Ramil said with a bow.
"Prince Ramil," she replied, giving him the merest bend in reply, a serious slight if he had known.
Her attendants glared at him.
"I have taken the liberty of selecting a suitable mount for you. Her name's Whisper. A good
horse. Very dependable. She'll treat you gently." He glanced at her attire again. Was she really
expecting to ride in that? "Do you wish to ride astride or side-saddle?"
The Princess looked puzzled. "I do not know."
She really did know nothing about riding, thought Ramil incredulously.
"I suggest you try side-saddle until you can order more suitable clothes."
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He whistled to a stable boy and ordered the appropriate tack. Tashi meanwhile was making
friends with Whisper, stroking her nose timidly.
Tashi felt she was
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falling in love with her already. She held out high hopes for this ride, even with the unpleasant
company, having promised herself this one treat before announcing her decision to the
Gerfalians that she was returning home.
"Princess, are you ready?" asked Ramil, holding out a hand to help her step on the mounting
block. "One leg goes there, the other there. Yes, that's right."
Tashi shook out her skirts, feeling nervous now that she was perched up on Whisper's back.
What if she fell? She had an image of herself sprawled in the mud in front of a laughing Ramil.
"I'll take the leading rein," explained the Prince. "All you have to do is stay in the saddle."
Ramil leapt onto his own mount and urged the stallion forward in a stately walk. The two horses
made their way through the crowd of spectators that had gathered in the courtyard. Tashi kept
her eyes lowered, trying to ignore the good-humored cheers and whistles of the stable boys.
Ramil glanced sideways at his guest. It was impossible to know what she was thinking: her white
face was blank of expression. She was like one of Briony's porcelain dolls. Fragile. Cold. He
wondered what he would have to do to get a smile from her.
Ramil kicked Leap to go a bit faster and they began to trot down the paved street leading to the
gate. Now he got a reaction. She had bitten her bottom lip, face furrowed in concentration.
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"The Royal Forest is very beautiful, even at this time
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of year, Your Highness," Ramil said, trying to make conversation.
Tashi did not reply. She was trying to work out how to stay on and was not listening.
"Perhaps Your Highness would like to go a little faster?" Ramil asked slyly.
Still nothing. They'd reached the sweep of parkland that led to the eaves of the forest. Ramil had
been shut inside for months. The temptation was too great.
"As you wish, Your Highness." He urged Leap into a gal op. The Princess gasped and clutched the pommel of her saddle as Whisper followed. She looked terrified, or was it just that ridiculous
face paint?
"Don't you love the speed?" Ramil called over his shoulder.
They crossed the meadow and passed under the trees.
"Stop! I order you to stop!" called the Princess. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the saddle; she was sliding all over the horse's back with no conception of how to stay on.
Ramil threw back his head and laughed. He couldn't imagine anyone not enjoying a fast gallop
across country. "If we are to be married, you must learn not to order me around. I don't like it.
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Let yourself go for once, Princess.
Enjoy yourself!"
He spurred the horses on. Branches seemed to reach out and grab Tashi.
She was convinced now that this mad boy was trying to kill her. But it was no time to stand on
her dignity. She had to end this before she broke her neck.
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"Please, Prince Ramil, please stop!" she screamed.
Immediately, Ramil slowed the horses to a gentle walk, then a full stop. He knew he'd gone too
far. It was the poor girl's first time in the saddle: he should never have scared her like that. He
cursed himself for being a hard-hearted idiot. Then he heard something slither to the ground.
The Princess was standing on the forest floor, trying to unhook her skirts from the saddle where
they had become entangled. Ramil dismounted to help her.
"I'm sorry," he said, trying not to laugh at the absurd sight of the prim Princess fighting her own robes. "I'm not normally like this. I've just been shut up for so long in the castle and I–" He stopped. The girl was actually crying. He'd wanted a response–insults, laughter, something
human–but he hadn't wanted this.
Now that she was back on the ground, Tashi's self-control had crumbled.
The one thing she'd been looking forward to in this hellish place had been turned into a
nightmare.
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"I hate you. I hate Gerfal. I hate everything about this place." Tashi sobbed, ripping her
underskirt to free it. "You don't have to worry about how I'll treat you after our marriage,
because the alliance is off. I'm going home."
She started to stride away, heading in completely the wrong direction, deeper into the forest.
"Princess! No!" Ramil ran to her side and seized her arm.
"Let go of me, you barbarian." Black stains of kohl ran down her cheeks. She looked quite wild.
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He let go, hands held up in surrender. "All right, all right! I was only trying to tell you that you are going the wrong way. The castle's over there."
With as much dignity as she could muster, Tashi swept round. Ramil watched until she was out
of sight, torn as to what he should do. He had got his desire: the marriage was cancelled; but he
knew he had behaved very badly. He would never have dreamed of treating an ordinary
Gerfalian girl like that. He thumped his head on the saddle, making Leap start. What about
Gerfal and the alliance? He should go after her and this time make his apology sincere.
"Princess, Princess, wait!" He caught up Whisper's trailing reins, remounted Leap, and urged the horses after her. She couldn't have gone far on foot.
Suddenly, a net fell from the branches on top of him. Ramil struggled to free himself, but felt the
net tighten. He was yanked from the saddle, falling to the ground with a thud. He could do
nothing. This was supposed to have been a romantic excursion so he carried no weapons, not
even a knife. The net pressed his arms to his waist. Was this the Princess's revenge for his
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behavior? Had some of her men followed them and decided to teach him a lesson?
"Put him in the cart," growled a deep voice somewhere behind him. Ramil was dragged along
the ground, then heaved into a cart, a canvas thrown over the top of him. He shouted for help,
but felt a sword point at his throat.
"Make another sound and I regret I'll have to cut
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your tongue out," the man hissed. He gave Ramil's cheek a shallow cut with the blade. "There's a reminder for you."
The cart heaved into motion, heading into the forest.
It was dark when the canvas was taken off Ramil and he was removed from the cart. From the
network of branches overhead, Ramil saw that he was still in the forest, somewhere far in, he
guessed, as nothing looked familiar. A circle of wagons was drawn up around a campfire. He had
expected a gathering of grinning Crescent sailors, prepared to remind him of his manners to
their ruler; what he had not expected was a bunch of circus performers, travelling with their
entourage of animals.
"What the–" he began.
He received an elbow in the stomach, cutting off further protests.
"Be quiet!" growled the strong man, the size of a troll from one of the Gerfalian folk tales. He gripped Ramil by the scruff of his neck. "And get in there, lad."
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He shoved the Prince into a foul-smelling, high-sided wagon. Ramil lay on his back in the straw
at a loss to explain what was happening. The daring of these circus people was breathtaking.
They'd abducted a member of the royal family not a mile from the castle. How could they expect
to get away undetected? They'd be hanged from the battlements when the King's guard caught
up with them.
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As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized he wasn't alone. A girl in a white nightdress was
hunched in the shadows in one corner, her eyes wide with fear, but she wasn't looking at him.
Cautiously, Ramil turned his head and realized that he was sprawled not five feet from a snow
tiger. Ramil stifled his urge to yell. Fortunately, the beast was occupied by a large haunch of
venison, doubtless poached from the Royal Forest, and had not yet considered the newcomers
as dessert. Ramil picked himself up on his hands and knees and crawled towards the girl.
"Well, this is interesting," he said lightly, trying to act as if this was an everyday situation for him.
He owed it to one of his subjects to at least play the part of prince.
The girl hugged her arms to her sides but said nothing. Ramil looked at her more closely. There
were signs that she had been roughly handled: her face was scratched and her wrists bruised.
He felt indignant for her. How dare these criminals ill-treat a Gerfalian girl! There were strong
laws against such behavior.
"Don't worry, miss, I'll think of something to get us out of here. If they've harmed you in any
way, I'll make sure they are brought to justice." He reached out to reassure her but she flinched away. He decided to put it down to her natural suspicion. "It's all right. I'm Prince Ramil. They probably don't realize who they've kidnapped. I'll make sure my men rescue you too when they
come for me."
She still said nothing.
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"I suppose our first problem is what to do about him." He nodded over at the tiger.
"It's chained." The girl broke her silence but her accent was funny, not Gerfalian at all.
He stared at her. No robes; no face paint. It couldn't be–
"Do I have you to thank for this, Prince Ramil, for a further assault on my dignity?" the Fourth Crown Princess asked bitterly. "Even for you, this goes beyond ill manners. It is an outright
declaration of war. You have your men bind me, strip me of my robes, my veil, throw water over
me, and lock me up with a tiger!" She sounded near hysterical. "Did you find out that I had
informed my sisters of my intention to return home? Did you have my messages intercepted
too? Is this some kind of punishment?"
Tashi swallowed a sob. She knew better than to expect any consideration from this evil boy. He
probably thought this saving-the-Princess-from-the-tiger would rescue the alliance, but she was
not fooled. She'd spent the last few hours in a cage with a hungry cat, albeit one chained at the
far end: she would never forgive him.
"But I thought ... I thought it was you and your people who had ambushed me!" protested Ramil.
He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "But if not you, then who?"
The Princess turned her back on him. Ramil retreated to the corner nearest the door, watching
her shoulders heaving as she wept silently. There was something terrible in the sight. He
suddenly understood how the
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past few days must seem to her–a foreign country, insults, and now this. She was still his
responsibility because she'd been kidnapped on Gerfalian land, a place where she had every
right to expect protection and respect. Even if he disliked their culture, he had learned how
important the ceremonial robes and trappings were to the Crescent people; and here she was
stuck in a cage like a wild beast, wearing only a thin, plain dress. It was all wrong for her to look
like a plucked peacock.
"I'm sorry, Princess. I'm really, really sorry that this has happened," Ramil said sincerely.
Tashi turned her eyes on him briefly: he was staring at her. "Don't look at me," she said in a whiplash of a voice. The foreign Prince was seeing her without her robes of state, her hair
uncovered; she felt practically naked.
"Isn't it enough that I'm suffering without you seeing me like this?"
Ramil looked away, unclasped his scarlet cloak and held it out to her.
"Take this. You must be cold."
Tashi took it warily from his hand, thinking this was all part of the plot and he was trying to win
her over by his show of concern. But as she watched his face for some indication whether her
guess was correct, some smug
expression or smile, she noticed that the Prince had a cut on his cheek, dried blood streaked on
his skin. A doubt crept in. What if this was not some ill-judged plan of his? What if he was a
victim too? That made their position far, far worse. There would be no
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grand rescue staged by the Prince to impress her, no triumphant return to the castle.
"I've got to know something, sir," Tashi began.
"I promise I'll tell you if I know the answer." Ramil was watching the tiger now that the Princess was out of bounds. The creature had eaten its fill, relieved its bladder in a powerful, stinking jet
of urine, and now settled down to sleep. It seemed little bothered to be sharing its cage with
two humans.
"Are you really not responsible for this? Swear on all that you hold sacred that you are not."
Ramil put his fist to his chest. "I swear on my mother's good name that I knew nothing of the
abduction. But what about you? I thought at first that you had organized it."
"Me!" Tashi exclaimed. "What could I possibly gain from arranging for you to be ... to be caged?"
Ramil shrugged. "Revenge. Satisfaction for insults. I don't know–maybe you just find it funny."
Tashi looked horrified at the suggestion.
"It's all right, Your Highness, I do not need you to swear your innocence to me. I will not accuse the Blue Crescent Islands of an act of war. I have a higher opinion of your honor than you do of
mine. No, I think responsibility lies elsewhere: we share a common enemy." Ramil lay back on
the straw and closed his eyes. "Either that, or it's a joke in desperately bad taste by my friends to throw us together."
"You think this is possible?" asked Tashi, bewildered.
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Ramil sighed. "No, that last suggestion was a joke of
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my own." Was he never going to find the right note of conversation for this girl? She took
everything so seriously.
Then again, she is shut in a tiger's cage with you. Perhaps your joke was ill timed, grumbled his
more regal side.
King Lagan spent the day in a pleasantly optimistic mood. Ramil had galloped off with his young
guest and not returned–a sign that they must be getting on well enough to prolong the ride. He
couldn't imagine Princess Taoshira staying more than a polite hour if she were not enjoying
herself.
Walking through the corridors of his palace, Lagan began to whistle. He was remembering his
