Bounty (47 page)

“I do,” Godren said a little dazedly, starting to feel the effects. “Do you think I’m crazy?”

A twinkle flickered to the man’s eyes. “I’m just glad I was here to lay eyes on it. It’s not every common day one of Mastodon’s men waltzes into the palace on civilian traffic and asks to marry the princess. You have my respect, son. Indeed you do. People will be talking about this for quite a time to come.”

It seemed like an eternity of slowly-stretching afternoon shadows and maddening silence from beyond the doors before one of the idle doors clicked open and Talivor himself entered the room.

“Leave us,” he said, and the guards withdrew. Engaging in a series of fumbling bows, the civilian edged from the room as well.

Putting a hand on his pacing, Godren faced the king.

For a long time, Talivor considered him, saying nothing. And then, finally, he spoke; “No one has ever,” he said, “walked in off the streets and asked to be admitted into the royal family, and certainly no one has had the gall to walk in off the streets and ask a king for his daughter’s hand in marriage. It isn’t
done
.”

Godren swallowed. “I realize, Sire.”

“The notion is preposterous.”

Unable to stop himself, Godren felt his eyes shift down and away from the king’s.

“You are a commoner, son of a widowing woodcutter who dabbled in smithery, reborn of a criminal life. Your lifestyle is, at best, crude but humble. You are scarred, jaded, and unfashioned. And yet…what does it matter?”

Looking up in surprise, Godren found the king scratching his chin in bemusement.

“She claims to love you. By the gods, I don't know where she found time or opportunity for
that,
but I don't suppose I want to.
” An absent look overcame him as he thought about what he was saying. “On the one had, I should not even consider your proposition. It is ridiculous, and I should throw you out just for showing your face again. But on the other hand, the man who risks all and has the gumption to even approach something so far out of his reach… Shouldn’t I be opposed to the idea of my daughter going to anyone less determined to prove his dedication? I still think your proposition is outrageous, but if the only objection my daughter has is that she loves you, the only harm you’ve ever brought to her is to have saved her life more than once, and it cancels a great threat in my city point blank… What do I have to lose? I could marry her to a prince to ally our nations, but what frilly prince who’s never tasted true grit in his life would plunge into the promise of the brutal fray to save Catris from an uncertain fate, and who would let him? And if there is still an infection in
side
my nation, what good is allying myself with another? I would only be encouraging the infection to spread.”

Godren could not believe what he was hearing, but he did not allow his hopes to run away with themselves just yet. The king still sounded as if he was reasoning with himself. The balance could still be tipped either way.

“I have tried to avoid upsetting the crime queen for a long time,” Talivor continued. “Too long. It is a fault and a weakness, and altogether a bad idea to humor her so and tread so carefully in my own city, but bad things always happen when we happen too close. Too many times have my men disappeared with a scream into dark alleys, as if swallowed, or turned up tortured to death with magic.” He shook his head. “And the ghosts I don’t believe in seem to haunt her domain anyway. The supernatural, the undead… I should not be afraid of what I shelter in my own borders, and yet every day I steal myself against the dread and foreboding that emanates from the lurking presence I allow to reside here, and leave alone as if in cowardice. And now, to discover that that very beast I left to lurk has come after my daughter, and could have done anything to her if not for some righteous soul misplaced in her employment… I have been foolish to leave her be, and I should be ever indebted to you.”

“Sire–” Godren said, suddenly feeling unworthy of such a change of heart, but Talivor held up a hand.

“What’s more, my daughter has told me of the signs that seem to clamor in your favor. That grove has always been special, and to have it center on you – I wonder what else there is about you that I may be interested to know. Have you any gifts, Godren? Any intriguing tendencies that make you more than the man that meets the eye?”

“I…I’m told I am gifted of the wind, Sire. It speaks to me, and…circulates around me… I can call it – or, at least, have the capacity to. I don’t know the extent of it.”

Talivor nodded, searching him. “I’m afraid I have not even shown an ounce of due sympathy toward one who has endured so mortal an injustice in his life, on top of everything. I have been overcome with protectiveness for my daughter since her recent close-calls, and could find nothing but resentment and blame for the man who drew her to forsake her own safety in his interests. You do not deserve the full force of that blame, however; I know my daughter is her own person, bound to a strong sense of justice by birth and my own doing, and nothing can stop…” – He paused there, as if it was hard to say, but it was already destined to come out – “…love. Nothing
should
stop love, or what is meant to be. Perhaps it could have been handled in a more professional manner on my daughter’s part – but then, maybe not. In any case, I cannot imagine carrying the blame of murder when you did not commit it, and gauging yourself even as you fought for survival, trying to preserve what you could. That calls for respect, certainly over judgment that only depends on what others have done to you. In Wingbridge you stood before me ready to accept the consequences of your actions even though you were forced to commit them, and then again here in the interest of a friend, and…the decency in that is staggering.”

At that point, finding something to say was hopeless. Godren was torn between looking at the floor in modest humility and showing the king the respect of taking the praise and showing his appreciation like a man.

“You have humbled your king this day, Godren of Wingbridge. And I would feel a great security leaving my daughter in your hands. You have more than proved you would give your life for her. What more could I be unreasonable enough to ask for? You are hereby forgiven for your crimes; we can say you were a spy. After all, spies must maintain their image in their given setting every day. You’ve done a great service to your country in such a setting, so how can I view you any differently?”

Stricken with astonishment, Godren stared at him. “I beg your pardon, Sire?”

“I’ve no quarrel with the gods, and if they’ve put their two cents into you being with my daughter, well – I seem to have no quarrel with your character either, and if it ensures Catris’s safety and gets Mastodon out of my kingdom, I cannot really object, can I?”

“I–” He was speechless. The civilian had been right; criminals didn’t just waltz into the palace on civilian traffic and ask for the princess’s hand in marriage – but the king certainly didn’t just grant it. It was more than unheard of. It was unreal.

How could I have gone from the bleakest point of ruin to the most astounding rung of the gods’ good graces and society’s fortune so quickly?

Suddenly his luck was just so awe-inspiring, yet he knew it wouldn’t even fully hit him for some time.

“Your Majesty, I don’t…know how to respond,” he managed to express.

“Just don’t lose the humble sentiments that life, and this opportunity, have taught to you. If you ever aspire to stop cherishing my daughter, you will have my wrath brought down on you. But I don’t need to tell you that, because I don’t need to tell anyone that. If you maintain the proper amount of humility and swear to remain devoted and to cherish the princess Catris Vandelta for as long as you are lucky enough to live by her side, I have no objection to your presence in this house. You will keep her safe, and that means a great deal to me.”

“How do I ever thank you?”

“Only by holding true to what I’ve charged you with by my daughter’s side. If you do, I don’t think I can regret it. She loves you, and it isn’t every day a king gets to promise his daughter to someone she actually loves.”

Godren bowed his head, a lump rising in his throat at the overwhelming endowment. The king had just bequeathed the princess of Raven City to him. To his exclusive, eternal care. He would never ask for anything again.

“She’s waiting for you in the grove,” Talivor said.

Godren felt grossly obliged to express the gratitude and incredulity that the king had brought to him, to make him understand the depth and magnitude of what this meant to him, but there was no way. And knowing a gracious dismissal when he saw one, he took it. Bowing, he took his leave from the room.

As he made his way through the palace in the direction of the grove, bystanders took note and whispered at his passage, but made no move to obstruct or challenge him. By now everyone on the estate would know of the stir he had caused, and would be gossiping about the king talking to him privately rather than having him thrown out point blank. They probably still thought he was a loony dreamer, but there weren’t going to interfere with the unfathomable matter. It was beyond them for the time being.

Feeling as light as if wings fluttered about his feet, he hardly noticed the other people that dotted the halls or the strange concept of traversing the palace unchecked. As soon as he could discern the outline of budding tree branches through the window at the end of the hall, he focused solely on that earthly beacon and saw nothing else at all. So the branches were budding again. When did that unfold? Was it another symbol to applaud the endowment of the princess to him?

Thrusting open the great doors that led out to the estate, Godren emerged into the shady glow that brought the afternoon to its surrender. Radiantly his at the peak of his destination, the princess stood in the center of the path before him, surrounded by the budding trees that amused themselves with arranging reflections of her destiny. She turned at his emergence, a keen paradise of fondness spinning its web in her eyes. The long train of her dress twisted around her feet as she faced him, like waves of an ocean that she walked upon.

Butterflies hammered against the lump in his throat, but they were warm and replete, as if born of the summer, and he let them rise so their wings shone in his own eyes. A thousand dreams echoed against this reality, transforming the battle cries of old into a victorious clamor of elation. Godren paused momentarily before the princess, rehearsing a thousand beginnings, and then forsook any inadequate composition and threw her in with the joyous fray of an embrace.

“Please forgive me if this was not part of your plan,” he said.

Catris smiled against his neck. “Being promised to some inconsequential prince of my father’s choice is the only thing we need label as not part of my plan. You’ve delivered me from a lifetime of unhappiness – and doubtlessly spared said prince a great deal of grief that he would suffer on my unhappy behalf. I’m afraid I would have been a terror.”

Godren chuckled. “And that would have been my only satisfaction.”

The princess drew back and looked at him. “Do you realize you will be king now?” she asked him fondly.

Godren froze. By the gods, he hadn’t even thought of that. Where had his mind been? He didn’t know how to rule a country.

“I–” he said, and didn’t know what else to say.

Catris laughed at the expression on his face. “You don’t even know your own ambition, do you? Though I daresay my father would not have agreed if you had thrown that into the equation.”

“Good gods. I hope you know how to run a country.”

“I know a thing or two. But I wouldn’t worry – you haven’t even tried the throne out for size yet, and already you have Mastodon set to vacate the city. That’s been a major goal in the interest of the people for years.”

“The interest of the people…” He shook his head. “The concept is so foreign. So joyful. I’ve been starved of doing anything in anyone’s interest for so long… It doesn’t seem as if I can. I thought I was doomed to keep hurting those around me for the rest of my life.”

“It’s all over, Godren,” she promised him.

Godren sought the sincerity in her eyes before nodding. It would take awhile to get used to.

“Don’t worry,” she said, touching his face. This time, though the numbness still deadened his flesh, he felt a hint of her touch. “It will all start to fade now. And look – the trees are starting fresh.” Reaching up to a straggly branch that extended over the edge of the path, she drew it down to eye level for consideration.

On impulse, Godren blew gently on the bud that was a pink knob on the end. In response to his breath tickling its unripe shell, it loosened, spread its wings, and bloomed.

Catris looked at him.

Smiling, Godren locked his arms about her waist. This time filled with elation, and instead of closing his eyes, he looked into hers and willed the wind to him. As if easily born of the elated current already stirring inside him, it came to him from the ground, the sky, the very air that was but a moment before still and lifeless around them. As it purged across his skin, he felt it, and it was as if it wore through the numbness that encompassed him and stripped it away. Suddenly he felt sensitivity return to his physical being, and a whole new level of awe crashed upon his shore.