But thereafter I avoided him as best I could. And, luckily, Prince Vaspian did not again send me into that portion of the royal palace.
The following evening and for several nights thereafter I attended my patron at these court feasts I have ere now spoken of, so I had frequently the opportunity of seeing Darloona and of observing her in public.
Ool the Uncanny was often present on these occasions, so I was careful not to let myself seem overly interested in the Princess. I felt he was already suspicious of me for some reason, and I was anxious not to attract his attentions any more than I could help. Luckily for my peace of mind, Prince Vaspian had an unholy horror of the fat little wizard and a marked aversion to his presence, and whenever they were thrown into close proximity, as during a council meeting or one of these royal feasts, he avoided the presence of Ool in a very obvious manner. Ool did not seem to take any affront at this, but merely smiled his placid, Buddha-like smile.
Hence, although we did speak and she took no notice of me whatever, I saw quite a bit of my princess during the course of these long state dinners.
Her demeanor at these feasts was proud and reserved. Although splendidly robed and adorned with flashing gems and plates of precious metals, she seemed more of a helpless prisoner than a reigning queen-to-be. She spoke little to the other women at her table. They were mostly women of the Chac Yuul, the wives or daughters or mistresses of the Black Legion chieftains, bold-eyed, barbaric, and quarrelsome. Constantly they made slighting remarks about her apparel or deportment, and went off into gales of nasty laughter at almost everything she did, until my hands ached where they gripped tightly the hilts of my sword and dagger, and I yearned to spring down among them and scatter them left and right. But I said nothing, holding my peace, sometimes with very great effort, and I do not think that any at the feast observed anything out of the way in my manner.
When she would enter or leave the hall, always on the arm of the smirking Prince, they talked in low voices. She did not hesitate to accept his arm; neither did she greet him with any perceptible animation or enthusiasm. For the life of me, I could not figure out her true feelings for Prince Vaspian. Surely, they did not act like lovers, for all that the Prince lingered over her hand, kissing it and whispering to her in a semblance of intimacy. Her features remained pale, her expression reserved, and if she did not decline speech with him, neither did she seem to welcome it with any marked pleasure.
I began to wonder if the Prince did not perhaps have some hold over her. Had he seized some advantage over her so that she did not dare openly affront him or rebuff his fawning attentions before the chieftains of the Black Legion?
For it did not seem possible that she could love him. I have no doubt but what the proud and fiery Princess of Shondakor was capable of a strong and passionate devotion, but she was too much the woman, and he too little the man, for him to have earned her love without some manner of coercion.
You can see the dilemma that confronted me.
I had gained my entrance into the city in disguise for the sole purpose of effecting her rescue. But now―how could I be certain that Darloona, in truth, wanted to be rescued?
And I could not help remembering how, many weeks ago, when Koja and Darloona and I were all prisoners of the wily and unscrupulous but handsome and charming Prince Thuton of Zanadar, she had willingly accepted the smoothly spoken Prince as her friend and ally and, almost, her betrothed. When Lukor and I had forcibly rescued her from his clutches, at first she was violently angry with me and denounced my assistance as unwanted. Was this adventure to be a repetition of that earlier fiasco? I could not be sure, but one thing was certain: before I attempted to free her from the hands of the Black Legion, I must hear from her own lips whether or not she was in love with Prince Vaspian.
And always before my mind’s eye I saw again that terrible scene in her boudoir when she had stood, clasped in the cloaked arms of one I was convinced was none other than Vaspian, pleading passionately with him, her tear-wet cheeks and shining emerald eyes lifted to scan his visage, concealed from me by the angle at which he stood.
Had it been a love scene I had spied upon unwittingly?
If so, how could I reconcile the subdued and reserved manner of her public meetings with him, against the tempestuous emotions she had displayed when clasped in his arms in privacy?
There was simply no other course for me to follow.
I must have words with Darloona―and soon!
As my luck would have it, that very night an opportunity to speak privately with Darloona occurred.
Vaspian’s one vice, insofar as I had yet discovered, was a fondness for a certain substance called Dream Lotus.
This was a powerful narcotic which dulled the senses and set the mind whirling free amidst a thousand gorgeous but substanceless dreams. In moments of despondency or boredom, my patron would lock himself within his private quarters, imbibe heavily of the noxious fumes of the Dream Lotus, and spend the remainder of the night sunk deep in a drugged slumber.
This night, seething with fury over some fancied slight, or perhaps due to a neurotic conviction that his faceless, and as yet unknown, foes had gained a slim ascendancy, he slunk, snarling and cursing, into his den, loudly calling for his pipe and canister of the Lotus. I was satisfied that he would not stir the remainder of the night, and thus could make no unexpected call upon my presence. Since my quarters were the outermost of all his suite, I could pretty much come or go as I pleased, and so, wrapping myself in a dark cloak tossing my baldric over my shoulders, I set off for my long-delayed interview with Darloona.
I selected a poorly lit and seldom used corridor that wound into a virtually abandoned portion of the palace. There, in a dusty, neglected chamber, I scanned the wall for the secret sign which I had discovered to mark the sliding panels which gave one entry into the network of hidden passages wherewith these walls were tunneled.
I stifled an exclamation as the dim light of my flickering lanthorn showed the small cryptic symbol. In a moment my fingers had probed for and found the secret spring. There was a click, a grating of hidden gimbals, and a black opening yawned before me, into which I plunged without a moment’s hesitation, letting the heavy arras fall behind me.
I strode with rapid yet silent steps through the winding passages within the walls of the palace. On many previous tours I had familiarized myself with the small painted signs that gave indication of direction. Thus oriented, I made my way by the shortest route to the area of the palace wherein the apartments of the Princess were situated.
My heart was in my mouth as I strode through the darkness, and I must confess my mouth was dry, my brow damp with moisture, and my heart pounding to the hurried rhythm of my throbbing pulse. It was not inconceivable that the words I would soon hear from the lips of the Princess would forever change the future of my life. For―what if she truly loved Prince Vaspian of the Black Legion? What if her impending nuptials were indeed of her own free choosing, and were not somehow being forced upon her by threats of some dire punishment?
My heart turned to lead within my breast. If such were to prove the case, then the words I should hear from the lips of the incomparable Princess I loved would be tantamount to a death sentence.
For although never yet had I spoken of my love to Darloona, and although the gap between my own lowly station and her exalted rank would likely prove an insurmountable obstacle, still in the secret places of my heart there burned, clear and pure and brilliant, the small flame of hope.