Usually alert and sensitive to the slightest moods of those around him, because of his psychotic fears of plots and spies and his consuming suspicions of the motives of everyone he encountered, the Prince was so caught up in the last-minute preparations for his impending nuptials, now mere days in the future, that I strongly doubt if even he noticed anything out of the way in my behavior. At any rate I saw little of him and spent most of the time in my room, busy with my doleful thoughts.
I believe there can hardly be a more terrible situation in the human condition than to discover that your closest friend has wooed and won the heart of the woman you secretly love. I, at least, have never before tasted such black bitterness, and I pray to the unknown Lords of Gordrimator, whom the Thanatorians call gods, that I never taste such again.
Valkar and I parted on pledges of mutual assistance, and we arranged to meet secretly a few days before the wedding of Darloona and Prince Vaspian.
What this meeting was supposed to accomplish, I do not believe either of us knew. But as a last-minute attempt to rescue the woman we both loved from the grim results of her folly, we hoped to arrive at some solution to the dark dilemma in which we were immersed.
It may well be that Prince Valkar had thought of the same possible solution to our mutual problem which had also occurred to me. For there was one way out of this corner.
Prince Vaspian could―die.
Never have I slain a man in cold blood, and I did not face the prospect with any particular joy. Although the Prince disgusted me, and the manner in which he smirked and strutted and preened himself over his so-called “conquest” of the most beautiful woman of all Thanator stung me to a fury of loathing, he was personally weak and vain, frivolous and ineffectual―and I could not consider the slaying of such a weakling as anything more noble than sheer murder.
I have always considered myself a man of honor. But like all men, I have once or twice in my life done something of which I was not proud. To strike down this smirking fool in cold blood, to pit my vastly superior skill with the sword against his feeble arm and uncertain hand, would be rank cowardice.
Yet I must do it, if I wished to save Darloona from his unclean lust.
I wrestled with my conscience during those black, bitter hours. just how much did I owe this woman, who did not return my love and was to wed my friend? Must I stain my honor with cold-blooded and cowardly murder for a woman who, after all, despised me?
To this torrent of doubts, there was only one answer possible.
I owed Darloona everything that I could give her, even the sacrifice of my unstained honor, or my very life, if she should require it. And I did not have the right to demand so much as the favor of a single smile in return.
For when a man loves, he loves wholly, he withholds nothing of himself, or it is not truly love. This sort of chivalry may sound old-fashioned, and perhaps it is, but my love for her was beyond any question of payment or price.
And thus I agonized for days. My situation rapidly became all but intolerable. Valkar was my closest friend, my confidant, my coconspirator. That he had won the love of my peerless Princess should not have caused me pain, for whom better should Darloona marry than a man like Valkar?
He was brave, intelligent, noble, and strong. He was a brilliant officer, a mighty prince, and his mission here in entering the city of the Chac Yuul in disguise, in a desperate one-man attempt to rescue the woman he loved from the very strong hold of her enemies, was heroic almost to the point Madness.
Why, then, should I begrudge him the love of the most beautiful woman of two worlds? Because of my own selfish passion?
It was absurd! My own love for Darloona was strong and deep and sincere, and it would endure to my last heartbeat. I would adore Darloona and fight for her while a single breath remained in my body, while a single drop of blood remained to animate my flesh.
But I was not even nobly born, much less a powerful prince, heir to a kingly house and a great fortune. My passion for her was hopeless. Darloona needed a man beside her on the throne who had been trained since childhood to rule. Such a man, of course, was Valkar. I could just imagine what kind of a prince consort I would make! Why, what did I know about being a king? The only thing I knew how to do was pilot a helicopter―and get myself into trouble: I had a real talent for doing that.
But I am as human as the next fellow, and I fear that I was often rather curt, sullen, and incommunicative with Valkar whenever we met to consider the various possible ways we could rescue Darloona from her impending marriage.
I did not mention the possibility of slaying Prince Vaspian. The onus for such a crime must rest on me alone; Valkar must know nothing of it in advance. When the time came, when it became necessary―I should simply do it.
Thus things went on for some days and the time of the marriage came near.
And then the most extraordinary accident occurred. To this hour I can remember the lift of my spirits, and the amazement which accompanied this resurgence. Valkar, I am sure, knew nothing of what was happening within me, although my depression and sullen spirits must have been obvious to all.
We were sitting in a corner table sharing a bottle of wine. Such was my preoccupation that I had thoughtlessly let fall some reference to Darloona’s love for Valkar, and of the strength of his emotion for her.
He looked surprised for just a moment, and then voiced a rather apologetic laugh.
“I fear that you have misconstrued my words, Jandar,” he said awkwardly.
“How is that?”
“Why―all this talk of how much Darloona loves me. We are, of course, the very best of friends, and have been ever since our childhood. But, alas, we do not love each other.”
He laughed, a trifle sadly.
“Ours is, as I thought you must surely understand, a marriage of political alliance. As far as I know, Darloona has never yet been in love with me, or anyone else.”
“And you―?”
He grinned a bit wearily.
“Oh, I shall make her the finest husband possible, and I admire and like her enormously, but I have never been in love with her.”
“But I saw you clasped in each other’s arms―I saw her lift tear-stained cheeks and pleading eyes to your face!”
“That must have been when she was begging me to flee from the city and get out before my imposture was discovered,” he said idly. “She was in an agony of apprehension lest I be found out and punished, on her account. But here, Jandar! You have turned white as death again! Are you all right, old friend?”
I suppose the shock of this wonderful discovery must have been visible on my features, but I know that Valkar could not have known the depth of joy in my heart.
The woman I loved was yet heart-free―and I could hope, at least!
CHAPTER TWELVE
AN UNEXPECTED MEETING
The next day or two Prince Vaspian kept me busy in the palace and I had no time for any further meetings with my fellow conspirator. But we had arranged a last-minute rendezvous at the wineshop, to take place just a couple of hours before the wedding, which was to be solemnized at the hour of midday.
At this last meeting we planned to coordinate our efforts to rescue Darloona, and, although I feel certain that Valkar did not suspect it, part of my own plans for that fateful hour included the cold-blooded murder of Prince Vaspian.
The day arrived.
The palace was a bustle of preparations; Vaspian preened and strutted like a peacock, leered and smirked over his impending nuptials until I grimly realized that it would be not at all unpleasant to put a yard of steel through his despicable heart.