"It's the last place in the principality anyone would think to look in for us," Jamas told his wife as he handed her down from the dark mare. "The fire needs only the touch of a match inside," he added as he took the horses to the lean-to to tend them.
When he entered, he found the fire was burning merrily and Willow leaning against the thick log mantel, watching the flames. She gave a little start as the door snicked shut and Jamas dropped the bar in place.
"No one will find us here, my love," he said, glancing about to see that his requirements had been met: the table set with its two places and covered dishes, wine in a cooler, flowers and garlands lending their own scent to the freshness of the newly done room. He must reward Cambion who had done the work-most of it by himself.
"Then at least we'll have had this," she said in a brief return of her fatalistic attitude.
He pulled her in very close embrace, and she responded as ardently as he had hoped she might.
"Worry later, my love. Tonight is ours! I love you so much, my Willow Princess." And he proceeded to demonstrate how much.
PRINCE JAMAS delayed returning to the city until King Egdril and especially that awful Duchess Fanina had wearied of waiting for the newlyweds to return and gone back to Mauritia. Six days after their arrival at the lodge, a note was added to the supplies discreetly deposited on the porch of the lodge.
"Queen sent messenger for king. He leaves this morning. Will send escort for Lady Laurel. They think the baron and she are with you."
Jamas chuckled and even Willow smiled happily.
"You weren't looking forward to seeing him again, were you?"
Willow gave a little shudder. "I don't mind my uncle. It's the duchess who's almost as bad as her sister."
"You're safe now."
"And my uncle hasn't realized that Laurel's not going back?"
"Evidently not. But, don't worry, she's now my sister-in-law, you know, as well as the wife of my first equerry. And we protect our own!" He gave her a squeeze.
"He mightn't do anything," Willow said, "but she might. I know she had plans for Laurel, you see."
"Marrying her off to a Gorundian hairy monster?" Jamas said jokingly.
"Almost." Willow gave a flicker of a smile. "I worry about my mother, though, and our younger sisters…"
"Do I have to find brides for all of them?" And he quickly added, when he saw that his flippancy wounded her, "and I will, of course, should you wish me to."
"I'd rather they were far away from Mauritia when Laurel's marriage is discovered."
"Done," and Jamas kissed her. "Hmm… It'll take the royal party five days with those heavy coaches to make it back to Mauritia. And before they get there, your mother and sisters will be safely ensconced elsewhere and under my protection."
RETURNING BY HORSEBACK, the keen-eyed Elbow guard sent word of the imminent arrival of the prince and princess. So the happy couple were greeted by showers of cheers and rose petals as they made their way through the city to the castle. Someone had also apprised Frenery and he was there to greet them, looking immensely relieved.
"A discreet task for you, Frenery," Jamas said, taking his secretary by the arm into the nearest private room.
"Oh dear." Frenery wrung his hands.
"Dear Frenery, what discreet tasks have you had to do recently that put you in such a tizzy?"
"Oh dear!" Frenery repeated, blushing furiously.
"My uncle," Willow said in a dry tone.
"Never mind him," Jamas said, not quite realizing what his lovely bride was implying. "My mother-in-law-" He smirked a bit. "-needs to be spirited out of King Egdril's palace, and my wife's younger sisters quietly abducted from their home in… where do they live, Willow?"
"On the Farm in Yolend. It's not far from Mauritia City. And they're all good riders."
"All? How many sisters-in-law do I have now?" Jamas was surprised.
"Three, including Laurel, but I meant that Mother rides well, too, and it's much easier riding than disappearing by coach."
"Indeed it is. Will you see to it, Frenery? The Moxtell lads would do the job neatly enough and the Earl's old barn of a castle can suffice until I can set up a more suitable residence for them."
"Oh, dear, oh dear."
"What is the matter, Frenery?"
"The Countess Solesne. I thought she'd gone. I handed her into the coach myself but she's here. In your quarters, with Cambion."
"Oh dear," and now Princess Willow took up the chorus, gathering up her riding skirt and running out of the little salon and up the stairs, the prince following her after telling Frenery to set the rescue in train.
The countess was attended by a very nervous Cambion.
"She insisted on staying," the lad said.
"What is it, Sollie? You should be safe enough," said Willow, rushing to embrace her old friend.
"I would be," Sollie said, rising, "only I heard a conversation which I must inform you of, or I could never live with my conscience. But, first, is there any way you can get your dear mother and sisters out of Mauritia?"
"That's already taken care of," Jamas said, feeling rather superior at the moment. "Now, what could possibly prey upon the conscience of a woman of your integrity, Countess?"
"Murder," she said, looking him straight in the eye.
"Heavens, above! Whose?" The prince motioned for her to resume her seat.
"Yours, your highness," she said, tilting her head to regard him as if she was certain he would doubt her.
"Oh, dear! I knew it!" Willow turned tragic eyes to Jamas.
"Now, love," and Jamas drew his wife to him and then gently pushed her onto the love seat. He beckoned for Cambion to serve them all wine. "Tell me, Countess."
"I overheard them, the countess and that sourfaced maid of hers," Sollie began when she had taken a sip of wine. "Oh!" as Niffy leaped to the top of the table beside her. The countess, not being a cat lover, nonetheless instantly stroked the silky head of this most unusual feline.
"Do go on…" Jamas urged.
Satisfied by the attention, Niffy then leaped down and up into what little space there was on the couch between the newlyweds, purring softly and turning her green almond-shaped eyes on Sollie's woeful face.
"I don't think they know that I did, but I heard them discuss… ways and means…" She shuddered and took another sip. "I know you have discounted Willow's fears, sir, but they are real. Too many of us in Mauritia live in fear of… that woman! And Fanina!" The countess almost spat the name out. "By any chance, did you happen to notice how moist her hands are?" When Jamas nodded, she went on. "I have reason to believe she transfers a subtle slow poison in that fashion."
"I, too," and Jamas twisted his finger around so that Sollie could see the jewel he wore. "This detects poisons."
"Oh, you did listen to me," Willow said, relief taking away the strain about her eyes.
Niffy very distinctly said, "Meh."
"And you told him, too, did you, Niffy-cat?" Willow said, stroking her lavishly.
"Did you wash your hands instantly?" Sollie asked the prince.
"Until the jewel returned to its proper shade," Jamas said. "But how could a single exposure affect me?"
"It's cumulative," Sollie said. "I know you had to dance with her at the wedding dinner…"
"I wore gloves. Specifically for dancing with her."
"Wise! If you also discarded them the moment you could? Oh, good. You were very wise. That sort of poison can filter through cloth as easily as it does flesh. Now, there are other ways in which this tactile poison can be transferred to the intended victim," Sollie went on. "You will probably discover some new apparel in your closet, gifts from your generous relatives. I know of a solution in which these items can be washed… for you may be sure that if you are not seen to wear them, that information will be passed back to Mauritia."