"Elopement?" Milky tea sloshed over the rim as he precipitously returned the cup to its saucer.
"Yes," and Jamas stretched out his long legs, grinning. "She and my equerry. Baron Grenejon of Illify, you know, my best man. They eloped without a word to anyone. Except the Bishop here who married them."
"You married them without the king's permission?"
Bishop Wodarick had been forewarned and mildly regarded the royal visitor, clasping his hands together so that the ruby bishopric ring flashed in the sun.
"Indeed, my son, I was unaware that permission would be required in the case of Lady Laurel, when she had the permission of her brother-in-law, who, in the absence of the king, could be constituted as her legal guardian."
"Legal guardian?"
"She is of age, as is the baron," the bishop replied gently. "Surely there was no impediment to their union?" he asked, as if the thought had just occurred to him. "She was not married before, was she?"
"Nor even betrothed," said the princess firmly, and she stared back at the prince.
"I… I came to escort her back to a wedding: a wedding most felicitously arranged by the queen."
"The queen so enjoys matchmaking, does she not?" Willow said. Then her eyes dropped, following Niffy, who had approached Mavron and was now rubbing herself against his legs. "New boots, cousin?"
Fortunately for the delicate china, Mavron had already deposited cup and saucer on the table beside him because they would surely have slipped from nervous fingers. Mavron went quite pale and then blood suffused his face. His complexion went through several more changes, turning almost purple once. Jamas poured a respectable tot of his best brandy and offered it to his cousin-in-law. Mavron swallowed more than the spirits before he got himself under control again.
Then the Mauritian prince turned to the prelate. "I may have a copy of the marriage certificate?"
"Of course."
"Who witnessed this union?" Mavron gave Jamas and Willow an almost desperate glance.
"We did, of course," she said and left it at that.
Mavron then sighed very deeply and began rubbing his hands on the chamois riding breeches he wore.
"These are, actually, very new boots," he said in the most conversational of tones. "You won't have heard, of course, but my brother Geroge has been laid up the past week with a severe fever. We think he caught cold when he had to ford the River Thuler and did not think to change his wet boots at once."
"Yes, wet boots could be detrimental to one's health," Princess Willow agreed. "But he will recover?"
"Oh yes," Mavron agreed emphatically and his eyes narrowed. "A close call, to be sure, and one can never be too careful, can one?"
"Never," Princess Willow agreed.
"Never," Jamas said, uncrossing his ankles and then reaching down to flick off a small piece of carpet fluff off his own new, highly polished half boots. Mavron watched the action, his face quite thoughtful.
"We trust that the queen remains in good health during this pregnancy?" Willow asked with delicate concern.
Mavron's face was a study in suppressed emotions. "We all hope…" and he paused a beat, "that she will soon be delivered of a healthy child."
"A child would be welcome," Willow said, "but a son would be a cause for great rejoicing, would it not? And many new plans."
Mavron rubbed one temple thoughtfully, as if to generate a proper response.
"Do you have the same bootmaker as your father, the king?" Willow asked in the silence.
Mavron fixed his eyes on hers, and she did not break the contact.
"Would she dare?" was his whispered comment.
"Just wouldn't she!" was Jamas' reply.
Mavron stood then. "I must request an interview with…"
"Baroness Laurel," Willow supplied when he looked in her direction for Laurel's new rank. "But, of course. It is high time that pair left their idyll and returned to their duties here at Esphania City."
"I shall send my fastest rider. They can be here by midday tomorrow," Jamas said.
"Come, cousin," Willow said, rising, "let me show you to your quarters while my husband pens the message. I believe you were comfortable in the ones you had on your previous stay with us…"
When the door had closed on the two, the bishop leaned toward his prince.
"I had not believed your discreet explanation about the dangers threatening your wife and her sister, but now I do. I mean, both the king's sons? Appalling! If there is anything more I can do…"
Jamas finished dashing off the few words needed to bring his equerry and bride back to the city and now turned to the bishop.
"No, my lord Bishop, sheltering my in-laws in your summer residence has been a great relief to my wife. Let us hope someone can stop the fiend before she accomplishes whatever it is she wants so badly."
"I would hazard the guess that she is one whom power makes giddy. Only God has the right to dispose life and death, and she has usurped that prerogative." He shook his head sadly. "Power is a very dangerous tool, my son, and some are unsuited to employ it."
"One must be raised to the job," Jamas said.
"Meh!" replied Niffy, settling down again in the sun shining in the windows.
BARON AND BARONESS ILLIFY arrived just before the bells in the cathedral and town hall indulged in their midday excess. Prince Jamas had taken his cousin-in-law to the registry to inspect the entry for the marriage. Prince Mavron found it in proper order, though he frowned.
"This is the day you and my cousin were married," he said, a finger on the date.
"Yes. You know we all disappeared early. Well, that was why!"
"Oh!"
Then the two men went on a horseback tour of the city, which allowed Jamas to show Prince Mavron all the river defenses. Which were formidable. By the time they returned to the castle, the other newlywed couple were in the morning room, chatting merrily. Willow winked at her husband, which indicated that she had had sufficient time to inform her sister and her husband of all the latest events.
Laurel jumped to her feet when Mavron bowed over her hand and called her "Baroness."
"Oh, I have left you with a disagreeable duty, have I not, Mav. And I wouldn't have done that to you for a million guilders if I'd had any inkling that your father had already arranged a marriage for me."
"Wouldn't you?" Mavron said, raising one dark eyebrow at such guilelessness. But it was patently obvious that the young couple were madly in love with each other. "I suppose I can manage to placate my father. It was more her idea." Then he closed his lips on something he had been about to say.
"You will be careful?" Laurel asked.
"You may rest assured on that point," he said, his expression grim. "And on the fact that I have discovered nothing irregular in your elopement, for the bishop has reassured me on that score." Then the prince turned to Jamas. "I think I had best not dally here, and indeed it is with deep regret that I find I should make all haste back to Mauritia."
"You can at least have lunch," Willow said, "to give yourself the energy to return in all speed."
"I accept."
"And," Jamas said earnestly, "should you require the assistance of a friendly neighbor…"
Mavron's smile was perfunctory, though the bow he gave Jamas' suggestion was profound. "I shall remember that."
"WE SQUEAKED OUT of that one well, didn't we, Niffy?" Jamas said as he and Willow retired to their apartment after bidding Mavron farewell.
"I do hope that Mavron can, too. Unfortunately the queen recognizes an enemy in him…"
"And in Geroge, from recent events…"
"Geroge was more vocal in trying to persuade his father not to marry again. That woman had no background at all to recommend her to anyone, much less a king."
"Ah, but a king is the very person to raise one in rank, is he not?" Jamas reminded her.