Once they entered the courtyard of the imposing structure, the drummers and the Lady Coryn continued toward the front door of the keep. The white gelding pranced proudly beside her, and the aura of magic on the big horse’s saddle made it seem as though Jaymes Markham rode there as well. Certainly the servants, attendants, and courtiers all believed they saw him astride the white gelding until the horse came to a halt and closer inspection revealed the saddle to be empty.
By that time, the lord marshal was already slipping through the stable, entering the keep through the kitchen door. The drummers, the horses, and the wizard made, for form’s sake, one last promenade around the huge courtyard.
“My Lord Marshal,” said Selinda du Chagne as she greeted her visitor in the anteroom to her private apartments. “This is a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“It is been a long time since we talked,” Jaymes replied, settling himself into one of the comfortable chairs as she pulled a rope to summon a servant. “I very much wanted to see you again.”
“Why?” she asked bluntly. “I tricked you into being captured, tried to arrange for you to come back here for trial-and execution. I should think you’d want to stay as far away as possible from the likes of me!” She laughed nervously, pacing about the room, avoiding the chairs to either side of Jaymes. He couldn’t help but notice her stunning beauty. She twirled a lock of her golden hair in the fingers of her right hand, sidestepping at the window, looking at him with her large eyes narrowed in curiosity.
“I should have thought that little misunderstanding would be forgotten by now,” he said, chuckling. “It is by me; you also helped to save my life in Caergoth, when Duke Crawford would have had me killed.”
“That wretched man!” she exclaimed. “He was a disgrace to the knighthood, to the whole history of Solamnia! The realm is better off without him.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Jaymes said, easing back and resting his foot on a stool.
“You’ve made some progress since that time in Caergoth. Has it been two years? It seems so long ago. Bringing the army north across the Garnet River, driving the barbarians out of Garnet… You’ve had great success. Tell me, was that city horribly razed?”
“The damage was bad, yes. But much of the population has moved back, and the rebuilding is coming along very well.”
“And you’ve driven the barbarians from all the western plains? This half-giant, Ankhar, he just holds on to the area around Solanthus?”
Jaymes nodded. “And soon he won’t even have that.”
“Yes, you’ve come a long way from the outlaw I discovered hiding in a shadowed cellar on the plains,” she remarked wryly.
“My life has taken a few unexpected turns,” he admitted.
A maid entered and curtsied. “Would you care for something to drink?” asked the princess. Her manner had warmed a little.
“What will you have? Red wine, perhaps?” he asked.
“Yes, actually. That sounds good. Marie, will you bring us a bottle of that Nordmar Rose-some of the vintage from two years ago?”
“Yes, my lady. At once.”
The servant departed, and Selinda turned back to the lord marshal. Her eyes were narrow, appraising. After studying him for a few breaths, she spoke. “I think you are still a very dangerous man.”
“Sometimes the world needs dangerous men,” he replied with a shrug. “Ankhar’s horde isn’t about to be defeated by a group of perfumed gentlemen or pompous nobles.”
She looked at him archly. “Do you think I’m a pompous noble?” she asked accusingly.
“When you found me hiding in that dark cellar, and you came in there to talk to me… that was about as far from pompous as a person can get.” He paused for a moment. “I’m still amazed by what you did. Did you think I was a dangerous man then?”
“I knew it, immediately.”
“But you weren’t afraid?”
“Oh, I suppose I was terrified.”
“Why? What is so frightening, so ‘dangerous’ about me?”
She frowned and was spared from answering by Marie, returning with a decanter of red wine and two crystal glasses. “Shall I pour?” asked the servant, setting her tray on a nearby buffet.
“Allow me?” Jaymes asked, rising smoothly to his feet.
“Be my guest,” Selinda replied. “That will be all, Marie.” The princess took a seat in the chair next to where Jaymes had been sitting.
Jaymes crossed to the buffet as the servant girl departed, closing the door behind her. The marshal spoke over his shoulder to the princess. “So-you were going to tell me why you think I’m dangerous,” he prodded.
The tiny vial was in his hand, screened by his body from Selinda’s view. He lifted the decanter and swirled it gently, allowing the dark liquid to circle within the goblet. He looked as though he were admiring the exquisite cut of the crystal as he smoothly poured the potion into one of the two glasses. Then he carefully added the wine, filling first her glass, then his own about three-quarters of the way to the top.
“I guess…” Selinda was preoccupied, struggling to reply to his question. “I guess it’s because you don’t wait for things to happen; you make them happen. You take whatever it is that you want, and to the Abyss with the consequences.”
He turned around and walked slowly back to her, extending one of the glasses. She took the wine and he sat beside her. Then he raised his glass. “Perhaps I could offer a toast to a new beginning? One that doesn’t start in the dingy cellar of a burned-out house?”
“I’ll agree to that,” she said lightly. They clinked their glasses gently, and each took a sip of wine. It was indeed a rare vintage, smooth and rich without a hint of bitterness. Jaymes nodded approvingly, watching her as he took another sip.
“But I’d like to get this one thing straight,” Selinda continued. “I find you a dangerous man but an interesting one. I recognize that you are good for the future of Solamnia. If our nation is ever to be united and grow powerful again, we need to have a strong army and a strong commander of that army. But I hope that you’re not here to court me, as my father has warned me because I’m not interested in that.”
“Fair enough,” Jaymes replied, staring at her as she took another sip. “May I ask-are you not interested in being courted by me or in being courted, period?”
“Both, I should say.” Selinda leaned back in her chair, swirled the wine in her glass, and looked at him over its rim. “My indifference to courtship may seem foreign to you. But there are lots of men, the most powerful nobles in all Solamnia, who seem to view me as some kind of prize, like the trophy that might be claimed at a royal joust. Lord Frankish practically drools over me. And I hate that feeling; I absolutely hate it.”
“I think I can understand,” he allowed.
“My father knows how I feel. As soon as I reached my majority, which was just two years ago, I made him agree that I would marry whomever I choose, whenever I choose. I’m under no pressures from him. There will be no political match in this house!”
“And how did the lord regent react to that?” Jaymes inquired, raising his eyebrows. “I should tell you-Bakkard du Chagne seems to me like another man who takes what he wants, rather than just sitting around and waiting for it to be offered.”
She giggled involuntarily then clasped her fingers over her mouth in surprise. “I can’t believe you said that. I’ve never heard anybody speak about my father like that!”
“That’s because he’s a dangerous man too,” the marshal replied bluntly. He was still leaning back in his chair, gently swirling the wine in his glass. After another sip he continued. “Are you frightened of him?”
“No,” she said with a firm shake of her head. She met his stare with a confident look, amusement twinkling in her eyes. “Of course not. He’s my father. And I just realized something: I’m not frightened of you either.”