Ruins of Camelot (11 page)

It's just a bouquet,
she thought to herself. 
Just a bunch of silly flowers.  Who needs them?
  She imagined walking down the aisle empty-handed, however, and realised that it would feel extremely awkward.  Frowning, she glanced back towards the stairs.  Sigrid was nowhere in sight.  Gabriella cast her eyes helplessly about the room, and suddenly, an idea struck her.  Gathering up her skirts, she turned and dashed back across the room, heading for the main entry.  Turning a corner, she entered the vestibule and saw what she was looking for.  A credenza sat against the wall, dominated by a large vase of pink and yellow tulips.  Gabriella lunged for the vase, jerked the bundle of flowers out of it, and violently shook the water from their stems.

She was about to return to the ballroom doors, pleased with her ingenuity, when a low sound caught her attention.  There were voices muttering nearby.  Gabriella heard them echoing from a corridor, and the tone of the speaker caught her interest even before the words did.  She stopped and listened despite her hurry.

"It is foolish of you to be here!" the voice was saying, so low and harsh that it was almost a growl.  "If you were to be seen by Percival's royal guards you would be thrown into the dungeons before you knew what hit you!  Are you completely daft?"

Another voice spoke in response, low and truculent.  "The guards won't matter if you do your job.  Soon, the dungeons will belong to someone else, and we'll see who gets thrown into them."

Gabriella's eyes widened, and she covered her mouth with one hand.  She recognised the second speaker.  It was Goethe, her nemesis from the battle floor.  But how could he have gained entrance to the castle?  He was not on the wedding guest list of course, and all the entrances were well guarded.

"Damn you for your rash pride, boy!" Barth hissed.  "You risked everything with that idiotic stunt during the battle practical, and now you dare to show your face before the wedding has even begun!  Begone before I report you to the royal guard myself!"

"You would not dare," Goethe muttered darkly, but Gabriella could tell by the way he spoke that he would comply.  Barth exhaled sharply.

"The guests are all gathered in the ballroom," he commanded quietly.  "Go through the vestibule now, whilst the entrance hall is empty."

A dart of panic shot through Gabriella.  She spun on her heels and bolted out of the vestibule, clutching the makeshift bouquet to her chest.  When she got within sight of the ballroom doors, she saw that the entire crowd inside was turned back, waiting expectantly for her entrance.  The eyes of some of the nearer observers widened when they saw the Princess running across the hall floor.  With a force of will, Gabriella slowed, composed herself, and straightened her back.  She passed through the ballroom doors with practised poise and began her journey down the long aisle.

Seeing this, the band of minstrels at the front of the room finally struck up a fanfare.  Near them, the King visibly exhaled and shook his head, smiling crookedly at his approaching daughter.  As usual, Darrick merely watched, his face quietly confident as she came to meet him.  Rhyss's expression was mildly amused.  Next to her, Constance dabbed at her eyes with a lace-fringed handkerchief.

Firelight flickered hypnotically up onto the frescoed ceiling, bringing the painted faces of long gone royalty to life.  Gabriella drew a deep breath and let it out shakily, both happy and nervous in equal measures.  Finally, she met Darrick in front of the altar.  He looked at her appreciatively, taking in the sight of her grand dress and her unusual bouquet but resting his gaze finally on her face.  His eyes sparkled in the candlelight, and she remembered that day behind the bell tower, when he had first revealed his feelings for her.

There's something about you that I cannot forget,
he had said. 
There's more to you than anyone else sees.
  But of course, the very same had been true in reverse.  She had known it almost from the first time she had met him.  The reality of their relationship had confused and riled her until she had finally understood it for what it was.

I think we are made for one another.  Perhaps that only happens in stories, but I don't think so…

Darrick took Gabriella's hand, and together, they turned towards Bishop Tremaine.  For the moment, gratefully, she forgot all about the troubling mystery of the uninvited Goethe.

She would have plenty of time to remember it later.

I
t was very late when she awoke.  A thrill of fear came over her as she looked around in the darkness, momentarily forgetting where she was.

An arm, not her own, curled around her.  She gasped.

"What is it?" Darrick asked sleepily.

At the sound of his voice, everything rushed back.  This was the first night of her honeymoon.  Darrick lay next to her, his warm body pressed against hers beneath the blankets.  Gabriella felt a pang of belated anxiety about being naked with him, but it was small and perfunctory.  Beneath it, she felt a deep sense of belonging and was quite certain that this was a feeling she could become very accustomed to.

"It's nothing," she said, pressing against him.  "Something woke me up."

Mentally, she replayed the beginning of their first night together.  To be sure, it had been somewhat awkward, and at first, she had been quite sure that he had been just as nervous as she.  But then, gradually, she had ceased speaking, ceased thinking about what was happening, and given herself over to it, to him.  Darrick had done the same, and in that wonderful bliss between the words, she had tasted the depths of what was to be their life together.  In the end, of course, they had slept, at least until now.

"It's so hot," he said, squirming away and pushing off the covers.  He plucked a robe from a nearby hook and shrugged into it.  The black dragon sigil hung around his neck, catching the dim light with its glittering green eye.  "The steward stoked the fire as if it was the dead of winter," he laughed, and reached for the window.  "What woke you up?  Do you remember?"

"It was a noise," Gabriella answered, staring into the fire.  "I don't remember what—"

A knock came at their door.  It was so hard and so sudden that Gabriella jumped.

Darrick still had his hand on the window knob.  "What is it?" he asked loudly.  Both of them knew that no one would knock on this night if it was not important.

"Sire," the muffled voice came, "there is trouble in the dungeons.  A prisoner has escaped into the castle proper."

Darrick absorbed this, and his face hardened slightly.  He glanced at Gabriella and said, "I will return, Bree.  There must be a mistake."

With that, he strode to the chamber door, opened it just enough to frame his body, and stood there, half in and half out.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked quietly.  "Surely, you know this is the Princess's bridal chamber and our very wedding night."

"I do, sire," the guard's voice replied in a hushed tone.  "But you are the ranking officer in the castle this night, save the King, and I dare not wake him on such a matter without the order of such as yourself."

Gabriella could see Darrick's face, lit in profile by the brighter light of the corridor.  He looked pensive for a moment and then said, "You say there is trouble in the dungeons.  How is this possible?"

"The night watch was killed, sire," the guard said, nearly whispering.  "His throat was cut.  By the time he was found, the prisoner had already been released.  The perimeter guards report no one leaving the castle during the past three hours.  We must assume that the prisoner and his rescuer are still inside.  This is an immediate threat, sire.  Shall I wake the King?"

Darrick did not answer immediately.  He leant back and peered aside, meeting Gabriella's eyes, which were wide in the darkness.

"Yes," Darrick nodded, and then turned back to the doorway.  "But allow me to do it.  You gather the palace guard, those not watching the perimeter, and begin a thorough search of the castle.  Begin at the top and work down.  We wish to flush them away from the royal chambers, not towards them."

"Yes, sire," the guard replied quickly.

"You," Darrick said, apparently speaking to another guard in the corridor, "stay here and watch this door with your life.  Do you understand?"

"No," Gabriella interrupted, throwing off the blankets and reaching for her own robe.  "I'm not staying here!  I'm coming with you to my father's chambers."

Darrick closed the door and came to meet her.  "You know you cannot do that, Bree.  Until we find the intruder and the escaped prisoner, the castle must be considered breached.  The Princess and the King cannot be in the same place, lest they both be cut down by the same assassin."

"I know the protocol," she said, pulling on her robe.  "But these aren't assassins.  They're trapped mice who can't find an open door.  I won't wait here."

Darrick put his hands on her shoulders.  "You must.  We cannot take the chance.  The protocol is there for your safety."

"The
protocol
," Gabriella replied with low emphasis, "is why my mother died alone in her rooms."

Darrick shook his head.  "If your father had been with her, he might have been killed as well."

"If my father had been
with
her," Gabriella answered, taking his hands from her shoulders and gripping them firmly, "he might have saved her
life
!"

Darrick studied her face for a long moment.  Finally, he drew a deep breath and nodded once.  "All right.  Come with me, but remember, this is a military action, and I am commissioned officer.  Until this is over, I outrank you."

"Only until I'm Queen," Gabriella answered, unable to prevent a small smile from curling her lip.

Darrick nodded again.  Together, they robed.  Darrick took the time to put on his sandals and strap on his sword.  Gabriella tied her hair back with a length of ribbon, just to keep it out of her face.  A minute later, they both left the room.

"Join your fellows," Darrick said to the older guard outside the door.  "Find the intruder and the prisoner and report to me."

"Aye, sire," the guard agreed gruffly, apparently happy to join the hunt.  He trotted off, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Stay near me," Darrick said, turning and striding swiftly down the narrow corridor.  Lanterns lit the way, but the castle was still very dark at this hour.  Shadowy alcoves and nooks lined the halls.

"Should we wake Rhyss and the rest of the bridal party?" Gabriella asked, keeping her voice low.

Darrick shook his head.  "They are safer in their rooms.  In all truth, this will probably be over in a matter of minutes.  This is the best-guarded structure in all of Camelot.  No one can hide within these halls for long."

"Darrick," Gabriella said suddenly, "I think I know who did this!"

Darrick stopped and looked back at her.  "Who?"

"Goethe," she answered firmly.  "He was here earlier.  I heard him and Professor Barth in the halls right before the wedding.  Barth was preparing to throw him out."

"Goethe's father," Darrick nodded in understanding.  "That lying dog.  Goethe took the opportunity of the wedding to sneak in with the intention of releasing his father.  Why did you not tell someone?"

"Barth insisted that he leave," Gabriella said as they resumed their walk.  "He was chief of security for the wedding after all.  That was his job.  Besides, I've been a bit busy if you had not noticed."

He glanced back at her over his shoulder, and she saw that he was smiling crookedly.  "I did notice."