Your Majesty, but now that there is a King again in Rillanon, many matters held in abeyance this last year will be unloosed for your consideration. Those petitions and other documents forwarded to you during your travels were but a tenth part of what you will see.’
Lyam gave a mock groan. ‘We think we shall have the captain put to sea again at once.’
Caldric smiled. ‘Come, Majesty. Your city wishes to see its King.’
The eastern garden was empty save for one figure. She moved quietly between well-tended planters of flowers not quite ready to send forth blooms. A few heartier varieties were already beginning to take on the bright green of spring and many of the bordering hedges were evergreen, but the garden still seemed more the barren symbol of winter than the fresh promise of spring, which would manifest itself within a few weeks.
Anita looked across the vista of Rillanon below. The palace sat atop a hill, once the site of a large keep that still served as its heart. Seven high-arched bridges spanned the river that surrounded the palace with the loops of its meandering course. The afternoon wind was chill, and Anita drew a shawl of fine silken material close about her shoulders.
Anita smiled in remembrance. Her green eyes misted over slightly as she thought of her late father, Prince Erland, and of all that had occurred in the last year and more: how Guy du Bas-Tyra had arrived in Krondor and attempted to force her into a marriage of state, and how Arutha had come to Krondor incognito. They had hidden together under the protection of the Mockers – the thieves of Krondor – for over a month until their escape to Crydee. At the end of the Riftwar she had travelled to Rillanon to see Lyam crowned. During all those months she had also fallen deeply in love with the King’s younger brother. And now Arutha was returning to Rillanon.
The tread of boots upon flagstone caused her to turn. Anita expected to see a servant or guard, come to tell of the King’s arrival in the harbour. Instead a weary-looking man in fine but rumpled traveller’s clothing approached across the garden. His dark brown hair was tousled by the breeze and his brown eyes were ringed with dark circles. His near-gaunt face was set in the half-frown which he assumed when he was dwelling upon something serious, and which she found so dear. As he neared, she silently marvelled at the way he walked, lithe, almost catlike in his quickness and economy of movement. As he came up to her, he smiled, tentatively, even shyly. Before she could muster years of court-taught poise, Anita found tears coming to her eyes. Suddenly she was in his arms, clinging tightly to him. ‘Arutha’ was all she said.
For a time they stood saying nothing, holding each other tight. Then he slowly tilted her head back and kissed her. Without words he spoke of his devotion and longing and without words she answered. He looked down at eyes as green as the sea and a nose delightfully dusted by a small scattering of freckles, a pleasing imperfection upon her otherwise fair skin. With a tired grin he said, ‘I’ve returned.’
Then he was laughing at the obvious remark. She laughed as well. He felt buoyant to be holding this slender young woman in his arms, smelling the faint scent of her dark red hair, which was caught up in some complex fashion popular at court this season. He rejoiced to be with her again.
She stepped away but held tightly to his hand. ‘It has been so very long,’ she said softly. ‘It was only to be for a month … then another, then more. You’ve been gone over half a year. I couldn’t bring myself to go to the dock. I knew I’d cry at sight of you.’ Her cheeks were wet from tears. She smiled and wiped them away.
Arutha squeezed her hand. ‘Lyam kept finding more nobles to visit. The business of the Kingdom,’ he said with a wry note of deprecation. From the day he had met Anita, Arutha had been unable to articulate his feelings for the girl. Strongly attracted to her from the first, he had wrestled with his emotions constantly after their escape from Krondor. He was powerfully drawn to her and yet saw her as little more than a child, only about to come of age. But she had been a calming influence on him, reading his moods like no one else, sensing how to ease his worry, stem his anger, and draw him from his dark introspection. And he had come to love her soft ways.
He had remained silent until the night before he had departed with Lyam. They had walked in this garden, speaking late into the night, and while little of consequence had been said, Arutha had left feeling as if an understanding had been reached. The light, and occasionally somewhat formal, tone of her letters had caused him worry, fear that he had misread her that night, but now, looking down at her, he knew he had not. Without preamble he said, ‘I have done little but think of you since we left.’
He saw tears come again to her eyes, and she said, ‘And I of you.’
‘I love you, Anita. I would have you always at my side. Will you consent to marry me?’
She squeezed his hand as she said, ‘Yes,’ then embraced him again. Arutha’s mind reeled under the sheer weight of happiness he felt. Holding her close, he whispered, ‘You are my joy. You are my heart.’
They stood there for a time, the tall, rangy Prince and the slender Princess, whose head barely reached his chin. They spoke softly and nothing seemed of importance except the other’s presence. Then the self-conscious sound of someone clearing his throat brought them both out of their reverie. They turned to find a palace guardsman standing at the entrance to the garden. He said, ‘His Majesty approaches, Your Highnesses. He will be entering the great hall within a few minutes.’
Arutha said, ‘We shall go there at once.’ He led Anita by the hand past the guard, who fell in behind them. Had Arutha and Anita looked over their shoulders, they would have seen the experienced palace guardsman fighting hard to overcome a broad grin.
Arutha gave Anita’s hand a final squeeze, then stationed himself next to the door as Lyam entered the grand throne room of the palace. As the King moved towards the dais upon which his throne rested, courtiers bowed to him, and the Court Master of Ceremonies struck the floor with the iron-shod butt of his ceremonial staff. A herald shouted, ‘Hearken to me! Hearken to me! Let the word go forth: Lyam, first of that name and by the grace of the gods rightwise ruler, is returned to us and again sits upon his throne. Long live the King!’
‘Long live the King!’ came the response of those gathered in the great hall.
When he was seated, his simple gold circlet of office upon his brow and his purple mantle upon his shoulders, Lyam said, ‘We are pleased to be home.’
The Master of Ceremonies struck the floor again and the herald shouted out Arutha’s name. Arutha entered the hall, Carline and Anita behind him, and Martin behind them, as protocol dictated. Each was announced in order. When all were in place at Lyam’s side, the King motioned to Arutha.
Arutha came to his side and leaned over. ‘Did you ask her?’ said the king.
With a lopsided smile Arutha responded. ‘Ask her what?’
Lyam grinned. ‘To marry, jackanapes. Of course you did, and from that sloppy smile, she said yes,’ he whispered. ‘Go get back in place and I’ll make the announcement in a moment.’ Arutha went back to Anita’s side and Lyam motioned Duke Caldric over. ‘We are weary, my lord Chancellor. We would be pleased to keep the day’s business brief.’
‘There are two matters I judge require Your Majesty’s attention this day. The balance may wait.’
Lyam indicated that Caldric should proceed. ‘First, from the Border Barons and Duke Vandros of Yabon, we have reports of unusual goblin activity in the Western Realm.’
Arutha’s attention was drawn from Anita at this. The Western Realm was his to govern. Lyam looked over towards him, then Martin, indicating they should attend.
Martin said, ‘What of Crydee, my lord?’
Caldric said, ‘No word from the Far Coast, Your Grace. At this time we’ve only reports from the area between Highcastle to the east and the Lake of the Sky to the west – steady sightings of goblin bands moving northward, and occasional raids as they pass villages.’
‘Northward?’ Martin glanced at Arutha.
Arutha