Part 42 (1/2)

”You are a dear man,” she said, ”and you know that I am very fond of you, but you can be singularly obtuse

228 when it comes to statecraft.” Her voice was soft and level. ”It is precisely because your daughter is likely to become d.u.c.h.ess of Abercorn that I cannot marry you.

It would concentrate too much power in the hands of one family-and an Arunic family at that.”

She stood looking at him expectantly, but he made no reply.

”You do understand, don't you?” she asked.

Darius' lips tightened and he nodded slowly. ”Yes, I understand. I understand that it is time for me to leave Stronta, time to go back to Gwyndryth. I should have done it a long time ago.”

”Come now, Darius dear,” Naxania said, advancing around the chair and taking his arms. She looked up at him. ”There's no need for that. We have been very happy and we will continue to be happy. I need you.

The country needs you.”

He smiled ruefully. ”It is time that you found your- self a younger man to run your army and a 'suitable'

man to sire an heir. I shall tender my formal resignation after the wedding and I will stay until I can hand the Royal Forces over properly to my successor.”

He disengaged his arm gently and left her. He did not look back and she made no move to stop him. Men are such children, she thought. It never crossed her mind that he meant exactly what he said.

Jarrod woke in darkness on the nuptial day. That was normal, as was the urge to Make the Day. What was decidedly strange was the fibrillations of nervousness that he felt. Marriage. Something that he had thought about idly from time to time, but never pursued. Mar- riage to Marianna; something that he had fantasized about when he was young. That was the result of the hot humors of his salad days. Now it was thrust upon him and he wasn't certain that he really wanted it. She 229.

was, in many ways, his best friend and their mutual past provided an undeniable bond, but he wasn't at all sure that he really loved her. What if he met a woman he fell head over heels for? He would be locked in. Darius would never permit a second divorce.

He got out of bed reluctantly. It was too late to back out now. He had given his word. It struck him suddenly that he had never actually proposed or asked her father for her hand. Be that as it may, he would have to go through with this for the sake of the child, his child.

There were worse reasons for getting married. He was going to be a father and that was more important than the circ.u.mstances of the wedding. Of course Joscelyn was his son in all but conception, but he'd never been a father to the boy. It would be different with this baby.

Having talked himself into a semblance of confidence, he got dressed and prepared himself for the ritual. It was not the marriage itself that was making him ner- vous, he concluded, only that the marriage ceremony had mushroomed beyond his control.

At breakfast, he took the ribald jesting of his fellow Magicians in good part, but he didn't linger and reached his rooms with a feeling of relief. He walked into the bedchamber and saw that the Duty Boy had laid out his clothes. It had been a long time since he had seen them, but they looked none the worse for their sojourn under lock and key. The dark pink of the brocade was as vivid as it had been on the Island at the Center. The triangle of rubies and garnets that gave definition to the waist gleamed, the diamond b.u.t.tons sparkled-

The Duty Boy brought chai and watched while Jar- rod shaved himself. His hand wasn't entirely steady, but he managed to avoid cutting .himself. He bathed in a copper tub that the boy had filled. The water was luke- warm, but the lad was so eager and so excited that he didn't have the heart to complain. Then came the rob-

230 ing. First the linen breechclout, followed by the silk hose and the s.h.i.+n with the dark red lace spilling from the sleeve ends. Next the slim-legged trousers with the bottoms anch.o.r.ed by pebble-sized rubies. The burgundy-colored lace jabot was tied around his neck, and all that was left to don was the jacket.

He had some trepidations about the jacket. The waistband of the trousers was uncomfortably tight and he remembered the jacket's fit as being snug sixteen years ago. He bent his knees tentatively. If the seat was going to split, better now than later. The trousers held and he straightened thankfully. Why hadn't he thought to try the clothes on before this? The boy was holding the jacket out. Jarrod slouched backward and the Duty Boy went up on tiptoe. Jarrod slid his hands into the sleeve holes and pushed and wriggled until his shoulders were firmly encased. The boy came round to the front.

The first b.u.t.ton was a minor struggle, but the others proved easier. Finally he stood before the looking gla.s.s, a vision of stiff magnificence, girded in as if for war.

There was a group of Magicians waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. Two carried mandolins and he was serenaded all the way to the stables with what they considered appropriate songs. Nastrus stood waiting for them, mane brushed, coat burnished, silver hooves s.h.i.+n- ing. He whickered a welcome and the singing stopped.

Jarrod walked across to the mounting block and Nas- trus positioned himself.

'I'm going to do this very slowly,' Jarrod thought.

'These trousers are a mite snug and I'm not about to go through my wedding with my backside on view.'

'Humans!' Nastrus returned, his mind filled with slightly malicious humor.

'None of that. We'll ride over at a smooth canter.'

Jarrod tried to sound forceful, but the unicorn's un- derlying enjoyment of the situation was infectious- He 231.