Guardians of the West

"You're just full of charm, aren't you?" she said sarcastically.

"Ce'Nedra, what is the problem here?"

"Never mind. Just get on with the story. You always dawdle so when you're telling me about something like this."

"Me? You're the one who keeps interrupting."

"Just move along with it, Garion."

He shrugged. "There isn't much more. He asked her; she said yes; and then I marched them down to the chapel."

"The words, Garion," she insisted. "The words. Exactly what did he say?"

"Nothing very earth-shaking. It went sort of like 'Wilt thou have me as thy husband, Nerina?"

"Oh," Ce'Nedra said with a catch in her voice. He was astonished to see tears in her eyes.

"What's the matter?" he demanded.

"Never mind," she replied, dabbing at her eyes with a wispy scrap of a handkerchief. "What did she say then?"

"She said that she hadn't had time to work up a suitable answer, so I told her just to say 'yes.' "

"And?"

"She said, 'I will have thee, Sir Mandorallen -with all my heart.' "

"Oh," Ce'Nedra said again, her handkerchief going once more to her brimming eyes. "That's just lovely."

"If you say so," he said. "It seemed a little drawn-out to me."

"Sometimes you're hopeless," she told him. Then she sighed a little forlornly. "I never got a formal proposal," she said.

"You most certainly did," he said indignantly. "Don't you remember all that ceremony when you and the Tolnedran Ambassador came into the throne room?"

"I did the proposing, Garion," she reminded him with a toss of her flaming curls. "I presented myself before your throne and asked you if you would consent to take me to wife. You agreed, and that's all there was to it. You never once asked me."

He frowned and thought back. "I must have."

"Not once."

"Well, as long as we got married, anyway, it doesn't really matter all that much, does it?"

Her expression turned to ice.

He caught that look. "Is it really that important, Ce'Nedra?" he asked her.

"Yes, Garion. It is."

He sighed. "All right then. I guess I'd better do it."

"Do what?"

"Propose. Will you marry me, Ce'Nedra?"

"Is that the best you can do?"

He gave her a long, steady look. She was, he had to admit, very appealing. She was wearing a pale green dress, all frilly and touched here and there with lace, and she sat rather primly in her chair, looking pouty and discontented. He arose from his chair, crossed to where she sat, and sank extravagantly to his knees. He took her small hand in both of his and looked imploringly into her face, trying to match the look of fatuous adoration that Mandorallen had worn.

"Will her Imperial Highness consent to have me as her husband?" he asked her. "I can offer little besides an honest, loving heart and boundless devotion."

"Are you making fun of me?" she asked suspiciously.

"No." he said. "You wanted a formal proposal, so I just gave you one. Well?"

"Well what?"

"Will you consent to marry me?"

She gave him an arch look, her eyes twinkling. Then she reached out fondly and tousled his hair. "I'll think about it," she replied.

"What do you mean, you'll think about it?"

"Who knows?" she said with a smirk. "I might get a better offer. Do get up, Garion. You'll make the knees of your hose all baggy if you stay down on the floor like that."

He got to his feet. "Women!" he said exasperatedly, throwing his arms in the air.

She gave him that tiny, wide-eyed look that at one time, before he had come to recognize it as pure deception, had always made his knees go weak. "Don't you love me any more?" she asked in that trembling, dishonest, little-girl voice.

"Didn't we decide that we weren't going to do that to each other any more?"

"This is a special occasion, dear," she replied. And then she laughed, sprang up from her chair, and threw her arms about his neck. "Oh, Garion," she said, still laughing. "I do love you."

"I certainly hope so," he said, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and kissing her upturned lips.

The following morning Garion dressed rather informally and then tapped on the door to Ce'Nedra's private sitting room.

"Yes?" she answered.

"It's Garion," he said. "May I come in?"

His Sendarian good manners had been so deeply ingrained in him that even though he was the King here, he always asked permission before opening the door to someone else's room.

"Of course," she said.

He turned the latch and entered her frilly private domain, a room all pink and pale-green flounces and with yards of rustling satin and brocade drapery. Ce'Nedra's favorite lady-in-waiting, Arell, rose in some confusion to perform the customary curtsy. Arell was Brand's niece, the daughter of his youngest sister, and she was one of several highborn Rivan ladies who attended the queen. She was very nearly the archetypical Alorn woman, tall, blond, and buxom, with golden braids coiled about her head, deep blue eyes and a complexion like new milk. She and Ce'Nedra were virtually inseparable, and the two spent much of their time with their heads together, whispering and giggling. For some reason, Arell always blushed rosily whenever Garion entered the room. He did not understand that at all, but privately suspected that Ce'Nedra had told her lady-in-waiting certain things that really should have remained private -things that brought a blush to the Rivan girl's cheeks whenever she looked at him.

"I'm going down into the city," Garion told his wife. "Did you want anything?"

"I prefer to do my own shopping, Garion," Ce'Nedra replied, smoothing the front of her satin dressing gown. "You never get things right anyway."

He was about to reply to that, but decided against it. "Whatever you want. I'll see you at luncheon then."

"As my Lord commands," Ce'Nedra said with a mocking little genuflection.

"Stop that."

She made a face at him and then came over and kissed him.

Garion turned to Arell. "My Lady," he said, bowing politely.

Arell's blue eyes were filled with suppressed mirth, and there was a slightly speculative look in them as well. She blushed and curtsied again. "Your Majesty," she said respectfully.

As Garion left the royal apartment, he wondered idly what Ce'Nedra had told Arell to cause all those blushes and peculiar looks. He was grateful to the blond girl, however. Her presence provided Ce'Nedra with company, which left him free to attend to other matters. Since Aunt Pol had intervened and healed the estrangement that had caused them both so much anguish, Ce'Nedra had become very possessive about Garion's spare time. On the whole he felt that being married was rather nice, but sometimes Ce'Nedra tended to overdo things a bit.