"Prince Ramil," she replied, giving him the merest bend in reply, a serious slight if he had known. Her attendants glared at him.
"I have taken the liberty of selecting a suitable mount for you. Her name's Whisper. A good horse. Very dependable. She'll treat you gently." He glanced at her attire again. Was she really expecting to ride in that? "Do you wish to ride astride or side-saddle?"
The Princess looked puzzled. "I do not know."
She really did know nothing about riding, thought Ramil incredulously.
"I suggest you try side-saddle until you can order more suitable clothes."
He whistled to a stable boy and ordered the appropriate tack. Tashi meanwhile was making friends with Whisper, stroking her nose timidly.
Tashi felt she was
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falling in love with her already. She held out high hopes for this ride, even with the unpleasant company, having promised herself this one treat before announcing her decision to the Gerfalians that she was returning home.
"Princess, are you ready?" asked Ramil, holding out a hand to help her step on the mounting block. "One leg goes there, the other there. Yes, that's right."
Tashi shook out her skirts, feeling nervous now that she was perched up on Whisper's back. What if she fell? She had an image of herself sprawled in the mud in front of a laughing Ramil.
"I'll take the leading rein," explained the Prince. "All you have to do is stay in the saddle."
Ramil leapt onto his own mount and urged the stallion forward in a stately walk. The two horses made their way through the crowd of spectators that had gathered in the courtyard. Tashi kept her eyes lowered, trying to ignore the good-humored cheers and whistles of the stable boys. Ramil glanced sideways at his guest. It was impossible to know what she was thinking: her white face was blank of expression. She was like one of Briony's porcelain dolls. Fragile. Cold. He wondered what he would have to do to get a smile from her.
Ramil kicked Leap to go a bit faster and they began to trot down the paved street leading to the gate. Now he got a reaction. She had bitten her bottom lip, face furrowed in concentration.
"The Royal Forest is very beautiful, even at this time
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of year, Your Highness," Ramil said, trying to make conversation.
Tashi did not reply. She was trying to work out how to stay on and was not listening.
"Perhaps Your Highness would like to go a little faster?" Ramil asked slyly.
Still nothing. They'd reached the sweep of parkland that led to the eaves of the forest. Ramil had been shut inside for months. The temptation was too great.
"As you wish, Your Highness." He urged Leap into a gal op. The Princess gasped and clutched the pommel of her saddle as Whisper followed. She looked terrified, or was it just that ridiculous face paint?
"Don't you love the speed?" Ramil called over his shoulder.
They crossed the meadow and passed under the trees.
"Stop! I order you to stop!" called the Princess. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the saddle; she was sliding all over the horse's back with no conception of how to stay on.
Ramil threw back his head and laughed. He couldn't imagine anyone not enjoying a fast gallop across country. "If we are to be married, you must learn not to order me around. I don't like it. Let yourself go for once, Princess.
Enjoy yourself!"
He spurred the horses on. Branches seemed to reach out and grab Tashi.
She was convinced now that this mad boy was trying to kill her. But it was no time to stand on her dignity. She had to end this before she broke her neck.
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"Please, Prince Ramil, please stop!" she screamed.
Immediately, Ramil slowed the horses to a gentle walk, then a full stop. He knew he'd gone too far. It was the poor girl's first time in the saddle: he should never have scared her like that. He cursed himself for being a hard-hearted idiot. Then he heard something slither to the ground. The Princess was standing on the forest floor, trying to unhook her skirts from the saddle where they had become entangled. Ramil dismounted to help her.
"I'm sorry," he said, trying not to laugh at the absurd sight of the prim Princess fighting her own robes. "I'm not normally like this. I've just been shut up for so long in the castle and I--" He stopped. The girl was actually crying. He'd wanted a response--insults, laughter, something human--but he hadn't wanted this.
Now that she was back on the ground, Tashi's self-control had crumbled.
The one thing she'd been looking forward to in this hellish place had been turned into a nightmare.
"I hate you. I hate Gerfal. I hate everything about this place." Tashi sobbed, ripping her underskirt to free it. "You don't have to worry about how I'll treat you after our marriage, because the alliance is off. I'm going home."
She started to stride away, heading in completely the wrong direction, deeper into the forest.
"Princess! No!" Ramil ran to her side and seized her arm.
"Let go of me, you barbarian." Black stains of kohl ran down her cheeks. She looked quite wild.
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He let go, hands held up in surrender. "All right, all right! I was only trying to tell you that you are going the wrong way. The castle's over there."
With as much dignity as she could muster, Tashi swept round. Ramil watched until she was out of sight, torn as to what he should do. He had got his desire: the marriage was cancelled; but he knew he had behaved very badly. He would never have dreamed of treating an ordinary Gerfalian girl like that. He thumped his head on the saddle, making Leap start. What about Gerfal and the alliance? He should go after her and this time make his apology sincere.
"Princess, Princess, wait!" He caught up Whisper's trailing reins, remounted Leap, and urged the horses after her. She couldn't have gone far on foot.
Suddenly, a net fell from the branches on top of him. Ramil struggled to free himself, but felt the net tighten. He was yanked from the saddle, falling to the ground with a thud. He could do nothing. This was supposed to have been a romantic excursion so he carried no weapons, not even a knife. The net pressed his arms to his waist. Was this the Princess's revenge for his behavior? Had some of her men followed them and decided to teach him a lesson?
"Put him in the cart," growled a deep voice somewhere behind him. Ramil was dragged along the ground, then heaved into a cart, a canvas thrown over the top of him. He shouted for help, but felt a sword point at his throat.
"Make another sound and I regret I'll have to cut
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your tongue out," the man hissed. He gave Ramil's cheek a shallow cut with the blade. "There's a reminder for you."
The cart heaved into motion, heading into the forest.
It was dark when the canvas was taken off Ramil and he was removed from the cart. From the network of branches overhead, Ramil saw that he was still in the forest, somewhere far in, he guessed, as nothing looked familiar. A circle of wagons was drawn up around a campfire. He had expected a gathering of grinning Crescent sailors, prepared to remind him of his manners to their ruler; what he had not expected was a bunch of circus performers, travelling with their entourage of animals.
"What the--" he began.
He received an elbow in the stomach, cutting off further protests.
"Be quiet!" growled the strong man, the size of a troll from one of the Gerfalian folk tales. He gripped Ramil by the scruff of his neck. "And get in there, lad."
He shoved the Prince into a foul-smelling, high-sided wagon. Ramil lay on his back in the straw at a loss to explain what was happening. The daring of these circus people was breathtaking. They'd abducted a member of the royal family not a mile from the castle. How could they expect to get away undetected? They'd be hanged from the battlements when the King's guard caught up with them.
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As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized he wasn't alone. A girl in a white nightdress was hunched in the shadows in one corner, her eyes wide
with fear, but she wasn't looking at him. Cautiously, Ramil turned his head and realized that he was sprawled not five feet from a snow tiger. Ramil stifled his urge to yell. Fortunately, the beast was occupied by a large haunch of venison, doubtless poached from the Royal Forest, and had not yet considered the newcomers as dessert. Ramil picked himself up on his hands and knees and crawled towards the girl.
"Well, this is interesting," he said lightly, trying to act as if this was an everyday situation for him. He owed it to one of his subjects to at least play the part of prince.
The girl hugged her arms to her sides but said nothing. Ramil looked at her more closely. There were signs that she had been roughly handled: her face was scratched and her wrists bruised. He felt indignant for her. How dare these criminals ill-treat a Gerfalian girl! There were strong laws against such behavior.
"Don't worry, miss, I'll think of something to get us out of here. If they've harmed you in any way, I'll make sure they are brought to justice." He reached out to reassure her but she flinched away. He decided to put it down to her natural suspicion. "It's all right. I'm Prince Ramil. They probably don't realize who they've kidnapped. I'll make sure my men rescue you too when they come for me."
She still said nothing.
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"I suppose our first problem is what to do about him." He nodded over at the tiger.
"It's chained." The girl broke her silence but her accent was funny, not Gerfalian at all.
He stared at her. No robes; no face paint. It couldn't be--
"Do I have you to thank for this, Prince Ramil, for a further assault on my dignity?" the Fourth Crown Princess asked bitterly. "Even for you, this goes beyond ill manners. It is an outright declaration of war. You have your men bind me, strip me of my robes, my veil, throw water over me, and lock me up with a tiger!" She sounded near hysterical. "Did you find out that I had informed my sisters of my intention to return home? Did you have my messages intercepted too? Is this some kind of punishment?"
Tashi swallowed a sob. She knew better than to expect any consideration from this evil boy. He probably thought this saving-the-Princess-from-the-tiger would rescue the alliance, but she was not fooled. She'd spent the last few hours in a cage with a hungry cat, albeit one chained at the far end: she would never forgive him.
"But I thought ... I thought it was you and your people who had ambushed me!" protested Ramil. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "But if not you, then who?"
The Princess turned her back on him. Ramil retreated to the corner nearest the door, watching her shoulders heaving as she wept silently. There was something terrible in the sight. He suddenly understood how the
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past few days must seem to her--a foreign country, insults, and now this. She was still his responsibility because she'd been kidnapped on Gerfalian land, a place where she had every right to expect protection and respect. Even if he disliked their culture, he had learned how important the ceremonial robes and trappings were to the Crescent people; and here she was stuck in a cage like a wild beast, wearing only a thin, plain dress. It was all wrong for her to look like a plucked peacock.
"I'm sorry, Princess. I'm really, really sorry that this has happened," Ramil said sincerely.
Tashi turned her eyes on him briefly: he was staring at her. "Don't look at me," she said in a whiplash of a voice. The foreign Prince was seeing her without her robes of state, her hair uncovered; she felt practically naked.
"Isn't it enough that I'm suffering without you seeing me like this?"
Ramil looked away, unclasped his scarlet cloak and held it out to her.
"Take this. You must be cold."
Tashi took it warily from his hand, thinking this was all part of the plot and he was trying to win her over by his show of concern. But as she watched his face for some indication whether her guess was correct, some smug
expression or smile, she noticed that the Prince had a cut on his cheek, dried blood streaked on his skin. A doubt crept in. What if this was not some ill-judged plan of his? What if he was a victim too? That made their position far, far worse. There would be no
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grand rescue staged by the Prince to impress her, no triumphant return to the castle.
"I've got to know something, sir," Tashi began.
"I promise I'll tell you if I know the answer." Ramil was watching the tiger now that the Princess was out of bounds. The creature had eaten its fill, relieved its bladder in a powerful, stinking jet of urine, and now settled down to sleep. It seemed little bothered to be sharing its cage with two humans.
"Are you really not responsible for this? Swear on all that you hold sacred that you are not."
Ramil put his fist to his chest. "I swear on my mother's good name that I knew nothing of the abduction. But what about you? I thought at first that you had organized it."
"Me!" Tashi exclaimed. "What could I possibly gain from arranging for you to be ... to be caged?"
Ramil shrugged. "Revenge. Satisfaction for insults. I don't know--maybe you just find it funny."
Tashi looked horrified at the suggestion.
"It's all right, Your Highness, I do not need you to swear your innocence to me. I will not accuse the Blue Crescent Islands of an act of war. I have a higher opinion of your honor than you do of mine. No, I think responsibility lies elsewhere: we share a common enemy." Ramil lay back on the straw and closed his eyes. "Either that, or it's a joke in desperately bad taste by my friends to throw us together."
"You think this is possible?" asked Tashi, bewildered.
Ramil sighed. "No, that last suggestion was a joke of
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my own." Was he never going to find the right note of conversation for this girl? She took everything so seriously.
Then again, she is shut in a tiger's cage with you. Perhaps your joke was ill timed, grumbled his more regal side.
King Lagan spent the day in a pleasantly optimistic mood. Ramil had galloped off with his young guest and not returned--a sign that they must be getting on well enough to prolong the ride. He couldn't imagine Princess Taoshira staying more than a polite hour if she were not enjoying herself.
Walking through the corridors of his palace, Lagan began to whistle. He was remembering his own rides with Ramil's mother, Zarai, when he was that age. The forest had been magical, allowing them intimacy and informality away from the rigors of court life. It was a place where two young royals could remember that they were also girl and boy. There had been a
particularly comfortable bank of moss near the stream. He rather hoped Ramil had found it.
As evening approached, the chamberlain sought an audience with the King.
"Your Majesty, the Blue Crescent delegation is concerned that the Princess has not yet returned."
Lagan looked up from his pile of state papers. "Can they allow the child no privacy?"
The chamberlain decided not to answer that question.
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"It appears she has to fulfill an important religious ceremony every evening and her absence is regarded as most inauspicious."
Lagan threw aside his pen. "Inauspicious, eh? Well, perhaps we'd better send out the guard with some torches to search for them. Tell the delegation not to worry. I expect they got a little lost or forgot the time. Let me know when they get back." Lagan rather liked the idea of challenging the little Princess about her tardiness to see if he could raise a blush under all that silly white paint.
The guard returned at midnight, having found no trace of either Ramil or the Crown Princess. Lagan was forced to revise his opinion that their absence was innocent. He had a creeping conviction that his son had done
something extremely stupid. First time out of the castle: had Ramil bolted?
But then what of the Princess? Surely he would have returned her safely. It was common courtesy to do so. Ramil may have many faults, but Lagan did not think lack of chivalry to a lady in his charge was one of them.
He summoned the Blue Crescent delegation to the White Stone Council Chamber so it could witness and participate in the efforts to discover the young people. The Islanders sat ranged on the far side of the table from his ministers, their hostility and suspicion like a blistering heat in the room.
Lagan realized that they put the fault for whatever had happened squarely on the Prince's shoulders. He could hardly blame them; his son had done nothing to inspire their confidence,
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quite the contrary. Whatever the truth, it was the responsibility of Gerfal to sort it out.
The Chief Warden of the Forest was also present. He reported that the young Prince and Princess had been seen galloping into the forest that morning but his wardens had kept aloof as ordered. No one had noticed them after that.
"Why did no guard accompany the Princess?" snapped the senior priest in the Blue Crescent delegation.
Lagan wondered if he could explain to this hard-boiled old man the idea of a romantic ride for two under the greenwood boughs. He decided not to attempt it.
"Prince Ramil does not habitually take a guard when riding in the forest." Not least because no guard could keep up with him when he was in the saddle.
"He was following usual practice. The perimeter of the forest is patrolled by wardens and my own soldiers. It has always been regarded as safe
anywhere within five miles of Falburg."
" 'Usual practice'--'always regarded'--it appears to us that Your Majesty's judgment has been proved in error, "cut in the Etiquette Mistress, snapping her fan shut.
Lagan ignored the slight to his wisdom. "Such are our customs, madam.
However, this is getting us nowhere. We must send out all available men. I want the Royal Forest searched all the way to the mountain passes. Every village, every traveller, every cave, den or hiding place is to be examined."
He turned to the delegation. "Would you like to send your own men to participate?"
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The chief priest nodded. "I have five hundred sailors awaiting my orders."
"Good. Send them to the chief warden here and he will distribute them among the teams."
The council meeting broke up. Lagan retired to his private room and filled a wine glass with a shaking hand. He was hoping that his son had proved honorable and that none of this was his fault. Desertion now, coupled with losing the Princess, would mean war with Taoshira's people--there was no doubt about it. Twenty Crescent ships were in possession of his main harbor, in a prime position to bombard the city and destroy the capital. But if his hope proved to be correct, then that meant Ramil was detained against his will. His son was in danger.
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