you smell that? I just know this is a breeding ground for the plague. What is that on my shoe? Ooh, I think it's moving!"
I saw my father lower his head toward hers. "It's a slug, my dear. It won't hurt you."
"And do you, Haywood, take Grassina as your lawfully wedded wife?" said Father Alphonse.
"And calling us here at the very last minute! She had to have known how much planning her wedding would have meant to me. If she'd given me fair warning, I could have had a dress made for her and a feast prepared. I could have sent out invitations, had the castle cleaned, gotten her a gift. . . . It's her fault that no one will have presents for her. If she'd waited a few days, although a week or two would have been better . . ."
"There, there, Chartreuse," said my father. "I'm sure she'll understand."
". . . as long as you both shall live," said the priest.
Glancing pointedly at Queen Olivene and the ghost of my grandfather, my mother added, "And after they die, too, if they're anything like my parents."
At least they have a good marriage, I thought, remembering how often my parents had refused to talk to each other when I was growing up.
Eadric squeezed my hand. "What a great wedding," he whispered to me as Grassina and Haywood exchanged rings. "I'd like a simple wedding like this. I could talk to the priest after the ceremony and ask him to stick around to do ours. We could even have it here in the swamp, if that's what you really want."
"We can't," I said, although I would have liked nothing better. "I want to get your parents' blessing first. If we're going to get married, I want to do it right."
"I don't think they're going to give it," said Eadric.
"You know what they were like when they left, and they never did reply to my letter."
"That's why I want to get their blessing. I don't want to cause a rift between you and your parents."
"If there's any rift, they were the ones who made it."
"Eadric, I mean it. Blessing first, then the wedding."
"All right, if we have to," he said, but he didn't look happy about it. "We'll go see them as soon as we can. I don't want to put off our wedding any longer."
". . . man and wife," said Father Alphonse.
Grassina and Haywood kissed and everyone watched in silence. When they pulled away to look into each other's eyes, someone sobbed softly. I realized that my mother was crying.
We were starting to line up to congratulate the bride and groom when I heard splashing behind us in the swamp. Whoever it was seemed to be having a terrible time, tripping and falling, then swearing when he tried to get up. When I turned to see who it was, Eadric's eyes followed mine and his hand immediately flew to Ferdy, his singing sword. It was one of my father's guards slogging through the taller grass with his sodden hat in one hand and a mud-covered shoe in the other. He was pouring water out of the shoe when he stopped in front of my father, but he must have forgotten about it because he slapped himself in the face with it when he tried to salute. Sputtering, he used his sleeve to wipe muddy water from his eyes, then said, "Your Majesty, I've come to report that Prince Jorge has escaped from the dungeon. He was there when the guard last checked, but he's gone now and the door is still locked from the outside. I was stationed by the dungeon door, and I swear no one got past me."
"He must have bribed someone in the castle to let him out," growled my father. "When I find out who it was, I'll. . ."
"Actually, he could have gotten out any number of ways," said my grandmother. "And before you start threatening to lop off someone's head, why don't you let Emma and me take a look. I'm sure that between the two of us we can learn what actually happened."
Father nodded, aware of how useful a little magic might be, but from the look in his eyes I knew that if we couldn't find the answer, someone was bound to pay the price.
Eadric, too, looked grim. It was because of him that Jorge was in the dungeon.
I saw my father lower his head toward hers. "It's a slug, my dear. It won't hurt you."
"And do you, Haywood, take Grassina as your lawfully wedded wife?" said Father Alphonse.
"And calling us here at the very last minute! She had to have known how much planning her wedding would have meant to me. If she'd given me fair warning, I could have had a dress made for her and a feast prepared. I could have sent out invitations, had the castle cleaned, gotten her a gift. . . . It's her fault that no one will have presents for her. If she'd waited a few days, although a week or two would have been better . . ."
"There, there, Chartreuse," said my father. "I'm sure she'll understand."
". . . as long as you both shall live," said the priest.
Glancing pointedly at Queen Olivene and the ghost of my grandfather, my mother added, "And after they die, too, if they're anything like my parents."
At least they have a good marriage, I thought, remembering how often my parents had refused to talk to each other when I was growing up.
Eadric squeezed my hand. "What a great wedding," he whispered to me as Grassina and Haywood exchanged rings. "I'd like a simple wedding like this. I could talk to the priest after the ceremony and ask him to stick around to do ours. We could even have it here in the swamp, if that's what you really want."
"We can't," I said, although I would have liked nothing better. "I want to get your parents' blessing first. If we're going to get married, I want to do it right."
"I don't think they're going to give it," said Eadric.
"You know what they were like when they left, and they never did reply to my letter."
"That's why I want to get their blessing. I don't want to cause a rift between you and your parents."
"If there's any rift, they were the ones who made it."
"Eadric, I mean it. Blessing first, then the wedding."
"All right, if we have to," he said, but he didn't look happy about it. "We'll go see them as soon as we can. I don't want to put off our wedding any longer."
". . . man and wife," said Father Alphonse.
Grassina and Haywood kissed and everyone watched in silence. When they pulled away to look into each other's eyes, someone sobbed softly. I realized that my mother was crying.
We were starting to line up to congratulate the bride and groom when I heard splashing behind us in the swamp. Whoever it was seemed to be having a terrible time, tripping and falling, then swearing when he tried to get up. When I turned to see who it was, Eadric's eyes followed mine and his hand immediately flew to Ferdy, his singing sword. It was one of my father's guards slogging through the taller grass with his sodden hat in one hand and a mud-covered shoe in the other. He was pouring water out of the shoe when he stopped in front of my father, but he must have forgotten about it because he slapped himself in the face with it when he tried to salute. Sputtering, he used his sleeve to wipe muddy water from his eyes, then said, "Your Majesty, I've come to report that Prince Jorge has escaped from the dungeon. He was there when the guard last checked, but he's gone now and the door is still locked from the outside. I was stationed by the dungeon door, and I swear no one got past me."
"He must have bribed someone in the castle to let him out," growled my father. "When I find out who it was, I'll. . ."
"Actually, he could have gotten out any number of ways," said my grandmother. "And before you start threatening to lop off someone's head, why don't you let Emma and me take a look. I'm sure that between the two of us we can learn what actually happened."
Father nodded, aware of how useful a little magic might be, but from the look in his eyes I knew that if we couldn't find the answer, someone was bound to pay the price.
Eadric, too, looked grim. It was because of him that Jorge was in the dungeon.
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