Is This Apocalypse Necessary? - Wizard of Yurt - 6 by C. Dale Brittain Page B
Authors: C. Dale Brittain
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queen?"
II
Gwennie took a deep breath and found her voice at last. "Let me thank you," she said in a low tone, "thank you warmly for the honor you have done me. I'm sure it required considerable ingenuity to find a way that we might be married without your totally embarrassing yourself. But it will, I am certain, still be a considerable relief to you when I refuse."
Paul had been listening, his head tilted to one side, a smile on his lips.
When she paused, it took several seconds for the smile to dissolve. "What do you mean, refuse?" he demanded then.
Gwennie took his hand, pressed the ring into it, and stepped away. "I mean I will not marry you," she said. Her voice trembled for a second, but she steadied it. "And therefore you need not worry about making me a countess or a duchess or anything else. But I shall always be grateful for the thought."
"Gwennie, I— I'm flabbergasted! It never occurred to me you wouldn't want to marry me!"
"It can occur to you now," she said briskly and turned on her heel.
"Now, if you will excuse me, sire, I need to return to my duties."
Paul jumped to block her path. "Gwennie, wait! You can't just leave me like this!"
"You've had your answer," she said, not meeting his eyes. "What more do you need?"
"A reason! I thought you loved me."
She kept her gaze resolutely fixed somewhere beyond his left ear. "My feelings do not come into this. As castle constable, I am sworn to uphold the best interests of Yurt, which precludes allowing its king to become a laughing-stock through such a misalliance."
"Laughing-stock! Gwennie, you can't be serious. It's— I see it now! You love somebody else! You don't want to marry above your station because you'd feel uncomfortable being a queen. It's that stable man, isn't it!"
For a second Gwennie looked as though she might laugh but changed her mind. "Do not make yourself jealous, sire, over any stable man. But you are quite correct." Her voice had turned to ice. "I have no interest in marrying someone who thinks I am aspiring 'above my station.'"
"No, Gwennie, that didn't come out right." He took her arm, and she, looking imperious, stood stiffly while waiting for him to release it. "I mean, don't all young girls dream of growing up to be queen?"
"I dreamed of becoming castle constable," she replied without any expression.
At this Paul burst out, "Damnation, Gwennie, I love you!"
"It would have helped," she said through frozen lips, "if you had mentioned that before, and not in that tone of voice."
This was becoming almost too painful to observe. I retreated back into my chambers, but I could still hear their voices clearly through the open casement, and after a few seconds I silently stepped back to where I could see them again.
"Of course I love you," Paul said defensively. He had released her arm but still blocked her path, and she made no attempt to get by. "I said so! I said the ring stood for the 'love and harmony we would share together.' I know I said that."
"Then let me remind you of what else you said," she answered, able to restrain her fury no longer. "I would have had to refuse you no matter how you proposed, but you've made it remarkably easy for me, sire! You told me you couldn't possibly marry your own cook's daughter. You told me the only reason you decided to marry now was because you liked children. You told me you'd always been sure that I loved you, and that all girls want to grow up to be queen. What am I supposed to make of this, sire?"
"Can't you even call me Paul like you usually do?" he broke in plaintively.
"I'll tell you, sire , what I make of this." She faced him squarely, fists on her hips, eyes flashing—both beautiful and terrifying. Paul's own features seemed to turn to stone as she spoke.
"You're comfortable as king of Yurt, so you didn't want to complicate your life with anyone new. What better way, you thought, to resolve the problem of the inheritance than to make your oldest chum serve as a brood mare
II
Gwennie took a deep breath and found her voice at last. "Let me thank you," she said in a low tone, "thank you warmly for the honor you have done me. I'm sure it required considerable ingenuity to find a way that we might be married without your totally embarrassing yourself. But it will, I am certain, still be a considerable relief to you when I refuse."
Paul had been listening, his head tilted to one side, a smile on his lips.
When she paused, it took several seconds for the smile to dissolve. "What do you mean, refuse?" he demanded then.
Gwennie took his hand, pressed the ring into it, and stepped away. "I mean I will not marry you," she said. Her voice trembled for a second, but she steadied it. "And therefore you need not worry about making me a countess or a duchess or anything else. But I shall always be grateful for the thought."
"Gwennie, I— I'm flabbergasted! It never occurred to me you wouldn't want to marry me!"
"It can occur to you now," she said briskly and turned on her heel.
"Now, if you will excuse me, sire, I need to return to my duties."
Paul jumped to block her path. "Gwennie, wait! You can't just leave me like this!"
"You've had your answer," she said, not meeting his eyes. "What more do you need?"
"A reason! I thought you loved me."
She kept her gaze resolutely fixed somewhere beyond his left ear. "My feelings do not come into this. As castle constable, I am sworn to uphold the best interests of Yurt, which precludes allowing its king to become a laughing-stock through such a misalliance."
"Laughing-stock! Gwennie, you can't be serious. It's— I see it now! You love somebody else! You don't want to marry above your station because you'd feel uncomfortable being a queen. It's that stable man, isn't it!"
For a second Gwennie looked as though she might laugh but changed her mind. "Do not make yourself jealous, sire, over any stable man. But you are quite correct." Her voice had turned to ice. "I have no interest in marrying someone who thinks I am aspiring 'above my station.'"
"No, Gwennie, that didn't come out right." He took her arm, and she, looking imperious, stood stiffly while waiting for him to release it. "I mean, don't all young girls dream of growing up to be queen?"
"I dreamed of becoming castle constable," she replied without any expression.
At this Paul burst out, "Damnation, Gwennie, I love you!"
"It would have helped," she said through frozen lips, "if you had mentioned that before, and not in that tone of voice."
This was becoming almost too painful to observe. I retreated back into my chambers, but I could still hear their voices clearly through the open casement, and after a few seconds I silently stepped back to where I could see them again.
"Of course I love you," Paul said defensively. He had released her arm but still blocked her path, and she made no attempt to get by. "I said so! I said the ring stood for the 'love and harmony we would share together.' I know I said that."
"Then let me remind you of what else you said," she answered, able to restrain her fury no longer. "I would have had to refuse you no matter how you proposed, but you've made it remarkably easy for me, sire! You told me you couldn't possibly marry your own cook's daughter. You told me the only reason you decided to marry now was because you liked children. You told me you'd always been sure that I loved you, and that all girls want to grow up to be queen. What am I supposed to make of this, sire?"
"Can't you even call me Paul like you usually do?" he broke in plaintively.
"I'll tell you, sire , what I make of this." She faced him squarely, fists on her hips, eyes flashing—both beautiful and terrifying. Paul's own features seemed to turn to stone as she spoke.
"You're comfortable as king of Yurt, so you didn't want to complicate your life with anyone new. What better way, you thought, to resolve the problem of the inheritance than to make your oldest chum serve as a brood mare
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