gaze, her brow still furrowed in a tense frown. She pressed her lips together and shook her head.
“When you asked my father for my hand,” she said quietly, “I was prepared for him to say no. When was the last time a princess was allowed to marry anyone outside of royalty?”
“Even now,” Darrick reminded her, “the King’s decision is political. He was being pressured to form an alliance with Marche, symbolized by your marriage to that insufferable old Prig, Prince Thurnston. Your choice to marry me sends a clear message, not only to the royal family of Marche, but to the people of Camelot.”
“I know all of this,” Gabriella said impatiently. “But it is all too easy, somehow.”
Darrick raised an eyebrow. “Do you wish your father had said no?”
“Of course not. There’s just something about it all that seems wrong.” She paused and looked up again, at the stern knights in their glassy frame. “It’s as if… my father is hardly even trying anymore.”
Behind Darrick, the doors to the King's inner chambers swept open. Gabriella let out a pent breath and closed her eyes. Darrick held her hand for a moment longer and then stood.
"Your Highness," he said.
"Sir Darrick," the King said, and Gabriella cringed. She opened her eyes and stood as well. Her father looked at her consideringly. "My daughter, love of my life," he sighed, "I see by your face that you have already learnt the news that I summoned you here for."
"I am sorry, Your Highness," Darrick said, glancing aside at Gabriella. "I could not keep it from her. She asked me directly."
The King accepted this with a nod. "I am glad that the husband of my daughter prizes honesty. Nevertheless, do come into my chambers. There are other less weighty matters for us to attend."
Gabriella was feeling neither jovial nor compliant. "What matters, Father?" she asked, not moving.
The King had begun to turn, but he stopped and looked back at her. His eyes were black and inscrutable, but he smiled. In that smile, she saw that he understood her response completely and did not hold it against her.
"Serious days are upon us, daughter," he said. "There will be plenty of time for congress and debates, and you shall attend them all. Indeed, you have grown so that I daresay I could not keep you from them even if I wished. You will no longer be satisfied to listen from the wardrobe outside my door, will you?"
Gabriella couldn't help smiling at the memory. She shook her head and then moved to join him in the door to his chambers.
"I will welcome you into my council," the King said, placing his arm around her. "But I will miss the little girl in the wardrobe. I hope you won't begrudge me that."
"How could I?" she answered, letting him embrace her. When she stood back from him again, she was somewhat surprised to see the Magic Master, Professor Toph, standing within the King's chambers nearby, smiling somewhat mistily.
"So what is it you wish to discuss, Father?" Gabriella asked, taking Darrick's hand and following the King into his rooms.
"You do not think," the King replied, glancing back with a strange smile, "that I would allow my only child to wed without giving her and her beau a royal gift?"
With that, the King led them through the depths of his chambers, followed quietly by Professor Toph, who smiled and nodded inscrutably when Gabriella glanced at him. She had an idea that the Magic Master was much shyer by nature than his public status allowed him to be. His gold, tasseled robes, ruffed collar, and white peaked hat would have seemed impressively mysterious on anyone else. On him, the ensemble appeared to be worn by a kindly, old, bachelor uncle on his way to a costume ball.
The King's chambers were cluttered, as usual. Books, quills, and sheaves of parchment littered nearly every surface. A white bearskin rug stretched between a collection of low, richly upholstered chairs, all
“When you asked my father for my hand,” she said quietly, “I was prepared for him to say no. When was the last time a princess was allowed to marry anyone outside of royalty?”
“Even now,” Darrick reminded her, “the King’s decision is political. He was being pressured to form an alliance with Marche, symbolized by your marriage to that insufferable old Prig, Prince Thurnston. Your choice to marry me sends a clear message, not only to the royal family of Marche, but to the people of Camelot.”
“I know all of this,” Gabriella said impatiently. “But it is all too easy, somehow.”
Darrick raised an eyebrow. “Do you wish your father had said no?”
“Of course not. There’s just something about it all that seems wrong.” She paused and looked up again, at the stern knights in their glassy frame. “It’s as if… my father is hardly even trying anymore.”
Behind Darrick, the doors to the King's inner chambers swept open. Gabriella let out a pent breath and closed her eyes. Darrick held her hand for a moment longer and then stood.
"Your Highness," he said.
"Sir Darrick," the King said, and Gabriella cringed. She opened her eyes and stood as well. Her father looked at her consideringly. "My daughter, love of my life," he sighed, "I see by your face that you have already learnt the news that I summoned you here for."
"I am sorry, Your Highness," Darrick said, glancing aside at Gabriella. "I could not keep it from her. She asked me directly."
The King accepted this with a nod. "I am glad that the husband of my daughter prizes honesty. Nevertheless, do come into my chambers. There are other less weighty matters for us to attend."
Gabriella was feeling neither jovial nor compliant. "What matters, Father?" she asked, not moving.
The King had begun to turn, but he stopped and looked back at her. His eyes were black and inscrutable, but he smiled. In that smile, she saw that he understood her response completely and did not hold it against her.
"Serious days are upon us, daughter," he said. "There will be plenty of time for congress and debates, and you shall attend them all. Indeed, you have grown so that I daresay I could not keep you from them even if I wished. You will no longer be satisfied to listen from the wardrobe outside my door, will you?"
Gabriella couldn't help smiling at the memory. She shook her head and then moved to join him in the door to his chambers.
"I will welcome you into my council," the King said, placing his arm around her. "But I will miss the little girl in the wardrobe. I hope you won't begrudge me that."
"How could I?" she answered, letting him embrace her. When she stood back from him again, she was somewhat surprised to see the Magic Master, Professor Toph, standing within the King's chambers nearby, smiling somewhat mistily.
"So what is it you wish to discuss, Father?" Gabriella asked, taking Darrick's hand and following the King into his rooms.
"You do not think," the King replied, glancing back with a strange smile, "that I would allow my only child to wed without giving her and her beau a royal gift?"
With that, the King led them through the depths of his chambers, followed quietly by Professor Toph, who smiled and nodded inscrutably when Gabriella glanced at him. She had an idea that the Magic Master was much shyer by nature than his public status allowed him to be. His gold, tasseled robes, ruffed collar, and white peaked hat would have seemed impressively mysterious on anyone else. On him, the ensemble appeared to be worn by a kindly, old, bachelor uncle on his way to a costume ball.
The King's chambers were cluttered, as usual. Books, quills, and sheaves of parchment littered nearly every surface. A white bearskin rug stretched between a collection of low, richly upholstered chairs, all
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