Laurell Hamilton - Never After

Five. Five men still left to vie for my hand. I surveyed the carnage and thought bleakly that I was not worth this kind of effort.

Gisele spoke up, her voice low and controlled but full of rage. “I hate your father’s dogs,” she said.

I shook my head. “I’m afraid of them, but they break my heart,” I said. “They’re only doing what they’ve been taught to do.”

Now she looked at me. Her eyes matched her voice. “Then maybe I just hate your father.”

I was too weary to be shocked. “Half the lords in the kingdom keep fighting dogs, and those who don’t own such animals come to watch the fights.”

“Then maybe I just hate all men,” she said.

Remembering that I didn’t like Gisele, I gave a mocking laugh. “And yet you’re the one who’s been insisting I get married as quick as can be.”

“I encouraged you to choose a groom carefully,” she said. She swept a hand toward the arena, which was emptying out as the dog groomers took away the last of the animals and other servants escorted the five final contestants back to the palace. “Surely you could see that there was one among those suitors who was worthy of you.”

“Yes!” I said. “I was amazed by Darius!”

“Who’s Darius?” she asked sharply.

“The blond man. The one who kept the dogs at bay through magic. He was not harmed, but neither were they.”

“Magic,” she repeated. “That’s a dangerous sort of toy.”

I tossed my head. People still talked about the wizard my grandfather had kept as part of his household, a powerful and unscrupulous man who had sometimes used sorcery to enforce the king’s less popular decrees. There had been some suspicion that my grandmother’s first husband had not died a natural death, freeing the lovely young widow to accept the king’s offer of marriage. But most of the magicians in Kallenore had relatively limited and benign power, and they were generally welcomed wherever they traveled. The ones I had encountered had been rare, itinerant, and cheerful. Well, wouldn’t you be cheerful if you possessed the power to heal people or change objects or create illusions? I think I would be.

I think I would be happy if I had any kind of power at all, whether or not it was magical.

“Maybe magic is just the toy I need,” I said.

“Listen, Olivia,” she said. “I know you dislike me.

But you should believe what I say. Your father plans to marry you off with all speed, and he won’t be overnice in his requirements. Please make it possible for him to choose a generous man, a thoughtful man, a man who will care for you.”

I sneered. “And were those the qualities you were looking for when you chose to marry the king?”

“I didn’t choose,” she said evenly.

I turned away with a flounce. The others were already climbing from the dais, my father solicitously holding Mellicia’s hand to guide her down the temporary steps. “I hardly think, no matter who I marry, I shall fare worse than you,” I said. Just to be contrary, I didn’t bother with the stairs at all. Instead I dropped to the floor, flattened my hand against the wood, and vaulted down to land lightly in the grass. I was sure any spectators got a nice flash of my ankles and underskirts, but I didn’t care.

I barely heard Gisele’s reply. “But don’t you wish you could do better?”

After the intensity of the middle round, the third trial my would be suitors faced couldn’t help but be anti-climactic. It was not even interesting to watch. My father had hired three of the most famous scholars of the kingdom to create a long list of questions about mathematics, history, and the natural sciences, and a series of these tests were administered the next day. Whoever had the lowest score on the first exam was eliminated first. Whoever scored most poorly on the second test was eliminated next. And so on. Each suitor was quizzed separately in a sequestered room, attended by a scholar and two witnesses. Those of us who cared about the outcome hovered anxiously in the hallways, watching as the scholars emerged to compare scores.

I was relieved, but not surprised, when the large brutish man was the first to fail. He burst out of the room where he had been questioned, slammed the door behind him, shoved aside the folks who clustered in the corridor, and stomped on down the hall. I was glad to see him go, but still nervous. Who would be the next contestant eliminated? Surely Darius was clever enough to pass this final test—if not honestly, then artfully, by bedazzling his judges into believing his answers were correct. I sighed in monstrous relief when the next two fallen contestants proved to be strangers. Only belatedly did it occur to me that Harwin was not among the losers, either.

The crowd in the hall had grown to sizable proportions by the time we were down to the last two suitors. By late afternoon, even my father had stopped by to see how the competition was progressing. Neville and Mellicia trailed after him.

“How many are left?” he asked Gisele. The queen had waited with me all day, not that I had wanted her company.

“Two,” she replied. “I believe we will have results soon.”

My father looked intrigued. “Well, then, perhaps I shall linger a few minutes,” he said. His eyes sought me out and he gave me his wolf’s grin. “So that I can learn who shall have the honor of wedding my beloved daughter.”

Coming close enough to put his arm around my shoulders, he whispered in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, “So you’ll be married soon, won’t you? My little girl! A wife before the end of the day. Maybe a mother before the year is out.”

He squeezed me so tightly that words I hadn’t planned to say came tumbling out of my mouth. “But, Father, I do not want to rush so hastily into marriage with any man,” I said breathlessly. “Especially if he’s a stranger. May I have an engagement period to get to know my groom?”

His face grew stormy. “What’s this? An engagement period?”

“Marry her off right away, that’s my advice,” Sir Neville boomed out.

My father uncoiled his arm and practically shoved me aside. “What a troublesome girl you are!” he exclaimed. “First you won’t marry the man of my choosing, and now you turn all nervous and shy. There’s no dealing with you at all!”

I had stumbled a little when he pushed me, but now I straightened myself and smoothed down my skirts. I had not forgotten, if he had, that a couple dozen people were crowded into the hallway, avidly watching this entire scene. After spending a lifetime balking at my father’s orders, I was very good at outmaneuvering him, especially if I had an audience.

“I do not think I have been so unreasonable, Father,” I said, my voice low and hurt. I half turned to make sure old Sir Norbert could catch every word. Norbert was a fat, choleric, irascible old bore, but he was powerful, and he had always been my father’s most outspoken critic. “All I’m asking for is time to accustom myself to my new life.”

“An excellent notion,” Norbert said in his loud, raspy voice. “My own daughter’s betrothal period was six months, and she needed every day.”

My father’s eyes were icy. “You may have a month, if you require it,” he said through gritted teeth.

I wasn’t sure if that would be enough time, but I had no attention left to spare for quarreling. The doors to the final two exam rooms were opening—in minutes I would know who had won the right to marry me. My heart started pounding so hard it was actually painful to breathe. The two scholars whispered together, both of them growing slightly heated, and then whispered some more.