Martin shrugged, half-lit by the lanterns being brought up on deck. “Is there a good way? I’ve seen worse.”
Arutha left the quarterdeck, the faint, pitiful cries of the drowning men still carrying across the water, a grisly counterpoint to Vasco’s more mundane shout to open the galley. He closed the door to the companion way and shut out those unhappy sounds. He quietly opened the door to his cabin and saw Anita lying asleep in the faint light of a shuttered candle. Her red-brown hair looked nearly black as it lay spread about her head. He started to close the door, when he heard her say, “Arutha?”
He stepped in, finding her watching him in the dim light. He sat on the edge of the berth. “Are you well?” he asked.
She stretched and nodded. “I’ve been sleeping soundly.” Her eyes widened. “Is everything all right?” She sat up, bringing her face close to his.
He reached out and put his arms around her, holding her close. “Everything is fine. We’re safe now.”
She sighed as she rested her head on his shoulder. “Thank you for everything, Arutha.”
He said nothing, suddenly caught up in strong emotion, a protective feeling, a need to keep Anita from harm’s way, to care for her. For long moments they sat this way, then Arutha regained control over his surging feelings. Pulling away a little, he said, “You’d be hungry, I’d think.”
She laughed, an honestly merry sound. “Why yes, as a matter of fact I’m famished.”
He said, “I’ll have something sent down, though it will be plain fare, I’m afraid, even compared to what you were given by the Mockers.”
“Anything.”
He went on deck and ordered a seaman to the galley to fetch something for the Princess, then returned to find her combing her hair. “I must look a mess,” she said.
Arutha suddenly found himself fighting the urge to grin. He didn’t know why, but he was inexplicably happy. “Not at all,” he said. “You look quite nice, actually.”
She stopped her combing, and Arutha marveled at how she looked so young one minute, so womanly the next. She smiled at him. “I remember sneaking a peek at you during Father’s court dinner, when you were last in Krondor.”
“At me? What in heaven’s name for?”
She seemed to ignore the question “I thought you looked nice then as well, though a bit stern. There was a boy there who held me up to see. He was with your father’s party. I’ve forgotten his name, but he said he was apprentice to a magician.”
Arutha’s smile faded. “That was Pug.”
“What ever happened to him?”
“He was lost in the first year of the war.”
She put aside her comb. “I’m sorry. He was kind to a bothersome child.”
“He was a kind lad, given to doing brave things, and he was very special to my sister. She grieved for a long time when he was lost.” Fighting back a gloomy mood, he said, “Now, why did a Princess of Krondor want to sneak a look at a distant and rural cousin?”
Anita watched Arutha for a long moment, then said, “I wanted to see you because our fathers thought it likely we would marry.”
Arutha was stunned. It took all his control to retain his composure. He pulled over the single chair and sat. Anita said, “Didn’t your father ever mention it to you?”
For want of anything clever to say, Arutha merely shook his head.
Anita nodded. “I know, the war and all. Things did get quite frantic soon after you left for Rillanon.”
Arutha swallowed hard, finding his mouth suddenly dry. “Now, what is this about our fathers’ plans for . . . our marriage?”
Arutha looked at Anita, her green eyes flickering with reflected candlelight, and something else. “Matters of state, I’m afraid. Father wanted my claim to the throne bolstered, and Lyam’s too dangerous a match, being the older. You’d be ideal, for the King would not likely object . . . or wouldn’t have then, I guess. Now, with Guy set upon having me, I suppose the King is in agreement.”
Arutha became suddenly irritated, though he wasn’t certain why “And I suppose we’re not to be consulted in the matter!” His voice rose.
“Please, it’s not my doing.”