Time passed. King Casmir became restive. He glanced over his shoulder toward the palace ever more frequently. Finally he muttered a few words to a footman, and another five minutes passed.

The heralds raised their clarions and blew another fanfare. Out upon the terrace came Suldrun at a lurching run, as if she had been pushed; in the shadows behind her the contorted face of Lady Desdea showed for an instant.

With a grave face Suldrun approached the table. Her gown, of a soft pink stuff, clung close to her figure; from beneath a round white cap soft golden curls hung to her shoulders.

Slowly Suldrun came forward, followed by Lia and Tuissany. She paused, looked across the terrace, brushing Carfilhiot with her gaze. A steward approached with a tray; Suldrun and her maids took goblets of wine, then went modestly apart, where they stood murmuring together.

King Casmir watched under lowering brows and at last turned to Sir Mungo, his seneschal. "Inform the princess that we wait upon her attendance."

Sir Mungo delivered the message. Suldrun listened with a drooping mouth. She seemed to sigh, then crossed the terrace, halted in front of her father, and performed a somber curtsy.

In his richest tones Sir Mungo declared: "Princess Suldrun, I am honored to introduce to you Duke Faude Carfilhiot of Vale Evander!"

Suldrun inclined her head; Carfilhiot smilingly bowed and kissed her hand. Then raising his head and looking into her face he said:

"Rumors of Princess Suldrun's grace and beauty have crossed the mountains to Tintzin Fyral. I see that they were not exaggerated."

Suldrun responded in a colorless voice. "I hope you have not heeded these rumors. I'm sure they would give me no pleasure if I heard them."

King Casmir leaned quickly forward with lowering brows, but Carfilhiot spoke first. "Indeed? How so?"

Suldrun refused to look toward her father. "I am made out to be something I do not choose to be."

"You do not enjoy the admiration of men?"

"I have done nothing admirable."

"Nor has a rose, nor a sapphire of many facets."

"They are ornaments; they have no life of their own."

"Beauty is not ignoble," said King Casmir heavily. "It is a gift bestowed to only a few. Would anyone—even the princess Suldrun—prefer to be ugly?"

Suldrun opened her mouth to say: "I would prefer, first of all, to be somewhere other than here." She thought better of the remark and closed her mouth.

"Beauty is a most peculiar attribute," Carfilhiot declared. "Who was the first poet? It was he who invented the concept of beauty."

King Casmir gave an indifferent shrug and drank from his purple glass goblet.

Carfilhiot continued, his voice easy and musical: "Our world is a place terrible and wonderful, where the passionate poet who yearns to realize the ideal of beauty is almost always frustrated."

Suldrun, her hands clasped together, studied her fingertips.

Carfilhiot said, "It would seem that you have reservations?"

"Your 'passionate poet' might well be a very tiresome companion."

Carfilhiot clapped his hand to his forehead in mock-outrage. "You are as heartless as Diana herself. Have you no sympathy for our passionate poet, this poor moon-struck adventurer?"

"Probably not. He seems over-emotional and self-centered, at the very least. The emperor Nero of Rome, who danced to the flames of his burning city, was perhaps such a 'passionate poet.'"

King Casmir made a restive movement; this sort of conversation seemed a pointless frivolity... Still, Carfilhiot appeared to be enjoying himself. Was it possible that timid reclusive Suldrun was cleverer than he had supposed?

Carfilhiot addressed himself to Suldrun: "I find this conversation most interesting. I hope that we can continue it another time?"

Suldrun replied in her most formal voice: "Truly, Duke Carfilhiot, my ideas are not at all profound. I would be embarrassed to discuss them with a person of your experience."

"It shall be as you wish," said Carfilhiot. "Still, please allow me the simple pleasure of your company."

King Casmir hastened to intervene before Suldrun's unpredictable tongue gave offense. "Duke Carfilhiot, I notice certain grandees of the realm who wait to be introduced."

Later King Casmir took Suldrun aside. "I am surprised by your conduct in regard to Duke Carfilhiot! You do more harm than you know; his good will is indispensable to our plans!"

Standing before the majestic bulk of her father, Suldrun felt limp and helpless. She cried out in a plaintive soft voice: "Father, please do not force me upon Duke Carfilhiot! I am frightened by his company!"

King Casmir had prepared himself against piteous appeals. His response was inexorable: "Bah! You are silly and unreasonable.

There are far worse matches than Duke Carfilhiot, I assure you. It shall be as I decide."

Suldrun stood with down-turned face. She apparently had no more to say. King Casmir swung away, marched off down the Long Gallery and up the stairs to his chambers. Suldrun stood looking after him, hands clenched and pressed to her sides. She turned and ran down the gallery, out into the fading light of afternoon, up the arcade, through the old gate and down into the garden. The sun, hanging low in the sky, sent a somber light under a tall bank of clouds; the garden seemed cool and remote.

Suldrun wandered down the path, past the ruins, and settled herself under the old lime tree, arms clasped around her knees, and considered the fate which seemed to be advancing upon her.

Beyond doubt, or so it seemed to her, Carfilhiot would choose to wed her, take her away to Tintzin Fyral, there, at his own good time, to explore the secrets of her body and her mind... The sun sank into clouds; the wind blew cold. Suldrun shivered. Rising, she returned the way she had come, slowly, with eyes downcast. She climbed to her chambers where Lady Desdea gave her a fretful scolding.

"Where have you been? By the queen's command I must array you in fine garments; there is to be a banquet and dancing. Your bath is ready."

Suldrun passively stepped out of her clothes and into a wide marble basin, brimming with warm water. Her maids rubbed her with soap of olive oil and ash of aloe, then rinsed her in water scented with lemon verbena, and dried her with soft cotton towels.

Her hair was brushed till it shone. She was dressed in a dark blue gown and a fillet of silver, set with tablets of lapis lazuli, was placed on her head.

Lady Desdea drew back. "That's the best I can do with you. No doubt but what you are well-favored. Still, something is lacking.

You must use a bit of flirtation—not to excess, mind you! Let him know that you understand what he has in mind.

Mischief in a girl is like salt on meat... Now, tincture of foxglove, to sparkle your eyes!"

Suldrun jerked back. "I want none of it!"

Lady Desdea had learned the futility of argument with Suldrun.

"You are the most obstinate creature alive! As usual, you shall do as you please."

Suldrun laughed bitterly. "If I did as I please, I would not be going to the ball."

"La, then, you saucy mince." Lady Desdea kissed Suldrun on the forehead. "I hope that life will dance to your tune... Come now, to the banquet. I pray you, be civil to Duke Carfilhiot, since your father hopes for a betrothal."

At the banquet King Casmir and Queen Sollace sat at the head of the great table, with Suldrun at her father's right and Carfilhiot to the left of Queen Sollace.

Covertly Suldrun studied Carfilhiot. What with his clear skin, thick black hair and lustrous eyes he was undeniably handsome: almost to an excess. He ate and drank gracefully; his conversation was courteous; perhaps his only affectation was modesty: he spoke little of himself. Yet, Suldrun found herself unable to meet his gaze, and when she spoke to him, as occasion compelled, words came with difficulty.