Neil of Tanith - Part 4

For a moment, Nick and Neil exchanged a series of "you-go-first" glances until, finally, irritated, Nick speared his brother with a "look-you-go-first-you're-the-one-getting-married-not- me-I'm-just-here-for-moral-support-if-you-don't-hurry-up-I'm-going-to-push-you-out-of-this- damned-vehicle" glare. Gulping, the younger prince smiled tightly and tried to leap gracefully to the ground, nearly twisting his ankle.

On the steps above them, King Bryant was exchanging formalities with Sir Lawrence of Bondure. They made a rather odd pair: one tall and lean, with neatly-combed dark hair and an intimidating ambiance; the other a little more rotund, shorter, bespectacled and fringed with a salt-and-pepper set of feathery whiskers all over his near-bald head and chin, a jolly man who reminded Neil suspiciously of Santa Claus.

"Nice to meet you again, Lawrence," Bryant was saying. "I hope you're well."

"Yes, yes, I'm fine!" the gentleman boomed. "And your wife?"

"Yes, this is Clara, my wife." The queen stepped forward and extended a hand, which Sir Lawrence took and kissed vehemently.

"A pleasure, your highness," he said cordially, sweeping a low bow. Then he turned to the boys, taking on a mock-stern air. "Your sons, I assume?"

At a nod from his father, Neil stepped forward, concentrating on not fidgeting. Unfortunately, in doing so he stumbled a bit, and when he had at last composed himself he'd totally forgotten what he wanted to say. "Uh...I mean, I'm Neil — sir, your majesty, sir," he tacked on as an afterthought. He could almost hear his brother cringing behind him.

Sir Lawrence didn't lose the mischievous glint to his eyes. "Well met, Neil. I hope you make an excellent addition to our family."

"Yeah — yes, I'll try, sir."

Nick stepped beside him. Bowing — I should have bowed?! Neil yelled to himself — he began, "I am truly pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir Lawrence. Tales of your valor in the Seventh War have preceded you." "Acquaintance"? "Tales of your valor"? Where the hell is he getting this trash? Neil wondered, staring curiously at his brother until a sharp elbow told him to stop.

"As has your tongue, Nick," came the reply, accompanied by a laugh. "It's nice to finally meet you, too." He took the elder prince's hand warmly.

After everyone had been introduced, Sir Lawrence said, "Now, my friends, I would like you to meet my daughter." He gestured toward the entrance of the castle.

Immediately, Neil's pulse quickened to a very rapid tattering beat, so loud that Lawrence's "I know you'll love Celeste" speech could have been told to the garden slugs for all the good it did him. All that was running through his mind was wife wife wife wife wife, over and over again. Forgetting protocol, the prince stretched out one hand without even blinking and clutched his brother's sleeve. Noting the terrified, glazed look in Neil's gaze, Nick smiled encouragingly and squeezed his hand in a comforting sort of way.

And then Celeste appeared. For the merest fraction of eternity, Neil felt precisely the same way he'd felt when he'd found out about his soon-to-be wedded bliss, only more so. Then, almost instantly, his frozen brain thawed — and thawed, and thawed...until it had melted into a puddle of thought cells in his heels, leaving a rather embarrassing blank expression gracing his features. But he didn't care; he'd been unwittingly shoved into that thin margin between logic and emotion, that margin where he could feel nothing and know nothing, only dimly watch his life being played out before him.

Shyly, Celeste stepped out of the doorjamb into the bright late-April sun. She wore a dark maroon satin gown that left her shoulders bare; masses of tight auburn curls fountained from a golden tiara and blended with the ruby of her dress. Demurely, she smiled at Neil, a smile that seemed to say, "I know you." Her blue-green eyes gleamed innocently at the princes as she swept a deep, elegant curtsy, never once taking her gaze from those before her.

Mechanically, Neil bowed a bow that he unconsciously realized he had to bow. However, to his utter shock Nick didn't. He just stood dumbly, stature partly rigid, jaw partly slack. Neil actually had to elbow him to get him to stop drooling. But Celeste only smiled one more time before dropping her eyes modestly.

Time and space resumed as Sir Lawrence called, "Shall we go in?" Silently, Neil motioned for everyone to enter before him, remembering vaguely to "be polite."

As the final person climbed the stairs, the prince lifted a boot — and paused. He glanced up towards a second-story window, absolutely certain that he'd seen a flicker of movement behind the glass. But when nothing reappeared, he shrugged and continued into the castle.