The Official Guide to Rescuing and Maintaining Damsels in Distress Page 7

"Then, if you wish to come with me, meet us here tomorrow morning at sunrise. If I don't see you again, Helena, it was a positive joy to meet you, and I wish you only the best." Kissing her hand gallantly, though a little less elegantly than the prince had, he turned away. "And now I must go."

  The square was clear, and the sun setting, when Helena finally returned to the Inn. Thoughts of herself on stage had inundated her continually. She did love singing, and stories. Perfect makings of a player, right? And if Crispin returned her to her father she would surely have to yield to the proceedings she'd explained to Philip. Or rather, she'd have to yield to old Sir Gunther Totherington. Picturing his florid fleshy lips and the curlicue of hair on his forehead that was meant to distract from the complete baldness of his skull she gave a small shudder. She would do anything in her power to avoid that outcome, most definitely. Yet… running off with the troupe would mean abandoning Crispin.

  What are you thinking? she chided herself. Half of the time you can't stand that woman.

  Except when she's being exceedingly patient and her cheeks practically disappear into her face with the effort. Or when she really enjoys something and laughs right from her stomach. And except for the fact that she's hauled you out of that isolated tower and showed you places you never knew existed.

  Well. A few more days won't do any harm.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SHE RECONSIDERED HER logic the moment she walked into the courtyard. There they were again, the evil duo, fewer ale mugs between them this time, but still the rollicking air of hilarity that shrouded them. It was so infectious that even Kate the Innkeeper sashayed by more than once, apparently flirting with the giggling prince. Or so it seemed to Helena, who almost bit her tongue when she noted the large woman winking at the knight rather saucily as she refilled their drinks. Lifting the mug Crispin clanked it against Eric's, pausing fleetingly as she spotted Helena over his shoulder. The princess was about to steal away upstairs when she heard her name being called.

  "Helena! Come here!"

  Though usually she would have taken the yelled words as a command and immediately refused, Crispin's tone was welcoming today, and that in itself drew her closer without thinking. Taking a sip from her mug the knight slid over to one side of the bench, a quick odd flinch on her face before she reached down under one thigh with her hand and pulled out a wicked splinter. Throwing it into the flowerbed next to her she patted the open space. "Come. Sit with us."

  Ever the gentleman Eric stood up as Helena approached, sketching a slight bow in the air, and again she found herself wishing that he had rather come to her tower. And then, strangely, she felt guilty. Especially when Crispin motioned one of the serving girls closer with a leisurely wave of her hand and ordered ale for Helena. Sipping it demurely she listened broodingly to their current conversation (a deep and profound discussion about knife throwing) before she established that they were in all likelihood not drunk. All that much. Yet. Judging it thus safe to join the discussion she started with short comments and reactions ("yes", "uh-huh", and the more advanced "naturally") before easing gradually into full sentences.

  "Of course it had been six years since I'd last thrown a knife…" Crispin paused to take a sip of her mead, "but I had made a promise. Though the result attracted a bit more attention than I would have hoped."

  "Uh huh."

  The knight gave Helena a slightly disconcerted look before she continued. "Obviously, with the … said appendage sliced off, he attracted rather less attention than he would have hoped."

  "Obviously."

  It was subdued under Eric's muffled giggle, but Crispin's ears were remarkably sharp. Raising her eyebrows at the composedly mead-sipping princess she paused for a moment, but when nothing else was forthcoming she continued. "And that is the reason why I am now banned from the Goodwin Forest Games. And also, to a lesser degree, why John Thwaite has moved back into his mother's cottage."

  Eric let out a very loud roar of delight. "You wicked creature!"

  "Quite." The blonde's tone was dry. Instinctively avoiding the handsome prince's jovial fist Crispin leaned towards Helena, her eyebrows raised curiously. The princess tried to ignore her, but considering that the dark eyes were only a few inches from her own she abandoned her effort after a time, peering over the rim of her mug at the knight innocently. "What?"

  "Yes. What, indeed." Crispin cocked her head to one side, studying Helena with interest. "Did you find a vendor with brevity for sale?"

  "Ohh." It was an exhalation of irritation. Slamming her mug on the table Helena folded her arms tetchily and shook her hair in a noble, yet universally peevish manner. "I am just being agreeable, Crispin."

  "Quite." The dry tone mimicked the blonde's earlier answer. "The last time you were being agreeable you medicated me sweetly with poison ivy. No, wait, the last time you were being agreeable you had just turned me into the luminary of the greatest comedy in town. Forgive me, therefore, if I get slightly apprehensive when you get agreeable."

  "How rude!" The princess leaned closer, her nose almost touching the knight's. "I had great intentions, you oaf. Perhaps not so much with the story, I'll agree… But you complain when I'm difficult, and then you complain when I'm agreeable. Which is it to be, Sir Crispin?"

  "Perhaps she would prefer your mouth otherwise engaged?"

  Receiving a sharp kick (and a quick flash of amusement) from the knight for his helpful comment, Eric returned to rubbing his ankle and observing the argument in awe, his head swivelling between the opponents like that of a spectator at a jousting match. Both parties, in actual fact, seemed to be perversely enjoying the quarrel.

  "I prefer you obstinate, your highness. Then at least I know I'm marginally safe from everything life-threatening - except your tongue." From the corner of her eye the knight caught sight of the prince's mouth opening. "Eric." Placidly he shut it again.

  Folding her arms coolly the princess raised her eyebrows. "You should have let me know of this affinity of yours sooner. I could have been a great deal more tetchy."

  "Strangely, I don't doubt that for an instant."

  They took synchronised sips of their ale, a mutual armistice for the time being. Noticing the blonde's slight pout the prince smiled to himself, admiring her obstinacy in the face of the knight's infuriating air of utter nonchalance. Crispin was at that moment studying Helena's lovely features with a slightly confused frown.

  "Princess, I have a question."

  "Back to princess, are we?" Helena's full lower lip twisted slightly. "What, Crispin?"

  "I thought that you wanted to go back to the tower once I'd recovered. Why didn't you?"

  Whether the knight was being incredibly straightforward or incredibly rude was impossible to tell, though it wasn't as hard to tell which one the princess was voting for. Raising her eyebrows she presented the dark woman with a long icy. "I had not realised that you were so eager for me to leave, Crispin. If you'd said so earlier I would have accommodated you happily."

  Her brisk haughty tone left no doubt - she was furious. Yet, under all of that the prince could swear that he detected a note of hurt.

  "That's not what I meant, Helena! You're welcome to go, or to stay, or whatever takes your fancy. I would just appreciate being let in on the decision, seeing as I'm very much a part of it." The tall woman was trying hard to be appeasing, but in the face of her naturally exasperated nature it wasn't working all that well.

  "Thank you for your permission, Sir Crispin." Even Eric winced. "However, my decisions have absolutely nothing to do you. And will continue to have even less to do with you in the future. Good night."

  The princess stood stiffly, retaining just enough of her royal breeding to nod civilly to Eric when he rose and bowed his head. To Crispin, however, she gave no more than a dreadfully hostile glance before she strode back into the Inn. Both parties were silent until her stiff back had disappeared around the doorway, and then Eric exhaled with a loud sigh.

  "Goodness, Crisp
in, I've never known you to be so verbally… incompetent. You utterly and completely screwed yourself there. Many happy returns."

  "Oh, shut up." The knight took a long drink from her mug, draining it completely before she slammed it back onto the table with obvious frustration. "Damn it, Eric, a few days ago she couldn't wait to run away whenever I turned my back. I had to resort to ridiculous threats just to keep her near the fire at night. And now, suddenly, when I want to let her leave, she tears strips out of my hide and makes me wear them as earmuffs!" Dropping her head into her hands in annoyance she chewed her lip thoughtfully. "I do not understand women, Eric."

  "Well, I honestly doubt that I'd be of much help in that department. But," he tilted her chin gently with his fingers to look into her eyes, "maybe I can work with you on just this exact occasion, Crispin. Is it inconceivable to think that she might not actually want to leave you?"

  "But why not?" Her blue eyes were genuinely confused. "I forced her to come with me, Eric. When I return her to her father for a reward she will probably be forced to either return to the tower or to marry a man most likely suitable only in rank. That would be good enough motivation for most people to go when they are told they're free to."

  "She doesn't strike me as anything like most people." Eric shrugged loosely and downed the last sip of his ale. "You've managed to insinuate to her that you were enthusiastic for her to go, dear heart. It's no surprise that she's taken offence. The two of you stir up very fiery reactions in each other, for some or other reason. The best course of action would probably be to let her calm down for now, and try to mollify her in the morning. Here, let me order another round."

  "I should have let the dragon eat me."

  It was little more than a petulant mutter.

  "I wish the dragon had eaten her!" It was an irate snarl, delivered in the direction of the peacefully snoring knight's back. Pacing up and down Helena eyed the blissful bundle evilly, and then stopped to deliver a monstrous kick to the pallet's leg. The dark woman's head snapped up blearily. "I do like them apples," she declared foggily before she flopped over and began to snore again. For a moment silence reigned while the princess stared at the knight with a perplexed frown.

  "What ap… you know what? I don't care! I do not care. I, princess Helena of Bernam, do. Not. Care. Do I care? No. You can take your apples and do indecent things with them, you hear me …" Muttering a few more things that would curl Crispin's toes (if she were awake and actually paying attention for once) Helena began to hurl her clothing into her pack. "… fit that apple, no, any fruit, I wouldn't be particular… and then she asks me why I'm still here, the beastly brute… got to write the dragon a thank thee note, only polite… and mind you, I should have taken that poison ivy and shoved …"

  Giving the pallet one last kick she stalked out of the room, ignoring the voice that suddenly piped up behind her. "I was only shoeing her horse, honestly…"

  When the knight woke up she had the groggy thought that it was rather too quiet. The princess should have been fuming enthusiastically and pointedly in one of the corners. There should have been stares as icy and spiky as daggers sinking into her exposed spine with zest. Instead - there was heavenly peace and quiet.

  It felt… odd.

  Something was not right.

  Rubbing at a clump of hair on the back of her skull which had obviously exchanged pleasantries with something sticky, she pondered the wisdom of lifting her head. It was readily obvious when she attempted it that her rational thought had been affected. With a muffled groan she pushed her face back into the scratchy pillow and gave a half-hearted sniffle. No, still too silent. Turning her head slightly she peered around the room with one narrowed eye, taking in the clear space where there ought to have been parcels and other swanky effects.

  Oh dear.

  Oh damn.

  Oh buggery dragon on a stick.

  CHAPTER NINE

  "ERIC!"

  Scowling bleakly the dishevelled prince shoved a dry cracker into his mouth and chewed with messy effort, barely glancing up as the knight slid into the seat opposite him. Considering that the previous night they had between them single-handedly boosted the revenue of the inn beyond any point thought possible, she looked far too good for his taste this morning. Motioning at a serving girl for a cup of coffee she rubbed the back of her head thoughtfully.

  "Eric, Helena's gone and … Eric, are you listening at all? Why is that redhead in the corner winking at me?"

  Studying the woman in question the prince blinked gingerly. "Well, she would. With you dancing on her table so scantily dressed and all. Told you it was poor taste, but would you listen? No. Not you. Why are you shouting??"

  "I wasn't even talking right then!" Examining his bloodshot eyes and the tuft of blonde hair that stuck up from the hairline above his brow like an eagle's crest she shook her head faintly. "You, my dear friend, are a mess."

  "And you have no right not to be." Picking up a cracker he lifted it halfway to his mouth before he paused. "What did you say about Helena?"

  "I said she's gone. Taken every last thing and left. Oh - and welcome back to the world of the fairly conscious, by the way."

  "Take your fair consciousness and stuff it in your ears. It's overrated." Taking a bite of the cracker he chewed wistfully before he continued. "Where did she go, Crispin?"

  "Here, let me consult my magical clairvoyant thumb." With a waggle of said digit in front of his bleary eyes the knight glowered at him. "How should I know, Eric? I was as attentive as a bear in winter, hibernating on my stomach with bits of food stuck on my head. It's not as if she left me a nice note and a bunch of flowers!"

  "I don't blame her," Eric mumbled petulantly. "You may look good in the morning but your temperament certainly makes up for that." He considered her as she picked up the coffee and glowered at him over the rim of the cup tetchily. "Though you do look so damned good, you swine. Look, she couldn't have gone far. All we do is ask a few choice questions at the two gates and follow the trail. Coinage begets information."

  Crispin took a cautious sip of the hot coffee, her blue gaze far in the distance. When she had swallowed she placed the cup squarely back on the table before she looked Eric straight in the eyes. "And what if she doesn't want to be found, Eric? I told her she could go, and she's wanted to, all of this time. Surely her choice should count for something? By now, at least?" Frowning at herself she picked up the cup again and cradled it between her hands, staring into the dark liquid for a moment before she collected herself. "Would it be fair to do this to her a second time? I think I need to let her leave, Eric. I think I need to … go to that hot spring in Morag Mountain and eat fruit off the trees for a few days."

  Eric clapped his hands enthusiastically before wincing first at the loud sound and then at Crispin's resentful look. "Sorry. Reflex. It's a lovely idea, though. My skin could do with the miraculously restorative powers of stinky water. It's been a rough year for me - I look a little peaky, don't I look a little pea…" Catching sight of the dark woman's even darker expression he trailed off and shrugged his broad shoulders. "Well, I feel a tad peaky. At any rate. It's an immense idea. Just you and me, soaking up the good life like we used to…"

  "I was thinking I'd go alone."

  "Well, then you obviously aren't that great at thinking, Crispin." Dusting the little bits of cracker off his crinkled tunic he interrupted before she even had time to speak. "Oh, shush. You're a spoiled brat. I'm coming, and that's final."

  "Fine."

  "Fine."

  "Good."

  "Excellent."

  Crispin glared at the handsome blonde man until she was sure that he was paying absolutely no attention before she abandoned the effort and took a sip of her coffee. "Well all right then. I was going to invite you anyway."

  "Troll."

  "You've said."

  They spent a rare moment in silence before Eric dropped a few coins on the table and stood up. "Well, that's settled. Now all we
need to do is find the princess and then, tallyho, hot springs here we come!"

  Halfway through rising from her seat Crispin promptly sat back down. "When exactly did you get distracted and wander off from the conversation, Eric? Would you like me to fill in the blanks for your ale-soaked mind?"

  "Oh pish, Crispin." Eric sat down again, completely confusing the serving girl who was on her way to clear their table. "I'm not suggesting that I hunt her down and sling her over my shoulder like some type of lout…"

  "Your shoulder wouldn't know what to do with her."

  "… I'm only suggesting that we find her and make sure that she's all right before we just abandon her. She might not have gone of her own free will, did you ever consider that?"

  He watched her carefully as she first made a rather rude noise and shrugged, then started drumming on the table slowly with her long fingers, her blue eyes fixed on a distant point. When she looked up at him her gaze was expressionless, but her voice couldn't hide the hope. "You think she might not have wanted to leave?" Clearing her throat against the telling lilt she continued in a more subdued tone. "That's not entirely impossible, Eric. Maybe we should find her - just to make sure that she's all right, of course."

  Patting himself on the back mentally the blonde man reached over and took one of her hands in his. "You know her better than I do. Where do we start?"

  "Well, she wouldn't go to her father, she seems to…" Suddenly Crispin stopped, her hand tightening around his in a rather disagreeably firm grip. "Eric, do you remember two night ago when Helena told us that she'd met a man?"

  "Hmm, of that night I remember amazingly little."

  "Try." Pulling her hand from his she smacked his arm for emphasis. "She said he was a … damn it, what was it… was he a priest? A painter?"

  "You're sticking with a theme, I see. Are you positive that it started with a 'p'?"

  "Positive may be too positive a word, but it's the only thing that I'm having any memory of at all."