The Sapphire Rose. David Eddings

yet!’ Sephrenia told him sharply.

      ‘But –’

      ‘Do as I say!’

      He stood helplessly over his stricken queen for a minute that seemed to last for an hour. Then Sephrenia stepped forward and lifted Ehlana’s chin with both her hands. The queen’s grey eyes were wide and vacant, and her face was twisted grotesquely.

      ‘Now, Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia said, ‘take Bhelliom in your hands and touch it to her heart. Be sure the rings are touching the stone. At the same time, command it to heal her.’

      He seized the Sapphire Rose in both hands, and then he gently touched the flower gem to Ehlana’s breast. ‘Heal my queen, Bhelliom-Blue-Rose!’ he commanded in a loud voice.

      The enormous surge of power coming from the jewel between his hands sent Sparhawk to his knees. The candles flickered and dimmed as if some dark shadow had passed over the room. Was it something fleeing? Or was it perhaps that shadow of dread that followed him and haunted all his dreams? Ehlana stiffened, and her slender body was slammed against the back of her throne. A hoarse gasp came from her throat. Then her wide-eyed stare was suddenly rational, and she gazed at Sparhawk in astonishment.

      ‘It is done!’ Sephrenia said in a trembling voice, and then she slumped weakly down on the dais.

      Ehlana drew in a deep, shuddering breath. ‘My Knight!’ she cried out feebly, extending her arms to the black-armoured Pandion kneeling before her. Though her voice was weak, it nonetheless was full and rich, a woman’s voice now and not the childish one Sparhawk remembered. ‘Oh, my Sparhawk, you have come back to me at last.’ She laid her trembling arms about his armoured shoulders, inserted her face beneath his raised visor and kissed him lingeringly.

      ‘Enough of that for now, children,’ Sephrenia told them. ‘Sparhawk, carry her to her chambers.’

      Sparhawk was very disturbed. Ehlana’s kiss had been anything but childlike. He tucked Bhelliom away, removed his helmet and tossed it to Kalten. Then he gently picked up his queen. She put her pale arms about his shoulders and her cheek to his. ‘O, I have found thee,’ she breathed, ‘and I love thee, and I will not let thee go.’

      Sparhawk recognized the passage she was quoting, and it seemed wildly inappropriate. He grew even more troubled. There was obviously a serious mistake here somewhere.

       Chapter 4

      Ehlana was going to be a problem, Sparhawk decided as he removed his armour not long after he had presented himself to his queen the following morning. Though she had never been far from his thoughts during his exile, he found that he had to make a number of difficult adjustments. When he had left, their relative positions had been clearly defined. He was the adult; she was the child. That had changed now, and they were both treading the unfamiliar ground of the monarch and subject relationship. He had been told by Kurik and others that the girl he had raised almost from babyhood had shown remarkable mettle during the few months before Annias had poisoned her. Hearing about it was one thing; experiencing it was another. This is not to say that Ehlana was ever harsh or peremptory with him, for she was not. She felt, he thought – and hoped – a genuine affection for him, and she did not give him direct commands so much as give the impression that she expected him to accede to her wishes. They were functioning in a grey area, and there were all sorts of opportunities for serious missteps on either side.

      Some recent incidents were perfect examples of that sort of thing. In the first place, her request that he sleep in a chamber adjoining hers was, he felt, highly inappropriate, even slightly scandalous. When he had tried to point that out, however, she had laughed at his fears. His armour, he reasoned, had provided some small defence against wagging tongues. Times were troubled, after all, and the Queen of Elenia needed protection. As her champion, Sparhawk had the obligation, the right even, to stand guard over her. When he had presented himself to her that morning once again in full armour, however, she had wrinkled her nose and suggested that he change clothes immediately. He knew that was a serious mistake. The Queen’s Champion in armour was one thing, and no one with a reasonable regard for his own health would be likely to make an issue of Sparhawk’s proximity to the royal person. If he were dressed in doublet and hose, though, that would be quite another thing. The servants were bound to talk, and the gossip of palace servants had a way of spreading throughout the city.

      Sparhawk looked dubiously into the mirror. His doublet was silver-trimmed black velvet, and his hose were grey. The clothing bore some faint resemblance to a uniform, and the black half-boots he had chosen had a more military appearance than the pointed shoes currently in fashion at court. He rejected the slender rapier out of hand and belted on his heavy broadsword instead. The effect was slightly ludicrous, but the presence of the heavier weapon quite clearly stated that Sparhawk was in the queen’s apartments on business.

      ‘That’s absolutely absurd, Sparhawk,’ Ehlana laughed when he returned to the sitting-room where she lay prettily propped up by pillows on a divan and with a blue satin coverlet across her knees.

      ‘My Queen?’ he said coolly.

      ‘The broadsword, Sparhawk. It’s completely out of place with those clothes. Please take it off at once and wear the rapier I ordered to be provided for you.’

      ‘If my appearance offends you, Your Majesty, I’ll withdraw. The sword, however, stays where it is. I can’t protect you with a knitting needle.’

      Her grey eyes flashed. ‘You –’ she began hotly.

      ‘My decision, Ehlana,’ he cut across her objections. ‘Your safety is my responsibility, and the steps I take to insure it are not open to discussion.’

      They exchanged a long, hard stare. This would not be the last time their wills would clash, Sparhawk was sure.

      Ehlana’s eyes softened. ‘So stern and unbending, my champion,’ she said.

      ‘Where Your Majesty’s safety is concerned, yes.’ He said it flatly. It was probably best to get that clearly understood right at the outset.

      ‘But why are we arguing, my knight?’ She smiled whimsically, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

      ‘Don’t do that, Ehlana,’ he told her, automatically assuming the tutorial manner he had used when she was a little girl. ‘You’re the queen, not some coy chambermaid trying to get her own way. Don’t ask or try to be charming. Command.’

      ‘Would you take off the sword if I commanded you to, Sparhawk?’

      ‘No, but the usual rules don’t apply to me.’

      ‘Who decided that?’

      ‘I did. We can send for the Earl of Lenda if you’d like. He’s well versed in the law, and he can give us his opinion on the matter.’

      ‘But if he decides against you, you’ll ignore him, won’t you?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘That’s not fair, Sparhawk.’

      ‘I’m not trying to be fair, My Queen.’

      ‘Sparhawk, when we’re alone like this, do you suppose we could dispense with the “Your Majestys” and “My Queens”? I do have a name, after all, and you weren’t afraid to use it when I was a child.’

      ‘As you wish,’ he shrugged.

      ‘Say it, Sparhawk. Say Ehlana. It’s not a hard name, and I’m sure you won’t choke on it.’

      He smiled. ‘All right, Ehlana,’ he gave up. After her defeat on the issue of the sword, she needed a victory of some kind to restore her dignity.

      ‘You’re so much more handsome when you smile, my champion. You should try it more often.’ She leaned back on her pillows, her face thoughtful. Her pale blonde