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A knock sounded on my door at eight-forty-five the next morning. I groaned and stayed where I was. The knock came again, and then the door edged open. “Joan?”
“Go away.”
Martin ignored the order and came in, closing the door and moving towards me. “Cathy said you were still in bed when she and Mari left. Are you sick?”
“No,” I grouched. “I’m tired.”
His voice eased from worry to laughter as he sat on the bed. “Tired?” he repeated. “You?”
I cracked an eye to glare at him. “It’s been a long week, and I got about four hours of sleep since Florinda refused to let me leave the ball at a decent time. I’m allowed to be tired after rescuing a continent and dancing for eight hours. Eight miserable hours!”
“You didn’t think they were so miserable last night,” Martin said, brushing his hand over my hair as I closed my eye. “I thought you enjoyed them.”
“My feet are still throbbing and I’m short about ten hours of sleep over this past week. Pardon me if I sleep in just a little.”
“A little? Joan, it’s almost nine. You have a competition to go to. Steady shooting takes place at nine-thirty.”
I opened both eyes now. “I’ll probably miss by a mile,” I said, but I was considering it. “I might as well protect my reputation by claiming work.”
He smiled. “And let Marco win first place without contest?”
This got me up. “Not a chance. He wants to win, he’ll have to get past me first.”
“I thought so,” he murmured as I dashed into the bathroom.
I was out in ten minutes, braiding my hair, dressed in the black outfit, the green knife at my side and the Valerian pendant around my neck. He was still sitting on my bed, waiting for me. “You look ready to conquer the world,” he offered as he stood.
“You probably shouldn’t say that. We’ve already had one of those at the peace conference.”
He chuckled. “You look ready to conquer the competition,” he corrected, and caught me close to him. “Good morning, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing his lips to mine for a kiss.
My arms went around his neck as I melted against him. “Good morning,” I murmured back. “That’s quite the wake-up call.”
He nuzzled against my cheek for a brief minute, then drew back. “Let’s get breakfast for you, and then you can go compete.”
“Do you compete today?”
“I do, as a matter of fact. I have jousting today.”
“I’ll make sure Joe’s on standby.”
The day raced by. I was treated with respect by everyone I encountered. Terris was nearly in awe of me and strutting proudly at his position of being my page. He was very careful to do his job well, and do it to the best of his abilities. I saw Mart was giving him no trouble as of yet.
Short-range stationary shooting with rifles ended today, and Marco and I were still at the top. I calmly made my shots and edged out first place by one point, much to Terris’s glee and several of the Valerians, who immediately started claiming bets.
“Annie Oakley beats Frank Butler again,” Marco said, offering a hand. “That was a close one.”
I shook his hand. “It was a pleasure. I wasn’t sure I was going to pull it off. You’re quite the marksman.”
“I wish you luck in the mobile targets tomorrow,” he said. “I have a bet you’ll make the top ten.”
“I’ll do my best to help you win your money then,” I said, handing Terris my gun. “Good luck on your own competitions.”
Martin did well in jousting. I couldn’t help but chuckle when he rode out wearing the tall, crimson red helmet I’d seen him wear in our first meetings, and I watched as he battered his opponents. I couldn’t ever figure out the scoring system, except on the two occasions when he popped the challenger out of his saddle. He only lost one match that I saw, and that was to Randall.
“Not today, young pup,” Randall said, grinning as he removed his helmet. “Just you remember your place.”
Martin saluted him, and grinned back. “I was close.”
“Close doesn’t cut it. Watch yourself.”
I watched Simon and Samson do a match each, and then I went inside to do a couple freestyle matches, which I won. There were still days yet before the end of the matches, but I was still at the top. Pierson was dominating crossbow archery and top scoring Valerians weren’t even close.
In the evening I taught Terris some defensive fighting, and Martin and I worked with him on how to defend against two people. My days took on a pattern after that for the remaining week at the peace conference. Mornings and afternoons were spent at the training center. I always ate lunch with Cathy. Evenings I was called to attend the royal meetings for an hour, during which I sat silently as the diplomat of the Flip Side and listened to them discuss policies and trading rights and such, and then I went to teach Terris.
As the last day approached, all the competitions came to an end. I was first in freestyle and steady shooting with rifle, twentieth in kickboxing, fifth in strict hand-to-hand, second in mobile target firearms with a rifle, and thirtieth in knife fighting. Overall, Valeria took top in all archery, top in jousting, fifth in swordfighting, where Martin placed first, second in freestyle fighting, fifth in overall hand-to-hand, and many others in the top twenty, with eighteen notable achievements overall.
As the last bets were being paid, I stood the side of the large board and watched Terris. Mart and his pal had been chafing over the last week, and now as they looked around and didn’t see me, they advanced on Terris.
Terris stiffened when he saw them, but didn’t back down. Mart approached, jabbing him in the shoulder.
“Would you like commentary?” Joe murmured, moving by me.
“I assume it’s something along the lines of ‘What are you going to do now without someone to protect you?’” I said, watching the scene.
“And your boy, what’s his name?”
“Terris.”
“Terris responds that he doesn’t need anyone to protect him.”
Mart gave Terris a shove this time.
“Terris is warning him to stay back,” Joe said.
“Three, two, one,” I said cheerfully, and just as I’d called it, Terris curled his fist and popped it in Mart’s nose.
“Nice punch,” Joe said as Mart covered his gushing nose, backing up. “But now he’s in for it.”
“Just watch. He’s spry. He’ll be fine.”
Mart’s pal took the advantage, rushing forward, fists cocked and ready. Terris grabbed the fist and moved to the side, throwing him into the wall. Mart came forward now. Terris was ready, and he punched Mart in the gut. As Mart wheezed for air, Terris backed up, putting the wall at his back, as I’d taught him. They both advanced, but Terris didn’t falter.
Marco saw the commotion, and started to go over, but I whistled, caught his eye, and shook my head. Marco looked back at the boys, back at me, then shrugged and started to watch, crossing his arms.
Mart had attacked first. Terris had expected that, knowing the pattern they liked to use. He ducked the punch, then delivered an uppercut to Mart’s jaw. He took a kick to the stomach from Mart’s companion, but immediately lashed back with a punch to the windpipe. Then he took the offensive, grabbing Mart’s arm and flipping him so that Mart again landed hard on the ground. Mart’s companion was still trying to breathe, and Terris, not as smoothly as he sometimes had, competently executed an inner reap and sent his opponent to the ground. He stood, breathing hard, then spoke.
“‘I can take care of myself’,” Joe translated. “‘So back off.’”
Marco nodded approvingly as Terris strutted off, leaving the two boys sprawled on the ground, humiliated and struggling to breathe.
“So that’s what you were doing with your evenings,” Joe commented.
“He needed a little help and I gave it to him.” I turned. “I believe we’re done here.”
The ball was that evening, and since it was the last one, I pushed myself and stayed until one-thirty. The next morning, we packed up and took our official leave. We rode our horses to the train station, back through the city we’d come in through, and rode to where Valeria and Geidy touched. There, we departed the train and reached Valeria by nightfall.
We quickly settled back into a pattern, which was slightly unsettled when Hillarie decided to visit several weeks later. Still, it was nice to be myself and to live without all the drama and formalities of the peace conference.
I hadn’t discussed the wedding with Martin yet, still trying to settle it in my mind, but it seemed that others were thinking very much about my wedding.
“You summoned me, Your Highness?” I asked politely, curtseying to Queen Florinda as I closed the door to her chamber.
“You know you don’t have to do that, Joan,” Florinda said distractedly. “No, the dress has to have diamonds, real diamonds,” she said to the woman in front of her, who I recognized as the royal dressmaker.
“If I’m interrupting...”
“No, no,” Florinda said. “Just a moment.”
“And the veil?” the dressmaker asked.
“Diamonds. Nothing but diamonds.”
“Veil?” I repeated. Before either of them could hide the pad of paper from me, I grabbed it and stared furiously at it. “You’re ordering my wedding dress?” I shrieked.
“I’ll just go now,” the woman said hastily.
“No, you will not! You will not move from that spot until we have a couple things clear, do you understand me?”
Florinda turned coaxing. “Joan, come on. Neither of you have parents to plan this, at least let me help with the plans.”
“Help? You’ve already planned my dress!” I flipped through the notebook. “And the ceremony, and started a guest list! Florinda, it’s my wedding, not yours, and I haven’t even discussed it with Martin! I get to plan my wedding, end of story! If I decide to get married in the Flip Side in Las Vegas, that’s what I get to do!”
Florinda drew herself up. “As your ruler, I forbid you from doing that. You are the representative Champion of Valeria, marrying the Captain of the Royal Guard, and if you think you’re going to go to the Flip Side and not even have a ceremony here, you are sorely mistaken, Joan Ilion!”
The royal dressmaker watched in awe as we shouted and argued back and forth. In the end, I admitted I was going to have a ceremony, but forbade her from making any more plans until I’d discussed it with Martin and set a date. “And just to make sure you don’t try to make any more plans, this comes with me,” I said, tucking the notebook under my arm and glaring at them both, daring them to take it from me.
“Joan, this is unnecessary,” Florinda said. “This can be solved simply.” She paused. “I order you to hand over that notebook.”
“Florinda!”
“Joan, you’re going to have a big wedding, and that’s that.”
I stood my ground. “Maybe I am, but there will be no plans made or finalized unless Martin or I am there, and you don’t get to pull the royalty card when making plans.”
“And what reason would I have to agree to this?”
“Because if I told Martin that I wanted to elope and get married now, he’d do it. Either you do this my way, or you’re out of luck.”
Florinda smiled. “Very well. Nothing for now.”
I glared. “Fine.” I ripped out a page of the notebook. “And just to keep you busy, I refuse to have this kind of wedding dress. And if you give me a big puffy bow, I’ll rip it off, see if I don’t.”
“But bows are in style!” the dressmaker protested in dismay.
“Madam, I have never been concerned with fashion or what is or is not in style. I will give you ideas later, and you can feel free to come up with ideas of your own, but this is out. And that’s my final say on that.” Then I stormed out.
“Not now,” I growled to Quinn who had appeared, accompanying Hillarie. I stormed to the guardroom and found Randall. “Here,” I growled. “Give this to Martin. Do not pass it around or comment or gossip or discuss or whatever you call it, and do not give it back to Queen Florinda and that’s an order!”
“What...?” Liam asked, bewildered as I stormed out.
Quinn’s shrug was the last thing I saw before the door slammed shut behind me.
*
MARTIN ENTERED THE guardroom to find his guards and Quinn all pleading to see the notebook in Randall’s hands. “Come on,” Neal begged shamelessly. “At least tell us what it is!”
“No,” Randall said.
“You looked!”
“She gave the notebook to me.”
“You have to tell us what it is!”
“She ordered me to not discuss it or pass it around.”
“So just hold it up,” Quinn reasoned. “That would be within the rules.”
“No,” Randall said again. He spotted Martin, who was watching with raised eyebrows. “Martin.” He worked his way over. “Joan told me to give this to you, and that it doesn’t go to Queen Florinda.”
Martin looked inside and swallowed a smile.
“Martin! What is it?” Remy demanded. “What was Joan so upset about?”
“Joan was upset? I can believe it.”
“Martin!”
“Sorry,” he said seriously. “I don’t want to upset Joan. You know how it is.”
“Captain!” Neal wailed.
Randall snorted.
“Where is she?” Martin asked Randall.
“I don’t know,” Randall admitted. “She whirled in here, handed me the notebook, gave orders, and whirled back out. I’d listen for a scream.”
*
I WAS WITH HILLARIE, ranting on the phone to Gina and Hillarie both. Hillarie was laughing so hard she was crying and Gina was a mixture of horrified and upset. “But I was supposed to help you make plans!” Gina wailed. “Not fair!”
“Gina! I don’t have any plans! I don’t know anything other than there’s going to be a wedding! Martin proposed just a few weeks ago!”
“But I do get to help, right?” Gina demanded.
Hillarie was still laughing so hard she was crying and now gasping for breath.
“You aren’t going to get thrown in the dungeon for yelling at the queen, are you?” Gina asked, worried and appalled at what I’d done.
There was a knock on the door.
“What?” I yelled, before realizing that it wasn’t my room.
The door edged open. “I come in peace, Joan,” Alan said. He was grinning broadly. “I came to say congratulations, and Florinda wants the notebook back.”
I’d almost calmed down some, but this set me off, and I exploded, ranting furiously at them both while Hillarie laughed and Gina frantically tried to stop me. “Joan!” she wailed. “You’ll get thrown in the dungeon! You can’t tell the king his wife is an overbearing, control freak!”
Alan was laughing too, one hand braced against the wall so he wouldn’t fall down. I fumed silently until he got himself under control. “I do need the notebook, Joan. Florinda will be upset with me if I don’t get it.”
“I don’t have it,” I snapped.
“Come on, Joan.”
“I don’t have it, and I don’t know where it is,” I said. “And I swear it’s the truth.” It was true. I didn’t know where the notebook was. Randall could have it, Martin could have it, it could be circulating the castle right now, or Randall might have taken pity on me and thrown the thing in the fire.
Alan sighed. “She’ll just start a new list,” he warned.
“You tell her that I’m picking a gun out for Mari right now. I’m thinking a rocket launcher would be a good place to start. Yal wouldn’t mind using his toys.”
Alan grinned and left. Hillarie kept laughing. I was sure I was going to have to call Joe in a minute because she was going to faint from lack of oxygen. I gave a grouchy good-bye to Gina and sat on the bed and fumed while I waited for Hillarie to calm down.
“Oh,” Hillarie gasped. “Joan, I wish you were a Linson! Living with you would be the best time of my life!”
“Glad I’m so amusing,” I said sourly.
“Just have her hold off for a month,” she said through giggles. “You could maybe have her hold for that long, but I think that’s the best you’re going to get. You’re just going to have to come to terms with others planning your wedding.”
“Hillarie, I’m still trying to come to terms with being Martin’s wife!” I exclaimed. “I’m thrilled, yes, but it’s different when I think about becoming Joan Gonhiad instead of Joan Ilion!”
“It can be kind of hard to swallow at first,” Hillarie agreed. “But it will be the best part of your life, being married to someone you love.”
“I’m not sure I’m going to live to that point, or that Florinda is.”
She cracked up again and another knock sounded at the door. Hillarie managed to call to the person to come in, but that was all she could manage.
*
MARTIN STOOD IN THE doorway. Joan was clearly vexed and Hillarie was clutching her side like it was painful to laugh as hard as she was laughing. “Is it safe to come in?” he inquired.
“Depends,” Joan snapped. “If you have an order from Queen Florinda, then no.”
Martin held up the notebook and Joan groaned, sinking in her chair, hands over her face. Hillarie excused herself, still in fits of laughter, and disappeared out the door. Joan didn’t move as he sat in front of her. “Joan?”
A sniff in the silence alerted him that something was wrong and he took Joan’s hands in his, pulling them away from her face to see her eyes sparkling with tears and a tear streaking down one cheek. “Hey,” he said, concerned, catching the tear and wiping it away. “What’s wrong, Joan?”
“I’m sorry,” she said, another tear streaking down her cheek. “I’m really sorry, Martin. I’m trying.”
He didn’t understand, but whatever it was, it was big for Joan to cry about it. “It’s okay,” he promised, trying to get her to calm down. “Just tell me what’s wrong. Is it the wedding?”
“It’s everything! You have to give up your home, your job, your life here, and now you’re going to marry the famous Joan Ilion, plus take on my sister while you’re at it, plus apparently we have to have the biggest wedding of the century!”
“Joan, it’s not a big deal.”
“It is! You love your job and you love it here, and you have everything here. It’s going to be really hard for the next five years with Cathy and raising her and everything. I don’t want you to have to give everything up, but...” She stopped, tears silently flowing down her face. “I don’t want to lose you because you have to choose your life or me,” she whispered. “I don’t want to give you so much to handle that you can’t stand being with me.”
He knew what she was thinking. She was picturing life in the Flip Side, life where she would no longer be able to see her friends in Valeria, where she would have to raise Cathy and find a job to support herself because she could no longer be the Champion of Valeria. Where she made him so miserable that he ended up hating her and going back to Valeria, or staying and suffering in misery.
“Joan, honey,” he said pulling her in his arms. “It’s not going to be like that. I’m willing to give our marriage my best shot. I know we can make it work.” He leaned back in his chair, holding her as she soaked his shirt. The tension had gotten to her; Cathy wasn’t the only one stressing about whether or not she would be able to see them when she turned thirteen. “Joan,” he said softly. “I’m not afraid of what could happen. We still have the future to look forward to. Cathy will be an adult someday, and we’ll have time to spend in Valeria even if she can’t. She would understand. Even if we have to move back there someday, I’ll stay with you.”
“I hate not having a plan,” she said in frustration, her voice breaking. “I hate having to wonder if everything’s going to change tomorrow! I don’t know how to live there and support us! I can barely support Cathy on what I make!”
He understood her frustration and fear, but his first priority was to get her calmed down so he could talk to her with reason and she would listen. “Joan, we have enough money that if we need to we can live without a job for a while. We’re not going to live in poverty. We’re going to be able to take care of ourselves and Cathy, and we will always have a home waiting for us here when we return.”
She seemed to relax some and he didn’t see any fresh tears coming, which meant she was listening. “I’ve made my promise to you, and I’m keeping it. I don’t need to make vows in front of a priest in order to cement this in my mind; there’s no living without you, not for me.”
*
I REFLECTED THAT HE’D gotten much better at expressing his emotions since the breakup. I’d thought that I didn’t need such silly-sounding promises, but some of the worry inside me eased.
He cradled me tenderly. “I love you, Joan. No matter what happens. This isn’t a big deal. It’s only a wedding.”
I let out a laugh. “Yeah. Only a wedding. You see if you think that in a few months.”
He picked up the wedding notebook and placed it in my lap. “I have thirty minutes to spare if you want to discuss wedding plans.”