The Lady and the Prince

Nick moved cautiously down the stairs, sensing the witch’s ghost more strongly than ever. There was an intense feeling of disquiet, and then into his mind was shoved, “Ozmond.”

The prince hesitated. He’d never heard a clear voice in his head before. His mother had only projected feelings, warmth, a gentle warning when she was about to act. This was nothing like that; this was strong, domineering.

He was past the kitchen level, and he had everything brightly lit, but light didn’t seem to be a barrier to the ghost. Ozmond, he corrected in his thoughts. Well, communication wasn’t going to be a problem if Ozmond could speak to him so clearly. Nick reached the bottom of the stairs and faced the gleaming white coffin.

He could see Ozmond standing within the silver circle. He was nearly transparent but far more defined than the fog Nick’s mother had been. He appeared as a middle-aged man, tall and broad and handsome except for a scar that ran down the left side of his face. The prince began to be afraid. He had to go in there where Ozmond could touch him or do who knows what to him in order to send the ghost away. Nick’s instincts were screaming at him not to do that, but according to what he had read, it was the only way.

But the books had said nothing about what the ghost could do to him while he was trying to dispel the ghost. Nick felt the lack of that information very strongly. Maybe he could learn a little more before he made himself vulnerable by stepping into the circle.

He addressed the figure. “Ozmond? Are you aware that you’re dead?”

The ghost sneered at him, and in his mind, Nick heard, Of course I know, boy. Are you here to destroy me?

“No,” Nick replied out loud hastily. “Just send you on. You should go on; you don’t belong in the living world.”

I am a Master Warlock. I belong wherever I choose to be, the voice said.

The prince didn’t know what a Master Warlock was, but he didn’t want Ozmond to see any weakness in him. “Why do you choose to remain? There’s nothing for you here. You can only manifest one night a year.”

I was content when my grandchildren’s grandchildren ruled here, but now that my blood is gone, I need to create new blood.

Nick didn’t like the sound of that, but he wasn’t entirely sure what the ghost meant by it. “There’s no new blood for you. You’ve been here for at least a hundred years and accomplished nothing. Why torture yourself like this? Why not just go?”

Ozmond took an angry step forward but then regained control of himself. I have things yet to do, little witch, and you can’t force me to leave unless you enter the circle.

It seemed to Nick as if Ozmond was urging him to step across the barrier, and that made him reluctant to do it. But if he wanted the tower for his wedding night, he was going to have to. No rush though, right?

“What things do you need to accomplish, Ozmond? The world has changed since you were alive. Maybe those things have already been done or are no longer needed.”

Your words are nonsense. I know everything Duke Hubert knew, so come into my parlor, Prince Henry Nicholas Warwick.

Nick was shocked the ghost knew his name, but if Ozmond was telling the truth, then of course he would since Duke Hubert knew it. But the Duke knew nothing of Nick’s magic, yet Ozmond knew he was a witch.

“How do you know I’m a witch?”

You hear me clearly and see me as well by the way your gaze is focused. Enough chitchat, my time is limited. Come in and dispel me if you can, or I will make everyone in this castle as miserable as possible, and believe me, you haven’t seen half of what I can do, even at Midsummer.

Nick realized he had gotten all he was going to get from Ozmond and that further delay would just make him angrier. The prince didn’t know if an angry ghost was easier or harder to send off, but he suspected the latter. He pulled in power and walked boldly forward and crossed the silver circle.

Ozmond smiled nastily and advanced toward him. Nick began creating the energy web that he would use to first encase the ghost and then transport him away. But the Master Warlock blew away Nick’s web as if it were spider silk and laughed. The prince started again, rebuilding with heavier strands of energy.

The ghost shimmered and walked right through the half-formed web. Then he reached out his hands and grasped Nick’s head. It didn’t feel like hands holding him; it was more like blocks of ice pressing on him, and Nick found he couldn’t move at all, couldn’t even make magical energy flow through his channels.

You’re a little puny, Ozmond said to him. But I haven’t any choice, and the wedding night should be fun. The warlock moved forward, merging body into body, head into head, at the last releasing his grip on Nick’s head and sliding entirely inside.

The young prince staggered and went to his knees but didn’t notice. All his attention was focused inward. He tried to push Ozmond out, but he didn’t know how. The Master Warlock just flowed around his attempts and took over his aperture, his reservoirs, and finally his channels. Then he used Nick’s magic against him, pushing the prince aside, walling him off from controlling his own body.

Nick was still aware of what was happening. He could see, hear, feel, but it was Ozmond that stood up his body. The invading ghost regarded his tomb for a moment and then turned and stepped across the silver inlay. The prince felt a wrench and tried to retake control, but Ozmond pushed him aside again, harder. Nick screamed silently inside, angry and desperate, but there was nothing he could do. The warlock knew twenty times the magic he did, and there was no way Nick could outmaneuver him.

Ozmond in Nick’s body went up the stairs, dimming the light the prince had held. He stopped and surveyed the kitchen only for a moment and then continued on up. In the sitting room, he wrinkled his nose at the dust and opened the shutters on the narrow windows. He used his magic to lift the dust and grime off of everything and send it outside. He went up to the other rooms above and did the same.

In the bedroom, he contemplated the clothing in the armoires. Nick sensed a great deal of sadness from Ozmond at the sight of the woman’s clothing. Elaine, my wife, Ozmond told him. She had no magic, but she was beautiful and intelligent. I have missed her greatly. But that life is past, I have a new one now.

Nick shuddered as Ozmond slithered through his memories, focusing on Elizabeth. The prince concentrated and tried to emulate what Ozmond was doing and talk back. He found he could. Please don’t hurt Elizabeth. Imagine if she were Elaine, would you want some ghostly intruder to…to…

The warlock shut him off, gagging him somehow. Nick struggled against it uselessly. Ozmond turned back to the armoires, lifted out the ancient clothing, and shredded it magically. Half of it crumbled as he did so, and then he tossed all of it away out of the windows far from the tower into the rubble below.

The Master Warlock took linens and pillows out of the chest and manually made up the bed, running his hands over the smooth sheets and picturing in detail for Nick what he would be doing with Elizabeth in them that very evening.

The prince wanted to weep in frustration, but he had no control over his own tears. Ozmond closed up the shutters in each of the rooms as he went down, left through the tower door, and floated himself to the ground. Nick could only observe, trying to learn anything he could about how the warlock used his magic and looking for any weakness or opening. Maybe when he slept, Nick would have a chance.

Ozmond went in through the kitchen door, through the main hall, and into the block building where everyone had retired for the night. Nick hoped he would just go to his room to sleep, but instead he knocked softly on Elizabeth’s door.

Elizabeth opened it wearing her dressing gown. “Nick, you’re done?”

Ozmond nodded and grinned at her with Nick’s face. “Everything went just fine, and I figured out how to clean out the dust and dirt too. The tower is all ready for us to move in.”

Elizabeth hugged him and said, “That’s wonderful, but we need to sleep now. Tomorrow will be a big day.”

“And we’re not going to be sleeping much tomorrow night,” Ozmond said with a leer.

Elizabeth blinked a little and then smiled and nodded. Nick’s hopes rose; perhaps, the warlock wouldn’t be able to copy his usual behavior exactly, and enough of Ozmond would show through to warn Elizabeth. But then she gave him a little kiss, and the ghost warlock responded pretty much as Nick would have—with a little kiss in return.

Once alone in Nick’s room, Ozmond undressed and looked carefully at his new body. “A little skinny,” Ozmond said quietly. “But some exercise will improve the musculature. I can live with it.” Nick just felt embarrassed at being examined like that, but he certainly couldn’t stop his possessor from doing whatever he pleased.

The warlock got into the cot and extinguished the light. In the dark, the prince hoped that once Ozmond was asleep he could find a way to retake his own body. But Nick felt a sudden pain, like he was being squished into a space far too small for him, and the next thing he was aware of was that he was dressed and walking out his door. It was his wedding day.

He watched carefully while Ozmond ate breakfast—one helping only. The prince could sense that the warlock moved his magic around within his body far more than Nick had and kept it moving rapidly and fluidly in a way he had never even thought of.

Ralph was eating at the same table and noticed the prince’s reduced appetite. He smiled a little and asked, “Having some pre-wedding nerves, Nick?”

Ozmond frowned and said, “No!” rather sharply. Duke Hubert had known Ralph Winkershime as Nick’s valet, and the familiar form of address had thrown the warlock a little. But the surprised look on Ralph’s face made him rethink his response. Ozmond changed his frown to a rueful smile and said, “Maybe a little.” Wedding nerves are a good cover for any slipups.

Nick silently urged Ralph to see that it wasn’t him, but Ralph just smiled back and nodded. Unless Ozmond said or did something completely out of character, no one would suspect a thing. How could any of them even imagine he was possessed by the ghost he had gone to dispel?

After breakfast Ozmond helped Sylvie and Parker move Elizabeth’s and Nick’s things into the tower. The camp furniture they had been using was moved into the servants’ rooms for Gwen, Reggie, and Laura to use. At least the women wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor anymore.

Then he compliantly helped Reggie, Childers, and Ralph hang up evergreen boughs and inner tent partitions in the main hall as decorations for the wedding ceremony. Nick could tell the Master Warlock was impatient and felt chores like that were beneath him, but he could see everyone assumed Nick’s help, so he went along with it. The prince had the sinking feeling that people would find out there was something wrong with him eventually, but too late to stop Ozmond tonight.

And even then, what could anyone do? There was no proof that Nick was possessed, and he was a prince and the Duke of Sothalia. Everyone was supposed to obey him, and anyone who attacked him could legally be executed. And with Ozmond being the only witch, what chance would an attack have anyway?

Nick just didn’t see a way out, but he had to find one. No one else could do anything; it was up to him to stop the ghost. It was his body after all, and he had to have some sort of edge in controlling it—at least, he hoped he did.

But he could sense his use of magic had been crude next to Ozmond’s. The Master Warlock made changes in the energy he drew in and stored different forms in different reservoirs. Nick hadn’t known those forms existed. Maybe somewhere in the books in the tower there were explanations, but the ghost warlock had no need to look at them, so Nick couldn’t. In fact, he suspected Ozmond might have written some of them.

When Ozmond was finished helping with the decorations, he walked outside out of sight of everyone and just transported himself inside the tower without actually traversing the space in between or opening the door. Nick felt like losing his lunch at the displacement, but of course he had no control over his stomach, which remained settled. Ozmond laughed at him silently.

The warlock went over what the servants had done bringing in the prince’s possessions and rearranged things in the bedroom to his own satisfaction. Then he went down to his desk and looked over an old map of Anglia, but Nick got very little awareness of why Ozmond was doing that; he could just see what his possessor saw.

Ozmond sensed his curiosity and indicated a large portion of land around the current Sothalia. This was once mine and will be again, he thought to Nick, who could only think his disagreement and disgust. Ozmond was still suppressing his internal verbal ability.

The Master Warlock went back upstairs and made sure the prince’s best clothes were ready, and Nick felt his satisfaction. Parker had done an outstanding job. Ralph had probably helped or at least coached his protégé. Ozmond transported back to outside the kitchen. Nick had been ready for it and didn’t feel so disoriented this time, instead studying exactly what the warlock did to move himself like that.

Lunch was more snacks than a full meal. The wedding dinner would be as lavish as they could make it, with one of the hams serving as the main course. Elizabeth was consulting with Gwen on the menu. When she and Nick sat down to lunch, Lady Elizabeth suddenly had a thought.

“Nick, what about the wine you found? After lunch, will you get three or four bottles so we can have it for dinner?”

The warlock frowned. “Wine? What wine?”

Elizabeth looked at him, puzzled. “You know, the wine you shared with me from the tower. There is more, isn’t there?”

Ozmond’s frown deepened. “That’s my wine. It’s not like I can get more, you know. I’ll bring a bottle for us if you like, but I’m not giving expensive irreplaceable wine to servants.”

Elizabeth just shook her head, shocked by her betrothed’s response. She’d never seen him be selfish before. “Is there something wrong? Last night, you suggested using the wine at our wedding dinner.”

“I just changed my mind; royal prerogative.”

“Oh,” was all Elizabeth could think to say. Maybe there was some good reason not to share the wine, something he didn’t want to say in public. She would talk to him later about it when they were alone.

After lunch Elizabeth bathed and Sylvie worked on her hair. “A lady only gets married once,” Sylvie said. “And her hair has to be just right.” It took an hour and a half, but when Sylvie was done, Elizabeth had to admit the result was amazing. Not only was it up and perfectly in place, but Sylvie had wound strips of lace through it in a waterfall effect that made Elizabeth’s hair seem like streaming foaming gold.

Ozmond, meanwhile, took himself back to the tower. Nick watched, amazed, as he magically brought up a large tub from the kitchen complete with mat to the bedroom and filled it with hot water from nowhere. Now that was magic and useful too.

The warlock washed himself thoroughly, hands playing longer than necessary in the genital area just to discomfit Nick. The prince refused to react to it though; after all, they were his hands Ozmond was using. But he was becoming acutely aware of the strong streak of cruelty in the Master Warlock. Somehow, Nick needed to stop him.

Ozmond took his time drying himself and dressing. He parted his hair on the side and combed it down and back. Nick stared at himself in the mirror while he did. Surely someone had to notice that; Nick had never parted his hair there in his life. But he remembered his view of Osmond as a ghost, and that indeed had been where the warlock parted his hair, and he’d styled it that way again without thinking about it.

Good, another clue something wasn’t right, but a hair part was a minor thing that no one would think much about. When the ghost warlock deemed himself presentable, he disposed of the bath water magically and returned the tub to the kitchen the same way. Then he left the tower by the door for a change, floating down to the ground.

Nick realized the warlock thought he was being careful, but even if someone saw him appear out of nothingness, so what? Everyone knew Nick used magic, and if he’d learned a new trick out of the tower books, people would likely applaud rather than be alarmed. Well, some people would anyway, like Elizabeth and Ralph.

The prince could hear Childers playing his pipe in some romantic air as Ozmond walked back to the main hall. There would only be a handful of guests; few of the Sothalia nobility had returned to the town so far. Ozmond entered the main hall, pushing a rush of air before him to get everyone’s attention. Even Childers stopped playing as he entered, and everyone bowed or curtsied.

The warlock had put a little glow and sparkle on his appearance, not enough to cause comment but just enough to look special. Nick didn’t mind that; he really should be in full royal regalia for this, and his best suit just wasn’t the same as glittering gems.

Ozmond took his place in front of Childers, who found himself bowing again to the resplendent figure in front of him. Nick wondered how much of the bowing was because he was a prince and how much was Ozmond’s magic. “Begin,” the warlock ordered, and Childers played the usual “Entrance of the Bride” music.

Lady Elizabeth entered the hall escorted by Ralph. She wished Gramp and her brothers could have been there, but Ralph would do. She wore the wedding dress Sylvie had brought, and the smiles on everyone’s faces as she approached Childers told her she looked beautiful, a true bride.

Except for Nick. He wasn’t smiling, and she had expected a big grin. Instead, he seemed completely serious, perhaps even a little impatient. And what had he done to his hair?

Elizabeth was disappointed again by his curt nod for a greeting when she arrived in front of Childers. The minister stopped playing and put away his pipe. He started the service. Elizabeth snuck a glance at Nick, but he stood calmly staring at Childers and not looking at her at all.

This wasn’t right, Nick wasn’t acting like himself. Something was wrong with him, but he didn’t look sick. Elizabeth thought furiously while Childers droned on. She had a contract to marry him, and she loved him, so why was she hesitating? Whatever was wrong, they would work it out, fix it together. When the time came, she gave the traditional answer, “I will.”

Nick watched horrified as the ceremony went on. He wanted to turn his head and tell Elizabeth to run, but he could do nothing at all to stop the ceremony. He loved Elizabeth, he wanted to marry her, but not like this. Was Ozmond marrying her too? He wasn’t sure what the legalities were when two people in one body married someone, but Nick was determined this wouldn’t continue through the wedding night. He had to get Ozmond out somehow.

The prince concentrated on attacking his possessor internally, trying to take back control of the magic flowing inside him. That wasn’t working; how about using some of it? Nick tried pushing fire out of his hands and felt a little flicker. The ghost warlock scowled, shifted his weight a little, but took control back. He slammed Nick down hard, trying to pin him again as he had when he slept, but the prince slipped through the mental net. Ozmond had firm control of his hands, so Nick started grounding power through his feet as fast as he could.

Ozmond growled a little, earning an alarmed look from both Childers and Elizabeth. The minister started talking faster, thinking it was due to impatience, but the Master Warlock stopped the grounding and pushed Nick back again, little by little until he was squeezed into a tiny corner somewhere, barely aware of what was going on and unable to act. He heard Ozmond say, “I will,” and that was nearly the end of the ceremony.

Childers finished the words and anointed them with a little vial of oil. There were more words, and they knelt for another anointing. Then they rose and kissed. Nick felt the kiss, concentrated on it. It might be the last kiss from he would ever feel. Ozmond kissed Elizabeth gently and savagely shoved the prince back down while he was focused on the kiss, grinding and twisting while the crowd cheered. Nick blacked out.

There was the toast first. Gwen had been able to get more of the cheap wine, and all the glasses were filled and raised to the new couple. Elizabeth twined her arm with Nick’s, and they drank to their new life together. Elizabeth drank the wine, but Ozmond only took a sip, making a face at the taste. But then he finally smiled at her. He leaned in and whispered, “Don’t drink too much of this rot. We’ll have some of the good wine later.”

Ozmond took her arm and escorted her to the larger camp table that would seat four. Ralph and Childers joined them. Gwen brought in her food one course at a time, presenting each to Prince Nicholas first. Elizabeth watched him take the best piece of everything for himself, and he filled his plate with what he liked even from dishes that were small, not caring if there wasn’t enough for everyone else.

Elizabeth found she hadn’t much appetite, but she dutifully ate some of everything. It was delicious, but there was a sour feeling in her stomach that made her just want to go off by herself and cry. Ralph misinterpreted her mood and put his hand on hers and whispered to her, “It will be fine, Elizabeth. The boy loves you, he’s just nervous. You’ll both enjoy tonight, you’ll see.”

Ozmond heard and just smiled. When the meal was done, the center of the floor was cleared for dancing. Childers took out his pipe and Vernon his sticks and logs, and they began to play. The warlock in Nick’s body offered his hand to Elizabeth and led her out to the center of the floor and began dancing with her.

Elizabeth had danced with Nick before, but not like this. Her prince wasn’t doing any dance she knew, but he led her through the steps masterfully. When they finished, everyone applauded, and she could only look at her new husband in wonder. When had Nick learned that dance, and how had he suddenly become so domineering on the dance floor?

Elizabeth danced with Ralph next, while Prince Nick just sat the dance out. Reggie danced with his wife, Laura danced with Harry, Sylvie danced with Parker, and the other guests joined in. From the way her maid and the valet looked at each other, Elizabeth had to wonder if there was something more going on between them than just a dance.

Elizabeth danced the rest of the evening with Nick, who did more traditional dances that she knew, although the forms he used were a little different than she had done before. The others traded partners occasionally, and the wine flowed.

After a dozen dances, the warlock led her off the floor, through the kitchen, and then outside. “I want to show you how nice the tower is now that it’s clean and the ghost is gone,” he said to her. Elizabeth brightened; that sounded more like her prince, and she’d had enough dancing anyway. Nick woke up just in time to hear the comment. He stayed quiet and still, hoping that Ozmond wouldn’t notice that he was aware again.

Ozmond walked her to the tower and then picked her up in his arms and floated them both up to the door. He carried her through to the sitting room, the door closing and locking by itself behind him. The warlock set her down and said, “You’re heavier than you look, wife.”

Elizabeth didn’t know what to say to that at first. Then she replied, “I suppose I am. Most women don’t have the kind of muscles I do from sword fighting.”

Ozmond laughed and sneered. “Sword fighting? You? Don’t be silly, girl.” Hope leapt in Nick; the warlock hadn’t looked at all of his memories, just a few on the surface of his mind.

That was the final straw that convinced her. Elizabeth backed away and said, “You’re not Nick. You look like him, but you’re not. Who are you, and what have you done with him?”

“I am your husband, and you can continue to call me Nick. But you’re right, I’m not him. I’m someone much older, wiser, and more powerful. Your Nick is gone, so you might as well accept it, Lizzie.”

Elizabeth was both angry and terrified. “My name is not Lizzie. Where is Nick? What did you do to him?”

For an answer, Ozmond strode forward, grabbed the neck of her dress and pulled, ripping the bodice half off. Elizabeth backed away, clutching her mangled dress front. “My dress! Why did you do that?” She looked at the warlock and said in a little unsure voice, “Nick?”

“So you will understand that I am in charge. You are my wife, Lizzie; you will obey me in everything at all times. Now go upstairs and take that thing off and get ready to receive your husband on your wedding night.” Nick waited, wanting to take off his own head at what Ozmond had said and done, but knowing the time hadn’t come yet. The warlock had to be completely focused elsewhere, or he wouldn’t have a chance.

Elizabeth fled up the stairs. It was brightly lit from no discernable source. She didn’t have any weapons with her, not even a dagger; this was her wedding day after all. She did take off the dress and her petticoats too. If she had to fight, those would only get in her way. There wasn’t anything in the room she could use to fight him unless she broke the mirror. But a shard of glass would cut her too, perhaps worse than it would him.

But she saw her reflection with her hair piled up. quickly pulled out pins, finding two long thin ones that would do as weapons of sort. Her hair fell down around her shoulders in disarray, but she could hear him coming up the stairs.

She leapt at him before he was all the way up, hoping to take him by surprise, but her feet left the ground, and he held her with his magic, struggling in the air. He laughed at her, coming the rest of the way up and walking around her, watching her try to reach him. Then he moved in from behind and plucked one of the pins from her hand. But he wasn’t fast enough to get the second before she drove it into his arm and pulled it out ready to strike again.

The warlock jumped back, swearing. He threw the hairpin he held behind him and stayed well away from her. The pin in her hand became very hot. Elizabeth tried to hold on to it, but she had to drop it when it burned her, and it went across the room after the other one.

Ozmond stalked back to her. Elizabeth tried to kick him, but her legs would only move so far. There was just a small spot of blood on his sleeve. She hadn’t hurt him very much, but she had made him angry.

The warlock gestured, and her shoes fell off. Then her stockings were torn away, leaving her in just her underwear, which was ripped off too. He tossed her on the bed, but Elizabeth didn’t cower there as he expected. She rolled off the far side and crouched, ready to fight him hand-to-hand.

But of course he wouldn’t do that. Why should he? Ozmond just picked her up with his magic again, put her back on the bed, and held her down. He took off his jacket and shoes in a leisurely manner and sat on the bed next to her. The warlock began to touch her, stroke her, and Elizabeth couldn’t stop him. She found she couldn’t even speak. Ozmond loosened his clothes and climbed up on the bed, leaning over her and grinning lasciviously.

That was the moment Nick had been waiting for. The Master Warlock was so completely engrossed in Elizabeth and his own imminent physical pleasure that he had forgotten all about his captive host. Nick opened his aperture as wide as it would go and blocked his ejectors and grounds. Ozmond didn’t even realize what was happening at first, mistaking the flood of magical energy for his growing pleasure.

Then Ozmond threw himself off the bed, got his feet on the floor, and tried to ground out the tide of power, but the prince held tight. He could see his body starting to glow and felt the fire building in his channels. The ghost was panicking, but Nick wasn’t. He was used to guessing what he was doing with magic, but Ozmond had been in total control for so long he didn’t know how to correct an error. One way or another, Nick vowed he would stop the warlock, and if he died doing it, well, Ozmond couldn’t do much harm as a disembodied spirit. Elizabeth would be safe.

Nick was mostly in control of his body, while the Master Warlock concentrated on trying to ground the excess power into the floor. The prince scrambled across the floor and grabbed one of Elizabeth’s hairpins and cut his own hand with it. He used the blood to mark the floor as he spun in a circle. Then he let Osmond ground power while Nick began the process to send him on. He had no idea if the spell would take him out of his body as well, but he had no choice, he had to get the ghost warlock out.

The Master Warlock was relieved as the glow diminished and he retook control of the aperture and channels, but Nick didn’t care. He was almost done building the web inside of himself when Ozmond suddenly realized what the prince was doing. Too late for Ozmond, maybe too late for Nick too; he finished, snared the ghost, and pushed him away into darkness. But when he did so, Nick lost consciousness and collapsed.

Elizabeth had been freed the moment the circle of blood was completed. She had watched Nick on his knees inside the circle, glowing, twitching, and muttering. The glow coming from him faded out. She knew that was good, but she didn’t know what else was happening. She could tell there was internal conflict going on inside of him, and he was fighting whatever had him under control. She scrambled out of the bed and retrieved the other pin.

She couldn’t tell who was winning, and she didn’t want to disturb whatever Nick was doing. The circle was definitely his act, so she just waited, holding the pin, and hoped that when whatever it was stopped, she would be able to tell if her prince or the other thing had won.

Then Nick just went limp and dropped to the floor. Elizabeth didn’t want to break the circle, not knowing if it mattered or not. She backed away and grabbed trousers and a shirt and put them on. If she had to fight, having clothes on would be preferable.

Elizabeth got closer to Nick and called his name. Finally, he stirred and opened his eyes. Nick’s foot smeared the bloodline as he sat up, but nothing happened. He looked at her holding the pin aimed at him and said, “Please don’t stick me with that again, Elizabeth. It’s me and just me. The ghost I went to dispel took me over, but he’s gone now.”

Elizabeth wasn’t sure, so she asked, “What do you think of my sword fighting ability?”

“That’s a weird thing to ask your husband on your wedding night, but then it hasn’t been exactly normal so far, has it? I think your ability to use a sword is amazing, way better than pretty much anyone. Maybe not Connidian though.”

Elizabeth dropped the pin and threw herself on him, knocking him over and landing them both flat on the floor. “It’s you, it really is!” Elizabeth exclaimed as she crawled on top of him and kissed him. Nick just enjoyed the kiss, and when she came up for air, he said mildly, “We do have a bed now, you know. We don’t have to do this on the floor.”

Elizabeth said, “Yes, you’re right, you’re absolutely right.” They helped each other up and stared at the bed, but neither moved toward it. Nick said, “That was pretty nasty, what he did to you. I wanted to stop him, but I tried fighting before and lost. I had to wait until he was totally engaged. I’m so sorry, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth took his uninjured hand and asked, “Could we just sleep tonight, Nick? The memory is so fresh…”

“Of course. After what’s happened, I think I just want to stop the bleeding and go to bed myself. I mean…are you all right sleeping in the same bed with me?”

“Yes, and take off your shirt so I can see the damage to your arm. There must be bandages around here somewhere.” They found medical supplies in the chest, and she cleaned Nick’s injuries and wrapped them. The pin had left a neat little hole in his arm, and the bleeding had already stopped by itself. The cut on his hand was the worse injury.

Elizabeth changed into rather dowdy nightwear, and Nick stripped to his underwear without looking at each other. When Nick turned, he asked, “Were you going to wear that on our wedding night?”

“No, I have something very frilly and skimpy to entice you, but I’ll save it for another time. Were you going to wear your underwear to bed?”

“No, I wasn’t going to wear anything. As for your frilly skimpy outfit, when you’re ready, you wear it, okay?”

“Okay,” Elizabeth replied, and they got into the big bed. They fussed a little until they were both settled with a considerable space between them. They lay awake in the dark, aware of each other. Then Elizabeth rolled over toward Nick. Nick felt her move, and he slid over toward Elizabeth, and they cuddled close. For now, they were together, and that was enough.

In the morning Nick took his clothes down a level to dress, leaving the bedchamber for Elizabeth to use. He thumbed through some of the magic texts while waiting for her, and they went down to the sitting room together. Nick floated them both down to the ground, and together they strolled toward the kitchen.

Elizabeth was pleased to see his hair was back to its usual somewhat disordered style. She said, “We are going to need to find a way for us nonmagical people to get in and out of the tower without you. I don’t like being unable to get to my things if you’re busy, and Sylvie and Parker can’t really do their jobs.”

“You’re right, but I don’t know how to build a staircase up the side of the tower. Maybe a ladder? No, that wouldn’t work for you ladies in your skirts. Perhaps when I get better at construction I can put a door in the kitchen. That’s nearly ground level, and I could do a porch of sorts.”

Elizabeth nodded and said, “That would work, although wait until you can do the work properly and have a door to use or the materials to create one. I don’t think I’d want a hole in the wall right now with winter coming.”

Nick replied, “Spring then.” He put a hand on her arm, and they stopped walking. “Elizabeth? I’d rather not say anything to the others about what happened last night.”

“You don’t want me to tell about the ghost?”

“I feel kind of stupid letting it take control of me, and I don’t want anyone to know I failed to consummate our marriage.”

“That wasn’t your fault at all.”

“Still…”

“All right. Do you think anyone is watching us right now?”

“Probably, I saw Gwen peek out the door before.”

Elizabeth took him in her arms and kissed him a little and then murmured, “Let your hands drift down to my rear.” At Nick’s startled look, she added, “We’re married, remember? Let’s convince everyone we are very, very married.”

Nick gave her a long kiss while his hands cupped and gently squeezed her cheeks. Elizabeth’s hands went down to his as well. But after a few seconds, Nick broke it off, his eyes flicking down to the growing bulge in his trousers. “I think we better stop now. I don’t know about anyone else, but apparently I’m getting extremely convinced.”

Elizabeth smiled and said, “I’m sorry about last night too. I really want to be with you. How about tonight I wear that skimpy frilly thing I have?”

“Oh, I would like that, I really would.” Nick sniffed the air. “I think I smell frying leftover ham. Let’s go eat.”

Elizabeth grinned, and they went hand in hand through the kitchen and into the main hall. She was a little dismayed to see Ralph, Walter, and Childers dressed for traveling, but she had known they couldn’t stay much longer and still beat the snow back to Londinum.

Nick ate with his usual gusto; he wasn’t picky like Ozmond had been, and Elizabeth smiled a little to herself. It was definitely Nick and not the ghost sitting next to her. After breakfast, Walter checked to make sure he had everyone’s letters, and he, Childers, and Ralph packed up the last of their gear.

Ralph shook Nick’s uninjured hand and hugged Elizabeth. “I will be very pleased to inform the court that you two are formally wed. You’ll both get increases in your allowances, you know, along with the duchy revenues, although I suppose the duchy is going to be producing more bills than revenues for some time. Still, everyone will be pleased when I tell them how happy you two are.”

Walter added, “And I will report the same officially as well. Farewell, Prince Nicholas and Princess Elizabeth, Duke and Duchess of Sothalia. I hope my next appearance at your door is to announce the revision of the witchcraft law.”

Ralph said, “Prince Nicholas, do I have your proxy to vote in Council on that matter? I suspect it would be wiser for you not to show up yourself in case the measure loses.”

Nick replied formally, “I do grant my proxy to you, Ralph Winkershime.”

Nick shook the men’s hands, while Elizabeth hugged them, even Walter, who looked a little flustered at the informality but recovered enough to smile shyly. Then the three took their leave, riding away down the street.

Elizabeth spent the day buying whatever food and firewood she could in the market, but there was very little. Back at the castle, she started organizing a charity program with Gwen and Laura, determining what would be given out and how often through the winter. There would likely need to be adjustments later, but it would do for a start.

Nick went back to the tower to read about what was going on inside him. Ozmond had left him with some peculiar forms of magical energy in his reservoirs, and his magic wanted to move around in him now as the Master Warlock had made it flow. The prince was fairly sure his magical abilities were going to ramp up quickly; he could already transport himself directly down from the tower as Ozmond had done with no difficulty.

The newly married couple retired to bed early, passing through a lot of knowing looks and smiles in the main hall. But they didn’t mind; they were giving each other knowing looks and smiles as well.

When they got to their bedroom, Nick warmed the floor against the cold night, to Elizabeth’s delight. He hadn’t thought of it the previous night, but they both found walking barefoot on pleasantly warm carpeting or even stone highly enjoyable.

They hesitated at getting undressed in front of each other. Nick finally shrugged and said, “We’re married, we’re going to…well, we might as well…”

Elizabeth said, “Go downstairs first so I can put on my frilly little outfit for you.”

Nick complied, and when she called out she was ready he went back upstairs to find her in the bed under the covers. “The best swordswoman in the land and you’re going to be shy?”

Elizabeth just nodded. Nick said, “Well, I’m not.” He stripped off his clothes and climbed onto the bed on top of the covers, kneeling next to her. “Go ahead, look, touch, whatever you want,” he said. “Can I see your outfit?”

Elizabeth didn’t feel nearly as shy with her husband in front of her naked, so she got out of bed and modeled for him, and she could see very plainly she was getting the reaction she had hoped for. Nick grinned and took her hand, pulling her back into bed. There he slowly and gently unwrapped her like a birthday present.

They made love, thoroughly consummating the marriage several times during the night. As dawn broke, they lay in each other’s arms contentedly.

“How does it feel to finally be a princess?” Nick asked.

“Absolutely wonderful. And a little scary. We have a lot of responsibility and a lot of work to do, Nick.”

“We do, and we’ll do the best we can. Considering everything we’ve done so far, I’d say we’re going to do just fine.”

“I think you’re right. And if we run into something we don’t know how to handle, we’ll just…”

“Figure it out,” they said together.