Drowned Ammet (The Dalemark Quartet 2) - Page 7

Then, as soon as she reached the Palace, Hildy was told her father wanted to see her. Naturally she thought he had found out about the sailing.

Too bad for him! Hildrida thought, while she was having a good dress put on

and her windblown black hair brushed. I shall be very angry. I shall say we’re never allowed to do anything. I shall say it’s my fault, and I shan’t let him send for Ynen. And I’ll tell him that it doesn’t matter whether we drown or not. It’s not as if we were important.

The lady-in-waiting who led Hildrida by her hand through the lofty corridors to Navis’s rooms rather thought Hildrida must have found out what was in store for her. She had never seen her so white and stormy. The lady-in-waiting was glad she was not in Navis’s shoes.

Navis was well aware that his daughter had an awkward personality. He had taken refuge in a book. When Hildy was shown in, she found him sitting on the window seat, with his calm profile outlined against the Flate beyond the window, and his eyes on a song by the Adon. She was exasperated. The ladies-in-waiting told her that Navis was still grieving for her dead mother, but Hildy found that hard to believe. To her mind, Navis was the coldest and laziest person she knew.

“I’m here,” she said piercingly, to stir him up a bit. “And I’m not sorry.”

Navis winced a little and kept his eyes studiously on his book. But like the lady-in-waiting, he assumed that Hildrida had already heard about her betrothal, and he was heartily relieved. “Then, if you’re not sorry, I suppose you’re glad,” he said. “Whoever told you has saved me a great deal of trouble. You may run away and boast now if you wish.”

Hildy was taken aback at not being scolded. But it seemed to her that her father was washing his hands of her, just as he always did, and she wanted to do battle with him instead. “I never boast,” she said. “But I could. We didn’t sink her.”

Navis was puzzled enough to take his eyes off his book and look at Hildy. “What are you talking about?”

“What did you send for me for?” Hildrida countered.

“Why, to tell you that you’ve just been betrothed to the Lord of the Holy Islands,” said her father. “What did you think it was for?”

“Betrothed?” said Hildy. “Without asking me!” It was such a bombshell that, for the moment, she clean forgot she had been sailing. “Why wasn’t I told?”

Navis found himself facing a blazing white daughter, out in the open, as it were, without a book to hide behind. “I am telling you,” he said, and hastily picked up his book again.

“When it’s too late!” Hildrida said, before he could find his place again. “When it’s done. You might have asked me if I minded, even if I’m not important. I’m a person, too.”

“Most people are,” Navis said, rather desperately scanning his page. He wished he had not chosen to read the Adon. The Adon said things like “Truth is the fire that fetches thunder,” which sounded unpleasantly like a description of Hildrida. “And you are very important now,” he added. “You’re forming an alliance with Lithar for us.”

“What’s Lithar like? How old is he?” Hildrida demanded.

Navis found his place and put his finger on it. “I’ve only met him once.” It was hard to know what else to say. “He’s only a young man—twenty or so.”

“Only—!” Words nearly failed Hildy. “I’m not going to be betrothed to an old man like that! I’m too young. And I’ve never met him!”

Navis hastily got his book in front of his face again. “Time will cure both those objections.”

“No, it won’t!” stormed Hildrida. “And if you go on reading, I’ll—I’ll hit you and then tear that book up!”

Realizing that strong measures were necessary, Navis laid his book down. “Now listen, Hildy. This is something that happens to all our family. Your cousin Harilla is being betrothed to the Lord of Mark, and what’s her name—Harchad’s daughter—to one of the—”

Hildy interrupted with a screech. Her father could call her Hildy all he liked—usually only Ynen did—but the thought of being lumped in with the dreadful girl cousins was too much for her. “Just you unbetroth me!” she said. “And do it at once, or you’ll be sorry!”

“You know I can’t,” said her father. “It’s your grandfather’s doing, not mine.”

“Then he’ll be sorry, too!” Hildy proclaimed, and swept to the door.

Navis called after her. It was easier talking to her back. “Hildrida! Don’t make an undignified scene, there’s a good girl. It won’t do any good. I advise you to go to the library instead and read about the Holy Islands. You’ll find they’re rather interesting.”

Hildy paused, with her hand on the doorknob. Islands were places surrounded by water, weren’t they? Perhaps she could turn this bombshell to some advantage at least. “I ought to learn to sail, oughtn’t I, if I’m going to the Holy Islands?” she said.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Navis said. Rather relieved to find her no longer raging, he added consolingly, “But you won’t be going for some years yet.”

“Then I’ve got time to learn,” said Hildy. “If I promise not to make a fuss, will you get me a boat of my own?”

“Er—if you like,” said Navis.

“I do like. But you must give the boat to Ynen, too, because he never gets anything,” said Hildy. “Or I shall make a fuss to Grandfather and all over the Palace.”

Tags: Diana Wynne Jones The Dalemark Quartet Fantasy
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