Free The Constant Queen by Joanna Courtney Page A

.’
    A shout went up from the riverbank and she turned gratefully to look up at the great scarlet flag waving in the trees at the top of the ravine. It indicated that the racers were in the starting
pool and an expectant silence fell on the hundreds of watchers lining the river. Guards stood to attention, netters braced themselves against rocks and, at the centre of the grandstand, Grand
Prince Yaroslav rose, picked up a golden hammer and swung it cleanly into the centre of a richly patterned gong. The sound shivered, sweet and low, across the water and was joined by another up the
bank and then another in the trees and a fourth hidden in the ravine. The mingled sounds filled the spring air and then suddenly the forest flag went down and the race was begun.
    The nobles in the grandstand, forgetting themselves in the excitement of the moment, pushed forward as hard as the commoners on the banks and Elizaveta suddenly found herself forced against the
railings. To her left Prince Edward lifted Agatha onto his shoulders as Anne, never one for fuss, stepped back a little. Prince Andrew flapped ineffectually at the crowd, Anastasia attempting to
soothe him as she let herself be crushed against his chest and Elizaveta felt a little crushed herself. For a moment she fought for breath until suddenly the ebb and flow of people was stopped as
Harald reached his long arms out around her, forming a shield. She was grateful for his solid presence, though not sure she felt any safer, but now, on the ridge, a flag went up and her attention
was caught.
    ‘Green,’ she said excitedly, daring to glance back at Harald. ‘The flag is green.’
    ‘Is that your man?’
    She nodded. Gregor was wearing green. Vladimir was in purple, Ivan in scarlet and blue and the five other young men in various other colour combinations.
    ‘Who do you have?’ she asked him, unable to take her eyes off his arms, the muscles rippling against the push of the crowd.
    ‘Green too,’ Harald admitted. ‘I saw the lad ride yesterday; he was fearless.’ They watched in silence for a few moments then he added: ‘I would have liked to see
you ride the rapids, Elizaveta.’
    ‘I would have liked the chance.’
    The boats were not visible yet but on the platforms at the top of the rapids the people were going wild. Agatha was screaming excitedly, bouncing up and down on poor Edward’s brave
shoulders and pointing upstream. Elizaveta leaned over the parapet to see, but suddenly Harald’s face was beside her own and his chest tight against her back.
    ‘Elizaveta.’ His voice was low, urgent.
    She turned and found herself in his arms.
    ‘Harald, please. People are looking.’
    ‘They are not.’ That much was true. ‘I must speak. Your father will send me to muster the trade fleet down in Vitichev within a few days and I seek your leave to talk to
him.’
    Elizaveta’s ears were filled with the excited calls of the crowd but she seemed to hear only him.
    ‘You can talk to him any time, Harald,’ she stuttered, fearing she was reading his intentions wrong. ‘You are his man.’
    ‘But I wish, this time, Elizaveta, to talk to him of
you
.’
    ‘Oh.’
    ‘To ask his permission to take you as my wife – my wife and future queen.’
    She strained to catch the words. All around people were pressing to the waters’ edge and their roar was grabbing at Harald’s words, tangling them so they would not enter her
brain.
    ‘There,’ someone called, ‘there they are!’
    ‘Elizaveta,’ Harald urged, ‘may I talk to him – may I talk to him of us?’
    Us? The word lit a memory of them both knelt before the caskets in Novgorod, their future shining before them.
    ‘Yes,’ she gasped out. ‘Yes, Harald – you may. And now,’ she giggled, embarrassed, ‘may
I
watch the race?’
    He smiled too then took her face in both his hands, so big they wrapped all the way up to her ears.
    ‘In just one moment.’
    His lips pressed against hers, so fast and