Free Novel - Airman by Eoin Colfer Page B

you talking to, Conor?”
    Conor was about to protest that he had not been talking, when he noticed that his lips were already moving. “Oh, I was just thinking aloud. When I am nervous, I sometimes . . .”
    Isabella smiled kindly. “You really are a scatterfool, aren’t you, Sir Conor?”
    Conor relaxed. She was teasing him. Familiar ground. “I am sorry, Princess. Will you have me garrotted?”
    “I prefer hanging, as you well know.”
    Conor took a deep breath and bared his soul. He did it quickly, like jumping into the ocean, to get the pain over with. “I came because you told me this tea was part of a royal courtship.”
    Isabella had the grace to blush. “I may have said so. I was teasing.”
    “I see that now. Too late to save me from embarrassment.”
    “Christian’s father has business here. I am doing my royal duty, that’s all. No courtship.”
    “None.” Conor’s shoulders slumped. At least now he did not feel like a participant in some kind of race.
    “So you built up your courage and came charging up here to declare your love?”
    “Well, I . . .” Do not panic. Do not panic . “Something like that.”
    Isabella moved to the balcony and stood leaning on the carved balustrade, dark hair flowing down her back, white fingers on the stone. Beyond and below, the Wall lights were popping on like a regiment of orderly fireflies.
    I should speak now while she is turned away. It will be easier with out her eyes on me.
    “Isabella, things are . . . Things are changing for us . . . between us. And that’s good. That’s as it should be. Natural. It’s only natural that things change.” Conor groaned inwardly; this was not going very well. Say what you want to say.
    “What I want to say is that perhaps our days of climbing chimneys are over, although I like climbing chimneys, but perhaps there are new things to do. To share. Without the company of Danish princes.”
    Isabella turned to him, and her mocking smile was not as steady as it usually was. “Conor, you are such a scientist. Is there not a shorter, more concise way to say all of this?”
    Conor frowned. “Perhaps there is. I would have to do a few experiments. I am new to this and I feel clumsy.”
    Isabella made a show of pouring some lemonade from a jug. “I am the same, Conor. Sometimes I feel as though we have made our own world here, and I have no wish to leave. Everything is perfect. Now, it is perfect.”
    Conor smiled tentatively, coming back to himself. “So, I am not to be executed.”
    “Not today, Sir Conor,” the princess said, handing him the glass. “After all, you rescued the princess from the tower. There is only one way for that fairy tale to end.”
    Conor choked on a mouthful of lemonade, spraying his pig dung–stained trousers.
    “An interesting combination of smells,” commented Isabella.
    “Pardon me, princess,” said Conor. “I am amazed by your friendly reception. I imagined myself trussed up by Danish guards by now.”
    Isabella turned her brown eyes full on him. “Conor, I could search the world for another swashbuckling scientist, but I doubt if I would find one like you.” The princess realized that she had said a little too much, and felt compelled to add, “Even if you are a lanky-limbed, over-brained oaf.”
    Conor accepted the first half of the compliment with a smile, and the second half with a grimace. “I feel exactly the same,” he said. “Apart from the scientist, lanky-oaf part. You know what I am trying to say.”
    “Yes, Sir Conor,” said Isabella, teasing him. “I do.”

CHAPTER 4: TREASON AND PLOT
    Conor did not return home after his meeting with Isabella; he was too elated. He felt as though his heart were half its previous mass. Somehow, against all the laws of science, just sharing his thoughts with the princess seemed to make him lighter. So even though he was already late, Conor decided to preserve the feeling by passing an hour alone in his favorite hideaway, somewhere he