"But we're enemies."
"Not any more—and don't think for a moment that Christian didn't have this possible outcome in mind. The war's over and now we're . . . you can't even say 'allies,' exactly. Well, you could from the standpoint of the emperor of the USE, but from the standpoint of the king of Sweden—we've got a dual monarchy here, never forget, and we're about to get a triple one—Denmark now belongs to him. As for Christian IV, he's now the greatest prince in the union of Kalmar, second only to Gustav Adolf himself—and that, only for one generation. That being the case, the clear and certain duty of the ruler of the union is to see to the suitable punishment of that scoundrel who beguiled and seduced and dishonored and debauched—oh, it's a long, long list, in those charges—the innocent and childlike daughter of his Number One Man."
The admiral's gaze was still piercing, but more like that of a weirdo Owl God now, instead of a hawk. Of course, owls were still raptors, so fat lot of good that did Eddie.
"But—but—we were enemies. When it happened, I mean. Sir." His voice rose a little. "And that's not what happened anyway! I did not 'beguile' and 'seduce'—more like she did me, is the truth of it—and—and—okay, she's only fifteen years old—fifteen and five-sixths—but—well, okay, I won't say she's not pretty innocent—at least of anything that I care about—but—"
"You're babbling, Lieutenant."
Eddie shut his mouth. Then he took a deep breath and reminded himself of what was actually important. His eyes got a little teary.
"I love Anne Cathrine, sir. Whatever she thinks, and I don't really think she's as conniving as you do. Just . . . a seventeenth-century sort of girl. The point is, I've got no problem betrothing her. Uh . . . I mean, if that's what she wants, too."
To his astonishment, the admiral grinned. The first honest-to-God real grin Eddie had ever seen on Simpson's face.
"What a relief," said the admiral. "My lieutenant's two brain cells finally rubbed together."
He stepped forward, and once again placed his hand on Eddie's shoulder. "Are you sure, Eddie? I'm not going to force you into anything like this." His eyes seemed strangely intent. "Neither is Mike Stearns. If you don't want to do it . . . Well. Let's just say there are alternatives."
Eddie took a deep breath—not in order to think, simply in order to steady his nerves. Then he laughed softly. "The truth is, sir, I've spent most of the past few months trying to figure out any way I could get involved—really involved, I mean—with Anne Cathrine. I just figured it was hopeless—and now here it's being handed to me on a plate. Oh, yeah, I'm sure. Don't have any doubt about it at all."
Simpson smiled, and the hand on Eddie's shoulder now became a firm and guiding one. "Come along, then, Lieutenant." He began steering him toward the door.
"Where are we going now, sir?"
"Right outside."
Eddie frowned. "Right outside" would just be an empty room. One of those completely pointless huge rooms that seemed to be mandatory in palaces, and which had no function Eddie had ever been able to determine except to rub into the faces of anyone who wandered in that the guy who owned the palace was way, way, way, way richer than you were or ever would be.
But, as it turned out, the room did have a function. It was big enough to hold two kings, one prime minister, one senator, one prince—no, three; both of Ulrik's older brothers were there too—umpteen admirals and generals and officers and officials and noblemen.
And one king's daughter.
Gustav Adolf looked at his watch. "Twenty minutes, Admiral, and twenty-seven seconds. About what you predicted."
He then leaned over and glanced at the watch adorning the equally thick wrist of the man standing right next to him. "Exactly what yours says, to the second. I told you these up-time watches were perfect, Christian."
"Right you were." The king of Denmark had a cheerful smile on his face. From long experience, Eddie interpreted this one as the-king-is-half-plastered-but-only-half-and-he-can-drink-anyone-under-the-table-anyway crossed with God-I-love-gadgets.
Good thing, too, because most of the faces in the room were unfriendly. Well, stern and solemn, at least. Okay, Mike Stearns and Rebecca were smiling at him. Sweetly, in the case of Rebecca; sorta, in the case of Mike. And he recognized Caroline Platzer over in a corner, although he didn't have a clue why she was here at all. She was standing next to some guy he didn't know, and she was smiling too.