They were on the road again; this time to the emergency Council
meeting that had, indeed, been called due to the untimely demise of
Armand.  The meeting was to be in Munich.  Claude had wanted it in
Paris, but security concerns for that many Princes arriving in
France, with Corbeau on the loose, had overruled him.

Corbeau could be anywhere, in fact, so they might as well have had
the meeting in Paris. Blaine thought dark thoughts about Ingrid of
Germany, whom he actively disliked, as their retinue was stopped yet
again by foul weather.

Surely someone could invent a more reliable mode of transport than
the cart?  Was there no other surface for a road than mud?

He and Olivia watched from the shelter of a shepherd's cot as the
wolves, lesser vampires, and mages tried to release the cumbersome
cart from a sinkhole.  It was worrying late in the night, so late
that early morning was not far off. There was a small farmhouse
nearby where they could beg shelter, but how to make the farmer
understand the need for complete darkness?

"It's no good, sir," one of Blaine's fledglings approached his
Prince and lady, with a bow.  "The axle's clean broke through; we'll
never get it fixed tonight."

"One less Prince, then, for the Council meeting," said Blaine,
squinting up at the sky.  It was impossible to tell through the
rain, but he could feel dawn approaching.

"Oh, don't," said Olivia sharply.  "Diccon, could this cot be made
light proof?"

The younger vampire looked around the miserable little shelter with
interest. "Perhaps," he said, rubbing his chin.  "But it is not a
fit shelter for you and the Prince, m'lady.  We can bed down in
here, but you should go and seek shelter with the farmer in his
house."

They looked at the house in question. It was not much larger than
the shepherd's cot. "One hopes they have a dark room," Blaine
quipped.

Diccon bowed himself out of the shepherd's cot and loped over to the
farmhouse, where the farmer had come out to see what all the fuss in
the road was about.  The two had a long discussion in the rain, with
much hand-waving.  Having concluded this, Diccon then turned around
and ran back to the cot where the royal vampires awaited.

"He has agreed to give you shelter, Sir, M'lady," Diccon said,
shaking some of the rain off him like a sheepdog.  "And Brengy and
Nigel will stand guard to ensure your privacy," He nodded to the
leader of the werewolf pack and the oldest mage in the retinue.

"All right, thank you, Diccon," Blaine smiled at the young
man.  "You make certain this cot is safe before you bed down, I
don't want any dust in the morning to have to clean up."

Diccon risked a grin.  "Yes, my Prince."

Blaine turned to Olivia. "Nothing to do but make the best of it,
darling," he said.  "Ready to make a run for it?"

"If we must," Olivia sighed, gathering up her skirts so they would
not trail in the mud. Brengy and Nigel followed them at a respectful
distance.

They walked with dignity, though, rather than running, and the
farmer welcomed them effusively. His wife and children, now roused
by the fuss, were shooed back to the loft, out of the way of the
high-born strangers.

"My hut is poor shelter for high-born folks," the farmer
apologized.  "But needs must... I would have given you the loft, but
that young man insisted you have no light come in while you sleep."

"Yes, I'm afraid that's true," said Blaine, looking into the
farmer's eyes.  "You will of course do everything we ask of you, and
not ask any questions."

"Yes, of course," replied the farmer, unaware he'd just been mind-
whammied. "This way, my lord and lady."

He showed them to a little cubbyhole of a space, a  room that
boasted a rare, for the times, door that closed, but it was tiny.
Obviously it had been frantically cleaned out; it might have held
stores of some kind otherwise. It had a dirt floor, but someone had
strewn rushes over it.

"I would not put you in such a room, but..."

Blaine raised a hand.  "This will do," he said.  "Thank you."

"Come and dry yourselves a little before the fire, at least."

Blaine caught Olivia's small headshake.  They had no time for such
niceties.  He upped the vampire mind whammy a bit.

"We will be fine, good farmer," he said.

"I can spare you a blanket."

"Thank you, that is very kind."

The blanket was duly provided, and the anxious farmer, persuaded by
Brengy, finally left them alone.

"We will not leave the door unguarded, my Prince," Brengy growled.
The wolves had come to accept Blaine, impressed by his ability to
make warring vampires stop warring.

"Thank you, Brengy.  Good day to you And you, Nigel."

"Good day, Prince, M'lady."

"Good day, Brengy, Nigel," Olivia said.

Blaine took the offered blanket and shut the door.  He leaned his
head against it for a moment.  "There has _got_ to be a better way
to travel," he said.

"What would you suggest?" Olivia asked, but her voice sounded a bit
odd.

"Oh, turning into bats and flying, perhaps," said Blaine, turning to
look at her.

"Don't be absurd," she laughed, but her laugh was shaky.

"You're shivering," he said.  To both of them, of course, the dark
cubbyhole was as well lit as a ballroom.  He could see her
clearly.  "Are you cold?"  He knew it was a stupid question.
Vampires did not feel the cold.

"No, of course not."  She had sunk down onto her haunches, with her
back against the wall, trying not to touch any of the corners.

"Here," he knelt gently beside her and draped the blanket around
her. "Probably literally lousy, but that need not bother us."

"Thank you," she said, genuinely touched by this kindness.

"A pity we cannot get out of these wet things, but still, not much
change of catching cold, eh what?"  He was still kneeling beside
her, looking at her in some concern.  "Good lord, old girl, you look
positively ill.  Did you get some bad blood?"

She shook her head and drew the blanket more tightly around
her.  "Don't fuss, Blaine," she said, but without her customary
sharpness.  "I'm fine."

"Liar."  He put his arm around her shaking shoulders.  "Olivia...
what is it?"

"This... this room. It is so small... enclosing. I hate feeling
enclosed."

He was so surprised that he plopped down onto the rushes.  "You...
you're claustrophobic?" he demanded.

"Don't you dare laugh."

"Of course I'm not laughing, Olivia.  But... a claustrophobic
vampire?"

"My turnsire... he could not reach me in time. I woke up wrapped in
a shroud, in my coffin. I... I have hated enclosed spaces ever
since."

"I... I never knew that."

"No.  I do not like to admit my weaknesses."

He sighed and stretched out his legs as far as he could.  "Olivia...
we have been married a century and we know nearly nothing about each
other."

She huddled under the blanket, not looking at him.  "Not quite
true.  I know that you are a far better Prince than I would have
been."

"Nonsense."

"No, it's true," she said earnestly.  "You have brought peace to the
islands.  They would never have listened to me; I was too well known
for my bloodlust.  You only ever slew when you had no choice."  She
huddled even further.  "How much longer til dawn, do you think?"

"Not much, I think."  He moved once more to her side.  "Does it
bother you, if I am close?"

"No," she replied.  "You... comfort me.  Thank you for your
kindness."

"Is my kindness such a rarity, then, that I must be thanked for it?"

He sounded very sad, and she looked at him with surprise.  "No, it
is not rare," she replied.  "I am afraid I am very ungrateful."

"Not at all."

She held out one blanketed arm.  "Here," she said, wrapping part of
the blanket around him, too.  "My Prince should share my shelter."

"Thank you."

They sat stiffly together, side by side, he feeling her still
shivering.  He quietly put an arm around her again, and she did not
object.

Then she started to laugh.

"What?" he asked her.

"This is the closest we have ever been, husband."

"True, wife.  What of it?"

"It just struck me as funny, that is all."

"If you keep giggling, you will be struck, wife."

"Pshaw, you would not dare strike me."

"Oh, would I not?"

"No.  You would not."

He turned to look at her, eyebrows raised, and his expression made
her start laughing again. And then, without either of them really
intending it... they kissed.

Not just the cold, perfunctory kiss on the cheek or the quick peck
on the lips that had been their wont until now, either.  A real
kiss, with his hands cupping her face and hers going around him,
leaving them both staring at each other at the end of it.

"Did you... mean to do that?" she asked after a moment.

"Yes... yes, I think I did," he replied.

They kept staring at each other, shocked.

"Care to try that again?" he asked.

"Yes, please."

The kiss lasted longer this time, and their hands began exploring
each other.  When they broke apart, they were no longer staring, but
smiling.

"I love you, Olivia," Blaine said.

"And I love you.  My Prince."

Unfortunately, dawn ended any further revelations.