Guardians of the West

what is this problem she's working on?"
    " Uh- " Garion glanced at Errand, who sat watching the two of them with polite interest. Garion flushed slightly.
    "It -uh- has to do with the -uh- heir to the Rivan Throne," he explained delicately.
    "What's the problem there?" Belgarath demanded obtusely "You're the heir to the Rivan Throne."
    "No, I mean the next one."
    "I still don't see any problem."
    "Grandfather, there isn't one -not yet, at least."
    "There isn't? What have you been doing, boy?"
    "Never mind," Garion said, giving up.
    When spring arrived at last, Polgara's attention to the two embracing oak-trees became all-consuming. She went to the garden at least a dozen times a day to examine every twig meticulously for signs of budding. When at last the twig ends began to swell, a look of strange satisfaction became apparent on her face. Once again she and the two young women, Ce'Nedra and Xera, began puttering in the garden.
    Garion found all these botanical pastimes baffling -even a little irritating. He had, after all, asked Aunt Pol to come to Riva to deal with a much more serious problem.
    Xera returned home to the Wood of the Dryads at the first break in the weather. Not long afterward, Aunt Pol calmly announced that she and Durnik and Errand would also be leaving soon. "We'll take father with us," she declared, looking disapprovingly over at the old sorcerer, who was drinking ale and bantering outrageously with Brand's niece, the blushing Lady Arell.
    "Aunt Pol," Garion protested, "what about that little -uh- difficulty Ce'Nedra and I were having?"
    "What about it, dear?"
    "Aren't you going to do something about it?"
    "I did, Garion," she replied blandly.
    "Aunt Pol, you spent all your time in that garden."
    "Yes, dear. I know."
    Garion brooded about the whole matter for several weeks after they had all left. He even began to wonder if he had somehow failed to explain fully the problem or if Aunt Pol had somehow misunderstood.
    When spring was in full flower and the meadows rising steeply behind the city had turned bright green, touched here and there with vibrantly colored patches of wildflowers, Ce'Nedra began behaving peculiarly. He frequently found her seated in their garden, looking with an odd, tender expression at her oak trees, and quite often she was gone from the Citadel entirely, to return at the end of the day in the company of Lady Arell all bedecked with wildflowers.
    Before each meal, she took a sip from a small, silver flagon and made a dreadful face.
    "What's that you're drinking?" he asked her curiously one morning.
    "It's a sort of a tonic," she replied, shuddering. "It has oak buds in it and it tastes absolutely vile."
    "Aunt Pol made it for you."
    "How did you know that?"
    "Her medicines always taste awful."
    "Mmm," she said absently. Then she gave him a long look. "Are you going to be very busy today?"
    "Not really. Why?"
    "I thought that we might stop by the kitchen, pick up some meat, bread, and cheese, and then go spend a day out in the forest."
    "In the forest? What for?"
    "Garion," she said almost crossly, "I've been cooped up in this dreary old castle all winter. I'd like some fresh air and sunshine -and the smell of trees and wildflowers around me instead of damp stone."
    "Why don't you ask Arell to go with you? I probably shouldn't really be gone all day."
    She gave him an exasperated look. "You just said you didn't have anything important to do."
    "You never know. Something might come up."
    "It can wait," she said from between clenched teeth.
    Garion shot her a quick glance, recognized the danger signals, and then replied as mildly as he could, "I suppose you're right, dear. I don't see any reason why we shouldn't have a little outing together. We could ask Arell -and maybe Kail- if they'd like to join us."
    "No. Garion," she said quite firmly.
    "No?"
    "Definitely not."
    And so it was that, shortly after breakfast, the Rivan King, hand in hand with his little queen, left the Citadel with a well-stocked basket, crossed the broad meadow behind the city, and strolled into the sunlight-dappled shade beneath the evergreens that mounted steeply toward the glistening, snow-capped peaks that formed the spine of the island.
    Once they entered the woods, all traces of discontent dropped away from Ce'Nedra's face. She picked wildflowers as they wandered among the tall pines and firs and wove them into a garland for herself. The morning sun slanted down through the limbs high overhead,