TT2_ArrangedMarriage

Prologue.

"The letters, my lady."
The Third Daughter nodded, allowing a slight smile to appear on her face as the nervous first year placed that morning's written arrivals before her. She scanned them quickly. The usual grateful payments, notes to ask if certain daughters could be taken on... Oh no. Not again. She exhaled loudly, attracting the attention of the Second Daughter. Without words, for none would be helpful, she passed the letter to her superior.
The Second Daughter made a 'tut' sound with her tongue and front teeth. "They are incapable of finding the young knight a wife? But Danielle was so promising."
"Apparently all arranged marriages have fallen through. The boy is quite without hope."
The Second Daughter sighed. A satisfied smirk fell into place. "Well, I think it is time to offload one of our own... problems, so to speak."
"Who?"
Finding the correct sheet of parchment, she passed it to the Third Daughter.
"I see. Very interesting. Oh, Julia?"
"Yes, my lady?" The passing girl curtsied low.
"Would you be so kind as to fetch Alanna of Trebond for me?"

*

The boys emerged from their history lesson with Sir Myles, arguing happily. Douglass was adamant that the last Tortallan female warrior had died 200 years ago; Geoffrey was positive it was at least 150. Nicholas was wavering between the two, while Sacherell disagreed with both. Sir Myles had urged them to find it out on their own, after the whole lesson had been spent in conflict with each other. He knew, of course he knew. He taught history; he'd know something like that even when he was at his drunkest. However, he encouraged debates, thought that they were healthy. It also made his classes more interesting, a definite contrast to the ones taught by Mithran priests.
"Hey, Jon," Geoffrey called out to his passing knight master, who stopped to help. "How long ago was the last female warrior from Tortall?"
"Is this homework?" Gary asked his own squire suspiciously. Douglass gave a wide grin.
Francis slipped to the front of the group. "You should try the library. I'll help," he offered. Jon nodded in agreement, and the nine (Raoul, Gary, Alex, Jon and Francis plus the 4 squires) made their way to the palace library.
"I swear that the last Tortallan warrior maiden died in 320, Human Era," Sacherell decided, flinging open the library doors while he spoke.
"Actually, it was in the year 339, Human Era." The cool voice belonged to a curtsying redhead. "Your Highness. Sir Gareth, Sir Alexander, Sir Raoul, Sir Francis. I am looking for Squire Thom of Trebond. Could you tell me where in this maze they call a palace I could find him?"
Thom pushed past the gawping party with disgust. "Is that really you?"
She nodded; copper hair bouncing as she did so. "Well, no, as it happens, I'm actually someone else, who has taken over my body."
"That doesn't make sense," Thom pointed out.
She shrugged. "Fine; it's really me." The other boys were shocked by the happy expression on the usually sullen Thom's face as the two redheads hugged fiercely.
"Now, Thom," Raoul said, half-reprovingly, to his squire after the two had broken apart. "It's rude not to introduce new ladies."
Thom smirked sardonically. "Yes, after all, the Prince requires the name of all the women he sleeps with."
Raoul and Gary lunged at the mocking Thom, but the girl stepped into the way, smiling innocently. Both knights straightened their tunics and turned away. She winked one violet eye at Thom.
"Why didn't you come with the other ladies of your age?" Jon asked to cover his furious blush.
"Slept with them all already, have you? That's quick work. I'm impressed." She glanced at Gary and Raoul, fully confident that they would not hit her, a female, but ready if they proved otherwise. "I had a prior engagement."
"What was it?" Gary demanded; after the last remark, although not allowed to strike her, due to the Code of Chivalry, he was not about to let her be evasive.
"My wedding." She flashed a ring.
Thom grinned; although the news shocked him as much as it did the other boys, he knew his sister. And he knew how happy she would be about it. "He dead yet?"
"No, unfortunately. Give me some time. I'm working on it. Now, enough about me, what about you young men? Are you eating enough? Do they give you a balanced diet? Do you get enough sleep at night? Are the beds comfortable? Is the training master working you too hard? Is he horrible? Would you like me to hurt him for you?"
Her overanxious, mother like tone made them all grin.
"So, what do you call yourself?"
"Well, I rather like 'All-powerful great one', but the Daughters insisted on calling me Alanna." She grinned, and began chatting to Thom, drawing him away from the group.
"Unusual eyes," Jon commented.
"Bet that's not all you noticed," Geoffrey grinned. Jon towered over his squire.
"Sorry? I didn't quite catch that," he said, meaningfully.
"Ah, now, that would be because you were too busy thinking about Alanna's-" Geoffrey had to stop there, since Alanna herself and Thom had removed themselves from wherever they had been talking and walked out of the library, obviously in search of a more private place where they could talk more easily.
"Can't believe she's married," Raoul mused. "Doesn't seem like the type to enjoy being tied down early."
"Won't stop Jon, though," Geoffrey teased, testing how far he could go on this particular subject. "It never has before, after all."
"Gary's just as bad," Jon protested.
His cousin shook his head, a grin on his face. "I keep my breeches on most evenings."
"Strange she's so lively, when her brother's so..." He snapped his fingers, looking for the right word.
"Strange," Gary supplied.
"Withdrawn," Francis finished, with a stern glance at the grinning Gary.

*

Alanna left the door of Thom's room open, so she could bolt when the conversation turned too personal for her liking, as she knew it eventually would. It was inevitable; after all, he had just learned that she had a husband.
"Nice friends," she commented lightly.
"Didn't see the point in making any. Nice ring."
"Didn't see the point in taking it off. Nice... this could go on for a while."
"I know," he agreed, a little too easily for her liking.
"So tell me the reason we're here, instead of in the library with His Most Stuck-Up Highness, and his sheep. Sorry; I meant faithful followers."
"You just said it." She fixed him with a look, which said quite plainly 'Tell me now, or else', and he gave in. "I wanted to talk where we wouldn't be disturbed. Alanna, who's your husband?" Being direct with her was the only way to get any straight answers.
Alanna opened her mouth to reply, changed her mind, and left the room through the open door, thanking the Goddess that she had the presence of mind to leave it ajar when entering before.

Alanna paused slightly, wondering where in the name of Mithros she was going to go. Having the fortune to know absolutely no safe refuge in the palace, she decided to return to the library. At least she would be partially protected from Thom's sharp tongue there. Thom preferred to pick on people who were too sure of themselves, or that he didn't particularly like. Or that had been the case when she had last seen him. She wondered how much nearly eight years of knight training had changed him. Convent school had changed her, however much she hated to admit it. Maybe for the better, maybe she had learnt from the conniving, manipulative sluts that had made up her year. Well, actually, she conceded, they hadn't been sluts when she had grown up with them. Just intending to do whatever it took to be Prince Jonathon's wife. She shook her head in disgust.
Reaching the library, she stopped. The reason for this was the direction the inside conversation was taking.

"I pity her, the poor thing. Ralon always was the bullying type, even when he began here."

A dry chuckle came from one of the men. The Prince, she presumed. "Thom didn't appreciate being tormented by Ralon. In fact, I believe he made his disapproval so... clear, that Ralon stopped for a while."

Alanna frowned. Thom had never told her of his bout with Ralon.

"But now there's nobody to disapprove, and not a soul to see what goes on behind closed doors. Only her servants will see the bruises, and they'll be too scared to tell."

"Shame," Jonathon mused. "I asked one of the convent girls, and she said that the girl paired up with Ralon was incredibly feisty."

His squire (well, Alanna had assumed the boy was Prince Jonathon's squire) laughed. "Sounds like she'd give you a run for your money."

"She was supposed to be attractive as well. Strange they wasted her on that pathetic excuse for a male." Jonathon had obviously decided to ignore his squire.

Alanna opened the door at this point. She had picked the perfect moment, and all eyes swung towards her.

"That's no way to talk about my husband," she scolded dryly.

Jonathon's blue eyes opened wide in shock. "You're married to..." he couldn't finish.

She curtsied, remaining on the floor. "Alanna of Malven at your service."

His squire stepped forward, having previously been leaning on a bookcase. "Geoffrey of Meron, squire to his Highness." Alanna inclined her head, already sunk into a curtsy. Geoffrey bowed. "Allow me to introduce Sacherell of Wellam, squire to Sir Francis of Nond, Nicholas of Stacine, squire to Sir Alexander of Tirragen, and Douglass of Veldine, squire to Sir Gareth the Younger of Naxen." Alanna nodded each time in acknowledgement of the station.

"Lady Alanna of Malven, I must ask for forgiveness regarding my behaviour towards your husband. I hope you will excuse me." Prince Jonathon's blue eyes were serious.

Alanna had been about to stop him, and then decided that she liked him being apologetic. "No, I meant that those words are too nice. The words I use are too strong for the ears of a courtier." She smiled impishly, amethyst eyes dancing.

Raoul grinned. "So, I take it you're not too happy with your husband?"

Alanna stopped looking up at them all; from her position on the floor, it really hurt to crane her neck to glimpse the top of giants. Instead, she fiddled with the embroidery on her dress. "I doubt any bird would be happy with a cockroach for a mate." She shuddered slightly.

"Why are you not with your brother?"

Alanna flicked a quick glance up at Nicholas, who blushed. "I'm trying not to get him angry."

"Well, that's an unavoidable event." The tight voice belonged to Thom, who had been standing in the doorway for quite some time.

"Always eavesdrop, do you, brother?" The words were carefree; the way they came out was not.

"Just following the example set by my sister." He smiled sarcastically.

"But that conversation included me; ours did not."

"But it included a person of my own family. The only immediate family I have left."

"On the other hand, I'm not a Trebond any more."

"No, you are, will always be, just masquerading as a Malven." He spat on the floor, showing his loathing for both family and name. "You'd be better off dead than his wife."

Alanna stood, white-hot with rage. "It's not like I can change it! You keep acting like you can make everything better with a single spell. Some things need people to change them, Lord Thom. And you better think twice before you say anything of the sort to me again." She stormed out of the room, pushing past the equally angry Thom. Her steps came to a halt only because, once more, she had no idea of where she could retreat to fume over Thom before she did something stupid, like colouring his skin light purple. He probably wouldn't be too pleased with her if she did enact the spell; after all, the girl at the convent hadn't liked it too much.

"Lady Alanna?" The questioning voice belonged to Gareth the Younger.

She turned, eyes calming slightly. "Yes?"

"Don't worry about your brother. He'll cool down."

She raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Who knows him better, you or me?"

He grinned. "Fine. I'm guessing you don't know where the Malven rooms are." She shook her head. "I'll show you."

"Quickly, please. I don't want another showdown with my brother. Not yet, anyway."

"Jon'll keep him occupied for a little while." To her raised eyebrow, he said, "The Prince wasn't overly thrilled with the antics back there."

She shrugged. "Not my fault. I'm just a weak, innocent court lady."

He laughed. "Here's your room." Indeed, Malven was inscribed on the door.

"Thank you, Sir Gareth." She curtsied.

The knight shook his head. "Gary."

"If I call you that, will you stop the 'Lady Alanna' business?"

A firm nod was her answer.

"While you're here, you can tell me what Thom did to Ralon."

Gary smiled. "As you wish. I was taught to obey the requests of ladies." She rolled her eyes. "You've heard of hazing? And you know some enjoy it more than others? Well, Ralon, forgive me for saying this, was partial to the odd punch and slap whilst getting the first years to obey him. Thom wasn't grateful for this, and finally got so fed up; he placed Ralon on the top of Balor's Needle for three days. No one missed him."

"Doesn't sound like Thom. He'd make it lasting."

"Oh, the three days was in body. He remained up there for three months in his mind. My father wasn't exactly overjoyed with your brother."

"I can imagine." She paused, but he knew that some serious thinking was going on. "Why do you think I was chosen to marry Ralon? I mean, I know they didn't like me but..." She trailed off, but Gary sensed there was more, so he remained quiet. "I can't believe that even a bunch of malicious, conventional women would willingly give a female to a wife-hitting lunatic."

"Maybe they didn't know."

She gave a harsh laugh. "You knew, didn't you? Those gossip-hungry, scandal-craving, rumour-seeking IDIOTS know everything there is that is slightly dishonourable about nobles. Well, anything that they can find. Rumours are swirled around, made into huge fantasy stories. If a woman smiled at a man, and another female got jealous, humiliating the first woman would be a priority. Believe me, I know how women can be."

Gary settled back in the chair she had offered him; Alanna sat cross-legged on the bed. "Go on," he prompted.

"Men think they run the world. They just do the fighting part. By and large, it's females. Men don't go to court for a reason that they've come up with. At the convent, it was "Sit straight; no man desires a slumped woman." "You can walk better than that. Chin up! Imagine if you were walking with the Prince. Would he like it if you took bigger strides than his?" and "You can do anything, child. Just set your mind to it." Every single day included men. I really can't understand why I hated it." She smoothed her skirts. "Look at me. I only met you today. I didn't mean to burden you. Thank you for listening and for showing me my room."

Gary got the very obvious hint, and stood. "It was my pleasure, La- Alanna. I will see you in the morning. Unless you are coming to dinner?"

She managed a twisted smile. "And put myself prey to more idiotic, money-grabbing females? No, thank you. But I appreciate the offer, even if I would rather die."

He bowed, and put up a hand to stop her curtsying. "Again, my pleasure. I shall see you tomorrow." He left the room, closing the door behind him.

Alanna sighed, changed clothes, and snuggled down into the blankets. Just like the Malven family, they were coarse and smothering. Instantly she threw them off, climbing down to curl on the rug. "I refuse to sleep in something that reminds me of *those* people," she declared with a low growl. Of course, the whole room was Malven property. Even she was considered as theirs. But that was a minor inconvenience and, like many of its kind, only temporary. "I will be a Trebond again," she vowed, before her lids grew increasingly heavy, and she was unwillingly forced into an uncomfortable sleep.
*

Unwillingly, amethyst eyes opened. Birdsong filled Alanna's ears.

"Stupid birds," she muttered as she clambered out of the blankets and reached for her gown. The clasp on her necklace broke. "Is no one going to be in a good mood today apart from those birds?" She bent and wriggled underneath the bed, fumbling for the chain.

Someone rapped on her door. Typical. The knocker was most likely Thom, asking her to come to breakfast. Asking, ha! Not likely! Ordering, or making, was more Thom's style.

"Come in," she called, slightly triumphant; she had just successfully grasped the irritating piece of jewellery. She scrambled out again; dress slipping down one shoulder because she hadn't had the time to fasten it up before. Or the hands, come to that. But it didn't matter; it was only Thom. If he teased her, she'd blind him. Simple.

Finally free of the bed, she was offered a hand to stand. Obviously, she ignored it and rose without it. Once up, she swung to face…

Nervously, she pushed the sleeve up her shoulder, thanking the Goddess for her under-corset. She flushed, and smiled as falsely as her cheeks would permit. "I'd curtsy, your Highness, only my dress would fall down further."

The Prince laughed. "Turn around, and I'll tie it up for you," he offered in his gloriously deep - what was she thinking? He was a prick!

"Get lots of practise, doing up ladies' dresses?" she asked, while obeying.

"Not under circumstances like these." He finished, briskly turning her to face him once more.

"Thank you, your Highness."

"Jonathon, to the family of the person who saved my life."

"But that was my twin. I can't pass as him any more - I have trouble faking the beard."

He chuckled. "May I escort the lovely Lady Malven to breakfast?"

Alanna made a pantomime out of looking around. "My mother-in-law? She's here?"

"Are you going to make me be really specific?" She nodded, gleefully. "Would you, Lady Alanna of Malven, do me, Prince Jonathon of Conte, the honour of accompanying me to breakfast, in the Hall, now?"

"It would greatly please me to accept your invitation." Alanna's voice was a monotone, demonstrating the boredom she found in being polite. He held his arm out, and she took it, glowering.

*

Gary lay on his stomach. Alex towered over him, something the short knight wasn't often able to do to people. "Do you accept?"

At that moment, Jon burst into the room, interrupting Gary's reply. "Sorry; had to take Alanna back to the Malven suite."

Laughter met this comment, along with Jon's red cheeks. Gary rolled onto his back, and sat up. "I accept on the grounds that my cousin has to perform a similar task."

Raoul grinned. "What do you say, Jon? Ten gold nobles, from Alex, for you to kiss the married woman of our choice?"

Jon lifted an eyebrow. "Gary is definitely going to do this?"

Alex nodded. "Allow me to inform you of the rules. At the ball, tonight, you have to walk up to the woman we choose, recite a short, prewritten poem from your own brains, lean forwards, and kiss her. Of course, we are not willing to be held responsible for the actions of the Lady Cavall, or of the Lady Malven. What do you say?"

"I accept." He was not one to turn down a challenge.

Gary nodded. "Same here."

*

Alanna drummed her fingers on the chair. 'Boring. Boring. Boring. Sleep would be nice.' She closed her eyes, letting her head droop down.

"Isn't this so exciting? I hear the Prince is looking for a wife! Isn't it exciting? This is my first royal ball! It's amazing! All the people are so lovely…"

'Does she ever shut up?' The girl next to her must have been drivelling on for at least half-an-hour. Honestly, they could just put a parrot in her place and no one would notice. Of course, the parrot would have to be pretty. Alanna's sharp eyes noticed more than a few double takes at the lovely brunette.

"I'm Lady Danielle of Linshart. What is yours?"

"Lady Alanna of Malven." The sour tone did nothing to dampen Danielle's spirits; she burbled on happily about her incredibly pathetic knowledge of the Malvens.

"…And I hear that they're so friendly, and wonderful, and…" Alanna tuned out again.

Then, for some odd reason, she felt guilty. Well, this girl's tongue must be getting tired. Actually, so were Alanna's ears. So she decided to enlighten this evidently daft woman. "In reality, the Malven family are a bunch of conniving, snivelling creeps, and I am ashamed that I have to pretend to be one of them." 'There, that should stop her.'

Danielle's face coloured with relief. "Thanks to the Goddess. I thought you were another prissed-up court lady."

"Don't worry. I am a court lady. Just not the standard type."

"Maybe they should consider putting on our boxes 'Handle with Care.'"

Alanna grinned. "Real name, now?"

'Danielle' rolled her eyes. "Thayet. How did you know?"

"The Linshart family don't have your looks."

"So what's your history?"

"Orphan, arranged marriage to complete prat, obnoxious twin brother and I'm a court lady. Yours?"

"I think I'll keep mine for another time. It's a little long." Thayet's hazel eyes had clouded over, so Alanna didn't press her. Looking around for conversation, she saw Prince Jonathon, heading their way.

"Lady Alanna, Lady… I do not believe we have met."

"This is my friend, Lady Rosabella. She's also my cousin. Visiting from Maren." Alanna used the words for 'beautiful rose', which was the reason for Thayet's blush.

"She doesn't look like a Maren."

"But I don't look like you, and we're both Tortallan."

"Cleverly put. Lady Alanna, would you care to dance?"

"I wouldn't, but I suppose I'll have to. Thank you, your Highness." She stood, hair slipping in front of her face, creating a veil. She swept it behind her ears, and accepted his hand.

Jon grinned at Gary, who was chatting to (or up) Lady Cavall, as he led Alanna to the middle of the room. His cousin shook his head, mouthing, 'Get on with it!' Well, he was slightly ruder, but Jon ignored it. He turned back to Alanna, taking in a deep breath.

"Whenever you are near me
Your laughter warms my heart.
Memories still cheer me
Whenever we're apart."

Alanna stepped back from him after the verse, and onto Lord Wyldon of Cavall's foot. She didn't even both apologising; just flicked her hard violet eyes back to Jon. Jon felt mildly sorry for the man; it was his wife Gary had to kiss tonight. Jon was actually quite insulted by Alanna's strange reaction; the poem had taken him ages to think up.

"Very nice," she said quickly, aiming for approving. "Save it for some other lady who cares, who's stupid, and who's in love with you."

"You forgot available."

"Excuse me while I go hang myself for forgetting that trivial point. Now, who was that poem really for? You only just met Rosabella. It was too good for a few minutes."

"You." Before he completely lost his nerve, Jon leaned towards Alanna and kissed her.

*

Alanna closed her eyes dreamily, enjoying the feel of his lips on hers. He was a much better kisser than Ralon. Not that the comparison meant anything. A fish was probably superior to Ralon. Unfortunately, she spoke from experience. The memories made her shudder, jogging the Prince.
Then she began thinking. Why was he doing this, in front of everyone? A hot flush spread across her cheeks. She broke away from him, breathing in deeply. Violet eyes flashed; her hand flew into the air and slapped him. She stepped on his foot with as much force as she could gather. She left the room, running to her own.
Humiliation filled her as she thought about the kiss. She licked her lips, the taste of his not yet gone. What was she thinking? Urgh, she was turning into a soppy court lady after all those attempts to the contrary. Damn. She banged her head against the wall behind the bed in frustration.
"Ouch," a dry voice said from the doorway. Thayet stood there, hazel eyes amused.
"You took your time," the blushing Alanna snapped.
"Oh, actually I was busy. Had to find out where you were from a leering pervert and stop your stalker from joining us."
"How?" Alanna asked curiously.
"Let's just say he won't be sharing his bed for a while," Thayet grinned impishly. "Who was he?"
"The Prince. Not just any prince. That was Crown Prince of Tortall, Jonathon of Conte who you kneed in the crotch."
"Oh. Right. Oh dear. What a shame. Should I go kill myself? Pretty cute."
"Not if you've just spent the last seven years curtsying to a large, full size portrait of him. Well, six and a half. It somehow got mysteriously defaced." Alanna smiled at the memory of the moustache and the penned on glasses. "Now, what's exactly is in your personal history? We have enough time now."
"Orphan. Father dead, mother before him. Personal guard, no siblings. No further details needed."
"Not married?" Thayet shook her head. "WHAT? I get the obnoxious sibling and the ugly husband? Something's really messed up here."
Thayet threw her head back and laughed. " Poor you. You must feel so deprived. Now, tell me about your art work on the face of the Prince." Someone knocked on the door; rolling her eyes, Thayet went to answer it.
Alanna could clearly hear their conversation.
"Something I can assist you with, your Highness?" Thayet's deep curtsy was incredibly graceful.
"Depends whether you'll kick me again or not, Lady Rosabella."
"Not."
"Then yes. Would I be allowed to see your cousin privately for a moment?"
"Of course." She let Jon in, and added, "I said absolutely nothing about her not hurting you, and I sincerely hope she does serious damage," before closing the door on her way out.
Awkwardly, he sat on the edge of the bed. She scrambled away from him, perching on the other side. He caught her hand, preventing her from moving any further.
"Why did you mind so much when I kissed you?" She hadn't expected him to be this direct with her.
"Because." She wished he would let go of her hand. She transferred her stare from the floor to meet his eyes, and he locked their gaze together. She cursed him silently, not being able to look away from those hypnotic sapphire blue eyes.
"Because what?" he croaked, sounding exactly like she felt at that moment.
"Because I'm married. Because it was difficult to breathe. Because you'll get married to some air headed princess. Because it was in public." She thanked the Goddess that her tone was even.
"We're not in public now," he pointed out.
"No, we're not." What a great conversationalist she was (!) No wonder she was a court lady!
"Would you mind very much if I kissed you again?"
Her eyes fell onto his mouth. "Yes. Very much."
"What would you do, if I did?"
"Kick you all the way to Scanra. Laughing the entire way." She faltered on the humour part.
He cupped her cheek with his free hand, sending butterflies through her stomach. She shook her head slightly, trying to clear it of confusion. What was she thinking? Did she want to be kissed again?
A movement outside startled both; Alanna flew to the floor, into a curtsy, Jon stood, as if he was just about to leave, or had entered the room only a moment ago.
The door opened.
Ralon's cold eyes flicked over the pair.
"Kindly leave us, your Highness, if you have no objections. My wife and I have some… business to attend to."

*

She knew what was coming. Why else would he want privacy? She watched as her husband closed the door behind the Prince.
“What were you thinking of? Now everyone is talking about you and the Prince. Are you having fun, muddying the name of my family?”
“You do that perfectly well by yourself.” Alanna bit her tongue, cursing whatever insanity had caused her to say those words. She let go when it began to throb painfully.
Ralon seemed to be shaking with anger. He looked uncannily like a pig she had once seen. He grabbed a fistful of her pinned-up hair, yanking it until, reluctantly, she stood to avoid her locks being pulled out in tufts like the one he currently held. His fist struck her cheek; she reeled backwards.
“Does it make you more of a knight, picking on those who can’t fight back?”
When he came towards her again, she kneed him with all her strength. Ralon’s eyes flashed; partially bent over, he roughly pulled her closer.
“I’ll teach you to do that to me, wench!” She struggled; he merely laughed. Holding her arm with both hands, he applied pressure. A white-hot ache shot across her body part at the exact moment that a sickening crack met her ears. She gasped with pain as her legs gave way and she ended up on the floor.
‘He’s going to kill me,’ she thought dully, not really bothered. ‘And Jonathon wasn’t supposed to be in here, so he can’t say anything.’ She closed her eyes as he lifted his clenched hand. ‘Well, I’d just like to thank everyone for coming to my rescue-’
Three sharp raps sounded on the door. ‘Would you look at that? Thank you,’ she silently blessed the knocker. Ralon growled in frustration. His arm dropped to his side and he opened the door a crack.
“Malven. I want to see my sister.”
‘Ignore that. Curse Thom. Let him rot in hell. Well, after he’s sent Ralon there.’
Ralon hesitated. “She’s in a bad way.”
“And you will be as well. Let me and my cousin pass.”
“Somebody broke in here,” Ralon said flatly. “She put up quite a fight. Isn’t that right, Alanna?”
“No,” she called. “I don’t think it can be called breaking in when it’s your room.”
Thom pushed Ralon aside, and out of the room. “Go away,” he said crisply. Ralon was given no choice; Thayet swept past him, with a well-aimed kick, and the door was closed.
“Get up,” Thom ordered.
Alanna just looked at him. Her brother, for all his supposed intelligence, could be incredibly dense. She created an amethyst cloud around herself and began to heal her broken arm.
“I’ll get him for this,” Thom growled.
“That’s nice, brother. Whilst you’re doing that, would you give him a present from me? Tell him I’m going to have his baby.” Alanna was glad the purple mist hid her smile from her twin.
“WHAT? YOU – AND…. AND HIM? Seriously? I’M GOING TO KILL HIM!” Thom roared.
“Why?” Alanna spluttered, removing the veil of magic.
“I could have done that,” Thom grumbled, indicating her arm, her imaginary pregnancy out of his mind for the moment.
“Yes, well, which healer did you have to borrow off to get rid of Duke Roger’s utterly pathetic spell?” Alanna pointed out.
“It was urgent. I wanted to try the fire-water spell.”
“It was on my exam day!”
“He was ruining the magical aura around Corus. My magic could have suffered!”
Thayet’s beautiful eyes were slowly widening. “Explanation?”
“Yes, Alanna. Just how did you get pregnant?”
“They don’t teach it at the palace?” Alanna’s brows creased together. “Anyway, who’s pregnant?”
Thom glowered at his wickedly grinning twin. He turned to Thayet. “Did you hear of the Sweating Sickness?” The brunette nodded. “Well, it gained strength from the death of its victims. One night, Jonathon, Gary, Raoul and Francis all contracted the virus. It happened to be the night I wanted to try a new spell. The Sickness was the strongest yet.”
“He forgot to mention that it also happened to be the night of my magic exam.”
“Yes, anyway, I borrowed-”
“Stole,” Alanna added. “Magic from me. He dissolved the disease with my magical knowledge, and was the hero of Tortall. Never mind that it was my magic he used,” she scowled. “Never mind that I failed my test by fainting into the tea I was serving.”
“Oh, shut up,” Thom said good-naturedly.
Thayet swallowed a smile. “Thom, you seem to have forgotten the reason we’re here,” she reminded him gently.
“Alanna, I want you to divorce Ralon.”
“What’s the or?” Alanna asked.
“Or I’ll kill him.”
“Or yourself! Thom, you know he’s in league with someone powerful.”
Thom looked at her, purple eyes shining with greed. “Yes, but with your help, I can overthrow him, and be known as the greatest sorcerer in the world.”
“Or, here’s an alternative. You could die, and be known as the most stupid idiot in the world,” Alanna snapped. Turning to Thayet, she assumed a calm aura. “You are so lucky you don’t have a brother to deal with.”
“I don’t know. Buri’s pretty masculine.”
The door creaked open. “Thank you, your Highness,” the brunette at the door said, dryly.
Thayet’s eyes flickered. Then she began to laugh. “That’s funny, Buri. Alanna of Malven, Squire Thom of Trebond, meet Buri.” Alanna and Thom were both scowling at the part of their lives they hated most – Alanna her marriage, Thom his knighthood.
Buri concealed her surprise and extended a hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Buri, how did you find us?”
Buri ignored Thayet’s question. “Are you twins?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“It’s just you have different fiefs,” Buri explained.
“Marriage.”
“They’ll be the same soon.”
The twins had spoken together, but Alanna prodded her brother’s green tunic with her ring finger.
“What does that mean?” Her tone was joking, but her face betrayed her fear.
“I’m going to challenge Ralon and kill him.”
*