| The royal court was full of excited murmurs. The scandal was thrilling - brother-in-laws fighting! Thom's bored violet eyes wandered over those nearby. He recognised all - Lady Delia, nursing a red handprint crossing her cheek, Sir Alex and Sir Francis, tending to her. And on the other side Gary, Raoul, the Prince. The other squires in Thom’s year. The Prince's other cousin. Ralon of Malven, the wife of whom had retreated to her bedroom after her smug outburst. Thayet, Buri, Kieran. Sir Myles. Didn't gossip travel fast? The last people he laid eyes on were a bunch of giggling court ladies. 'Alanna shouldn't be one of those. Damn Maude. Damn Coram. Damn them all.' * Violet eyes peered intently. Violet eyes peered intently back. "There is no point in a reflection if all it does is show what's taking place in front of it," the redhead decreed, stepping back from the wall the mirror hung on. "There is point in very little, my Daughter. The mirror shows truth. Usually." Alanna gulped. An elegant, dark haired lady had entered her room. "Are you lost?" she enquired with a shy curtsy. The vision before her surpassed even Thayet’s beauty. Maybe even the Goddess. Well, she didn't know about that one, having never seen the Goddess, but... A tinkling laugh, pleasure mingled as one with pain, met Alanna's ears. "No, my Daughter. I am not lost. And I am glad you think well of me. Now, I understand your brother is fighting your husband?" A glum dip with the head was the only response she received. "Don't be upset. Even the mirror can be tricked." The Lady walked out, closing the door behind her. It seemed even goddesses - for who else could she be? - were polite. Alanna returned to the mirror, feeling peculiar. Not just because a divine being had visited. What on earth had she meant? 'Even the mirror can be tricked.' Alanna looked into the glass. Squire Thom stared back. * Thom pushed his sleeves up, preparing his mind for the battle ahead. They fell down again, feeling tighter than his usual clothes. He looked down. Alanna's purple dress covered his body. 'Mithros, what has she done now? That girl is going to die!' Thom fumed. Turning his squire outfit into a dress. Honestly. He turned to slink out, but the ugly Ralon blocked his way. "Alanna." Thom glowered up at the knight, wishing he were somewhere - anywhere - else. Stupid Alanna. Was this meant to be funny? Hang on, what did Ralon mean by calling him 'Alanna'? "I can't believe you think that a mere squire will beat me," Ralon hissed, spraying spit all over Thom. "I will," Thom retorted. Only, his voice didn't come out of his mouth. It was Alanna's. Quickly, he pushed past the idiot and ran to Alanna's quarters. * "ALANNA! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME? OH, YOU'RE GOING TO PAY FOR THIS!" Thom roared. Alanna stepped away from the wall, and faced him. A grin passed over her mouth. Everything, from the ruffled, cropped hair, to the well-worn boots, belonged to him. "It wasn't me," she replied. "Who was it then? The Goddess," he said sarcastically. She looked at him. Holy - wait a second? The Goddess had done this? “How?” he croaked. She shrugged in response. "You coming to watch then?" she asked, in Thom's deep voice. He rolled his eyes and nodded, very reluctantly. His twin smiled again and twirled his sword. “You better have practise with the sword, and not show me up.” She gave him a third smile, this one filled with hope. “I might be very good at sword fighting. I wouldn’t know – I’ve never tried.” Before he could stop her, she was out the door. He followed, muttering about interfering goddesses. * Ralon’s hand twitched. Thom had just entered the room, along with his twin. He’d show them who were really powerful. Those who followed Duke Roger were not easily beaten. Thom hopped up opposite him. The Trebond eyes flashed as the boy drew his sword out. “Cross your weapons. Honour the laws of chivalry, your country and yourselves. Let the combat begin,” the King commanded. Ralon barely batted an eyelid – it was the standard beginning to any contest, but Thom looked at the King for a long second, mouth slowly curving. Ralon took his chance and leapt into battle. Dishonourable, but who really cared? Mist slowly drifted out of the squire’s eyes as he blocked again and again. Pathetic really, he was only just holding Ralon off. Ralon’s eyes suddenly caught the Prince’s gaze and he stumbled. The Prince had been talking to his wife. Leaning in closely! Thom took advantage, whipping the small sword around and lightly scratching Ralon’s arm. Ralon nearly fell into the corner, not having expected this turn of events. The sword dug into his chest – luckily the hilt pointed into his body, not the blade. The boy didn’t even know which way to hold his sword! Laughable! He met Thom’s eyes, preparing to shove his own sword into the other’s chest, but stopped. Thom’s eyes… They matched the Thom he had seen throw him onto Balor’s Needle, the one who looked away when anyone mentioned the Sweating Sickness, the one who held his head proudly. Yet they matched Alanna’s, when she had scowled upon meeting him, when she had married him, when she had been scared of him. They were proud, the twins of Trebond. And both of their eyes shone out of Thom’s. That scared him. “I fought this because I deserved to show everyone how weak you are. Beaten by a girl with no fighting experience, shameful, wouldn’t you agree?” The eyes narrowed – Alanna’s eyes, he realised. This was Alanna. Not Thom. “Never hurt me again.” She carved a long thin scratch down his torso as a physical reminder of her threat and left him to crumple on the floor. Roald stood, clapping her. The rest of the court, like sheep, followed their King. She smiled at the thrones and jumped off the courts, moving over to her brother. Ralon watched her go, knowing he would have to be wary from now on. A long shadow fell over him. “Beaten by a squire?” Francis of Nond asked, eyebrows lifting into his fair hair. “Roger won’t be pleased.” “Beaten by a girl,” Ralon admitted, using Francis to help him stand, not sure if Francis knew what he meant, or if he thought Ralon was comparing Thom’s strength to that of a girl’s. It didn’t really matter. Francis merely snorted and staggered over to Roger, half-carrying Ralon. * Alanna grinned, watching her appearance fade into a girl’s. She faced Thom; also back to normal. His expression contradicted her happy one. “What’s wrong?” she asked carefully, not sure of the answer she’d receive. He gaped at her. “I didn’t realise how close you were to the Prince,” he finally stammered. Her brows crossed. “What do you mean? I hardly know him.” “I mean,” he said, spitting with rage, “That your precious Prince just tried to kiss me.” ‘Of course, he was away when Jon kissed me in the hall,’ she remembered. Suddenly an image flicked across her mind and she whooped with laughter. “He… He tried to kiss you?” she spluttered. Her twin glared at her. Helpless with laughter, she looked up as the door opened. “Thayet, Jonathon tried to kiss Thom,” she shrieked. Thayet entered the room, a bemused expression twisting her features. “Seriously?” she asked, incredulously. Alanna nodded. “King Roald sent me to tell my dear cousins that a ball is being held in your honour.” Thayet’s crimson mouth began to twitch whilst she watched Alanna shove a protesting Thom out, ordering him not to be a ‘peeping Thom’ as she put it, giggling the whole time. Explanations would come now, then the dressing and finally the torture. Or ball, as some people put it. * |