Disclaimer: I forgot to do this last time I put this chapter up, so here it is: I do not own Tortall or any characters from the books (unfortunately). They are Tamora Pierce's, except for Ilane and Markel and I few others I made up.

Author Note - Hiya everyone. Thanks to those who reviewed last time I put this chapter up, and sorry it's been such a long time since I changed it and updated. I was freaking out this morning because the computer wouldn't work, but it's fine now. The first chapter is different this time (longer for one thing) so read it again even if u already have. For those who haven't read it, here's a basic overview:

Keladry's daughter Ilane went to train at Shang when she was four, but pulled out and came home to Tortall after only six years to commence page training at the palace. Although there are now lots of girls, she just doesn't fit in. then one day something happens that changes everything…

And please, please read and REVIEW!

Ilane turned and ran from the training ground, pushing through the fast gathering crowd and sprinting up the hill to the Palace. Shouts followed her, and she thought she heard Markel calling after her but she just kept on running. She couldn't believe what she had just done. Had she forgotten everything her mum taught her? Within seconds she reached her room in the page's wing, slamming the door and locking it behind her. She could already hear footsteps racing after her from the training grounds. She looked around her room frantically. What could she do? There was no where to go, unless… A bang came at her door, followed by what sounded like a frantic volley of dozens of fists and feet.

A voice shouted ''Lane, open the door now! Let me in!' and Ilane recognized Markel's voice. Her brother and only friend. But that couldn't help him this time, and she wasn't letting him in. She ran to the window and dropped the few feet to the snowy ground unharmed. It wouldn't take them long to open the door. She turned and ran across the courtyard and back into the Palace.

Her breathing came heavy as she fought to keep from crying. Had she lost control completely? She hadn't felt this helpless for a long time. Her feet were on autopilot as she ran through the palace, brushing past startled servants and nobles at dangerous speeds, going lower and lower into the bowels of the palace. Soon there weren't anymore people, and the lighting became sparse. She rounded a gradual curve in the passage, and the door to the Chapel of the Ordeal cam into view. Barely pausing for a breath, Ilane turned the handle, opened the door and slipped inside.

Once inside she slumped down with her back against the ice cold door. The frostiness was a delicious shock to her system, heated up with adrenalin and fear. She slumped to the floor, leaning up against one of the hard wooden pews with her back to the door. She lost all semblance of control over her emotions, tears blurring the now familiar sight of the Chapel: polished wooden benches in two rows down the room; plain, cold stone flags chilling her legs even through her thick wool breeches and the bright gold blur of the altar of Mithros, the god of war and law. Ilane sat there in her sanctuary, her prison, the last place she had to run to and cried, her whole body shuddering with sobs that threatened to wrench her heart out.

She ignored her surroundings and focused on the dominant, overpowering thought pounding through her aching head: How had she got into this mess?

She was better than the rest of them. She knew that for a fact. Even only six years of Shang training had given her the strength, agility and beginnings of expertise that the other pages would take years to develop, if they ever did. Sure, there were some things she didn't know much about: jousting, for one, but she could easily have skipped page training. In fact, after only a week at the palace she had gone to the training master, Sir Keril of Meron, and asked to be made a squire. He had just laughed at her.

Now, into her second year as a page, she just didn't fit in. Unlike when her mother had been a page, there were now five other girls in training, and many other female squires and Lady Knights. But, if anything, Ilane got on worse with the girls in her year level than with the boys. She was very much a loner. This was mainly because of her Shang training: at Shang, you stuck up for yourself and watched out for you alone; everyone was competition and a threat that might stop you from completing the rigorous tasks that were called 'training.' So it was second nature to shut herself off from those around her, focusing solely on the training master and the task she had been set. At Shang, you wouldn't make it without that level of concentration.

But here it wasn't so hard. She could already do all the exercises required of the pages, and do them well. This was the other reason that she was ostracized: the other girls were jealous. Even though they were now accepted into training and treated fairly, there were still many boys and other conservatives who disliked women at arms, and they still felt they had to prove themselves and earn respect.

And so in this way she was respected and basically accepted by the boys. She also knew many of them because of Markel. Her brother was a year older than her and in his third year of page training. He was her only real friend, even though she was on speaking terms with some of his third year mates.

But life was very lonely at the palace.

So, strangely enough, the Chapel of the Ordeal had become her refuge. It was said that pages who visited the chapel of the ordeal never became squires: they were disgraced or killed. But in the year since Ilane had been coming, her life had been no worse than usual.

Until now. As she started to take control of herself, she wondered if the curse was coming down on her. For she was certainly disgraced now, and because of actions so unlike her normal demeanour. But deep inside of her a voice whispered that it wasn't a curse. She had been so angry and hurt and frustrated and alone for so long that all her bottled up emotions were bound to find an outlet at some point in time.

That was the reason the training master was lying in the snow of the practise grounds, more dead than alive at her hand.

A/N: Once again, please review. I'll happily accept and mull over any decent suggestions, and please correct me on any spelling or things I've got wrong from the books.

Thanks, Liss