"Papa!"

The voice echoed through the hall.

"Papa!" The high, panicked voice of a young girl accompanied the pattering of frantic small feet. "Papa, Papa!" No other voice answered hers, nothing but her own heavy breaths. Her eyes were wide and terrified; she grew closer to hysteria as she drew nearer to the door at the end. Light streaming down from high cuts in the wall captured flashes of muddy gown, tangles of her unruly red mane.

"Papa!" All the unspoken fears of a child threatened to burst from her breast. Her heart thundered impossibly loud, pounded painfully within her tiny chest.

Scrambling and tripping over her unkempt dress, the girl fell forward into familiar arms. Cool hands stroked her face and wiped away her tears. A warm voice soothed her shaking breaths.

"Where's Papa, Maude?" she whispered. "I saw him. I saw him!"

The kind face drew away for a moment, and a worried expression crossed her brow, darkening the features. "What's this, child? What do you mean that you saw him? You saw him where?"

"I saw him fall," replied the girl. "I saw rain, and the horse, and I saw—where's Papa?"

"You saw it?" The woman shook her. "Quick! Tell me exactly what you saw, Alanna! Tell me now," she said urgently.

"Papa was riding again, and I saw raining, and then—"

"Yes? Yes, what did you see?"

But the girl was white and mute with fear. No matter how much she shaken and prodded her, not another word was to be gotten out of her. "Papa, Papa!" was her only response. "Where's Papa?"

"She saw it, Coram!" the woman cried to the man guarding the door. "She knows what happened."

"Best then she not remember," said the man, shifting uneasily. "Get the lass to sleep. Let her think t'was a dream. She can't see him. Best ye say naught to her, hear?"

"Papa, Papa!" the girl screamed, writhing in her nurse's arms. "Take me to Papa!"

The woman looked at him for a long time before nodding. "You're right. She shouldn't see the bloody sight." Gathering the child tightly in her arms, she cooed softly into her ear, "Later, Alanna. Papa is busy now. It's time for you to sleep. You can see him in the morning."

"No!" she roared, beating her nurse now with her fists. "I want Papa! Papa!"

"Hush, lass!" the man yelled, grabbing hold of her little arms. "Papa's not here. Ye settle down now, little 'un. Hush yer yellin'! What, wake the house with yer ravin'?"

"He fell!" she yelled. "I saw him fell! I saw the horse—the horse… I saw the red…"

She fell silent and still, of a sudden. A queer, cold look passed over her eyes. Her face hardening, the girl slipped out of the woman's arms and approached the door. Coram reached to draw her back, but she whipped about suddenly, her eyes blazing with fire.

"Leave me," she hissed, the voice of untamed hell contained within its timbres. "Don't touch me." Sparing a glare for Maude, who remained rooted with shock, she once again made for the door. Now entering the hallowed chamber uncontested, she resolutely strode towards the covered body at its center. Maude and Coram watched by the door as the small white hands grasped the sheets and the little arms lifted them over her father's head.

A pale scream pierced the air, and the bloodless girl fell senseless to the ground.

Chapter One—

The last to step down was clearly the plainest of the five. Long ago disinterested, Sir Gareth the Younger watched sleepily as the final new lady of the court descended the stair. Unlike those who came before, she was dressed dully in somber grays, her modest attire moving stiffly about her. Lady Alanna of something-or-other. Not that it mattered. He could sense already that she would fade away into the vibrant colors of court, quickly forgotten by men and women alike.

"Seventeen," Alex murmured, nudging him. Gary started.

"Is that the one?" Now he peered closer at her. So this was the lady who was the talk of the court. Eight years she'd spent in the Convent, a shameful two years longer than was expected of any well-bred gentlewoman. Though he couldn't see her face yet, everything about her manner was harsh and unyielding. Like stone, he thought.

"I can see why it took her so long," commented Geoff. "She looks about as nice as a brick. And as pretty as one."

Gary watched as she reached the end of the stairway. Nobody offered her an arm, and she stood there, still as a statue. Instead of disappearing into the crowd, she remained separate, keeping people at bay as if by some indomitable force of will.

"Like a sore thumb," Alex muttered. Gary glanced at him sharply, and then noticed the gawking people and the whispering ladies of gossip.

"Shouldn't have left the Convent," Geoffrey commented.

"They couldn't have kept her any longer," Raoul pointed out.

"Still—look at her. She doesn't fit in here." The knights nodded in agreement.

"And why not?" Gary cut in. A sense of indignation stirred within him. Almost angrily, Gary strode towards her, glaring at the staring people he passed.

When he caught sight of her face, he too seemed to be caught in the spell. She stared before her with unseeing eyes, unaware of the people around. Her limbs were imprisoned in coarse fabric, her neck likewise. The red tresses were pinned tightly to her head in a similar uncompromising fashion. All of it rigid, all of it unyielding; indeed, like a living statue. She might have been lovely once, even beautiful, but the hard set of her lips and the cold lifelessness in her violet eyes had suppressed all traces of vitality. Her ivory skin was perfectly pale and smooth—too smooth. Every vestige of laughter, all lines of worry were eerily absent from the stone image of her face. There was nothing left but a hint of anger at her brow, a whisper of bitterness around her mouth. The woman in her was eroded away into a vision to frighten even the boldest warrior.

Shaking himself out of his stupor, Gary gathered his courage and bowed to her. "Care for a dance, milady? I am Sir Gareth of Naxen, the younger."

A flash of malice flickered through her marbleized eyes, and then she curtseyed to him. "Of course, sir. A dance would please me." As the musicians struck the first chords of the dance, she extended her arm in a fluid, practiced motion and strode into place across him.

Every step was a strike at the ground. She didn't dance but lashed out at the floor with fury. Slowly, her eyes grew frenzied; her breathing harsher as she increased her pace, dancing at a speed that Gary struggled to match. Yet she was ever in time with the music, her feet pounding its rhythm as the demonically possessed.

And then the final notes, a sweep of the skirt, and she was again immaculate and still. Her flushed cheeks faded to white, her eyes dimmed. Dipping politely, she already seemed to lose interest in the world around her, retreating into deeper thoughts. Gary had the urge to wave his hand in front of her eyes to assure that she was not blind.

"Tired, milady?" he ventured. He gestured towards a bench near the windows. "Perhaps you wish to have a seat?"

She bared her teeth at him in what he supposed she thought looked like a smile. "I wait for a waltz." She looked around with hall with a disinterested gaze. "But if you wish, sir—?"

Gary shook his head. "Then let us have a seat, lady." Taking her gently by the elbow, he ushered her into the empty bench he'd suggested earlier and seated her in it. She allowed him to move her about, like a doll.

"You needn't concern yourself with me, sir," she said, not looking at him. "I am quite alright."

"Nay, lady. I am here because I wish to be." He paused, waiting for her to focus her attention on him, but her eyes continued to wander aimlessly over the dancers. "Your name, lady?"

"Alanna of Trebond."

"A lovely name," he said. The corner of her lip curved downward a fraction, and her eyes wavered momentarily. Then the moment was over as quickly as it had come.

"If it pleases you, milord," she said finally. "Sir Gareth, is it not?" She looked at him for the first time, taking in the details of his face with one sweep. "Son of the king's advisor?"

"Yes," Gary said uncomfortably.

"And one day you will be the prince's advisor, no?" Her piercing eye had passed over his features and was presently scrutinizing the rest o him.

"Yes—Jon."

Now she fully turned to face him, looking at him levelly. "You are a knight of the realm, sworn to protect Tortall and your king, even with your life." Something glittered in her eyes. "You worked hard for the right to vow that."

"Yes." Gary felt a peculiar tingling of fear. Her hungry eyes seemed to devour him; his skin was crawling. "And you, lady?" he asked finally, breaking eye contact.

"I?" she uttered softly. Confusion flitted between the smooth brows, and then she sat still, staring dumbly ahead. Once again, she had become distant and untouchable.

"What of your life?" he prompted.

"Indeed, what of it…"

"Well… you have just come from the Convent. Are you weary from your travel still? What do you make of our city?"

"Different."

"… Do you find the weather pleasant?"

A stiff shrug in reply. Gary shifted in his seat and watched her veiled eyes wander the dancing throngs.

"…Do you like court?" he prompted.

"No."

"…How was the Convent?"

Another jerk of the shoulders to indicate her indifference. Gary cleared his throat uncomfortably and attempted conversation once again.

"…How do you find our liege and his family?"

She barked a laugh. "Royal."

"And, er…how is your family?"

At last, he seemed to have touched upon a subject that affected her, for her jaw clenched tight and she glared at him coldly. "Is it common custom to interrogate visitors of the court? Is it the will of his highness that his guests are made uncomfortable? Or perhaps only you are being so impertinent, sir?"

Shocked by her outburst, Gary opened and shut his mouth mutely. "Sir Gareth," she continued, gathering her skirts, "I thank you for your company tonight, unwanted as it was—"

"Unwanted?" Gary stared at her in indignant disbelief. "My company was unwanted?" I wasn't the one that nobody wanted to associate with. His unvoiced thought hung in the air between them.

She flinched, her face contorting, and then abruptly stilling. "I am weary, sir. I … believe I will retire for the evening." Then, as an afterthought, "A pleasure to meet you tonight."

"But you have not yet met his highness." Raoul's objecting voice and his large hand on her shoulder stopped her.

Startled, Alanna glanced from Raoul to the prince and then helplessly to Gary. "I will meet him tomorrow," she said to Raoul. "Tonight I am—"

"Nonsense," replied Raoul.

"Welcome to our court, and to Corus, lady."

Alanna stared at the prince, who inclined his head toward her with amusement, his eyes mocking her. She rose and curtseyed deeply, the degree required for royalty. "I thank you for your welcome. And your kind presence." She spoke ironically, and Gary watched her mouth curve into a bitter smile. "However, I'm afraid that I have extended my strength too far after the journey here, and must retire for the evening."

"Such a shame!" commented Alex upon entering their circle, with a tone of dishonesty. "The night has only begun. Listen, a waltz."

"Lady!" Gary leapt to his feet. "You said that you wished for a waltz? Well, then I cannot let you leave tonight without your wish fulfilled!" He grinned triumphantly, extending his arm toward her. Her eyes were coldly venomous as she accepted his hand and stepped onto the floor.

"Are those your friends?" she asked. "How… kind of them to… take the time to greet me."

"Forgive them, lady," Gary apologized sincerely, "if they seemed too forward or too… well, if they seemed to behave in an unseemly manner." Forgive them for gawking at you, but you only deserved it.

She bared her teeth again in a forced smile, and whirled viciously to stomp on his foot. "Oh, no. I'm sure that they only wanted me to feel at home here."

Gary faltered for a only a moment in his steps, and angrily lengthened his stride. Far shorter, Alanna struggled to keep up. "Well, lady, they are good knights and good men."

"And Prince Jonathan is, I'm sure, a great and gracious leader," she panted, increasing her pace and losing grace. The waltz was over quickly, and before she good disentangle her arm from his, Gary had carried her into a gavotte.

"Before you can protest," he said as she glared at him, "please grant me a few more moments with you, my lady. I wish to be the first at court to gain your favor."

She opened her mouth and then shut it abruptly, as if to swallow her comment. "You do me too much honor," Alanna said mechanically. "You most certainly have my favor."

"Oh, really?" Gary answered skeptically, wondering what her motive was. "Have I earned your favor so easily?"

"Yes. Well—" Alanna faltered. "Not that you earned it easily, but that you are the first man to have expressed such courtesy." She stepped closer to him, dancing with her face only three handbreadths away from his. Now fully confused, Gary didn't move to stop her as she left him at the end of the gavotte. It was only as she'd walked halfway across the hall did he chase after her.

"Lady Alanna!" he called, but she continued as if she hadn't heard. "If I could see you sometime tomorrow during the day--? Or, if you would do me the honor of dining with me at banquet tomorrow night?"

She paused briefly, furrowing her brow at him for a moment, her confusion equal to his, before turning and leaving without an answer.

Gary returned to his friends dumbfounded.

"Well, so you have taken a liking to her?" mocked Alex. "Did you find her stony demeanor to be attractive? There aren't women like that anywhere else! That's one in a million."

"… Yes," said Gary, having only heard the end of Alex's statement. "There's something very strange about her. I wonder what her game is…"

"Game?" prompted Raoul.

"Mm?" Gary smiled wearily. "Yes, I think that she's some sort of motive for acting the way she does, and not the common lady's motive, either. I wonder what it is that she wants."

"I'm sure she wants what all other women here want," laughed Alex. "To catch herself a knight in good standing for a husband! She can't have any other motive but that."

"Yes, if you say so. You are the womanizer, Alex," said Gary's mouth, but his mind continued to ponder the contradictions in Alanna's manner.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gary hurriedly strode across the library, official scrolls in one ink-stained hand and sheafs of parchment in the other. Abruptly he stopped, and retraced his steps to a chair by a window in an obscure corner of the library. In it, a petite lady sat with her legs extended onto the desk before her, the starched grey linen folded under her crossed ankles, chewing her thumbnail and absorbing a large leather-bound book. Her red hair was plastered back against her skull with grease, and the light through the window shone off the top of her head.

"Lady--?" Gary said quietly in disbelief. She shut the book so suddenly that she dropped it. Swinging her legs off the desk, she retrieved it hastily and set it on the table, facing downward.

"S-sir Gareth!" She glanced over his blotched shirt and the papers in his hands. "Are you busy?"

"Oh, this," he said, shrugging. "No, it's nothing too important. Did you sleep well? Are you rested enough to partake fully in banquet tonight?"

"I—ah—well," flustered Alanna, "if milord wishes me there, then I will see to it that I am well enough."

"I was… simply so surprised to… find you here," Gary explained. He did not add, 'positioned as you were,' but she seemed to know anyway, for she sat up straighter.

"I—ah—yes. Well. Are you sure that you aren't needed elsewhere?" She rose. "Would you like help with… ah, that?"

"Oh, no. I'm finished with this. What… well, not many ladies, or anyone for that matter, comes here. What… if I may ask, are you doing?" Gary noticed for the first time that there were several books scattered across the table, opened to various pages. He caught in the corner of one the sketched diagram of a sparring stance.

"I was just… looking," Alanna said vaguely, beginning to gather up the books. "I simply wanted to experience all of… court life here in Corus."

Gary laughed. "This is hardly part of court life. For that, you'd probably want to go to the gardens, where the other ladies like to gossip. What of the ladies who came with you from the convent? Why are you not with them?"

"I…. ah….," Alanna struggled with one particularly large book. Gary dropped his scrolls on the table and took the books from her.

"Here, lady, I will put these away." He looked at the titles. A book of Tortallian war history, an analytical book on fighting technique, another on—

"No, you needn't trouble yourself," she argued, pulling a few away. "You seem to be very busy, and needed elsewhere."

"Why don't you let me," said Gary, taking the books from her again, "put these away for you, and then you can return the favor by helping me to deliver these scrolls?"

Alanna was shocked enough that Gary managed to file away the books before she responded. "Why, if you insist on my company—"

"Not insist, lady," answered Gary, bowing and attempting to kiss her hand, but she snatched it away. "But it would please me. Very much. Will you grant this to the knight who has your favor?"

"I… ah…"

"You seem at such a loss for words during the daytime," Gary said, smiling. "You seemed to know just what to say last night. I think I may be disappointed."

"Oh!" Alanna opened and closed her mouth, then squinted at him distrustfully. Gary couldn't keep from laughing, but stopped when he saw the look of distrust deepen.

"Lady, forgive me." He bowed deeply. "I meant not to offend you, not at all. I am only very … intrigued with you, and sometimes I say things I might not mean."

She seemed to have collected herself, for she took some of his scrolls into her arms. "Well, of course. Where are you taking these?"

"Only to Sir Myles, lady," he said, leading the way. "He taught all the knights history. If you wish to know anything about Tortallian war history, you may ask him."

Alanna flushed. "I don't know what you mean by that. Ladies don't concern themselves with war."

Gary gaped at her for a moment. "But you were reading—"

"Sir, where are you going after you deliver these?" she interrupted.

"Well, only to practice sparring with Sir Alex. I'm always so easily bested. It keeps me humble."

She tilted her head sideways at him. "Would you enjoy my company there as well, sir?"

"Why no, lady. You don't need to come watch two men fighting, even if it isn't serious," he assured her.

"But," she said slowly, with a slightly predatory smile, "what if I wish to enjoy more of the day with the knight who has my favor? If I want to witness my knight's prowess?"

Gary stopped and stared at her, examining her features until she stilled them again into stiffness. He smiled with genuine appreciation, and winked at her. "My lady, your secret is safe with me."

"I—don't know what you mean," she said, hurrying to follow him, as he'd started off again.

"Well, then, it was nothing," he said. "I simply understand your wishes now." Alanna didn't reply.

It didn't take them long to find Sir Myles, and when they handed him the scrolls, Gary introduced her.

"This is lady Alanna. Of Trebond, sir. Lady, this is Baron Myles of Olau."

"Oh, nonsense, these formalities." Sir Myles smiled warmly at her, his curiosity only slightly restrained. "Well, you must be a very kind soul for helping Gary here."

"You're too kind, sir," said Alanna, but she watched Gary, waiting for him to mention her choice in reading.

But Gary simply inclined his head. "Lady? If you would still like to accompany me to the courtyards? Myles, she wishes to watch me be beaten by Alex. Probably numerous times by the end of the afternoon."

Sir Myles laughed. "Well, then, I won't keep you two. Thank you for having these done so quickly." He bowed briefly and trailed away.

"Isn't he nice?" Gary smiled. "And see, I said that I would keep your secret."

"If you—" Alanna stopped. "Well, I don't think that I need to bother you in your sparring. I will see you tonight, Sir Gareth. Thank you."

"Please, my friends call me Gary. Gareth is my father. What is it that you were about to say?" he prompted.

"Nothing; you needn't concern yourself, it was an irrelevant female bromide."

"Was it? I don't think so. I think I might insist on your continued company if you don't tell me," said Gary seriously. "And you cannot refuse the knight who has your favor." He watched the amusement creeping into her eyes. "He might be sick with heartache if you refuse him."

Her face shut closed again, and the immobility returned.

"Oh, you men!" Alanna snapped. "Always teasing, always toying with women. Don't say things that you don't mean!"

"Why lady, I would never--!" exclaimed Gary. "I am deeply, deeply sorry. I only have the deepest respect for you, and meant it truly that I would never do anything to slight your honor. I have, and will keep my word."

"If you—if you knew what you meant by keeping my secret," she said softly, almost as if speaking to herself. Gary raised her hand to his lips, and this time she didn't move when he kissed it.

"Lady, not a word. Not even to you."

"Then you will excuse me when I say that cannot accompany you further." Alanna curtseyed.

"I hope I have not your disfavor now?"

Alanna hesitated. "… No, Sir knight." For the first time in years, a small smile decorated the corners of her eyes, a real smile. "No, you still have my favor."