Rown of Cantre
Author's Note: It has been a few years since I read Tamora Pierce's works, but this story is based from my writings on Tortall. Excuse my mistakes and please allow for artistic license. I do not claim any of Pierce's characters as my own.
This story takes place a bit of time after Keladry—girls are allowed to be knights, but women warriors are still frowned upon by many.
PROLOGUE
A merry fire danced in the hearth of a comfortable palace room; it was a rare quiet evening for the entire family, one that was usually torn apart by duty and troubles. A ten year old child looked up from her game as the tall door swung open. Her inquisitive blue eyes fell upon Sir Cole, the man who had brought her from home all the way to Corus and the palace of Tortall. She would have run over to him, skirts hiked up over her knees to ask for a piggyback ride, but the look on his face stopped her—something was terribly wrong if Sir Cole looked distressed.
The girl silently watched him step over to her 'aunt' and 'uncle,' the Tortallan Queen Thayet and King Jonathan. Not her real relatives of course, but the girl's mother had been a close friend of the Queen's in her private guard of women before the child's father had stolen her away to marry him. But that was in the past.
Right now the adults were whispering and sending sympathetic looks in the girl's direction. Roald and Kalasin had joined their parents to learn the news; Liam and Lianne looked up from their place reading by the hearth's light. The youngest child stared back at the grown-ups levelly, even when cousin Jasson tugged on her arm. "It's your turn, Rown!" he whined, pointing at the stones board.
Rown ignored the youngest prince and stood, refusing to wait for someone to tell her what was going on. The girl tossed her long brown hair over her shoulder and marched to the settee where the King and Queen were seated. "Tell me what's happened," she demanded.
Sir Cole met her eyes squarely and kneeled before her, taking the child's tiny, delicate hands in his large, rough ones. "Little One, you are going to stay in the palace with your cousins, so the King and Queen can take care of you," he told her softly.
"Why?" she asked, already knowing the answer, but not wanting it to be true. "Sir Cole, where are Mama and Papa and Nic?" Her throat was tight, eyes filling with tears, but Rown refused to let them out.
The Knight's honey brown orbs gazed sadly at the little girl before him. He had been charged with protecting her, but now he had to deliver a blow himself. "They won't be coming, Little One. You know those men who attacked Cantre before we left? They came back with more…" The man had to swallow hard; he had lost many friends as well. "Your parents and brother fought as hard as they could, and we should be proud and honor them."
The little girl sniffed a few times, but would not let a tear slide down her cheek. The big knight wrapped his arms around her, and Rown still not cry. She would be proud, not sad. That is how her father would have wanted it.