This fic was written for Lea/'Alone in the Desert' 's birthday back in the summer.

It hadn't taken long for Josiane to figure out whom she could and could not trust at the Tortallan court.

That was, she could trust no one.

Jonathan had whispered pretty words of forever to her, endlessly praising her beauty and demeanour – but as soon as he got one whiff of a half-wild warlord's daughter, he vanished from her side. It wasn't as though that Thigh girl was even particularly attractive, not with that nose.

Delia had also smothered her in compliments and enticed her with ideas that the Tortallan throne was not quite lost – but as soon as she had her corpse to play with, Josiane became a minor distraction. Replaced by a corpse. Really. It wasn't even like he was a prince or a king, though she knew that was what he was angling to be. Right now, he was just a duke, and a recently resurrected one who kept missing his mouth at dinner at that.

Delia had given Josiane at least one piece of valuable advice, though. She would know when Jonathan had finally decided to replace her when the vultures started flapping around her discarded social corpse. Delia had always had such a way with words.

Now, it seemed that time had come.

"May I take this moment to declare how honoured Tortall is to be blessed by your beauty, your highness?"

Josiane eyed the knight, not bothering to hide her disdain in the curl of her lip, before presenting her hand to be kissed. He was overweight and certainly not significant at Court, because she had never noticed him before. On the other hand, she wanted to be fawned over for a change. "You may."

"Your hair is like golden straw, Princess, and your eyes make me feel as though I am staring straight through your face out at the sky. Tortall was a dark realm indeed until you set it afire with your exquisite looks." He took her hand and pressed it to his chest, apparently unaware of her attempts to slip out of his grip. "I am sure my heart did not know how to beat until I first set eyes on you, your highness. Now, the very thought of you is enough to set it aflutter."

She withdrew her hand sharply and made her excuses, but not before he had claimed her for the next two dances, and likened her complexion to three-day-old cream.

"Attempting to make me jealous?" Sacherell whispered in Douglass's ear, making the other jump.

Douglass grinned. "Not in the slightest, my dear. If I'd wanted to do that, you'd have seen me dancing with Raoul. Although, it probably would have looked like I was trying on the curtains. He looks as though he's trying to blend in with the wall this evening."

"Mm," Sacherell agreed, raising an eyebrow at his former knightmaster. "He's just shy."

"Well, that might be it. But then, there's 'just shy' and 'just got publicly torn to shreds by our new princess's incredibly scary bodyguard'. I have a sneaking feeling – due perhaps to my rather skilful eavesdropping abilities – that it's the latter."

Sacherell snorted. "Mithros. I can't believe he tried it on with her. Guess we have to let our boys test these things out for themselves; they need to grow up sometime."

Douglass gave him an appreciative grin as he stole Sacherell's goblet. "I'd been meaning to take you to task on allowing Raoul to grow. I know first-hand how keen you are on letting things grow up, but you could have let the lad stop at six feet. Now he's approaching seven, and it's all your fault. You will note what a lovely, respectable height my former knightmaster is."

"I hardly think you can take credit for generations of fine Naxen produce," Sacherell retorted, grabbing another goblet off a passing squire. "You know those men are bred better than most horses."

"Alas, yes, I do." Douglass winked, pinching the fuller goblet off Sacherell. "First-hand."

Sacherell raised his eyebrows, but declined to be drawn into the word game. "Why did the fair Ice Bitch have to prise you off her tonight?"

"Oh, Jon asked me to keep her occupied for a bit," Douglass replied nonchalantly, sipping from alternate goblets. "Says otherwise she buzzes around Thayet all the time."

"I don't think Jon has much to worry about; she doesn't seem Thayet's type."

"You don't need to worry either," Douglass said, prodding him in the chest, somewhat awkwardly, given his full hands. "You know I'll only ever leave you for Gary, and he's still pretending to be sighing after Cythera. It's most unbecoming for a man of his years."

"So is that teddy bear you sleep with for a man of your years, but do you see me complaining?"

Douglass looked indignant. "My, my, my, aren't we jealous today? You will kindly leave Lord Theodore out of this, since he is unable to defend himself. I can't believe you'd talk about him like that behind his back. He's always been suspicious of you, and now I know why!"

Sacherell was mercifully saved from having to respond by the beginning strains of a new dance. "You'd better go find your girl," he smirked, reclaiming both goblets. "I hope you enjoy it."

Douglass groaned. "If I catch a cold from standing too close to her, you're going to nurse me better," he threatened, shifting his feet. "And I mean properly nursing this time, not like last time when you told me you'd be back in five minutes but got distracted by somebody else's lance."

"I was jousting with Raoul," Sacherell protested. "I couldn't stand up for an hour."

Douglass huffed. "Bet I could have stopped you standing for longer. It's all in the way-"

"You use it. I know. Go. You can show me later."