Warning: This story is completely unlike most of my other stuff. If you read my writing for the fandom, turn back now.

However, if you're in it for the story itself, or just like my writing, go on ahead.

Tamora Pierce owns the world. Main characters are my own. Lesser characters may or may not be crossovers...

Lady Clara was not beautiful. She was not a stunner like many of the ladies she had lived with. Nor was she an accomplished dancer, or a mage. She was decent enough to be accepted, but no more. All she had ever been good at was making people laugh. She was best described as "jolly", even looking the part. He mouth was just a little too big, and she was most definitely not slender. Her ruddy brown hair was only curly in the sense that it was in ringlets; but it was frizzy and wild. Nobody disliked Lady Clara – there was simply nothing to dislike. Where she wasn't enjoyable she wasn't enviable.

Lady Lorraine was entirely different. She had her mother's pretty face, one she had grown into. What had in childhood been a long and lanky body was now a slim, graceful figure. She was introverted and not fond of people, and she could be most often found somewhere high up where she wouldn't be bothered. She had unremarkable eyes, but a beautifully carved nose and smooth waves of dark blonde hair.

The two, of course, were best friends from the moment they met.

Clara had found Lorraine hiding in one of the chapels, and dragged her kicking and screaming (metaphorically, of course) from her corner and into the afternoon sun. Then she had proceeded to charm the other girl with jokes and stories, until Lorraine could be persuaded to say something.

The other girls had never liked Lorraine, because she was pretty and shy and never got in trouble. Lorraine wasn't that interesting, either. They tolerated her because wherever she was, so was Clara, but as soon as the robust girl was out of earshot they would snicker about the other one. "Mousey," they would call her, or "Clara's squeaky shadow." Lorraine didn't really mind, but Clara would glare at anyone she caught doing it.

It was in their second-to-last year at the convent that Lady Jeninnareia Crystallastera arrived. Late as she was, she would still be in their year.

Jenninareia, or Jenna as she preferred to be called, was perfect. There was no other suitable word for her. She had stunningly white skin, with crystal eyes like her name. (Clara simply called them blue, but Lorraine preferred to be poetic.) Her hair was a shimmering black, and she had not a blemish to be seen. Her figure was slender, and she was the perfect height. Her mouth was just full enough, and just the right color. Her breasts were the sort that Clara thought young men would kill for, and she wore just the right cut of dress to show it off.

She wasn't just beautiful. She was the top of every class she took, even though she had missed most of the education offered in the convent. She also was highly powerful, although she didn't know how to use said power. And most astonishing of all, the other girls loved her. They flocked to her side, all clamoring to be her favorite. And Jenna just smiled and treated them equally.

"She's got to have something wrong with her," Lorraine complained. "I mean, honestly. How does a person get away with being so perfect?"

Clara narrowed her eyes. "That's what I'd like to know."

--

Jenna had come to the convent in the night, in a storm. She didn't have anyone with her, and she was soaked but strangely untroubled by mud. She had stayed awake long enough to recount her tale of bravery to the inquisitive maid, but had not lasted through a hot bath. She was fussed over by the women in charge and the maids, and by the time the next morning rolled around, everyone had heard of the "new girl."

Lorraine had seen her first, and had been rightfully amazed. By the time Clara got to the scene, it was already packed with girls who were exclaiming loudly in welcome. Jenna had looked up, and for a moment their eyes had met.

Each girl had come away with a very important conclusion. She is somehow tied to my fate, Jenna thought.

I smell a rat, mused Clara.

Lorraine had been introduced, but not much more in lieu of all of the other girls. She scrambled to Clara's side, eyes pleading to get out of the crowd. Clara smiled and kept her chuckle only in her mind, then followed her friend into the open hall.

That girl! I need to talk to her about…that. She will help me. Jenna's eyes followed the sturdy girl until she vanished from view, memorizing what she looked like.