(A.N. I published a version of this story called 'Expectations' a few months ago. I read through it a while ago, however, and decided to do a rewrite to make it flow better. I have most of the story drafted and will, hopefully, be updating once a week, depending on my work load.

Thanks for reading - I really do appreciate reviews.

Dee.)

Prologue

Entering her parent's study, Ayami of Queenscove bowed deeply. Fitted out in green and silver – the colours of Queenscove – the room was gracefully furnished in a blend of Tortallan and Yamani decorations. Her mother's ornamental swords hung on one wall, by a watercolour of Lake Tirrigan, while her parents faced each other over a low table. A chess set sat between the pair – from a glance, she could tell her mother would win.

"Ayami," Yukimi rose gracefully and bowed to her eldest child. Nealan – her father and one of the most respected knights of his age – lurched clumsily to his feet with a grin. They made an odd couple. Her father, tall and lean, favoured dark green eyes – the colour of his gift – brown hair swept away from his forehead in a widow's peak and a thoroughly infectious smile. His wife was almost a foot smaller, with straight black hair and brown-black, lively eyes. Her face was still, as was Yamani custom, as she surveyed her daughter.

"Mama, Papa," Aya bowed again, as was proper. "Might I speak with you both?"

"Of course," Neal beckoned her to kneel on one of the cushions. She did so, Yamani-style, and accepted the tea her mother poured her. As an afterthought, she added two spoonfuls of honey to the mixture. Yuki's eyes crinkled, though her face remained still. Ayami's sweet tooth was family legend.

"What is it you wanted to discuss?" Yuki asked her.

"You asked me last month to start putting thought into my future," Aya replied, keeping her face still. She wasn't looking forward to her father's reaction.

"There's no rush," Neal assured her. "I was 14 when I decided to train as a knight. You're only 8 – take your time. Your mother's people aren't hasty. By the Gods, I hope you take after her, not me."

"Well," she frowned slightly. To a Yamani, it would have been an immediate giveaway, but in Tortall she appeared reserved, "my gift isn't strong enough to study at the university. I had thought to go to the convent in two years time, but..."

A thought – a thoroughly Tortallan thought, it must be said – had been hanging with her for weeks. She'd seen her aunt Kel tilt against some of the realm's more ferocious knights. She'd watched Lady Fianola – known as the Butterfly Knight for her speed and beauty – outshoot centaurs at a tourney. Her own mother was deadly with a shukusen.

"You want to train as a knight," Yukimi interpreted, face unreadable.

She didn't gape at her parents – didn't they know her better than anyone? – and nodded gravely.

"I wish to protect the realm as a Queenscove," she responded, meeting her father's eyes. Hadn't he done the exact same thing, when he chose to become a knight?

Without a word, Nealan stood up and swept from the room, lips tight with anger. About to follow him, she caught her mother's eye and settled herself. The woman looked amused, rather than concerned.

"Your father is dramatic," she told her young daughter in Yamani. "But he is learning patience. Give him time."

For the next hour or so, the two played chess and talked softly about Princess Shinkokami's birthday celebrations. Mother and daughter looked up, startled, as Neal burst back into the room. Aya would have bet that her father had been arguing with himself all this time.

"You're to start fencing lessons," he snapped at his daughter. "You're half the size of other girls your age – if you don't start now, you'll be eaten alive. And you're not cutting your hair!"

For a long moment, she stared at her father, before realisation sank in.

With a squeal of delight, she flung her arms around Neal's waist and raced from the room, pausing only to scramble a quick bow.

"Emry! Mai!" She shouted up to her younger siblings. "I'm going to be a knight! Father says!"

Massaging his temples, Neal slumped onto a cushion.

"I'd hoped to avoid this," he murmured, upset.

Yuki raised an eyebrow – a trick she'd learned since coming to Tortall.

"She is your daughter," she pointed out. "Adventure calls to her. It always has. Remember when she tried riding to Corus two years ago?"

Neal flashed a grin.

"She couldn't have been a silk-hiding-steel Yamani noble?" he asked, teasing. Yukimi rolled her eyes – some Tortallans thought that because Yamanis chose to hide their emotions, they were all supernatural warriors nurturing pearls of stoic wisdom. Just because a sensible woman carried a weapon and didn't blurt out her every thought, didn't mean she was some sort of fabled warrior-lily.

"She is too much like you," Yuki told him gravely. "She doesn't look it, but she's her father's daughter."

Neal's shoulders slumped.

"That's what I'm afraid of."