A/N:
*is awed* wow…I don't think I've ever gotten this many reviews for a first chapter before…Thank you everybody, you guys rock the knee-high, multi-coloured, stripy socks (and I can give no higher praise than that!)Well, this chapter was meant to have a song, unfortunately I couldn't find one that wasn't either really mushy, or required me to completely change the events. Oh well *shrugs* no real loss there. Anyway, I decided to make it from Neal's PoV as a bit of a challenge for myself, so here are the results…
Even if he hadn't known Kel for nearly eight years, Neal would still have realised that something was wrong. She had on what he had come to call her 'Yamani face' - when her features went blank and smooth as marble.
"Kel?"
"Just leave it, Neal, please," she pleaded, looking anywhere but at him.
"Is it about the Ordeal? Are you scared?" cursing himself for seven kinds of an idiot, he looked heavenward and prayed that Kel didn't think he was mocking her.
She chewed on her bottom lip, appearing to give the question some serious thought, "Yes," she murmured finally. "I keep wondering if maybe I should do what everyone advised in the first place - turn tail and run home."
Eyes widening, Neal stared at his friend for a few seconds before she looked away, fingers drumming nervously on the wooden haft of her glaive. "You can't!" He exclaimed when he'd found his voice again. "You'd be letting them win! And…and what about me? Would you abandon me now, after all we've been through to get here?" familiar panic coursed through him. The scene was reminiscent of a similar one four years previously, when Kel had been willing to throw away all of her page training just to find Lalasa.
Kel smiled and shook her head. "No, of course I wouldn't. You don't get rid of me that easily,"
Grinning, Neal offered her his arm, hoping that his relief wasn't evident on his face. For all that Kel was five years younger than him, they had always been close and he admired her. "Well then, my Lady, shall we adjourn to the mess hall?"
They weren't more than halfway to the door before two knights entered the practice court. Neal sighed inwardly. Zahir and Garvey, just the people he wanted to see. Kel seemed unconcerned by their presence and carried on towards the exit, passing Zahir who gave them both a curt nod and unsheathed his sword to begin warming up. His companion however, stopped short in front of Kel and forced her to halt, a cruel smirk twisting his face as he looked at their linked arms. "What happened? Did that red-haired oaf decide to make some money for himself by hiring you out to his friends?" A snarl bubbled up in the back of Neal's throat, but before he could say anything, Garvey had turned to him. "Tell me, Queenscove, do you recommend her?"
Only the steel-like grip of Kel's fingers on his arm stopped him lunging for Garvey. How dare he say that about her! Neal thought furiously, looking down at his friend. Kel's face was a placid mask that gave away none of the feelings she may have had about Garvey's remarks. The coldest smile that he had ever seen on another person graced her features after a moment, and without warning, Kel whipped the iron-shod foot of her glaive upwards, thereby lessening the chances of Garvey ever polluting Tortall with his spawn. Not that his chances need lessening, thought Neal wryly, watching with grim satisfaction as Garvey's pock-marked face crumpled and he slid to the floor with a strangled whine.
Kel turned to him, eyes dark with fury. "Don't even start." he eyed the glaive that she still held, and then Garvey who lay in a shivering ball at her feet and shook his head.
"I wouldn't dream of it," Neal answered vehemently. He was troubled; since when did Kel use violence to solve problems? Yes, she had gotten into fights with Garvey and his clique back when they were pages, but she'd never started them herself. The outright enmity should have ended with Joren's death, but evidently it hadn't.
Garvey was still prone when Zahir paused mid-stroke to nudge his companion with the toe of his boot. "You should see a healer," he said without compassion, apparently more interested in the blade of his sword than his friend, "and a trip to Oakbridge wouldn't go amiss, so that he may drill manners and etiquette into you again, as you evidently didn't understand the first time round."
Silence reigned, and Neal was sure that his expression was identical to those of Kel and Garvey as they stared at the regal Bazhir in disbelief. Zahir didn't seem to notice, being so occupied as his was, testing the balance of his sword and adjusting his grip on the hilt. After a moment, realising that Garvey was still glaring up at him, Zahir bent down and pulled the other man to his feet, giving him a shove in the direction of the doorway.
When at last Garvey had limped out with an air of bitter dejection, the Bazhir turned on Kel and Neal, the latter of whom resisted the urge to grasp his sword hilt. Even now, Neal didn't trust anyone who had been allied with Joren, not after what happened on Balor's Needle. He watched as Zahir inspected Kel. He seemed to approve and offered, "Will you spar with me, Mindelan?" Neal's hackles rose - was this a trick? Zahir didn't seem to be moving towards the practice swords - he intended to use live blades!
Kel's face was impassive as she answered calmly of the affirmative, before looking up at him "Neal, you go to lunch, I'm not really hungry. See you later?" he could see the pleading in her eyes - this was her one chance to prove to Zahir that she was worthy of a shield, and he could not take that away from her.
"Just so you know," he whispered in her ear, making sure that the Bazhir couldn't hear what he said, "I shall be extremely vexed if I have to kill him for injuring you."
Kel laughed and made a shooing motion as she settled into the 'guard' position. "Away with you, Queenscove, I need to concentrate."
Neal left, albeit reluctantly. It frustrated him, how Kel, who could easily pass up similar tests with proven knights of more status than Zahir, could not refuse a spar which was clearly a trick. He had half a mind to turn back to the court and watch them, just to make sure.
Blinking, he entered the mess hall and went for a tray. This surge of protectiveness scared him - since when had he worried about Kel? She was as good as - if not better than - any of their year mates at the fighting arts and she could keep up with a whole company of the King's Own. Why then, are you so anxious? Asked a cold, logical part of his mind. "Let's call it an irrational fear of losing my best friend, shall we?" he muttered to himself as he picked up a set of cutlery.
"Talking to yourself again, cousin?" said a teasing voice from behind him. Neal started and looked over his shoulder.
"Dom! I didn't know you were back,"
Sergeant Domitan of Masbolle chuckled and cuffed him about the head lightly. "Of course I am - the Company's here for Kel's Ordeal. I don't think Sir Raoul wanted to winter in the palace, especially with the Midwinter Ball looming, but he doesn't get a choice."
"All the better for you then, cousin? The ladies of the court can't seem to resist the King's Own uniforms." Neal remarked dryly, setting his tray down across from Dom's and sinking onto the bench.
Laughing, Dom shook his head, "There is only one lady I wish to impress, and I very much doubt she will be so simply by a uniform." Neal saw a misty, far-away look in Dom's blue eyes, before his cousin looked back down at his soup, a slight blush rising in his cheeks.
Neal gaped at him for a moment, before a slow grin spread across his sharp-boned features. "So, who is she?" he waited as Dom fidgeted nervously, shredding a roll with fingers that shook slightly.
"Is she someone at court?" Neal prodded, unnerved by his cousin's uncharacteristic edginess.
"You could say that," mumbled Dom, swallowing hard and looking at him with a guilt-filled gaze. Neal closed his eyes, clenching his jaw, knowing that if he said anything now, he would probably have to apologise for it later, and Neal hated apologies.
Nevertheless, he whispered through gritted teeth. "And does this lady feel the same?"
"I don't know," admitted his cousin in a slightly forlorn tone, "I don't think she even knows…" his sentence trailed off and they sat in awkward silence for a moment, until Neal opened his eyes.
"She's so young, the age difference…"
"You don't think I know that?" Dom snapped, glaring at him. "I didn't mean for this to happen, you know. I didn't mean to fa -" he stopped and clamped his mouth shut, staring wide-eyed at Neal.
A wave of hatred and anger washed over Neal as he looked at his cousin. Cradle-snatcher, his less charitable self muttered, and to his great shame, Neal agreed with it. Suddenly feeling very weary, he asked, "I don't suppose you know what's bothering her, do you?"
Dom nodded, giving him an odd look at the same time. "She didn't tell you? There was a bandit raid on a village near Owlshollow, on the way back. Kel and two of the others were put in charge of a group of villagers who had weapons. They cleared out the mill and a few of the houses but got ambushed by a group of archers and axe men - five to one odds - away from the rest of the company." he twisted a ring on his right hand, eyes overly bright, "They didn't stand a chance. Kel, Lerant and five villagers made it out alive - ten dead altogether, and that mare of Kel's, Hoshi, one of the axes took her out." Neal winced - he knew Kel's attachment to all of her animals.
Sighing, Dom rose and picked up his tray, "She hasn't been herself this past week. I hope she recovers in time for the Ordeal - she'll need all her strength to get through that." Neal privately agreed, though he didn't tell his cousin. This information certainly explained the haunted look in her hazel eyes, and he was hurt that she didn't tell him in the first place. But then, that was Kel, always thinking she could solve the world's problems by herself. Neal smiled with rueful affection and stood up, thinking that it was time he rescued her from the Bazhir. Rather disturbingly, this inspired an image of Kel as a damsel in distress and he as the chivalrous knight come to save the fair lady. Looking down at the half-finished bowl of vegetable soup on his tray, Neal narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Whether potatoes and miscellaneous green matter constituted to seeing visions, he didn't know, but it had to be more plausible than his own mind dreaming up such nonsense.
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