Okay, so I decided to continue it. ;P I think in the back of my mind I knew that, if people wanted me to continue it, I would make it a three-shot (Tri-shot? :B), so there'll be one more chapter after this one.

Sorry for the not-as-much talking in this one. I wanted it to be more of Alice's feelings and thoughts on her developing relationship with Stayne, so that's what I tried to focus on. Hopefully I achieved this, hahaha. Also, I've only ridden a horse twice, but the first was when I was too smal to remember and the second was supervised, so I have no idea how accurate my horse knowledge is.

Anyway, yeah. I hope you enjoy it! And like always, feel free to review/critique/flame/whatever if the desire seizes you. :P

I do not own anything except a weird fondness for this couple! :O

Alice adjusted the lapels of her coat for what seemed like the tenth time, pulling her hair away from her shoulders and staring in the mirror. I look fine, she told herself again, her insides rioting with butterflies as she thought about the day laid out before her. Somehow Ilosovic Stayne of all people had convinced her to spend the day with him. She didn't exactly remember the specifics of the conversation, but she could recall that he had mentioned that he had no shift today, and that he should very much like to have tea with her, and maybe even go riding if the weather allowed, all in the same breath. If he had been nervous he had not shown it. And then there might have been some small talk, but the memory was all hazy, and then out of nowhere she had said yes, and just like that the date had been set.

She turned and looked out the window. The weather was indeed nice. A thick blanket of snow covered the ground as far as she could see, while the sky was a bluish grey, the clouds drifting high in the sky. She went over and touched the window. The cold glass was a relief to her tingling fingers, and when she pulled away she could see her fingerprints in the condensation that had settled there. She smiled to herself, straightened her shirt, and headed out of her bedchamber, trying to fight the nervous urge to call the whole thing off.

Her first stop was the stables. They had agreed to ride for a bit and then come back and warm up with some tea. Alice had hastily agreed to try and get away before her entire face became red, although in truth she had only ridden a horse once before in her life, and her only hope now was that she could get through the ride without humiliating herself too much. To her luck, she at least knew where the stables were, so she didn't have to ask anybody and was able to get there within a reasonable amount of time. When she arrived she found Stayne already there, grooming and preparing his horse. He spotted her and grinned.

"Alice, there you are," he said as she approached. She gave him a small curtsy.

"Hello, Stayne," she said, slight hesitance preceding his name. She inwardly kicked herself for being so nervous. It was only a name, just like Tarrant's or Nivens', there was no need to get so hung up about it. He didn't seem to notice, or if he did he disguised it very well, bowing and then patting a grey speckled horse next to him.

"I thought we would take the… non-speaking variety of horse today," he told her. She was puzzled, unaware until now that there was a speaking variety. "I've taken the liberty of preparing your horse for you. You need only to mount him and lead him out of the stable. I will be out in just a moment." He went back to his own horse, which was noticeably taller than her own and jet-black. She followed the line of the reins to a knot on a nearby hook, which was secured on a big wooden pillar. She undid the knot and fingered the leather beneath her gloved fingers, trying to remember what her first riding experience had been like and failing horribly. Her gaze traveled to Stayne, whose back was turned to her. She stared at him.

It had been a month and a half since that night in the hall; that night that had begun just like any other and ended in a manner that she had never been able to predict. She could still remember with perfect clarity the feeling of his hand on her back, the unexpected fire that had flew through her limbs at his touch, and the strange feeling of comfort he had brought to her with his light conversation. It enthralled her to relay the events in her mind, and at the same time it sent a cold terror through her. Was she taking a risk, getting to know the right hand man of the Red Queen? He had been a killer, an assassin with a stone heart. What if he was just getting close to her to get close to the White Queen? What if the Red Queen was just in hiding, waiting to overthrow her sister, take back the throne, and restart her tyranny? The thought sent a shudder through Alice. The last thing she wanted was to seem like a backstabber to Mirana, and if the Red Queen were to steal back power, Alice's connection to Stayne would be an ugly black mark on her record, and would mean all kinds of pain for the both of them.

She shut her eyes and squeezed the reins, hoping to release some frustration in doing so. The horse snorted and moved away uneasily, its hooves clopping against the hay-covered floor of the stable. Stayne turned around, surprised to find her still there.

"Alice…" he mumbled. Opening her eyes, she looked at him. Before he had a chance to say anything more, she interrupted.

"Oh, yes. I got… preoccupied," she stuttered, hoisting herself onto the horse clumsily and trying to disguise it as style. He stared at her, bewildered. She bit her lip, her heart racing, and glanced at him.

She hadn't meant it to last more than a second, but the moment her gaze locked with his she found it difficult to look away. He seemed to want to say something, but he remained silent, looking almost concerned for her sanity. She felt heat invade her cheeks as she blushed, that nagging feeling of nervousness refusing to die and yet making the whole moment so much more intense. She smiled teasingly.

"Don't be too long, alright?" she asked, then flicked the reins. The horse exited the stable at a quick pace, much to her satisfaction. She was glad he hadn't bucked her off, as that would have been much too embarrassing to ever walk away from with her dignity intact.

The horse trotted around in the snow, quite happy to be out of the stable. She took the moment alone to try and reacquaint herself with riding, trying to match the rhythm of the horse, sit up straight, not pull on the reins too hard, and the other many trivialities, but she was sure she was missing something. Whatever it was, she hoped it wasn't important.

Out of nowhere Stayne's horse raced by with Stayne on top, nearly giving her a heart-attack. She watched, baffled, as he looked back at her.

"Don't be too long, alright?" he called, looking maddeningly smug. She hesitated, unsure of what to do to get her horse going faster. She flicked the reins, but he just went from a trot to a slow lope. She glanced up at Stayne, who was getting further and further away. He glanced back at her, then began rounding back towards her. She noticed as he kicked his feet that the horse went faster. She mimicked him, and her horse took off.

A strange mix of adrenaline and fear rushed through her as the horse galloped across the snow covered field, her heart bouncing uncontrollably around in her chest with the beat of the gallop. She looked to Stayne, who was opposite her and tightening his turn to come up beside her. She noticed how he was steering his horse and did the same. Her horse began a gradual turn to the left as Stayne's came galloping up to her side.

Neither of them said anything, caught up in the moment. The wind rushing past her face was unlike anything she had felt before, stinging her cheeks and invigorating her senses. This was much more freeing than a dull carriage ride. Again her gaze traveled to her riding companion, who was not paying attention to her. She felt a little jealous watching him. He was so much more experienced than her. It was like he was almost in-tune with his horse, like he could sense what the horse was going to do before it happened. She looked at his face. From where she was, his good eye was visible, calm and focused on the scenery in front of him, but with a subtle spark deep inside. As much as she hated to admit it, there was something very fascinating about him. He was a mystery of sorts to her, like a book that she had just begun… and was turning out to be very captivating.

Since that night in the hall, she had found herself in his presence much more than usual. For a while they had taken walks in the castle when she had nothing to do and decided to accompany him on his shift, but then it had been proved that she distracted him from his work so they had been forced to come to an end. However, those few walks had been spent discussing a myriad of things, from things as insignificant as the day's events to things as profound as death. One of the most refreshing things about having conversations with him was that he treated her unlike any of the men in London, who had treated her like some fragile doll who might shatter at the very mention of major misfortune despite that she had witnessed and survived the death of her own father. Stayne, however, didn't even think twice. He treated her like a human and not an object, and was not afraid to discuss anything with her, so long as she wanted to.

Her thoughts drifted even further back to the halls of the Red Queen's castle, when she had been under the alias of Um, that night when he had pinned her against that wall. Everything had changed so much since then… She had grown up, both mentally and physically. She was more mature, more level-minded. And he… well, he had changed, as well, since joining the White Queen's troupe… She had been so shocked to find out that he was even still alive, and that she would have to share the castle with him. It had been frightening at first. She had never gone anywhere without Tarrant for a few weeks, until Stayne had proven that he wasn't going to stab her in the face or accost her in some distant corner.

She suddenly realized that Stayne was no longer next to her, and when she pulled herself back to reality she found that she was headed straight for a solid wall of trees and dead blackberry bushes. Panicking, she yanked the horse's reins in no particular direction. The horse whinnied angrily, stood on its hind legs, then took off again, sending her crashing to the cold, hard ground. The wind was knocked out of her, and the next moment she felt a cold, dark terror set in when she couldn't breathe.

"Alice!" Stayne was by her side in an instant. He kneeled down and grabbed her under the arms, lifting her into a sitting position. She clutched at him, her hand landing on his knee for support, trying to breathe. Without hesitation, he ripped off her jacket and reached around her back, pulling a knife out of his boot and preparing to slash through her corset. He touched her spine and ran his hand down it, searching for the seam, but came upon nothing. She pushed him away, air rushing into her lungs with such force that she began coughing.

The next few moments were silent except for her shuddering, gasping coughs. When she finally recovered, she looked up at him, her hand still gripping his knee so tightly her knuckles were white. He looked horrified, returning her coat to her shoulders.

"You're hurt," he hissed. "There might be broken ribs."

She grabbed his arm with her free hand, shaking all over. She couldn't feel anything in her chest at the moment, so she couldn't disagree, but the thought sent a fresh panic through her. She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head.

"I… I… No," she squeaked.

"I should take you back to the castle," he said, not listening to her. He slid one arm around her back and the other under her knees, then stood up. Her stomach took an awful lurch as she was lifted almost seven feet into the air, the trees around her dancing and waving.

"No, no… I… I'm fine," she said, setting a hand on his chest. He ignored her, whistling to her runaway horse. It came galloping back full-speed, sliding to a wild stop about six feet away. He grabbed its reins and led it to his horse, hooking them up together. "Stayne," she said loudly, tapping her knuckles on his armor. He paused and looked down at her. "I'm fine," she insisted. He stood there, motionless, reluctant to let her go. In truth, she felt just fine enough to ride back to the castle on her own. She knew she could. She was strong. "I can do it."

He blinked a few times, then barely managed to suppress rolling his good eye, making his disapproval blaringly obvious as he set her down. She wobbled, her knees feeling like jelly, but managed to regain her balance and make it to her horse. He followed her, ready to catch her again if she fell. She grabbed the saddle and braced herself. Her head felt like it was full of cotton, her arms and legs weak, but she summoned all her strength and made her best attempt to pull herself onto her horse. She made it halfway and then her knee gave out and she tumbled back down. He somehow managed to catch her in midair, and she gave herself up. It seemed he was right, after all.

He mounted his horse and began a quick gait towards the stable, holding her close. "What in the world happened back there?" he asked.

She crossed her arms, her chest aching. Some small part of her wanted to break down and cry, but she was too embarrassed and angry with herself to acknowledge it. "I don't know," she muttered. "I just… lost control, I guess…" And she had, in every sense.

"What had you so distracted that you completely forgot you were riding?" he asked, bewildered.

She condemned the blush that rushed to her cheeks, as it was a dead giveaway. Without her even speaking he had all the answers. She could see it on his face as he realized exactly what had happened, but besides that his expression remained unchanged.

An awkward silence followed. She could feel the anger in her giving way to fear. She had never had any broken bones before, and she hated the doctor. She didn't want to be poked or prodded or examined. She didn't want to lie in bed for weeks and weeks, or wear a cast, or be subjected to constant attention. She wished she could just say here and forget about it.

"I really think I'm fine," she said again, hoping that he would just accept her word. He did not look convinced.

"I know," he said, "just like you were fine when you almost got your foot caught in the stirrup a moment ago."

She frowned, her brow knitting involuntarily. She was so close to giving in to her humiliated tears, but that would do no good at all, so she fought against the urge as hard as possible. She nestled against him as they entered the stable, finding a little comfort in the feeling of his arms around her. He hopped off his horse. The sudden jolt to the ground seemed to jiggle her brain around and the world around her began dancing again. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, frustrated.

They were at the infirmary in no time. Stayne was barking orders at the nearby maids and nurses, and then suddenly dozens of people were all around her and she was being set in an uncomfortable cot. He, of course, was shooed out of her room and she was left alone. Someone pulled off her coat, another grabbed her torso and squeezed her skin, checking for breaks, another examined her head, another examined her legs. Nobody seemed puzzled at her not wearing a corset. In the back of her mind, she wondered what Stayne had thought when he had discovered it himself. Her stomach gave an uncomfortably pleasant flutter as she remembered his hand running down her back, his breath warm against her neck as he reached around her…

She was ascertained as having no breaks or head injuries, although she had managed to give her ankle a mild strain when she tried to mount her horse. They recommended she stay in bed until it was healed, but she decided to ignore their advice. She had had many sprained ankles as a child, being the rowdy, adventurous girl she was, and she had recovered just fine without fussy bed rest.

Besides, she hadn't even had tea yet, and she was looking forward to that now more than ever.