Author's Note: Hi...*sheepish expression* I am sooooo sorry that I have take this long to update. It's just taken me forever to get this right--and college sucks. I mean, don't professors understand that their papers interfere with all the fanfictioning? I am very, very, very sorry. But here is Chapter 3. And I have made it my New Year's Resolution that I will finish this fic (the WHOLE thing) during Christmas break.

I own nothing, it all belongs to Tammy.

CHAPTER 3

I am staring at the girl in a mirror again. She is dressed impeccably, in a gorgeous peach-colored dress, a few shades darker than her skin. Her wavy hair twists into long curls down her back, set with tiny seed pearls. Her drop-pearl earrings, an engagement gift from her grandmother, dangle delicately from her ears. Her face is made-up beautifully, her blue eyes especially bright with the touch of color behind them. I think she has never looked more radiant.

Or more nervous.

There are other girls in the gilt-covered glass. These girls are fluttering and fidgeting, trying to adjust their bangles and hair and gowns. These faces are smiling and beautiful, bright. But every now and again, I catch their eyes and I can see they are just as nervous as I. And, like me, they have learned not to show it.

I back away from the mirror, for if I look at myself any more, I know that I will find something wrong, and pick and pull and worry at it. Turning away from the chatter of convincing Melanie of Danshame that her fiancé will indeed show up, I catch Allegra of Linshart's eye. She smiles and beckons me over.

Allegra is Annelien's closest friend from childhood, and they were in the same year in convent school. My first year in the City of Gods, I tagged along behind Annelien like a lost puppy. Allegra never seemed to mind that I was there, and often was very kind to me. However, she and I were never close friends, more like good acquaintances. She probably would have had no qualms about befriending me, but to me, she was just so high up on a pedestal, my tongue was tied when I was near her. I have always admired her. She is beautiful, with snapping brown eyes, long flowing blonde hair, tall and slim in proportions. Her beauty can be misleading. She is headstrong and opinionated, something many of our instructors had problems handling. How often do you think they expect young noble ladies to ask of their etiquette mistress if she thinks that etiquette was just a means for men to keep women inferior to them? Personally, I feel that life as a wife of a nobleman isn't the life for her. She's more of the type to follow in the Lioness's footsteps. But, here she is, with other girls waiting behind the curtain, to ascend the Grand Staircase, to walk across the Hall, to stand before the king and ask for royal blessing on her impending marriage to a nobleman that her parents chose for her.

"Are you ready for this?" she asks.

I've rehearsed and used my line over and over again, a diplomatic and cute response, typical of a young girl getting ready for marriage. Looking into Allegra's determined face, something makes me answer her honestly.

"No. Not at all."

She smiles shakily at me, and I can see for a moment through her façade. She's as nervous as I am.

"Neither am I," she sighs. She lowers herself into a chair, her pastel-pink skirt puffing slightly. She leans back against the upholstery and stares up at the ceiling, her long blonde hair flowing down the back of the chair.

"Alaric of Mandash," she says suddenly. "Allegra…of Mandash. Alaric and Allegra…Allegra and Alaric? Alaric and Allegra of Mandash. Lady Allegra of Mandash."

Sheepishly, she looks at me.

I smile because I know what she's doing. She's trying to make it sound right in her head. I've done it myself.

Cleon of Kennan. Ermelian of Kennan. Cleon and Ermelian. Ermelian and Cleon. Cleon and Ermelian of Kennan. Lady Ermelian of Kennan.

"I've met him three times. Three times," she tells me. "Two of those times were after our betrothal contract was signed. He's dashing and handsome and ever so kind. And we get on so splendidly, talking of riding and horses and archery, everything I love. I swear to the Goddess, the moment he asked me to dance, my mother and his agreed we would wed."

I am jealous. She, at least, can talk to her husband.

"That sounds wonderful," I tell her.

"It did," she sighs, as she twirls her golden hair around her finger. "Until I found out that he is violently opposed to the Queen's Ladies, something I've wanted since I heard of them. My parents would have never let me become a knight or a Rider, so I dreamed of being a Queen's Lady. I'd get to do my piece, with the horses and learn how to defend myself and others. And I'd be part of the Queen's inner circle, wearing dresses and still seen as lady-like. But Alaric will never let me become one."

Her face drops and I can see her hurt.

"Did you ask him?"

"No," she sighs. "I couldn't."

To see bold Allegra so…docile made me tremble. She never backed down from a challenge. For her to be so resigned makes me wonder what fate awaits me after marriage. Cleon doesn't have any objections to things I like, that I know of.

But I know so little of him.

I have not seen him since the day our betrothal was signed.

"Tell me of your husband-to-be," Allegra says.

My gaze drops to my hands, my fingers twisting into knots.

"Honestly, I know nothing of him. He doesn't speak to me, no matter how hard I try," I blurt out.

Allegra's eyes are sad as our gaze meets.

"It seems a waste, doesn't it? Our whole lives, we are taught to be true and virtuous and docile. Men must protect us. Our lives should be free of worry. Our little female heads must only contain thoughts of babies and embroidery. Our fathers, our brothers, our husbands make the sacrifices, they say. We must do our best to be grateful to them by creating a loving household and by being obedient. And here we are, you, Ermelian, and I, on the verge of achieving the pinnacle of a noble woman's calling--to marry well. We are wedding our knight in armor, just as we are told to do. Look at us, choosing to do as we are told. Who is protecting us? No one."

Allegra's eyes flash ferociously.

"We are protecting them, all of them," she waves her arm, gesturing towards the people beyond the curtain. "We are sacrificing our hearts and our happiness and our dreams, for reasons that are not noble. For bloodlines, for wealth, for heirs!"

I find myself turning defensive.

"Cleon's marrying me to save his people from starving."

"That's noble of him," she spits. "Marrying the pretty little rich girl so that the people he has responsibility for can eat."

The bitter, sarcastic tone in her voice startles me. It's not like he's committing a crime--it's his duty to marry. Sacrificing his happiness for others. Though, I admit, I do not like thinking that someone is sacrificing themselves to marry me. I do not like being settled for.

Allegra smiles softly. "I am harsh, Ermelian. And I apologize. Your Cleon does have a noble cause. As lord, he must take care for his people. Marrying you is the solution he has found. But I cannot dismiss it so easily. Forgive me, but do you like the thought that it is a sacrifice he is making to be with you?"

It's like she can read my thoughts.

"You are the means to an end. A noble end, to be sure. Any man would be lucky to have you for himself, to earn your love. And here you are. Marrying a man who does not try to speak to you. Does not try to know the woman he has decided to spend the rest of his life with. Who is he protecting? You are protecting him--and his people. You are marrying the dolt, so that these people are fed. You are making a terrific sacrifice--your potential happiness. And I dare say, you haven't told anyone your uneasiness? You are protecting your parents from the truth, the truth that your marriage may not be as wonderful as they are picturing. And all the while, who is protecting you? Who is keeping you from harm and hurt and the troubles of the world? No one. We women are the ones who keep this whole conspiracy alive--we protect the world by hiding our hurts and putting on a beautiful face to show the world, while opening our hearts up to be stabbed by swords."

I stare at Allegra in awe. I could never have put into words what she just has. Levelly, she locks her gaze on my face, almost daring me to look away. What she has spoken is true, and I cannot find a place in my heart to deny it.

I forfeit the contest of wills as I look away. I look across the room and I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. For the first time, I look afraid. Quickly, I smooth my features into a calm expression. I do not want to believe her.

What has happened to Allegra that has turned her so jaded to this world? I wonder. Will I become like that? I cannot say my dreams have been crushed, as she believes hers to have been.

"Allegra…" I say, turning back to her, desperately thinking of something to assuage her. But I know that none of the pretty little lines about her beautiful wedding, her beautiful children with Alaric, her happily-ever-after will be enough. She would only laugh in my face.

But before I can think of something to say, the herald is here, fluttering and gesturing wildly.

"We begin now, doves!" he cries. "Quiet, lovely girls. When your names are called, step through the curtain. Just like we practiced, dears. Now, smile! It's your big day!"

Then he skips out through the curtain, to the platform where he stands to read our names.

"Lady Melanie of Danshame," we hear.

Shaking, Melanie pats down her dress, grips a few hands, and disappears past the curtain.

"One of our number is gone," whispers Allegra. I think I am the only one that hears her. The chatter swells up, thinking of Melanie descending the stair, walking through the hall, joining hands with her intended, and facing the king. It should take her about twenty minutes. Twenty minutes to seal the deal of a lifetime.

"Two," she says, in a dismal voice as Blanche of Fanwood is called.

I do not want to hear her morbid counting. I consider putting my fingers in my ears, but resist. We fidget, waiting.

"Lady Ermelian of Aminar."

I glance at Allegra, who squeezes my hand gently. I square my shoulders and face the curtain, separating me from eternity.

It only takes a moment and a step.

It seems much brighter in the Great Hall. I pause at the top of the staircase. Looking straight ahead, I see King Jonathan and Queen Thayet, expecting me. There is a sea of people on either side. Slowly, I take halting steps down the stairs.

Then I spot him. Cleon.

He is standing at the bottom of the stair, where he is to take my arm, as we walk to the throne.

I glance at him, then glance away, Allegra's words echoing in my mind.

Halfway down, I look again at him.

I almost trip down the rest of the stairs. The pit of my belly flip-flops, not entirely unpleasantly.

He is staring at me.


Again, please forgive me my slowness in updating. I promise to do my best to finish this soon. I've got the route mapped out in my head (but am open to any ideas). REVIEW :D