Elden's Rose
Bookworm2011
Chapter 6: Ice Disaster
Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to Darth Tater, for answering the challenge correctly and first. An overwhelming majority of readers got it right, so great job!
I always forget a disclaimer, so here it is:
Disclaimer: I do not own The Song of the Lioness quartet, the Protector of the Small quartet, the Immortals quartet or anything else Tamora Pierce has ever written. Everything is Tammy's!
A/N: This chapter tells the events in In the Hand of the Goddess, pages 186-190, by Tamora Pierce from Cythera's point-of-view. Enjoy!
The weeks at court continued to pass swiftly. Soon autumn gave way to the icy winter, and a pond beyond the castle froze over to create a popular past time for the castle's youth: ice skating. One particularly cold January day, it was decided that the pond in question had been frozen over long enough to consider strong enough to support skaters' weight. This prompted many ladies, knights, squires, and even a few fat old lords to rejoice.
Cythera and Karina were lacing their white skates when Prince Jonathan glided over. He smiled at Cythera and offered his hand and a few words of greeting, "Good day, ladies. Lady Cythera, would you like some assistance?" Cythera smiled at Jonathan, returned his welcome, and took his hand. He pulled her almost effortlessly to her feet. The prince was strong, as were Cythera's ankles. Skating had been a popular activity at the convent, and one of the few the priestesses approved. Most of the ladies at court were excellent skaters because of this. Lady Gwynnen was a prime example. She was cutting a pattern of whirling figure eights across the glistening ice. Her happiness and exuberance was plain to anyone with eyes: she laughed joyously as she performed this trick.
Cythera habitually cast a glance at Alex. His quietness and secrecy still bothered her. His presence always accounted for a shadowy reminder, and an instinct to flee. Cythera's inborn politeness refused to let this uneasiness show in her actions, which resulted in a wordless endurance of his presence. Luckily, at the moment he was talking with Squire Alan. Cythera could pretend she hadn't wanted to interrupt their discussion and skate in the opposite direction, though. She almost smiled as she thought this. Just as she was about to enact her plan, Jonathan spoke, "Lady Cythera, let's skate this way. It seems my squire is reluctant to skate. We must convince him." He looked into Cythera's eyes and smiled at her, clearly indicating they skate towards Alex and Alan.
He had asked politely for her agreement, and Cythera had no choice but to concede. Cythera replied, "Of course, your highness. We cannot have him missing out on all the fun!" As she said this, Cythera smiled. No one could doubt the truthfulness of this statement from her attitude, words, or actions. But, most courtiers have some skill with lying.
The pair skated over to the group now trying to convince the stubborn squire on to the ice. Soon cat calls of "Chicken!" could be heard floating around the group.
Cythera heard Alex say, "Come on, Alan! I bet you ten gold nobles you can't even get around the rink once without falling! You probably don't even know how to skate and are scared of falling!" This was accompanied by one of Alex's brows arching towards his hairline, a silent dare to Alan.
After a glance at the Prince, Alan seemed resolve himself to the inevitable, though there was a certain wariness in his violet eyes. After some convincing, he stepped onto the ice. Cythera and the rest of the skaters cheered the young squire on. Cythera understood the pressure one felt as you stood alone in front of an audience. She had felt the same nervousness Alan was no doubt feeling now at her introduction to court. All eyes had been on her, waiting for a slip-up, a fall, for Cythera to make a mockery of herself. It would have been nice to have had some encouragement.
Alan seemed to be doing well when two of his fellow squires, Geoffrey and Sacherell, coincidentally two of the best skaters at court, swooped Alan up and whizzed around the rink, leading him through the motions of skating.
They deposited Alan unceremoniously in front of Alex. Alex laughed good naturedly, and pointed to the ice as he spoke, "Well? A bet's a bet!"
Alan determinedly set off around the ice. Soon he seemed to have found his rhythm, though he carefully scouted out rough patches and gave them a wide berth. He even seemed to be enjoying himself. It seemed he would easily win the bet, and Cythera could not help feeling a little sorry for Alex. Ten gold nobles was a lot of money.
Alan was one-third around the pond when he carefully avoided a patch of reed. This was wise in Cythera's eyes, plant life in ice usually meant it was a weaker section that could not sustain weight. The ice must have been quite weak indeed, for in a terrifying moment, the ice gave way beneath Alan and he plummeted feet first into the icy, dark depths of the pond. For a moment time seemed to stand still, and the onlookers' eyes widened in terror. Many of Alan's friends and some people who were not, immediately begun to skate toward Alan. A pessimistic thought crossed Cythera's mind: they might be too late, the pond was very large, and Alan was almost on the opposite end. Cythera heard Karina scream, "We'll get help!"
Those ladies who had not rushed to Alan tore their skates off. Not bothering to lace their shoes, the women sprinted in their stockings to the healer's ward. Cythera was the fastest, and was grateful for the loose, but warm dress she had decided to wear for mobility's sake. Cythera arrived in the ward, panting and out of breath and managed to cough out, "Squire Alan! Fell through the ice. Needs healer, now!" The healers on duty glanced once at her terrified expression and a second time at her water-soaked stockings before two of them grabbed some type of medical equipment and sprinted down to the pond.
When they arrived, Alan had already been rescued from what could have been an icy grave. Prince Jonathan was frantically carrying his squire up to the castle, worry etched into his handsome features. A large group of boys followed behind the prince. As the healers' and the skaters' paths merged, they stood still for a second. The prince too worried to give orders, especially to those who knew how to cure his unconscious friend better than he did; the healers not daring to give orders to a crown prince. The two groups stood divided, neither willing to close the gap. Lady Cythera's nerves were frayed by this point, and she was not thinking rationally. Her mind skipped to the numbing cold she felt in her feet, caused by the snow she had dashed through. She imagined how it would feel to be encased in this chill over her entire body, and before she knew it, had commanded in a voice loud enough to reach the crowd, "Get him to the castle! Can't you see he is freezing in your arms?" The large gathering looked bewilderedly at the soft-spoken lady before obeying her order. As Cythera realized who she had just commanded, the prince of Tortall, she shivered. Her face blazed crimson, and she ducked her head in embarrassment.
The knights, squires, and ladies gathered around Alan as he lay on the infirmary bed. As soon as it was determined by the healers he would survive, the crowd dispersed, to allow him to be alone with his friends when he regained consciousness. As she was leaving, Cythera paused and glanced at the group. There seemed to be a familial, comfortable air around the friends. One could immediately see the bond between the boys, very similar to brotherhood. Alex, who also stood near the bed, was not included in this relationship, though she was sure none of the others noticed. He seemed to be a bubble, separated from the rest, but mimicking the part of those outside the invisible barrier he instilled. The unseen wall spoke of untold secrets and veiled purposes. This cool separation, even from those he claimed to be his closest friends, threw Cythera.
If he was not honest to those he claimed to be closest to, how could he be trusted; who, if anyone, held his trust?