A/N: Okay, so I apologize profusely to everyone for the terribly long wait. The thing is... I broke my nose two weeks ago, and had to have surgery, so I've had a lot of problems at school trying to make up work. Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving to all you Americans out there, and to Lady Muck and everyone who I told that I would post this Wednesday or Thursday, I'm sorry for the wait. You guys are just so many hours ahead of me; it will probably be Friday when you read this. Anyway, hope you enjoy, and keep looking for the next chappie, by Confusedknight!!


Chapter 12- By Mage of Dragons

Aoife lay sprawled over her bed, her riding skirts still spread out around her. The day had been long, and though Vishay's company had not been as easy or as captivating as Iaian's, (why must I always compare the two! She thought exasperatedly) she was still exhausted by the long ride and the stiff formalities that were required when riding with a nobleman. When she rode with Iaian, she hardly had to worry about those things--she could converse easily with him about anything-- her healer's lessons with Duke Baird, the weather, the silly court gossip, even about Eldorne and Reagan, if she were feeling particularly open.

Through those talks about her family and her brother, Aoife sometimes felt that she was reacquainting herself with her past, reliving it with a new eye. And, in the few conversations when Iaian would talk with her about his past, she would press him for details about her brother- the man he knew as Ray. His memories of Reagan were few, but Aoife craved any detail. His information wasn't enough to make her feel she knew him again; it only made her more eager to find out any more about him.

Well, I suppose I won't be able to pester Iaian for more information anytime soon, she thought morosely. Even when he returns, he might still be angry with me. All this time, I haven't received a word from him. His absence was tangible, and everyday, while angry about his abrupt flight, she still checked her mail anxiously for any news, any new letter he might send. Some days, she forgot that he wasn't simply at work or in his quarters. She'd observe some ridiculously brainless comment made by Silly, Millie, or Dumb, or hear a new snatch of court gossip, and think to remember it, because Iaian would find it amusing, only to have realization crush back down upon her. Sometimes, it was enough to effectively ruin her mood; other times it only made her angry that he would have done such a thing as leaving without telling her.

On those times when she felt particularly angry (or at least as angry as she could ever be at Iaian) she would muster up the courage to flirt just a little bit more with the court boys, reminding herself that she was here to find a husband, that she had a duty. However, she could not keep up a convincing act for long; she was seldom able to forget the void she felt. However, she did have a little ammunition against the depression (not heartache, she told herself. She refused to even contemplate the word love, especially with Iaian gone. She was here to find a husband. Duty, she reminded herself yet again.) She smiled slightly as she remembered the events of the past two days…


Buri's dark eyes had been filled with compassion and interest as she looked up at the taller Court Lady. Her voice was smooth as she asked, "Have you heard from your parents yet?" Her words brought Aoife back to that morning, and the momentous letters she had received. Of course, she was overjoyed by the ring, and loved it dearly, but another letter had come that morning, one she had put off reading for as long as she could. Finally, though, she had known that she could not put it off any longer, or risk being late for her riding appointment with Buri. So, carefully, she had drawn a breath and steeled herself for the reply. Please, Goddess…

Aoife Mairi,

I write to you today in response to your previous letter. It is good to know that you have settled into the Court routine, and hope that you are mindful to your duty and obligation. However, your request was, to say the least, alarming. You have been sent to Corus to become a Court Lady, and to find a suitable husband, as we agreed. I was extremely displeased to hear that you have been associating with such people, and engaging activities that cannot be considered ladylike, as befits your station. As I have already told you, you are in Corus to find a husband, not to exercise your foolish pastimes. As you have probably seen, fighting is not a way of life fit for a female-- look at deceiving witch of Trebond, or that new trollop from Mindelan… neither of them was ever able to find a decent husband!

Aoife fumed. She knew that her family still partly blamed Alanna for her Aunt's death, but Delia had been the traitor, not the Lioness. And Kel was her friend!

As such, I do not deem it appropriate that you associate with such people. And I do not approve of you joining the Queen's Ladies, or engaging in anything associated with fighting or violence.

Aoife's heart turned to stone. She stared at the parchment in disbelief. They had to know how much this meant to her. Everyone at the Palace had reassured her that not even her parents would turn down this opportunity, and now, she didn't know what to do. They had all been wrong.

There was more to the letter, but Aoife wasn't sure that she wanted to read it. Anger and sadness were beginning to seep up through her disbelief, and she hastily shook away her welling tears as she forced herself to finish the letter.

Though I do not approve of this position, we also recently received a letter from your brother Lerant, who has already heard of your offer. He has assured us that the Queen Ladies are in no way similar to the unnatural females I have already mentioned. They are true Noble-born ladies in every aspect, and devoted to the Queen, he says. In addition, he mentioned the propitious marriage offers that these ladies have received.

It is only at your brother and mother's urgings that I write what I do now: Aoife Mairi, though I do not approve of your associating with such an organization, I will not force you to decline their offer. I have made my own opinion clear. However, at your mother's request, I leave this decision to you. I urge you to remember your duty, and your standing. Your year is already passing. Remember Eldorne. Remember your duty, Aoife Mairi.

Sincerely,

Your father, Sir Diederich of Eldorne

Aoife sat back against the back of her chair. Her hands, she noticed distantly, were trembling as she struggled to absorb what she had just read. "I leave this decision to you…" she murmured to herself. The disbelief she had felt earlier had return, though this time, laced with traces of emerging joy. She could choose… she could join the Ladies!

She sprung from her chair, thinking, I have to tell Iaian! Only to realize, once again, that he was gone. Still, she had other people to tell. She ran off to find Vianne, and, more importantly, to thank Lerant.


Aoife had that news to hold against any sadness caused by… a certain someone's absence. She had sent out letters last night, one in response to her father's message, another to the queen. She would meet with Thayet tomorrow to discuss her position.

Liam and Vianne, when she found them together and shared the new, were overjoyed.

"Good for you, Aoife!" Liam had said. "That's really amazing!" he was as cheerful as always.

"See," Vianne had told her, "I told you that your parents couldn't let you pass up the opportunity," Aoife had simply nodded. She hadn't told anyone about the exact contents of the letter. No one needed to know what her parents thought of her new friends at Court.


Now, though, she was exhausted by her time spent with Vishay; there was nothing more she could accomplish tonight. So, stripping off her mud-splattered riding clothes, she left them in the basket for the maid to collect them, and put on her nightgown.

She lay back against the pillows, her mind whirling with the events of the past few days. She was going to join the Queen's Ladies; maybe things were looking up!


That night, she slept fitfully, her mind fraught with flickering images. In her dream, she was locked in a jail cell, somewhere in the Palace dungeons. She wore a tattered linen dress; her hair was messy and unkempt. As she peered around the darkness, she observed another figure, sitting on a cot across the room. Shadows played across the corner of the room, making their features indistinguishable.

Curious, Aoife walked over closer to the figure; it was a woman who sitting on the cot. Her hair, which looked as if had once been thick and dark, hung limply around her face, streaked with grey and white. The woman could not have been older than fifty, though harsh wrinkles crossed her face, masking to features which Aoife could see were once delicate and proud. Dark, fathomless sea-green eyes peered back at her from inside the wrinkled skin. The weathering of time had not been able to completely erased the pert nose and full red lips. Aoife could not stifle a gasp; the woman was herself.

"Who-who are you?" she asked, fearing the response.

It was her own voice that answered, though aged and tired. "Why, I'm you, Aoife Mairi. Don't you recognize me?"

No! It can't be! Aoife thought. Instead, her mouth asked, "Why are you here?" her voice sounded very young and very small.

"Treason, of course," the other Aoife answered. "You can't ignore what runs in your blood, Aoife. It's who you are; you can't deny it"

"No!" Aoife shouted, as the figure before her changed, the face lengthening slightly, the eyes shifting from blue-green to pure, untainted emerald.

"Aoife Mairi. How nice to finally meet you," Delia cackled. "You know, it's no wonder no one in Corus trusts you; you and I are very alike. See, we even look the same."

Aoife's eyes widened, glaring daggers at the older woman. "No," she said softly. "I'm not like you. I'm not." she growled.

"Isn't that positively noble of you?" Delia said harshly. "You can't deny what's in your blood, Aoife. You're a traitor, just like me. All your so-called "friends;" Prince Liam, Iaian Hunter, they only bother with you because they've been told to watch you. Face it Aoife. You're a traitor like me!"

"No! No…No!" Aoife repeated. She would not be like Delia. She was not a traitor. And Liam and Iaian… they were her friends. They weren't just faking.

"I won't be like you!" She shouted over Delia's laughter, thrusting herself away from the old woman, and awoke with a start as she fell out of her bed. Her nightgown was soaked with sweat; she breathed heavily as she repeated the words that lingered on her lips… "I won't be like her. I won't."

It took her a while to realize that everything had only been a nightmare; it had felt so real. Delia's words about her friends had shaken her to her core. But Delia was dead, wasn't she? Surely she couldn't be right.

It was a long time before she could fall asleep again.