They Danced Anyway
Machiavella of Kingsport
Chapter 2: Dr. Neal & co., Advisor and Healer Corporation
As Kel entered her room, she took inventory of her injuries; several bruises, mostly on the back of her legs and her rear end. Her shoulder ached a bit from the jousting. Instead of going to Duke Baird, she decided she was feeling fine enough to see her friends, if any were currently in residence at the palace. The first place she went was Neal's room.
Knocking lightly, she heard rustling noises from inside the room, and then a muffled "Be right there in a second!"
"Okay..."
In a moment, the door was open, and a tired and disheveled Nealan of Queenscove stood in the doorway. "Kel! Nice to see you!"
"Great to see you, too. How was work with the Lioness?"
"Well, you know--the usual verbal abuse and flyaway temper..." He shook his head with a grin. "Torture, basically. She needs a sense of humor."
"It could be you, Neal, you never know. Can I come in?"
He ruffled his hair, looking back in his room. "Uh...it's kind of a disaster area in here; just arrived last night from the Scanran borders...but sure, come on in. What's been happening with Raoul? Has he been..." he nudged her side with an elbow. "...Beating you?" A sly grin formed on his face. Kel smiled impishly back, noting how his eyes traveled over her body, almost psychically knowing she was bruised and tired.
"No. But he's been making me joust with just about every squire in Tortall while on vacation. I just got done with Stone. He has to learn not to be such a sore loser, you know?"
Neal grimaced as he motioned for her to find a seat in his small room. She found a little wooden chair and pulled it up to his bed, where he flopped onto his stomach. "Stone is just...evil, if you ask me. Pure bile. So what did he do to you afterwards?"
She frowned. "He challenged me to a hand-to-hand fight in the practice courts. And can you believe it? He won, using a wrestling trick I should've been on the lookout for. I am ashamed."
Neal chuckled. "So what would you like then, healing?"
"Of course. And a nice chat, too. You think I would take your healing for granted?" she grinned.
"Of course not. Well, you better not. Where are they?"
"What? oh..." Kel pointed out where her worst bruises were, but she omitted her rear end, for embarrassment's sake. He touched them individually, and the wonderful coolness spread throughout her beaten up body. "Much better, thanks. Now back to Stone."
"Don't tell me--he wants another hands-on rematch for his already over-inflated ego?"
"Er--something like that. We--I mean, he--he made a deal with me. If I lost, which I did, he was going to do something to me at the upcoming squire ball."
"Mithros, Kel--that's low. He's going to publicly humiliate you?"
She nodded, staring glumly at her upturned palms in her lap. "At least, that's what I think is going to happen. I hope it's not...you know...anything that involves the stripping of clothing."
"Gutter-minded, are we..." Neal muttered good-naturedly, as he finished the last bruise. "You know, as far as I'm concerned, that blond, long-haired pillock can go slit his own throat. Ugly, cheating little bastard. I'm surprised he beat you, of all people, in hand combat."
Kel thought secretly that there was absolutely nothing ugly about Joren--he was the most handsome man she'd ever seen. His personality was his only problem. If he were nicer...never mind. She wouldn't dare voice these thoughts to her own head. "I'm surprised, too. Like I said before, that move he pulled on me was so simple, I feel like a baby falling for it. Now, changing the subject, so I won't have to shame myself a second time--any young ladies from the royalty you thinking of dancing with at this ball?"
As predicted, Kel's hopelessly romantic friend blushed crimson. "Yeah. Do I have to tell?" He smiled.
"Of course," Kel replied, smirking mischievously. "Spill it."
"You, flower blossom..."
"Neal, cut to it. You will never have Cleon's, uh, gift for poetic pet names. And I'd be scared if you tried anything like dancing with me. Who is it now?
He sighed, shaking his head. "You know, I'll make a bargain with you. If I tell, I'll get to force you to proofread all my gushy poetry."
"I'll pass," Kel said dryly, her eyes wide with mock-fear.
"Too late. I'm telling you anyway!"
"I hate you, Queenscove!" She pushed her chair back so it hit the plaster wall. "I'm leaving now, and covering my ears!" But before she could, just as she closed the door to run, he shouted,
"It's your sister Adalia!
Kel stopped, and returned, slowly.
"You've got to be kidding me," she said softly as she peered inside. There was a sparkling, faraway look in Neal's green eyes. "When did you ever get a chance to meet my sister?"
"It's a secret."
"I'll just ask her."
"Damn you, and all below!" he said jokingly. "Begone! See you at dinner."
Kel slammed his door, and she waltzed off back to her quarters. My sister? she thought incredulously. Again, where would he have had the chance to meet her? Good thing I stopped crushing on him a while ago! She shook her head with a grin. Oh, this is too good! My sister!
She was shaking with silent giggles by the time she reached her own quarters, which were attached to Raoul's. She fished her key out of her pocket and jammed it into the lock, hearing the tumblers fall into place. "Raoul?" she called, to see if he was there.
There was no answer. She dug another set of tunic, hose, and shirt out of her drawers, as well as a towel and soap. A bath would be nice, she decided, after the beating she had received from Joren. She put food in Jump's dish before she marched off to the women's' baths.
~~~
"Kel!" A cheerful Owen of Jesslaw ran up to her at the mess hall doors and childishly wrapped her in a tight hug, nearly knocking her over. Slightly winded, she replied,
"It's good to see you, too," and pried his arms off her. "I thought you said something about not wanting to treat me like a girl anymore!"
"Oh, that," he said breathlessly. "Well—no sense in doing that! You are a girl, after all, so why shouldn't you be treated like one?"
"All right, then, what do you say—get some food?"
"Sure." They entered the mess hall, where Kel spotted more of her old friends—there, over in the far corner with Zahir was Faleron of King's Reach, and over in the dinner line was Cleon of Kennan, and Neal was already sitting down beside Merric on a bench near Faleron. She and Owen got in line behind Cleon, and she tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey."
He turned around to face her, jumped back, and nearly dropped his tray. He blushed furiously. "Ah, My Lovely Heart of the Sea," he breathed. "Will you dine with me tonight, Oh Kindred Flame of Desire?"
Kel went slightly pink with embarrassment. After all these years, Cleon still called her such nonsensical names. And the past couple of years, he had become quite serious about them as well. She wished, a little bit that he would lighten up and stop making a spectacle of himself over her. "I'll dine with you," she returned, "If you stop with the pet names!"
Cleon turned redder, and looked a bit disappointed. She wondered if he'd badgered her brother Inness about her, too. That would top it off, she thought. Then the whole world would know! Quickly, she gathered food onto her plate and went over to sit by Neal. Apparently, he had heard her and Cleon's brief conversation.
"He's still calling you those? Well, all I can say is, at least he's original. Never uses the same one twice."
Kel giggled. "If you were me, you would have killed him by now. Here he comes—you'll be next. 'Oh, Neal, Muscular Man of my Heart!'"
"Not funny," Neal muttered, as he dug back into his meal. Cleon slid in next to Kel, and she budged over just an inch, not enough that Cleon would notice and be offended. Owen shortly joined them.
"Cleon…" he began, searching his tall friend's eyes for further explanation, "…are you crushing on Keladry?" Blunt as always, his straightforwardness always got him in trouble. Cleon, who had just regained his normal color, went red once again. "Never mind," Owen said hastily. "Don't think I want to know!"
"Neither do I…" said a cold voice. Keladry looked up, startled. She saw first the brown tunic, then the collar of a yellow shirt, then a pale face, framed by pale blond hair. Joren, again.
"Joren, no one invited you to this table," she hissed angrily.
He ignored her and went on, clearly amused by Cleon's situation. "A big clod like you, Cleon? Oh, this is too funny. You and the Lump—you two will make fine young giants, won't you…" Kel could have crawled under the table and died, then and there. He had to overhear their talk! Was he stalking her? First the challenge after the joust, now this? She could only imagine how Cleon felt, him being the one targeted. She stared at her plate, and waited until she heard a loud snort and the click of boot heels on the floor as Joren swaggered to his own table.
But, minutes later, she was wondering why Joren would care—about Cleon, that was. Why would he care if Cleon happened to have a crush on her? He never meddled too deeply in the affairs of those whom he detested. When she finished her meal and talking among her friends, she went back to her room to ponder more about Joren.