Author's Note: Yeah, yeah, I said I'd update sooner, I know I didn't, I'm sorry. I'm sick of writing this *groan* so it's kind of getting rushed…please forgive me.

Chapter Eleven: All That Glares

Alanna woke up in a fit of sneezes. Rubbing her nose and clearing her eyes, she blinked, unable to see anything in the darkness, and remembered where she was— in the dungeon with George, who lay next to her breathing loudly. (His injuries had been relatively minor, except for a few deep cuts that Alanna wanted to heal when she had use of her Gift again.) Recalling that she usually sneezed when some magic was afoot, she tried to stretch out and summon some light with her Gift. Sharp pains in her wrists reminded her that she was still bound with the manacles that prevented use of magic.

She rolled over on her back and sighed, forcing herself again to try and think of a way out of the mess. George had explained to her that after storming out of her room, he had rethought his actions, scribbled a note for Stefan to give to her, and was returning to the Dancing Dove when he had been overtaken by a large company of enemy Rogues. The next thing he knew, he was before Scar, being told that he would be executed if his ransom was not paid by the Tortallan Rogues in two weeks. He, however, had been certain that his Rogues had not been informed of any ransom. "Then they'd of rescued me," he insisted, as if she were disagreeing. "At least Rispah." He had known nor heard nothing about the Thom and the black opal.

The Lioness had formed a theory that George had been kidnapped as bait for her. As she thought about this, it dawned on her that George was the perfect person to kidnap. A close friend of the crown prince and his bride-to-be, as well as several important knights, and not a noble himself, the Tyran Rogues could not ask for a more perfect victim.

The Tyran Rogues didn't need a reason for kidnapping them, although it could have been for money or land. They were simply malicious, wishing to do ill to other countries. Thinking this, Alanna grew mad all over again about Thom and his mysterious black opal.

Alanna and George remained in the dungeon for a week or so. Once or twice a day (they couldn't tell how often because their was no light) stale bread and water was shoved through a small compartment into the cell. Try as she might, Alanna couldn't come up with a plan to get them out.

Something else had happened while they were trapped in the cell— she fell in love with George. His gentle nature, sense of humor, and just the way he was— she finally realized that Jon wasn't the one, something that would be hard to tell him when— or if— they ever got out. The whole love/lust thing had confused her for a while, but— the way George kissed her, touched her— that was true love. And she would be miserable as Queen, and therefore make Jon miserable, as well as all of Tortall.

That "night" Alanna was roused from her sleep by the screeching sound of metal being scraped against metal. It was relatively soft, as if the one doing the scraping was trying to be quiet. She sat upright next to George and groped her way over to the door. She slowly got up and found herself staring into someone else's eyes.

Biting back a shout of surprise, Alanna's heart raced. The eyes were purple— Thom? "Thom?" she whispered, still angry about his possible treason.

Don't say you've forgotten me already, a very familiar voice said scornfully. It hasn't been that long.

"Faithful!" Alanna exclaimed softly, reaching to pick up her cat, who had squeezed through the small opening through which their daily food was pushed. He purred madly, rubbing his face against her, despite his angry words.

"Where were you?" she demanded, still holding him tightly to her chest.

Trying to find a way to get you out of this mess, he answered, struggling suddenly to get free from her hold. When she loosened her arms, he jumped to the door, crawled through the opening, and leapt down and out of sight on the other side of the door. In another second he had leapt up and crawled through the opening again, something metal clamped between his teeth.

"The keys!" she realized, clutching him in a dangerously tight hug.

I— can't— breathe, he managed to meow. Releasing him, he exited through the small opening again, keys in his mouth. I'll try to unlock it from out here, but I'm not making any promises, he warned her. Remember, I don't have thumbs!

Adrenaline rushed through Alanna's veins as she waited for Faithful to unlock the cell. She heard the crinkle of the straw— George had rolled over. "What's happenin', love?" he asked sleepily.

"It's Faithful," she told him quietly, her heart pounding. "He has the keys— he's getting us out of here."

George got up carefully and made his way over to Alanna and the door. Attempting to peer through the opening, he watched as Faithful, who had gotten the key in the lock, fought to turn it. "Don't worry, I'm sure he'll get it soon," Alanna assured her friend. He wrapped his arms around her from behind.

Half an hour later, the lock made a clicking sound and using the food opening as a handhold, Alanna opened the door. It was still dark in the corridor, and the foul smell was strong. She and George followed Faithful, whom they could just barely see holding the keys in his mouth again, using the walls to guide them. "Do you know where Thom is?" the Lady Knight whispered, unsure if there were guards in the hall.

I think so, Faithful replied. We're going there now. After what seemed like a very long time to Alanna, Faithful stopped at another door and let George take the keys from his mouth. Turning the lock, he pushed open the door and stepped back.

"Who— who's there?" Thom's voice demanded shrilly from inside the cell.

"It's me, you idiot," Alanna retorted sharply. "We're getting out of here, so shut your mouth and hurry." A dark form— Thom— stepped out of the doorway of the cell and reached out to touch Alanna in the darkness. She grasped his wrists, noting that he, like she and George, wore the magic preventing manacles, and shoved him away in a few seconds, still angry.

"I need to explain— "

"There'll be other times for that," she whispered shortly. "We need to get out of here."

"An' quick!" George added. Voices coming their way could be heard in the hall. The little escape party groped their way along the walls quickly. The voices grew softer and the footsteps more distant. Finally they were completely inaudible. Slowing down slightly, Alanna reached out to feel the next portion of wall— and found herself at a dead end.

Groping frantically, she soon accepted that they really were at a dead end— stone walls on three sides and nowhere to go.

"I thought we were getting out of here!" Thom hissed nervously.

I'm sure this is the way I came… Faithful said uncertainly. Alanna had never heard him so unsure of himself.

"Let's just turn around and go back then," George ordered. Alanna moved to turn around when Faithful hissed and spat, his fur rising as his back arched.

"Ye didn't think it would be that easy, did ye?" asked a silky voice dripping with malice. Alanna jumped— it was coming from right next to her! Suddenly the corridor was lit brightly as several torches blazed to life at once. Before Alanna clamped her eyes shut, she saw a whole company of armed guards trapping them in the corner. When she could see again, she saw that the man who had spoken was as well-dressed as a noble. "I'm afraid my lord requires your presence," he said coolly, grinning at their surprise.

They were each, including Faithful, seized by two guards, huge men armed with spears and swords. The Lioness didn't bother to struggle, she knew that she couldn't break free of both the guards— even then, she'd be in the middle of an army!

"This way, please," instructed the well-dressed Rogue. He made his way to the head of the company and led them off down the corridor. Brought to the middle of the ranks of soldiers, Alanna, George, and Thom were marched up a staircase and down another hall, into a huge room.

Three nooses hung at the far end of the room, which was filled with many well-dressed Rogues, including Scar and the man Alanna had first fought with at the tavern, who rose as the company entered the room to come before him. "Welcome! I'm so glad you could make it," he said darkly as he surveyed them. "My people had a vote to decide which way you will die, and I'm afraid hanging won, though it was by a very close margin with torture. I hope you're not too disappointed." He laughed, the Rogues laughing with him. He waved his hand; the guards roughly turned them and shoved them towards the nooses. "Why don't you…oh, I don't know…just decapitate the cat," Scar suggested to the guards who carried Faithful, who twisted and hissed in their grasp.

All three struggled and fought as they were taken to the nooses, but were all shoved up onto the hanging platform. As the ropes were fastened around their necks, Alanna managed to kick one guard off the platform. Turning around quickly to take advantage of the situation, the one fallen was replaced with two more and the rope was tightened. She closed her eyes, thoughts racing…was this the end? She choked. "George…I love you. I'm sorry I didn't see it earlier."

She couldn't see him, but could hear him fighting off emotion. "I love ye too, lass, and always will."

"Good-bye," she whispered, opening her eyes to see the world one last time…

…And saw the Tortallan Rogues, led by Rispah, come charging into the room! Her heart leapt as she recognized many familiar faces, including Coram, rush into the room and charge the unprotected Tyran Rogues. All the guards were at the end of the room with the hanging platform; they quickly abandoned those posts to join in the battle and left Alanna, Thom, and George without much security.

"Kill them, you fools!" screamed Scar, ducking behind one of his soldiers in an effort to be saved from a Tortallan Rogue's deadly sword. The soldier guarding Alanna hastened to fit the noose correctly, but suddenly gasped and fell as a sword was run through his middle.

"Need some help?" a friendly female voice asked amiably as the noose holding Alanna was cut. She whirled around to face Rispah, who tossed her a sword. "Let's take care o' this scum," she said, cutting free Thom as another Rogue freed George.

Alanna grinned. "Sounds good to me!" They leapt back into battle, Alanna searching especially for Scar, though she didn't have much time to concentrate— despite their numbers and skill, the Tortallan Rogues weren't faring so well against the Tyrans. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Scar making a run for it out the door. Stabbing her current opponent in the side, she dashed out after him, seeing him dart down the hallway into another door.

Alanna ran after him, a wound in her thigh aching as she fought to keep up. Entering the room, Alanna found herself face-to-face with Scar, now holding a sword of his own. "Maybe you got away from them, princess, but you'll find I won' be so easy to beat!" he hissed, lunging for her angrily— she barely had time to dodge. He circled and lunged again, attacking incessantly. She wasn't very tired from the earlier fight, but she had no time to strike him when she had to constantly defend.

"You're no princess," he spat, breathing heavily, eyes wide. "You're just— "

"That's right, I'm not," she replied, beginning to attack as well as defend.

For a second he seemed confused, then started again with another insult. "You don't care about your Rogue friend…you just enjoy toying with his emotions, then running back to the prince. That's right, isn't it?" he grinned, seeing the anger grow on her face.

"Shut up!" Alanna shouted, her lunges going wide and her parries slightly late. Her opponent's insults usually didn't bother her, but what Scar was saying hurt something inside her and she couldn't ignore it. It was messing up her attack.

"You don't love him at all! Him or the prince." She raised her sword to deliver a high stroke and he stabbed her in the side. She fell to her knees, gasping in pain from the wound, while he stepped back and raised his sword to deliver a final blow.

A few seconds later, he fell to the ground dead. "That's not true," stated Alanna. Wiping her sword on his fine tunic, she limped from the room.

Alanna returned to the main room where she was supposed to have been executed. The battle was over— and the Tortallan Rogues had come back to win. Searching for her close friends, she jumped when a hand was set upon her shoulder. Turning around, she found Coram. They hugged tightly for a minute, then released each other.

"Are ye all right, lass?" he demanded, helping her over to rest against a wall.

She sighed. "I'll live. But— how did you know we were here? And how…?"

He chuckled softly. "We received a ransom fer George 'bout a day after ye and yer brother left. Actually, that sent us somewhere else, where they weren' so friendly. We had to engage in— 'aggressive negotiations.'"

"And what's that?"

"Negotiations with swords. They hadn' expected us t' come with an army." Alanna laughed as Coram filled her in on the news of the Rogues and how they had come to rescue them. He was telling her how they had found them in the maze of a place they were in when Faithful ran over and leapt in her lap.

I think you'd better come quick, he told her. Coram helped her as she struggled to her feet and followed the black cat as he made his way among the dead on the floor to the other side of the room, where several Rogues were crowding around in a circle. Faithful darted through their legs and Alanna peered through, gasped, and pushed her way in. "George!"

George was lying wounded on the stone floor, a deep cut in his side bleeding heavily. Rispah and another Rogue were tending to it the best they could, but it continued to bleed through many layers of bandages. "Let me through," Alanna ordered, moving to kneel next to George. Reaching for her Gift, she was reminded again of the still-existent manacles on her wrist by an unpleasant jolt— she cursed.

"Here, let me see your hands, Alanna," Thom said, pushing his way through the crowd of Rogues. He was carrying a set of silver keys, which quickly freed her from the biting iron. Now she could use her healing magic. She gently placed her hands on George's side, then turned around to bark at the Rogues: "Give him space! He's not going to die!"

George took one of her hands in his own. "Hullo, lass," he said weakly. "I must be getting old if I get done like this in a small fight like that." Alanna tried to smile but couldn't. His kind hazel eyes were warm as he smiled at her. "I love ye, and I'm glad ye know where ye belong now."

"I love you too," she whispered, bending down to kiss him tenderly on the lips. "And you're going to be fine," she assured him as purple fire flowed from her palms onto him. He sighed, released from pain, and closed his eyes.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alanna left the tent and returned to her spot next to her brother by the fire. He looked at her in question. "George is going to be fine," she said, the relief obvious in her voice. He patted her back and she sighed, closing her eyes. The Tortallan Rogues had left the Tyran Rogue capital and had set up their large camp far from it. Suddenly Thom laughed.

Alanna eyed him suspiciously. "What is it?" she demanded.

"I told Jon I'd look out for you and contact him, but I haven't communicated with him at all since we left the palace." He thought for a moment, then reached out to say a spell into the fire.

"No!" Alanna caught her twin's hand and pulled it back. He gave her another questioning look and she shook her head. "We'll deal with Jon when we get back."

He nodded. "All right then. Well…I guess I have some explaining to do." He reached under his shirt and removed the black opal.

Alanna nodded. "All right, I'm listening," she informed him grimly. "You'd better have a good story."

Author's Note: The whole deal with Thom/black opal isn't very important. Make up your own ending to that one. The epilogue is coming out soon, it's almost written! That is where the title comes into play…there I go, giving it all away.

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