Yes, after an absurdly long break, I've managed to produce another chapter.
If you can call it that; it's quite short, which is due to my excessive
guilt.I thought, ya know, there won't be another chapter until Christmas
break, prob'ly.and I needed to decide if I was physically/mentally capable
of writing more on the story. I kinda lost a little interest.I'm still not
sure whether to continue beyond the chapters that I've promised my dear
Sarcasm Queen-er, A Rose by Any Other Name (what a mouthful!). Please let
me know if there is an audience for the story. Please. ^_^
~*~*~
"I don't like it!" Thayet declared angrily, breaking her dinner roll with a vengeance. "Not once has Tusaine kept their word to Tortall, not once. What reason should they have to start now?" "Now, now," Jonathan responded mildly as he pulled the helpless roll out of his wife's ruthless hands. "As of late, Tusaine has been quite dependable. Ever since the Battle for the Drell Valley, they've held to our treaties honorably." "And I suppose you simply choose to overlook the Riders' increasing reports of Tusainian infiltration in that area?" Thayet snapped. "A matter of the Tusainian Rogue, or a misjudgment of my officers?" Again Jonathan attempted to soothe his queen, but he knew better than to remind her that she'd long ago given up command of the Riders. Sighing, Jon said, "The marriage would provide a precious alliance with Tusaine. The infiltration that you speak of would certainly cease after such an affiliation was established." "I'm sick of bartering our children off like cows at a peasant fair, just for alliances!" Thayet cried. "Does it not matter that they have lives of their own to live?" "We're not bartering, though," he reminded her. "Lianne and Branten are in love; she wants to marry. And you've met Branten. He's a good fellow." Thayet snorted softly, then snatched the roll back from her husband and devoured it purposefully. "Oh, fine," she muttered, glaring at Jon. "I suppose we'd better let Lianne know."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
From the moment Lianne received her parents' agreement to the marriage, her life accelerated into a blur. Between meetings with the floral arranger and the head chef and the court painter, she prepared for the next round of the Games. In addition, Jonathan insisted his daughter take part in working out a new Tusainian relations accord, in order to prepare her for regency and also for her to witness the long consequences of the actions of royalty. Lianne felt (quite correctly) the last bit was something of an admonishment. Oddly enough, those meetings were the only times Lianne saw Branten. It seemed he had no taste for the "womanly arts" of planning weddings, but instead favored working with Jonathan to convince his own father, the aged King Ain, of the marriage's benefits. Branten's cooperation went a long way to help Thayet's approval of him; for some reason Lianne couldn't comprehend, her mother regarded Branten in deep suspicion. In the midst of this bustle, Lianne had progressed to the last semi-final round of the Games. If she passed this round, she would compete for the top five places-she would be among the top five most talented original mages in the lands. If she did not pass, she would still leave the competition with honors.still, how wonderful to be a part of the final elite. These thoughts echoed, in beat with her throbbing headache, as Lianne sat in the great hall in the last semi-final lineup. All morning she had been experiencing a headache that was totally unnatural in both its sudden manifestation and its acute persistence. Lianne found it hard to concentrate on the ongoing competition with her head pounding relentlessly.
"Princess Lianne of Contè, Tortall!" called the competition director. Remembering dully that she was supposed to go into the center of the hall, Lianne dragged her instruments along with her and collapsed on the chair. She picked up the steel drums and forced herself to strike them in the frustration demonstration; gasping, Lianne grimaced as the pain in her head increased. When she realized through the agony that her act was not succeeding in its emotional effect, Lianne plunged into the next demonstration with all the vigor she could muster. Wiping sweat off her forehead with a weary hand, she discarded her xylophone and reached down to the floor for the zither. Suddenly, pain shot through her head like crackling lightning, and she couldn't hold back the small sob which erupted from her lips. Mindlessly, she began the next emotion; within a few seconds of beginning, the pain tripled again, and Lianne closed her eyes in despair. An image immediately sprouted in her mind as the pain subsided a bit: a diamond, carved in a thousand faces so that it shone with a full spectrum, beautiful to the point of painful to behold, sparkling like the starred eyes of a God. The zither clattered out of her limp fingers onto the tiled floor as she crumpled.
~*~*~
I know. Another lame cliffhanger. I had to stop somewhere, and besides, I have wretched schoolwork to slave over.
~*~*~
"I don't like it!" Thayet declared angrily, breaking her dinner roll with a vengeance. "Not once has Tusaine kept their word to Tortall, not once. What reason should they have to start now?" "Now, now," Jonathan responded mildly as he pulled the helpless roll out of his wife's ruthless hands. "As of late, Tusaine has been quite dependable. Ever since the Battle for the Drell Valley, they've held to our treaties honorably." "And I suppose you simply choose to overlook the Riders' increasing reports of Tusainian infiltration in that area?" Thayet snapped. "A matter of the Tusainian Rogue, or a misjudgment of my officers?" Again Jonathan attempted to soothe his queen, but he knew better than to remind her that she'd long ago given up command of the Riders. Sighing, Jon said, "The marriage would provide a precious alliance with Tusaine. The infiltration that you speak of would certainly cease after such an affiliation was established." "I'm sick of bartering our children off like cows at a peasant fair, just for alliances!" Thayet cried. "Does it not matter that they have lives of their own to live?" "We're not bartering, though," he reminded her. "Lianne and Branten are in love; she wants to marry. And you've met Branten. He's a good fellow." Thayet snorted softly, then snatched the roll back from her husband and devoured it purposefully. "Oh, fine," she muttered, glaring at Jon. "I suppose we'd better let Lianne know."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
From the moment Lianne received her parents' agreement to the marriage, her life accelerated into a blur. Between meetings with the floral arranger and the head chef and the court painter, she prepared for the next round of the Games. In addition, Jonathan insisted his daughter take part in working out a new Tusainian relations accord, in order to prepare her for regency and also for her to witness the long consequences of the actions of royalty. Lianne felt (quite correctly) the last bit was something of an admonishment. Oddly enough, those meetings were the only times Lianne saw Branten. It seemed he had no taste for the "womanly arts" of planning weddings, but instead favored working with Jonathan to convince his own father, the aged King Ain, of the marriage's benefits. Branten's cooperation went a long way to help Thayet's approval of him; for some reason Lianne couldn't comprehend, her mother regarded Branten in deep suspicion. In the midst of this bustle, Lianne had progressed to the last semi-final round of the Games. If she passed this round, she would compete for the top five places-she would be among the top five most talented original mages in the lands. If she did not pass, she would still leave the competition with honors.still, how wonderful to be a part of the final elite. These thoughts echoed, in beat with her throbbing headache, as Lianne sat in the great hall in the last semi-final lineup. All morning she had been experiencing a headache that was totally unnatural in both its sudden manifestation and its acute persistence. Lianne found it hard to concentrate on the ongoing competition with her head pounding relentlessly.
"Princess Lianne of Contè, Tortall!" called the competition director. Remembering dully that she was supposed to go into the center of the hall, Lianne dragged her instruments along with her and collapsed on the chair. She picked up the steel drums and forced herself to strike them in the frustration demonstration; gasping, Lianne grimaced as the pain in her head increased. When she realized through the agony that her act was not succeeding in its emotional effect, Lianne plunged into the next demonstration with all the vigor she could muster. Wiping sweat off her forehead with a weary hand, she discarded her xylophone and reached down to the floor for the zither. Suddenly, pain shot through her head like crackling lightning, and she couldn't hold back the small sob which erupted from her lips. Mindlessly, she began the next emotion; within a few seconds of beginning, the pain tripled again, and Lianne closed her eyes in despair. An image immediately sprouted in her mind as the pain subsided a bit: a diamond, carved in a thousand faces so that it shone with a full spectrum, beautiful to the point of painful to behold, sparkling like the starred eyes of a God. The zither clattered out of her limp fingers onto the tiled floor as she crumpled.
~*~*~
I know. Another lame cliffhanger. I had to stop somewhere, and besides, I have wretched schoolwork to slave over.