A/N: I'm very sorry, this chap isn't as good as it should be! Thanks again for the reviews, I love hearing your opinions on my story, coz I think it belongs in the bin :P But anyway, here goes!



I quietly packed my books and things and left the busy classroom, saying a quick "goodbye" to the teacher.

Khalil was waiting outside the class for me, his own books in his hands. When he saw me, he shrugged off of the wall he'd been leaning against and walked beside me. We started making our way to the Market, as we'd done ever since we'd started going to "school".

Jon had decided that the girls sucked in from the Other World deserved to get an education, like real women, and sent us off to etiquette classes, which I had swapped for real classes. Like Maths, Science and Art.

The King hadn't been too happy, nor had the guys in my class, when I'd demanded my right as a new citizen of Tortall (which I'd applied for and got accepted, of course) to be educated as an equal.

The day I "demanded" my rights, Jon went right off, screaming his head off at me, saying there'll be a revolt if he ever let me in with "men who are after a real education". But the next day he surprised me by sending me an apology and saying I could do what I damn well liked (Thayet or Alanna had probably had a nice, long chat with him, in my favour), so long as I remained civil and didn't do anything illegal.

Now that was going to be hard. (Note the sarcasm)

So there I was, in Tortall, getting an education.

And on the hunt for the secret life of Atkin.

I still hadn't found any proof at all, and no assassination had happened the day after the ball, in fact, three weeks had passed since the ball. But I was on to him, I gave him the greasy whenever I passed by or saw him, and countless of times I'd gotten into a (physical) fight with him, where Roald, Khalil and Wyldon had had to tear us apart and send us to our rooms.

It was quite nasty.

'—so I think we should go, just this time, I mean you never know,' Khalil was saying.

'Hmm?'

'This party…I'll tell you later.'

We stopped in front of his room and dumped off the books. Just as we were about to head off, he said he had to go ask Serena something first, so I waited patiently in his room.

'Well, well.'

I jumped and turned to see Atkin, arms folded across his chest, leaning against the doorway, the ever-present sneer splattered across his face.

'Now this just made my day,' I said dryly. 'The positive-peak of my day, actually.'

He ignored my comments. 'What are you doing here?!'

'Do you own this room?' I asked calmly.

'What does that have to do with why you're here?' he shot back.

'Why are you yelling? I can bloody understand without you yelling!'

'Now that's bloody laughable! You don't understand bull, yelling or not!'

'I understand that you're a friggin' asshole, with an imaginary brain and a very screwed up personality!'

'Oh and you're perfect are you?'

'I never friggin' said I was, and I never act or talk like I'm a God like you do!'

'You don't even know me you dumb slut!'

'Don't you dare call me a friggin' slut!'

That was the point where all my anger spilled and I attacked, throwing a punch and receiving a kick in return.

In conclusion: hair was torn (from both parties), bones were cracked and muscles were stretched—too far—and that's how Khalil found us and dragged Atkin off and away from me.





And that's how I ended up in the Stump's office, anger still boiling dangerously.

'You?' Wyldon snapped, sitting at his desk. 'Again?'

I blushed and turned away from his intimidating glare, looking instead at the dim, cobbled floor.

It hadn't been my fault that asshole Atkin and me had nearly killed each other. He'd called me a bloody slut, what was I supposed to do, take the abuse with a smile and later on write him a pretty little thank you note?!

'Well, what did you do this time?' Wyldon was growling like a hungry grizzly bear.

'I thought you'd be informed,' I grumbled.

'Lord Wyldon.'

'Why do they always send me over to you, "Lord Wyldon"?'

'That's what I would like to know. But since you are under my care, it is my duty to punish you.'

'For what?' I yelped.

He looked at me indifferently. 'For attacking a squire and invading a squire's room without permission.'

'Attacking a squire? Invading?! You weren't even there!'

The Stump sighed with exaggerated patience. 'You are to be banned from the lessons which you have been taking, which I find very inappropriate for a girl like you to be studying—'

'Why do you find them inappropriate for me, Lord Wyldon?' I cut in fiercely.

Sexist pigs didn't quite make it to the top of my favourite-people's list. In fact, there were only a few people on that list. About five.

'You're a woman, what jobs could you take on if you studied Mathematics? There is no hope, no opportunities, so why do you even bother?'

'To prove to sexist idiots like you that we can make it if you give us a bloody chance!'

I could see the slow flow of steam rising up from his ears as his eyes bulged and his face turned red.

'You,' he said, in between gritted teeth, 'shall be banned from your lessons for three weeks, you will clean out the stables every night of those weeks and you will replace your normal lessons with etiquette classes, maybe then you'll learn some respect to your elders…and Royalties!'

'I've very friendly with the Royalties, Lord Wyldon, it's just sexist bigots who don't deserve respect that I despise.'

And that's how I nearly got kicked out of the Palace.





'Jon—'

'Your Majesty!'

'Ok ok…your Majesty, I'm telling you, it wasn't my fault, really, I mean—'

'Oh?' Jon said with raised eyebrows, a slow smile curving his lips. 'And how can't it be your fault, Reem? Lord Wyldon doesn't request permission to kick a young girl out of the Palace for no reason.'

'With all…respect…to Lord Wyldon's decision, I find many, many, many, many—'

'Get to the point Reem,' Jon sighed.

'—many flaws and errors! I mean, I demand a rebut!'

'A what?!'

'A chance to speak the truth!' I exclaimed angrily.

'I'm listening.'

'Well,' I started, 'I was waiting for Khalil to come back from wherever he was, in his room, which coincidently is also Atkin's room, when Atkin walked in. I was ok with it, until the "conversation" heated—'

'Oh give me a break Reem! How many times have you and Atkin's conversations "heated" up and ended up in bloodshed these past few weeks? I am sick of hearing the same thing over and over! I'd like to know exactly why you two despise each other so much! Then tell me not to kick you out of the Palace for highly insulting Lord Wyldon, a great man he is, abusing a squire countless of times and treating yours truly, by coincidence your King, with no respect…and chasing after the Prince even though you were ordered not to!'

I huffed and glared and growled, but it did no good, so I sighed and fell into the chair opposite Jon's desk, where he was sitting on his high, comfy chair of Royalty.

'Look, I'm glad you trust me so much, and think so highly of me, but Atkin has been deliberately rude, insulting and nasty towards me. I don't see any reason to accept that sort of attitude and hatred from someone I hardly—and in no way want to—know.

'But I am really not to blame here. I wouldn't have thrashed him if he hadn't called me a very despicable name.'

'And what was that?' Jon asked coolly.

'I don't think—'

A knock on the door interrupted our little pep talk.

'Come in,' the King called out, aggravation crossing his face as he sighed irritably.

A messenger came in and bowed, with utter respect, to the King and said in that dry, apathetic messenger voice: 'The Prince requests a private meeting with you, Your Majesty.'

My eyebrows shot up. His son had to request a private meeting to be able to see his own father?!

Jon's face automatically relaxed and to prove his moodiness, he seemed actually elated now.

'Yes, of course. Immediately…' the King concluded, dismissing the messenger and turning back to me. 'You may go back to your room now, but you shall obey the orders of Lord Wyldon, is that understood? Etiquette classes from now and for another three weeks, and if you miss out on even one lesson without a VERY good reason, an addition of a week will be added to your punishment.'

I was defeated.

'Yes, Your Majesty,' I grumbled, as I got up and walked out of the room.

I passed by Roald at the door and smiled, but he gave me the coldest look I could have ever witnessed, not even the slight hint of recognition on his face as he wordlessly closed the door behind me, leaving me to stare at the door dumbly and wonder how I'd screwed up this time.





My third day at etiquette class and I was nearly having a breakdown.

Jon had picked a different class than the one I'd gone too with Hayley, the one where the teacher had nearly had a heart attack, because of me of course.

This class, if possible, was worse.

I couldn't stand the pompous, giggly teacher, the excited, boring "ladies" who were coincidently my peers and the whole damn class that was filled with bustling woman who were putting on the fakest show of "striving towards becoming a decent lady".

All they were really doing was creating a selfish, air-headed shell about them, hiding their true personalities, and learning to say "yes, of course, with all pleasure" to whatever a man said.

I bet if one of them got married and had gotten bashed up by her husband, she'd smile and say "thank you, sir!"…

But I had to cut them some slack, they seemed to want so bad to become a "lady" and fit into society, that only seemed to accept bimbo-headed weakling of girls who'd obey their men till death and back, that they were taking classes for it.

It was revolting.

'Come on, Reem! Let's try the quiz together!' a girl called Desra said with such a bubbly, pitched voice that I had to physically stop myself from laughing.

She was the spitting image, and voice, of a "true lady" of Tortall.

Her long, silky dark blond hair gracefully fell down her slender body, to her waist, and her sparkling blue eyes were filled with innocence, while her full lips pouted out sulkily.

'Ah, right, ok…' I mumbled, following her to the "quiz area", where the teacher would put forth a situation for us and we'd have to analyse it and come up with answers to the way we act and speak.

I was so bored, I decided to play around with the ladies' minds a bit.

The teacher beamed when she saw me come up to her private desk with Desra. 'Well, Reem, you've finally decided to join us!'

I was laughing hard on the inside, insults flying everywhere, but I just smiled and nodded. 'Fun for all!' I giggled and looked as dumbly as possible at the teacher, who seemed delighted at my change.

'Well,'—she always loved to start her sentences with "well", as if everything she said was well-thought—'I suppose you'd like to start with the quiz!'

She pursed her lips and tapped her quill against the inkwell in silent thoughtfulness. Moments later, she said, 'Uh-huh! Got it, all right ladies.

'You are face-to-face with a thief, who's already stolen your purse, he has a dagger at your throat and is threatening to kill you if you don't give him more money! What do you do?'

Des was nearly squealing as she fought to think hard and come up with a solution.

'Easy,' I said, smiling.

'Yes, Reem?' the teacher said with excitement.

'You give him more money, and then when he's about to run off with it like a bloody coward, knuckle him down and pound the shit out of him, and then take the dagger off him and throw it away, kick him some more, and then take back your money and leave him to rot and die like the scum he is.'

The whole class was silent—my voice was relatively loud—and the teacher looked so mortified, I had to smile casually for her to blink and remind me she's not the statue of Mortification but a human lady who's out to destroy the free spirit of young girls.

Des was squealing still, but this time she was disgusted and was trying to think up something good to insult or degrade me with, but she was well-trained and could only huff and puff, as if re-enacting the Big Bad Wolf.

'No,' the teacher breathed, now angry. 'No that is not at all what you do! How dare you use that language? You're not a lady…you're…you're a boy!'

I couldn't contain myself, so I burst out laughing. 'A…boy? Is that all you could come up with!? God, you really do have air whistling around the space where your brain should have been, don't you?'

Gaping at me, the teacher found the brain cells to bring her hand up to slap me, but I was very well-trained thank you very much, and held her arm back.

'Don't bother.' I smiled down at her—surprisingly enough, she was shorter than me—and dropped her arm.

'Get out!' the teacher shrieked, her spit just missing my face.

'Oh, you etiquette teachers are great, you know. Realizing how bloody desperate I am to get out of your boring, manipulating classes,' I spat at her ruthlessly, eyeing her sternly before collecting my books and walking out of the classroom.

'I cannot believe Wyldon made me do this!' I was growling angrily to myself while I walked pretty quickly towards my room. I wasn't looking in front of me to see where I was going, and to the utter sake of cliché, I walked right into someone and my books got thrown about.

'How wonderful!' I snapped, collecting my books. 'This is just happy hour isn't it! Thanks man, just what I needed!'

'Sorry,' the person mumbled in reply.

I looked up to see who it was and my stomach did triple-flip, and by the time I had control over my body again, Roald had already turned his back and walked away.

If I went after him, technically I'd have to apologize for whatever it is I have or haven't done to get him so upset and we'd be friends again. If I didn't go after him, well then he'll just cool off and apologize to me for being so distant.

'ROALD!'

He stopped and looked back.

I ran to catch up to him and when I did, I blurted out, 'Roald I'm so sorry!'

'For what?' he replied coolly, not bothering to look at me.

'Exactly, I don't know. So tell me.'

Roald looked over his shoulder, as if someone was after him, and turned to me and sighed. 'You haven't done anything. Please, just go!'

'Then why are you ignoring me?'

'I can't talk right now. I have to go,' Roald dismissed me with irritation, turning around and walking away.

'The Prince break your heart?' a whining voice from behind me made me jump.

'Get lost Atkin,' I growled impatiently, and slowly made my way back to my room, my original path.

'Never trust Royalties. They get bored easily,' Atkin purred, very quickly getting on my nerves. 'And anyway, the Prince never really wanted you.'

I turned around and glared irately as possible at him, wishing he'd go away and stop me from thrashing him and ending up under Wyldon's spiteful sneer again. 'Yeah, and you really care.'

He walked on beside me, smiling innocently. 'And why wouldn't I care?'

'Coz you're an emotionless bastard,' I said, smiling back, just as innocently.

'Ouch, that hurt Reem. Come on, don't you wish we could have became friends?'

'Oh but being enemies is so much more fun!' I replied, mock-cheerfully.

He grabbed my hand and twisted it.

'I know you read my mind at the ball, and I don't think it's a good idea for you to get involved,' he suddenly hissed, his grip on my hand painful.

'Let me go,' I snapped, shaking his hand off.

'If I see you trying to read my thoughts a time again, I will personally make sure you'll die a long, painful, torturing death, got that?'

His gaze was threatening as turned around and walked off.

It's not me who's going to pay, Atkin, I thought solemnly. Just pray I don't catch you, because if I do, there will be no long, painful death. Your life will be so miserable and full of hate, you'd throw yourself in flames before you'd face another day of it. Have fun while you can, I'm watching you and I'll keep watching you until the day you start your long, miserable life in hell…