No answer.



No answer.



With a sigh, the red haired young woman poked her head out of the other room, irritation written all over her face.

What is it? she demanded.

It's midday, Ryana replied, nodding and smiling encouragingly at the elegantly dressed servant next to her.

Alanna crossed her arms over her chest, tapping her foot impatiently. Ever since they arrived the evening before, the young woman had been testy, snapping at the slightest irritation. This was all due to the fact that she was now in the same building as her betrothed. Still, Ryana sometimes felt like shaking her friend until the pieces of her brain rattled back into place.

The servant, clearing his throat softly, stepped forward. My lady, Squire Thom of Trebond sent me to bring you to him. He informs me that he wishes a word before you go meet His Grace, the Duke of Conté.

If Alanna felt anything, she kept it hidden. Instead, she sighed and looked away, the irritation replaced by a sudden fear. Of course, she said softly. She brought her eyes back to the man. One moment.

Blinking rapidly, she disappeared into her room, where she hurriedly pulled on a light lavender dress which flattered her immensely. With trembling fingers, she loosened her hair, watching dully as the coppery locks fell past her elbows. She quickly shoved in the pins that would keep stray locks out of her face, then hurried back to the waiting Ryana and the servant. I'm going to meet him looking my best, she thought, straightening her shoulders as she followed the man out of the room.

But no matter how strong she resolved to be, by the time the servant stopped at a door which had a plaque with Thom of Trebond written on it, her palms were moist and she was trembling. Alanna closed her eyes and tried to think of something - anything - else.

Meanwhile, the servant was knocking quietly on the door and answering the muffled question which came from inside. A moment later, the door opened; so did Alanna's eyes. When she saw who stepped out, she smiled nervously.

Thom. Her twin. Still her height, with the same violet eyes - but there the similarities stopped. Where her skin was pale and her hair was a dark, fluid copper, Thom's head of sun-bleached red contrasted with a tanned complexion, darkened by hours spent working outside. He wasn't overly muscled, but his shoulders had filled out. He looked as if he had his body in total control.

Shooting the servant a pointed glance, Thom lunged forward, grabbed Alanna roughly by the arm, and pulled her inside the room, locking the door behind him. Then, and only then, did he wrap his arms tightly around her.

She found herself doing the same. Then she pulled away so she could look at her twin clearly. Thom took the opportunity and did the same.

It was more than she could manage; her voice cracked. She flashed him a watery smile.

replied Thom softly, still looking her over. This situation strikes me as similar. You in a dress, me in rough clothing, both unhappy with the situation.

With a strangled laugh, she hugged him again. I'm never unhappy when I'm with you, she whispered.

Thom sighed. Grasping her shoulders, he held her at arm's length away. I just wanted to look at you properly before I had to introduce you to them, he whispered, eyes searching her face. To...to see if... He swallowed. You've changed.

Suddenly the floor seemed very interesting. Alanna licked dry lips. Have I?

I don't know, was the reply. It was followed by a slow exhalation of breath. Thom's hard hand found hers and he opened the door once more, nodding at the servant.

Take us to the Conté's.