Ilaria woke to a cold daybreak and a feeling of peace. It was still dark outside, but with the faint lightening of the horizon that suggested dawn was not so very far away. She could not remember a time when she had not been awake to see the sun rise, and some things didn't change.
It was only a few weeks to the Midwinter Solstice, and there was an iciness in the air that penetrated even through the thick bedclothes. She contemplated just lying there a while longer, but she knew that realistically she would only get colder and let a chill settle into her muscles that would linger uncomfortably for the rest of the day. Reluctantly she pushed back the covers and sat up, but didn't get out of the bed. Taking advantage of the quiet moments to reflect on yesterday's events, she drew her legs up to her chest and hugged them close to her in a vain attempt to preserve some residue of warmth and stared out of the window at the bleak sky, turning things over in her mind.
Uneducated Ilaria might be but she was not ignorant. Although reading and the more conventional lessons still remained merely an option for older students rather than being compulsory for all, Ilaria had been lucky in that both the Shang Hound and the Hare before him had been strong believers in teaching through experience. As a child Garra Westling had taught her to watch, to be alert, to listen and remember; when Riane had taken over her teaching he had made her put those skills to use throughout their travels in much of the Western continent. Garra had perhaps been too successful; Ilaria had picked up information in much the same way that a cat picked up fleas: entirely indiscriminately.
Much of the journey here had been spent sulking and applying her mind to devising various schemes and plots for manipulating events to her advantage, only to have to discard them almost immediately. While it might be futile at least doing something, anything at all was preferable to wallowing in misery that she had no hope of avoiding. The disruption to her plans would have been vexing, were it not for the other unexpected opportunities that had presented themselves. In Alanna she had found the one thing that she had not taken into consideration: sympathy.
This would never have happened in the Yamani Isles.
A smile twitched at the corner of her mouth – the crown prince here was married to a Yamani princess, wasn't he? She remembered a Yamani proverb that had been quoted at her once to check a particular bout of bad temper: 'ju yoku go o seisu; kunshi hyohen'. As far as she could recall, it meant something like 'win by yielding, for the wise man changes his mind' Remarkably apt, giving the current situation. Yesterday, she had rebelled so strongly at that very thought; today, in a better temper and clearer mind, she had arrived at the same conclusion of her own accord. The irony of it was not lost on her.
Squaring it with her conscience was a little harder, especially when she was still young enough to be prone to melodrama. Even thinking about changing her mind produced feelings of guilt at turning her back on Shang, however irrational when it was really they who had turned their back on her. 'It's only for a few months', she told herself, with definite self-denial, 'and besides, it's not really that bad here. I can get through this.'
Watching the first pale rays of sunlight reaching tenderly upwards to wash over the landscape she smiled unconsciously, feeling more resolved and slipped out of bed determinedly, wincing when her bare feet made contact with the cold stone floor. Although by rights people should be about by now, no fire had been laid in the grate. There was a pair of crumpled leggings lying by the bed; she pulled them on under the loose shirt she had worn to bed and set to work rolling up the rug that covered part of the floor. It left a large bare space where she promptly set to work on some basic exercises, getting ready to move onto some more demanding footwork. If there was nobody here to supervise her training and make her seek to extend her skills, then she would just have to do it herself. While they could take away her right to a name, they couldn't take away who she was. She was Shang inside, in her blood, and that would remain whether they chose to accept her or not.
The loud, insistent ring of a bell distracted her mind in the middle of a complex maneuver, causing her to fumble the motion. Annoyed at herself, she gritted her teeth and repeated it stubbornly, losing herself again in the liquid feeling of just being. The second interruption, the door opening, jarred into her consciousness so suddenly she jumped in surprise and span round to meet the intruder with fists already clenched as if preparing for a fight.
"Oh good, you're up," Alanna said calmly. "The rest of us had dawn worship, but I didn't want to wake you; you looked like you needed rest last night." She glanced over at the empty fireplace and frowned. "When I told the servants not to disturb you, I didn't mean they shouldn't come in here at all. Are you cold?"
"Not any more," Ilaria assured her; the early exercise had banished any chill she'd been feeling before.
Alanna shrugged, "Well I am. My old bones don't like the winters any more…they've finally caught up with the rest of me on that count." The fireplace glowed violet, settling to burn with a bright crackling flame. Ilaria tried to move away from it discreetly. "It warms just as well as if it were real," the Lioness pointed out with a slightly affronted air as she caught the movement, but she didn't bother to press the issue. Instead, she looked Ilaria over pointedly, eyes lingering on her rumpled hair and state of semi-dress. "Get yourself clothed properly and then you'd better come and eat."
Authors note:
* guilty face * Yes I know, it's taken me forever to update. Had real problems with writing this chapter for some reason, so what you're reading is actually the fourth draft of the third attempt, or something like that. I originally planned to make it much longer, then realised I'm going on holiday on Monday so I'm running very low on time. Found a convenient stopping point and cut everything else.
Again, thankee to the reviewers. 'Specially Polkat for beta-ing and Alianne for making me keep writing. Yay, ppl think I've kept true to the original books! (that's what I was aiming for at least, only less Mary-Sue-ism.) I know Ilaria's had a bit of a personality shift this chapter, but Polkat was complaining she was boring and complained too much. Plot manipulation to lessen this ensues…just hope it's not too noticeable.
Indigo Star – my first real criticism! Hurrah! * calms down slightly * Ok, answers: A) Yes, all the chapters for this will be one worded I think. I know it's kinda abstract, but think back to your english classes and you'll probably find some deep and meaningful significance in them…maybe…kinda. For the record, the 'temper' that this chapter is referring to isn't emotion, but the process of heating steel to a high temperature to strengthen it. See, I did learn something in Tech. I don't understand what you said about 'opposite'. B) Plot holes? Noooooooooooooo! Where? Must correct them! C) Parentage doesn't matter. I promise there will be no 'oh my god, I've just discovered I'm the illegitimate daughter of Liam Ironarm/Raoul/Gary/Alex etc [insert canon character of choice] here. (unless I really run out of ideas ;)
And yeah, my grammar probably does have major faults. But I can't be bothered to go find them right now. If anyone gets really bored, or just annoyed by it, feel free to email me corrections. Then I'll post em up, and go find your story to obsessively nitpick :p Mwahahahahahaha…
