Disclaimer: If I was meant to own this then I would own it but since I can't own it since Tamora Pierce owns it I'm not meant to own it because I don't own it.

Fair enough?

I own:

Armalin, Devon, Quinn, Psyche, the High Priest, Amarna (in later chapters) and other peeps u don't recognize.

A/N: You have no idea how much I love your reviews! You all help my writing more than I can say!!! I've written up to chapter seventeen now, so it's only a matter of time.

Chapter 11 - Not-so-Friends Forever

Devon sat angrily watching Neal sleep like a baby through the storm. He was breathing softly, his sides rising and falling in a light rhythm, and his eyes peacefully closed, mouth turned up at the corners slightly in a small smile. She snorted to herself and looked out the window, watching as the lightning hit the ground just outside, snaking around a tree's trunk, blasting shreds off of its heavy wood branches, causing some to fall with a snap and a crash. Leaves were flowing hither and yon, whipping past Devon's face, which seemed to perch curiously on the windowsill, looking through the flat, plain pane of glass.

It had been a tradition with her father. He would creep into her bedroom late at night and wake her with a soft shake and say her name softly. When she was awake, they'd go out to the gardens, walking the cobblestone paths, seeing lightning streak across the sky like a highlight of sunshine on a wave's crest. He'd lead her courteously like she was a Lady in court, his arm offered. She'd play along, stepping radiantly in her forest green nightgown trimmed with light green lace. They'd stay out late into the night to watch the white demons chase across the sky, and listen to the soothing sounds of the light rain and confident rumble of thunder. There'd be quiet whinnies of 'all's well' from the stables as the horses reassured each other. The lightning would be mirrored in the small pond fed by a trickle of water, and they could watch the clouds staring at the water's surface.

Devon suddenly blinked, and looked around. Instead of the beautiful gardens bathed in moonlight and lightning's flashes, she was in a rugged roadhouse, with barely any windows, and no good way to watch the lightning. Already its roars of thunder were dying to quiet grumbles.

Devon stood, leaning on her crutch, walking up the stairs and finding the largest window in the upper hall open. She put her crutch through first, and then slid through the gap herself, seating herself on the roof of the humble abode. The scratchy thatch did not bother her; her eyes and her heart were fixed upward, watching the lightning fade away with the fixation born of awe.

Rolling onto her stomach, she left her crutch and hauled herself up the roof until she sat on the highest point. From here she could see over the tops of the trees, over what seemed to be the whole expanse of Tortall. The cool wind and light, misting rain calmed her, and she laid back on the roof's arch, using her arm as a pillow. A small drop of mist dripped from a hair that fell over her face onto her nose, but she couldn't tell. Her gray eyes were closed, and in the world of dreams she was back home in the gardens, watching the white demons run across their majestic playground of a thunderhead, her hand in the crook of her father's arm.

*~*~*~*

Dom woke early, tucking his nightshirt into his breeches and pulling on his boots, deciding to check on how the two friends Neal and Devon were faring. He stumbled downstairs and splashed cool, fresh rainwater on his face, shaking water droplets from his hair before he went inside.

Neal was on his bench, asleep. The bench which Devon had occupied was deserted. The cushions were somewhat disheveled and the blanket was gone. Frowning, Dom shook Neal until his cousin opened his green eyes.

"Is she in Kel's room?" He asked.

"Who?" Neal asked tiredly, rubbing his face to wake himself up.

"Devon, Meathead." Dom said impatiently. Neal glared.

"That's Sir Meathead, if you don't mind."

"I'm not waking you up to swap nicknames, cousin." Dom said, "I want to know where Devon is."

"I don't know." Neal said, rising and stretching. Dom eyed him warily.

"Really." He said suspiciously. Neal looked at him as if realizing what Dom was thinking at the moment. He dropped the towel he had used to dry his face after he had splashed water on it, and narrowed his eyes at his cousin.

"Oh, please, she didn't get you, too?" Neal complained dramatically, sitting back on his bench as if it was the end of the world.

"No one got to me." Dom snapped, "But I won't deny that I suspect that you know where Devon is." Neal looked shocked.

"Me?!" He demanded. "My own cousin betrays me for a strange girl with one working leg?" Dom laughed dryly.

"I am not betraying you, Sir Meathead." He said. "But if you don't know where Devon is, where is she?"

*~*~*~*

Devon opened her eyes and looked around, feeling cool winds lap at her skin as if gently telling her to rise. The sky was gray, the ground wet and muddy, a remnant of the night's storm. Below her she could see the horse pens, of which were two. One held five horses, a red roan, a chestnut, a gray, and two dark bays. In the pen beside them was Psyche, looking every inch the proud prince he was.

He danced around his pen, stopping every few steps to whinny. His hooves churned the soft ground into smooth mud that sucked at his hooves, so every step was greeted with a loud squelch. Devon smiled and began to slowly get down from the roof. Her crutch would have been useless up here anyways, so she whistled for Psyche, and he trotted over. She slid off the edge and landed half on his back, grabbing a fistful of white mane to steady herself. With a light thump, she landed one-footed on the ground, hobbling around the side of the house to where her crutch lay, just under the overhang.

Hauling herself up the porch steps, she heard voices inside the house, and strained her ears to hear the words.

"Where could she be?"

"I don't suppose she ran off."

"Of course not, her horse was still in the pen a few minutes ago."

"Neal, are you sure you don't."

"No!" Neal exclaimed indignantly.

Devon suppressed a laugh at Neal's wounded reply. She knew it wasn't his fault and he had nothing to do with it, but she still felt a part of her say, "So ha." Deciding to come to Neal's rescue, though why she didn't know, she stumbled inside leaning on her crutch, smiling.

"Good morning all." She said. Everyone turned to look at her, each looking more surprised than the next. Neal had a look of triumph on his face, and Dom looked stunned.

"Where were you?" Kel asked worriedly.

"I was up on the roof, watching lightning last night. I must have fallen asleep up there." She said, "Cool winds and rain always lull me to sleep." She added for good measure.

"And this cousin of mine had nothing to do with it?" Dom asked.

"Of course not. He didn't bother me at all." Devon refined her facial expression to seem to be puzzled and saying plainer than words, 'Why ever would he do that?' Neal gave her a look that seemed to say, 'I don't really know why you're vouching for me, but thanks anyway.' She returned his look with a small nod, and looked back at Kel and Dom, who were looking at each other and talking softly.

"I'm starving." Devon interrupted. She watched their reactions, deciphering each one to see what they were talking about. Merric was the one to respond to her statement, and with a courteous bow, he took a longbow from the door.

"I'll get us some breakfast." He said in explanation.

"Devon, Neal." Kel said, "Can you warm up the cooking fire and get the rest of the vegetables from the pantry, and cut them up for us please? Dom, Owen and I are going to ride out to the next roadhouse a few miles away and get the news from Lord Wyldon. We'll be back by sundown."

Neal and Devon grimaced, but didn't say anything as the others left. Devon followed Neal outside, where he started a fire. He tossed her a knife and a few carrots, and they began to cut in silence.

Neal nicked himself with the knife and cursed lowly, much to Devon's delight. She nimbly cut the carrots to pieces and tossed them into the pot of water that rested on a bar, hanging over the flames. One carrot was twisted and old looking. Devon whistled and Psyche came, taking a bite off the carrot, which she held securely in her hand. She bit off a piece for herself, and Neal made a small noise of protest beside her. Raising an eyebrow, she gave the rest to Psyche.

"You always share food with animals like that?" Neal asked.

"He isn't my 'animal' he's my comrade." Devon said, chewing the carrot thoughtfully, tasting the sweetness in its orange bites. Psyche took the ends of her carrots that she'd cut off and nibbled on them in a refined way. Neal glared at her, and in return got a piece of carrot square between the eyes.

At first he seemed too surprised to do anything much, and at that Devon was relieved. He was rude, too sure of himself, annoying, bratty, spoiled, Crack!

"OUCH MITHROS DAMNIT!" Devon exclaimed loudly. It must have been quite a sudden noise, because there was silence even from the animals of the woods for a few moments before time stopped standing still. Neal grinned at her evilly as a red welt appeared on her hand. A ladle, the weapon of choice in the committing of the crime, lay beside the fire harmlessly.

"Well, that certainly was an outburst." Neal said smugly, a challenging smirk lighting up his face with mischief, as if daring her outright to come and pound his face into the ground. Devon looked from her bleeding, angry red hand to Neal and back at her hand, all her nerves finally overcoming their shock and beginning to whine, "It hurts it hurts!" Devon took the ladle, a confident, secretive smile on her face, looking at Neal out of the corner of her eye. When he turned back to stirring the carrots in the hot water, she lunged.

"Nealan of Queensfuckingcove I am GOING TO WHIP YOUR SORRY ASS!"

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