A/N: I am so sorry I haven't posted in so long! It's just that high school sucks up my time like and SUV sucks gas, so yeah. That was an interesting simile.

Disclaimer: Now, let's think about this. Do you think I'd be as broke as I am if I'd written those books?

A/N2: I found a horrible mistake in Tamora Pierce's books! Aaaah! Okay, as you well know, she says that Peachblossom was a destrier, smaller than the larger warhorses. Well, a destrier IS a warhorse. Destrier is French for "right-hander" which is how the squire led the horse when his knight went into battle. So anyhoo.just had to get that off my back. And palfreys are quality riding horses, which is probably what she meant by destrier, so that;s how I'll call them in this story.

Long story short:

Destrier=warhorse Palfrey=quality riding horse

Chapter 13 - Friendly Conversation

When Quinn woke one morning a week later, he was greeted with the anxious stomping of horses, and the thoughtful chewing of horses in their grain. He rolled onto his stomach and looked down, seeing Devon shivering as she tossed the bucket of grain into the storeroom and began to measure out flakes of hay in a bale, after each cut giving one flake to each horse. Quinn came down the ladder, and helped Devon cart water into the stables for the mounts.

When they were done, Quinn brought Wesley in from outside and tied him in front of Psyche's stall, where he knew the two horses would stay out of trouble. The gray snorted and took a mischievious bite from Psyche's grain.

He turned just in time to catch a brush that flew at him. Devon smiled at him dryly and began to work the mud stains out of Wesley's coat with the stiff bristles of the brush. Her gray eyes seemed focused on something other than the gray horse in front of her, and the brushstrokes were deft, as if there wasn't any motivation behind them. Still, he didn't ask.

The next day they were to leave for Corus for the Midwinter festivals. It was to be a new experience for the both of them, as the gods didn't hold parties. They invited each other to dinner, maybe went on rides or picnics in the summer together, but there were not balls or social events in the Realms. This was in part that the Black God disliked social events and dancing to the extremes. He even had been reluctant to practice a dance with his daughter, who he'd never been reluctant about anything with. Quinn chuckled at the thought.

"What is it?" Devon asked, turning towards him, an eyebrow raised and her mouth up in one of its trademark crooked smiles that, instead of spreading out wide, seemed to crawl more up one side than the other.

"I was thinking about these Midwinter festivals everyone here has been speaking of." He said, "Or more specifically, how much milord dislikes social events." That drew a laugh from Devon's lips as she nodded, remembering.

"I don't see what's so special about them. Surely tournaments are interesting enough, I'd gather, but what is it about women in dresses and men in their finest holding hands as they go through steps of a dance?"

"I was looking forward to the 'women in dresses part'." Quinn said evilly. Devon faked a shocked look and slapped him lightly across the face. They were laughing when Kel came into the barn, her breeches stained and Peachblossom trailing behind her.

If Quinn noticed Devon's eyes grow colder and her body tense as Kel tied Peachblossom in his stall, he didn't mention it. The girl just stripped off Peachblossom's tack nonchalantly, as if neither Devon or Quinn existed.

"Well, Devon, I'll be going now." He whispered to her, and with a slight nod to Kel, he slipped a bridle over Wesley's head and led him outside, leaving Devon and the aforementioned girl alone.

Silence that seemed as uncomfortable as too-tight breeches stretched between them, and Kel kept opening her mouth as if to say something, but closing it as Devon's eyes met hers, leaving things unsaid. She watched as Devon washed her horse's tack lovingly, carefully cleaning every inch of the thin leather bridle and the stirrups on the saddle, which had curiously low front and back pieces.

"What kind of saddle is it?" Kel asked quietly. Devon stopped cleaning for a second, then went back to the action and muttered,

"The one you sit in when you're on a horse." Her voice was colder than ice, dripping with sarcasm. It seemed like something Neal might have said, before Yuki had chewed him up and spat him out.

"No, I meant, why doesn't it have a high front and back?" Kel purposefully kept her voice low and her face Yamani-calm.

"So that when Psyche decides to jump, I won't be gutted." Again, a simple, humorless sarcastic answer. Kel smiled tightly.

Devon didn't return the gesture. After more than a week of being treated like she had some kind of disease, she'd started to act like one, never speaking, hardly eating, and rarely did her lips curl at the ends into a smile, unless she was around Quinn. But even then, she felt as if she had to work at it.

The slight shifting of the hay bale beside her said that Kel had sat down, and was probably looking at her skeptically.

"I'm sorry Devon." Kel whispered. Devon looked up, her face still cold, but with a glimmer of warmth, like sun on the ice.

"I didn't know what to make of you. I let myself judge you without even knowing how old you were, or what you were like. I didn't know anything about you, really."

Devon nodded as if letting her go on.

"And I apologize for not trying to stop the others, too."

Devon shrugged.

"I wish I could apologize for Neal as well, but he's," Kel laughed wryly, "He's more of hardhead for that kind of thing, and I know you'd rather a real apology than one I made up."

"Indeed." Devon said tartly. She stood abruptly and went to rest her cheek comfortingly against Psyche's shoulder. The stallion nudged her shoulder affectionately, and stood wary as Kel came over. She reached out a hand and tried to pat his nose, but he bared his teeth and snapped at her.

"Stallions, never can trust them." Kel remarked, trying to lighten the mood.

"I can trust him." Devon said, seemingly insulted. Like a magician, she rubbed his muzzle and he let her, ears relaxed and eyes drooping.

"There's no other like my Psyche." She said, kissing him softly on his forehead. He blew at her and nipped her shoulder.

"What does his name mean?" Kel asked, choosing a safe subject.

"It means 'soul' in some ancient language or another." Devon replied.

"He's a beautiful horse." Kel remarked.

"He's been there through thick and thin. If it weren't for him, I'd have been killed surely. I just feel better when he's around." It was the longest speech Devon had made in a week to anyone who wasn't Quinn.

"I know how you feel. My animals are the same way." Kel said. "Sometimes they are better friends than people." Devon nodded as she met Kel's hazel eyes. The Lady Knight was truly sorry, she saw. She was humbled by her mistake and only wanted to make everything all right.

"I agree." Devon murmured.

They were quiet for a while, but it wasn't uncomfortable any longer.

"Come for a ride with me. We can talk, with no male interruptions." Kel said, a small smile creeping to her face. Psyche went unbridled and Devon threw a plush wool pad over his back, and used that as a saddle. Peachblossom went fully tacked.

The woods were beautiful, with falling leaves all around them, dotting the crisp blue sky with red and gold and orange. The already felled leaves crackled under the horses' hooves. A creek rolled by, laughing over the rocks. Cool breezes whipped Psyche and Peachblossom's manes around their necks.

"What are you going to do when we leave for Midwinter?" Kel asked. Devon shrugged as Psyche gave a little buck when an itchy leaf landed on his back.

"I don't know yet. Maybe I'll go home. Everything is still so strange, I'm not sure I was ready to leave home." She answered finally.

"What was it like, in Nocturne, I mean?"

Devon sighed, remembering.

"Wonderful." She whispered. Kel smiled.

"We rode, and went to a few lessons, and laughed. We sat in the gardens and talked and pushed each other into the pond. I read with my father almost every night. I helped Dobbin map the areas of the world."

"Sounds like a heavenly place."

"It was, in a way." Devon said, a smile flirting with her lips.

After a moment, Kel spoke again, "You can come to Corus with us."

"Oh, no, I couldn't." Devon protested, "You've had enough of me already. It'd be courting disaster." At this, Kel laughed.

"Courting disaster is living in the same place as Neal for six months." At Devon's strange look, she added, "Even we get tired of him, too, you know." Devon smiled, one of her true smiles, where one side crawled up her face lopsidedly.

"You should come with us." Kel pressed, "Midwinter isn't too far off. It's a wonderful time to visit the capital. Feasts and balls every night, women dressed up in their best dresses trying to catch men, men dressed in their best tunics and breeches and trying to catch women."

"Ah, the circle of life in full swing." Devon said, a wry smile on her face. Kel laughed.

"I think you'd like Midwinter. Besides, if you come, you can keep me from utter boredom."

"Boredom?"

"Oh yes, I have to wear a dress this year, orders from Dom, the Queen, the Princess, and my old maid, the best dressmaker in Tortall."

"Somehow I believe Dom will not let you be bored if you are wearing a dress this year." Devon said offhandedly. Kel blushed and caught an evil smile tugging at Devon's mouth.

"I refuse to dignify that comment with a response." Kel said, still blushing furiously.

"Mmmhmm."

They rode back, and Kel found to her dismay that Devon retreated back into her old guise of coldness as they neared. Neal greeted them as they pulled up.

"Hello my love! I pined at your absence!" He said dramatically. Kel slapped his hand off her thigh and smiled dryly.

"I'm sure you did, Meathead." She replied. Neal noticed Devon and curtly nodded at her.

"Where'd you go, Kel?" He asked.

"Around. Devon and I talked for awhile." Neal gave her a look that plainly said, 'That think on the horse over there actually talks?'

"Well, I'm not needed here anymore." Devon said, "Goodnight Kel." She dismounted and began to lead Psyche into the barn.

"Consider, okay? Please?" Kel asked. Devon smiled lightly.

"I will." She said softly.

When she was gone, Neal snorted. Kel looked at him, an eyebrow raised.

"Why don't you like her, Neal?" She asked softly, but sternly. He looked thunderstruck that she was asking him that question.

"Why should I like her?" He asked.

"She's no criminal, she's no threat to you, and she's a stranger. You have every advantage over her and yet you still beat on her, making her snap back at you for your own amusement. Why?" Kel's voice was sharp. Neal couldn't find an answer. As she walked away, she said,

"Think about it Neal."

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