Something Else Entirely

Disclaimer: All characters and locations herein are the property of Tamora Pierce. Plot and actual written words owned by me.

The dining hall of Disart House was lit with many flickering candles, and filled with finely garbed nobility of all ages. Buri glimpsed a four-year-old girl with dark pigtails nearly tripping over her velvet skirts, running across the hall, chased by an older girl who had to be a sister or cousin or some other relative. She shook her head at the silliness of it, then caught sight of Raoul's grinning face.

"What?" she challenged.

"I can only imagine what you think of my family," he said with a laugh.

"It's ludicrous," Buri said quietly. "She should be free to run and skip in the muddy snow without worrying about stains or tears." She herself was wearing her favorite lambskin jerkin over thick crimson wool and knee-high boots.

"You're right," agreed Raoul.

She raised her eyebrows. "Then why did you laugh?"

"When Aunt Sebila gets a look at you…" he started and didn't finish.

Buri glared, but Raoul just laughed again and said, "Come, I'll introduce you."

Introductions went better than Buri had hoped, or rather, not nearly as bad as she'd secretly dreaded. The dragoness Raoul had described in such gory detail on their ride from the palace turned out to be a woman of nearly eighty with rheumy eyes that must once have been as dark and snapping as her nephew's, bundled in ermine. Her supposed disapproval of Raoul seemed more like concern to Buri.

"Oh, yes," bellowed Lady Sebila, "you're a fine young girl with a head on your shoulders, I see. Foreign or not, you'll whip that feckless boy of a knight straight. I can always tell."

Buri smiled and nodded, and when the lady dismissed them both she caught Raoul's eye and grinned at the tortured expression on his ruddy face.

Disart House's idea of midwinter celebrations turned out to include five courses of game and wine, then harp music, old-fashioned dances and more wine. Buri praised the venison and partridge to whoever asked and danced with four of Raoul's cousins -- of varying degrees. Sir Elduin was charmed by her appreciation of the pole-axe that hung over the immense fireplace, and proceeded to regale her with the tale of his great-great-great-grandmother, to whom the weapon had belonged.

Eventually Raoul rescued her by suggesting that Elduin seek his own wife's company, rather than speaking with another man's escort in a manner that would have landed him in the tournament field, were he not family. Once he was gone, Buri breathed a sigh of relief she hoped was masked by the harps.

"It's a shame you had to hear that story from Cousin Elduin, of all people," said Raoul. "It's really quite interesting."

"Really? I couldn't tell," she replied dryly, and he laughed.

"I'll tell it to you, someday," he promised. "Right now, I think it's a good time to bid farewell to my illustrious kin and make our way back to our own quiet homes."

"Oh, I don't know," said Buri, "I think there are maybe two or three men here I haven't danced with, yet."

"Such as me." He grinned.

"You didn't ask," she said loftily.

"Let's just go," suggested Raoul. "All this silliness is making me dizzy."

Buri shrugged and followed him in a round of long, polite goodbyes. Lady Sebila demanded loudly that he write her more often, and tell his father to do the same, and when they'd finally made it to the great oaken doors, Raoul's cordial smile looked more like the grimace of a man who was having an arrow pulled out of his flesh.

"Now don't you wish you were an orphan, like Alanna?" she teased.

"Maybe I have all the family I need," he agreed. They stood silently in the courtyard, waiting for the stable-boy to bring their horses. That was when he bent down and kissed her.

"A simple 'thank you' would do," said Buri, mounting her dark gelding.

"Alright," replied Raoul with a smile. "Thank you. For being perfect."

"If you expect…" started Buri, but her voice caught. "If you expect this to be like last time -"

He didn't wait for her to finish. "I wouldn't dream of it," he said flatly. "Last time was something else entirely."

"- because that was years ago, Raoul, and a lot has happened –"

"I know," he insisted.

"- I was young, and alone, and nervous, with almost no friends and I didn't know what I was doing. I had no notion of what you meant by it –"

"I know!" said Raoul forcefully. "Buri, I know."

She scowled at him. "Obviously, you do not." She rode out of the open gate and into the dark night streets.

He followed, his larger horse easily catching up to hers. "You think I wasn't younger?" he demanded scathingly. "You think I had a clue what I was doing? I was a selfish fool back then, Buri, and you should know better than anyone that I've changed. I've grown up."

"And I can trust you now?" continued Buri quietly. "Because you're not the man you were? And you had a very good reason for kissing me just then, and you didn't mean anything by it, so why was I taking it so hard?"

"No," said he, shaking his head. "I did mean something by it. I meant everything."

"You didn't, last time," accused Buri.

Raoul shook his head again. "I was drunk," he said simply.

"You seemed perfectly…" began Buri, but the rest of the sentence was swallowed in a muffled mutter.

"I'm not asking you to marry me," said Raoul. "I'm not asking you to come back with me tonight. I'm not asking you to trust me. But I wouldn't have kissed you if I didn't mean something by it."

Buri said nothing for the rest of the ride.

She thought of what he said as he walked her to the Rider stables where she left her horse. When she came out of the warm stable and cold wind bit her face. He was standing there, the knight, the commander, the hero, looking at her. Waiting for her.

"Do you expect me to ask you in?" she asked bitterly, and immediately regretted it.

"I've learned from my mistakes," he said, and turned to leave.

She caught up to him easily. "Wait."

He turned around.

"I'm sorry." The words she said cost her a lot. "I shouldn't have… I know you've changed. It's just…" she stopped. Honesty was becoming costlier by the word. "You caught me off guard. If you must know, you scared me."

"I'd have thought you were more scared last time," he said quietly.

She sighed. "Last time was something else entirely."

"Does that mean you forgive me for kissing you?" he asked, almost smiling.

She eyed him. "First, I have to avenge my lost honor." With that, she tugged on his cloak, pulling his face down to her height, and kissed him. One arm, then another, wrapped around her, and she was dazed by the sudden thought that he didn't seem to want to let go. Maybe I will come back with him tonight, she thought.