Note: (3/24/05) Looking over this story more than a year later has caused see that this is in serious need of revision before I'll ever continue it, so if you ever thought I would update, chances are I won't.

Disclaimer: I unfortunately own almost none of the following characters and wouldn't dare to take credit for them. They all belong to Tamora Pierce.

Author's Note: This is my first fanfic ever, so please don't be too harsh. Flames are appreciated as long as you don't criticize ME, just the story. Oh yeah, sorry if anyone has already thought of this, I was too lazy to check a whole bunch of stories to see if anyone's done this. So if you have and you see this, I am NOT trying to copy your story. Oh yeah, if you see any grammatical errors, please tell me. My pet peeve is seeing things spelled wrong or when I forget a comma or something.

Roger sat upon his throne, his sapphire eyes glistening. At last he had become King of Tortall, and all were to obey him. Him, and only him. Unfortunately, his young cousin was nowhere to be found. He and that pesky Lioness of his had disappeared the night of his failed coronation, leaving his people to fight Roger alone.

Alexander of Tirragen stepped toward Roger, disrupting his thoughts. Dressed in the Tirragen colors of black and purple, his clothes crumpled as he bowed low before his King. "Your Majesty, you sent for me?" he inquired.

"No Alex, I have not, but there is something you can do for me. Go fetch a palace scribe; there is a royal decree that I need him to write." King Roger told him.

"Right away, King Roger." Alex smirked as he ran to the room where the palace scribes were. He knew what sort of decree his new king would write. He reveled in fulfilling the wishes of his king, delighted in serving him, instead of that stuck up Jon. Jon would have made an awful king, too inexperienced in the ways a kingdom would function. He entered the scribes' room and selected a young scribe for King Roger.

The scribe hurried to follow Alex back to the throne room, hiking up his robes as they went along. Alex admitted him to the room, and waited for further instruction from Roger.

"Stay here Alex; I need for you to give this to a palace herald when I am finished." King Roger commanded. The scribe took out his feather quill and ink jar, and set them down on the floor while he put a short roll of parchment on his tablet. He picked up the quill, dipped it in the ink, and poised it to write.

"Here you all," Roger began, "Anyone found to be housing Prince Jonathan or Alanna the Lioness will be sentenced to torture, followed by death by beheading on Traitor's Hill. If found to be housing any ring leaders of this group, including the younger Sir Gareth of Naxen, Sir Myles of Olau, Sir Raoul of Goldenlake, or Princess Thayet jian Wilima they will be sentenced to exile afer torture." He paused, then continued, "If anyone has information about any of the people just mentioned, they will be awarded five gold nobles for their information, and ten more if they are captured. The reward for turning in Jonathan or Alanna will be one hundred gold nobles." He nodded to the scribe. "That is all."

Orange fire came from King Roger's hand, enveloping the parchment. The ink instantly dried, and the paper rolled up on its own accord. It rose into the air, and Alex caught it. "I'll take this, your Majesty, unless you have better use for me?"

"No Alex, take it." Roger answered him. He turned to face the scribe. "You are dismissed."

Both of them bowed to the king, and exited the throne room. Alex carried the letter down to a royal herald, who immediately set off to proclaim his message.

George sat in his room at the Dancing Dove, practicing his kicks and punches at a lifeless dummy. He heard a knock at his door, and opened it a slit, keeping a knife grasped in his hand and another one at his belt. A haggard old woman with a shawl draped along her face stood outside his door, leaning on an old gnarled cane.

George quickly ushered the woman in, and closed and locked the door. He checked to make sure the shutters were closed, and said to her, "Lass, what are you doing here? The city's not safe right now, so soon after Roger's coronation. His supporters could have spotted you, and that would have bought you an early death upon Traitor's Hill!"

The woman pulled off her shawl and stood straight, revealing bright copper colored hair and vivid purple eyes. "Oh, George, I've missed you so much. You don't know how hard it's been, having to live in hiding all of the time. We're all miserable in hiding."

"I'm sorry for seeming so unenthusiastic to see you lass, but Corus isn't safe, especially here. Claw's supporters are still here, spying on me to make sure I'm not in contact with you or Jon, and he's reporting back to Roger."

Suddenly George stood straighter; his ears cocked almost like a dog's. He whispered, "Put your shawl back on."

Alanna did so, and pulled a small sword from its sheath at her belt. George grabbed two long knives and held them both in one hand, and opened the door with the other. The he quickly put one knife in his free hand, and sprang upon the man in the hall way. Within seconds the man was injured and running away from George as fast as he could. George tackled him and killed him. He frisked the man and found a letter addressed to Claw.

Pulling it out, he read the contents. The only information was the man was telling Claw that of course he would spy on George for him. George laughed to himself at this man's foolish underestimating of the King of Thieves. He should have known that George had enough Sight to tell when he was being spied upon. He dashed back to his room to find Alanna sitting on his bed.

She shook her head; she didn't need to know what had happened. She already knew that a man had been spying on George again. As they sat in a rare moment of silence between them, hoof beats sounded from outside. George flung open the window, pushing Alanna down out of sight. A royal herald sat on horse, not far from his window. He cleared his throat and read from the scroll he was holding. At hearing his decree being announced, George and Alanna gasped with shock.

"Great Mother Goddess!" Alanna quietly exclaimed, "I didn't know my head was worth that much!" She laughed without humor. "Do you think it is because of my lovely violet eyes, or my exquisite copper hair?"

"It's not something to joke about, lass." George said quietly. He turned his back on her. He paced the room, thinking hard. "Now there's even more reason for you to stay away from here. I want you gone from here by tomorrow at sun down." He walked back to her, grasping her fingers in his own. "Promise me, Alanna that you won't come back here for a long, long time."

Alanna scowled. "I'll try George, I'll try."