Chapter 10: The Dancing Dove
Chapter 10 already! Thank you to all my kind reviewers. There are just a few matters I would like to clear up. First, Canadians do recognize the British monarchs, but I don't really think of Queen Elizabeth as my ruler. She's not really involved in the political workings of Canada. Second, I AM ALBERTAN! I may currently be living in British Columbia for a year but at heart I still belong to Alberta. And if you still think you know me, my email is in my profile. These last two comments were directed at that person who reviewed with the single letter "g".
And now, I present to you…THE STORY!
Imogen sighed drearily, gazing at the rain dripping down the windowpane. She had been at the palace a little over a week and she was bored. It was pouring rain, so she was trapped inside, and there wasn't even anyone to talk to. Alanna was wrapped up in meetings with the king and council, George was off on his mysterious business (Imogen had learned not to ask), the twins were serving pot-scrubbing duty in the kitchens for a prank involving worms in Duke Gareth's soup, and Thom had his nose buried in a thick book, responding with grunts if disturbed.
"I hate forced inactivity," Imogen moaned at the ceiling. "I feel so incredibly useless." Suddenly she leapt down from the window-seat. "Well, if activity is not going to find me, I'll go in search of activity," she declared. She marched determinedly out of her room, inelegantly slamming the door behind her.
Half an hour later Imogen was completely and totally lost. Alanna had been right when she talked about how confusing the palace was. None of the passages went where they were supposed to, and once you took a wrong turning it was impossible to get back on track. Imogen flopped down, sighing wearily. "Brilliant," she remarked to thin air. "I'm lost. Well, at least I'm not bored anymore."
Kalasin's head popped out of a door on her left. "Thank the gods for small mercies, then," the princess laughed. "I'd rather be lost than reading these old things."
Imogen smiled at her friend. She had become good friends with Kalasin over the last week and the elder girl had shown her many fascinating things about Corus. "Why don't we both go in search of some more interesting employment?" she suggested now.
Kalasin grinned. "You're on." Her head disappeared and a moment later the princess herself came walking out of the room, which Imogen now realized was her private study. "I know just where to go."
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"Kalasin," Imogen said uneasily, peering through the door of the inn, "Kalasin, are you sure this is safe?"
The older girl rolled her eyes. "Of course I'm sure. I come here all the time. Look, there's Baron George." She nodded to a corner of the smoky tavern.
"George is here?" Imogen asked, surprised. Sure enough, the Lioness' husband was sitting hunched at a table, deep in conversation with another man. "Wonder what he's doing there," she mused, following Kalasin into the building.
The noise inside was deafening. Patrons roared for more ale, girls giggled, men laughed and swapped jokes. Imogen had to fight the urge to run straight back out the door. She hated noise.
"Come on," Kalasin yelled over the din. "I want to introduce you to a friend of mine. I'm wondering what he'll think of you. You're rather an unusual girl by Tortallan standards, you know."
Imogen rolled her eyes. "I'm aware of the fact," she shouted back. "Judging from the fact that most people gape at me like a specimen in a zoo, I must be absolutely fascinating to these old stuffy nobles with over-inflated senses of their own importance."
Kally smirked. "Well, I can assure you that Domingo is not one of those. Now hurry up." The princess shoved her way through the press of bodies surrounding the bar. Imogen heaved a sigh and followed her, hoping the elder girl knew what she was doing.
Kalasin walked straight up to a tall boy with midnight black hair. "Domingo, sorry to disturb you, but I brought new company," the princess said.
The boy spun on his stool. "Hello, Kally," he said easily. Then he caught sight of Imogen and whistled. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your towheaded friend there?"
"Domingo, this is Imogen Darcy. Imogen, this is Domingo Wheeler."
Up close, Imogen could see that Domingo was probably handsome enough to start minor riots among a gathering of teenage girls. However, she remained singularly unimpressed with his good looks. Maybe it was the fact that he had just called her a towhead, or maybe it was the fact that he was at the moment looking her up and down like a prize filly at a fair. She glowered at him.
"Always pleased to meet a fair lady," the boy said, preparing to raise her hand to his lips. However, Imogen jerked it away.
"Let's get a few things straight," she said. "First, I am not a lady. Second, nobody, and I mean nobody, kisses my hand. Third, I am not a towhead. Towheads have watery blue eyes, and mine are green, if you hadn't noticed. Fourth, it's rude to stare at strangers, and even ruder to oogle as you have been doing. Don't Tortallans have manners?"
Kally snickered. "Charming as usual," she said, reclining against the bar. "You'd better watch out, Domingo. Her arguments with Thom are infamous. He set her tunic on fire once, and she chased him all around the palace with a frying pan."
Domingo's jaw dropped. "A frying pan?" he choked.
Imogen grinned widely. "A frying pan," she confirmed. "It was the nearest weapon on hand, and very formidable. I never knew Thommy-lad could run quite that fast."
Domingo stared at her for a few more seconds before doubling over, absolutely roaring with laughter. "Well, Imogen who is not a towhead or a lady, and who chases Thom of Pirate's Swoop around the castle with a frying pan, you're welcome here a the Dancing Dove any time you so wish."
That proved to be an invitation Imogen would take advantage of many times. She became quite a common sight at the Dancing Dove, sitting at the bar sipping her water or lemonade. She built quite a solid friendship with Domingo, and the duo, plus Kalasin, spent many a happy hour talking and joking around. The regular patrons became quite fond of the brutally honest young girl, and George realized he no longer had to keep a close eye on Imogen when she ventured down to the city. Not a rogue in the business would dare to touch the girl's purse or harm her in any way.
Imogen had great fun at the Dancing Dove. She taught her new friends to play poker with a deck of cards that had been in her pocket on the day of her fateful drop into Tortall. The rogues loved it and played the game by the hour. In fact, there was only one cloud on her horizon, and that was, of course, Thom.
Her new friends in the city were the cause of much new friction between the two. Though now close enough to be considered friends, the volatile arguments still persisted. Thom didn't think Imogen should spend so much time in the city, and Imogen retorted that it was none of his business what she did. Privately Imogen puzzled to no end about why he even cared but came up with no solutions. Eventually she carried her problem to the friend she considered the epitome of female wisdom – Kalasin.
"I just can't understand it!" Imogen exclaimed in frustration. "He never showed the slightest interest in what I did before, and he can't think that they're beneath him, because he goes there almost as often as I do! He's just being exasperating."
The princess laughed merrily. "Imogen, you're one of the most intelligent people I know, but you're hopelessly blind about what's in front of your face." At Imogen's blank look, Kally sighed and elaborated. "He's jealous, you great idiot."
Imogen blinked at her. "He's…what?"
"Jealous."
"Thom's not jealous."
"Oh? And how do you know this, pray tell?"
Imogen wrinkled her nose. "Well, why would he be jealous? In order to be jealous, he'd have to care." Catching sight of Kalasin's dancing eyes, Imogen shook her head. "Oh no, Kalasin. Don't even think about it. Thom is not in love with me. We're friends. It's bad enough with Alianne taunting me, so don't you dare start too."
"Think about it logically, Imogen," the princess said persuasively. "You're different from all the other girls he's ever met. You're down-to-earth and you're honest. You say exactly what you think, and you don't care a Stormwing's toenail what anyone says about you. Gods know you're pretty enough in your own way. Thom's afraid that Domingo's going to fall in love with you, or worse, you'll fall in love with Domingo."
"Don't be insane," Imogen said flatly. "Thom is not in love with me. Domingo is not in love with me. I am not in love with anyone. Am I the only one in this bizarre world who doesn't have a head clouded with romance?"
Kalasin chuckled, shaking her head. "You'll see. By the way, there's a ball tomorrow, did you know?"
Imogen choked. "No," she said. "Gods curse it, I suppose I'm expected to go?"
"Yep," the princess said, fighting her laughter. "It's your formal presentation at court."
"Lovely," the younger girl said sarcastically. "I can hardly wait."
