"It's working," he told me gleefully. "She's weakening. Day after day, she loses a little more."

I frowned. This was not the success that I had hoped for. This was not indicative of my time to shine, nor of all the riches he had promised me. Each year, he told me the same thing, and each year, I replied the same way. "Can't you speed it up a little?" I wheedled. "You know, once you become King, you won't have to live like this anymore. Don't you want a palace?"

He pushed his lower lip out, looking every bit a petulant teenager. "I'm doing things my way!" he growled. "Let me deal with my side of things. Don't forget that I put you where you were! Without me, you'd be nothing."

I scowled. Without me he'd be nothing. He often forgot that, but I neglected to remind him of it this as well as every other time, fearing his temper more than the overlooking of a detail that could be corrected later. I changed the subject, hoping to gain his approval. "I found out how to possibly put the Lioness out of action," I told him.

His eyes lit up greedily, eager for more revenge. "How?"

I detailed my plan quickly, aware that I'd lose his attention if I extended it too much. "She'll leave Corus in a fury, and then we can start," I finished. He nodded, pleased with my progress. It had been a slow seven years. But now we could finally begin. And it was because of me, he'd have to recognise that sooner or later.

He tracked my jaw line with his finger. I struggled momentarily not to wince, repelled by his smell. He'd let himself go a bit too much lately. "Your mother would have been so proud of you." I smiled. My mother. I hardly remembered her anymore, it had all been so long ago. "Shame I killed her."

There had been that.


"Kally? Kally, can you hear me? Nod if you can."

The voice broke through my vision. It disappeared and my senses were flooded with the palace once more. Irritated, I nodded and fluttered my lashes pathetically. "Papa?" I asked weakly.

"Yes, Kally?" he asked quickly, concerned.

I nearly rolled my eyes at his tone. It was ridiculous. He was just feeling guilty that he hadn't rushed to my side. I'd have his undivided attention in the near future, that was sure. I attempted a feeble tone, injecting whimpers into my pauses, and flicking my eyes all over the room, as though I was looking for an escape route. Oh, I was well practised at this. "I got so lost. It was all dark. It was horrible, Papa, there was this… man. He – he told me – no."

"Kally? Kally, is something wrong? Get Duke Baird back in here," he called over his shoulder.

I bit the corners of my mouth to keep them from curving in a smile. "Papa, he told me to keep Thom and Lianne apart, or great vengeance would be taken against Tortall. He said keep them apart at all costs." I wrinkled my forehead in a frown. "He was huge. He - he -" I buried my head in my blankets, shoulders shaking with fake sobs. He rubbed my back in what I supposed was meant to be a comforting way. "He said he'd – he'd hurt me if I disobeyed him." I brought my head up again, turning to fix my gaze to his. "Worse - w- w-worse than b-b-before."

Fear and something else simmered in his expression. "I'll deal with it now, sweet," he said, getting to his feet. "Will you be able to sleep now?"

"I think so. Thank you, Papa," I replied, sugar and honey coating my tone, the stammer all of a sudden gone. As he left, I settled back, satisfied. He would ban them from seeing each other. And it would be my doing. Alanna would hate him, and the country would be without a Lioness.

And I would be Queen.

Perfect.


Lagne swayed slightly with the movement of the carriage. It lulled him into a peaceful frame of mind as he considered the problem Thayet's daughter posed. There had been something strange about her. Something... not right. None of the Contés had treated her as one of their one. A grudging love had come from most of them, something that almost seemed to have been drilled into them. It was Liam, the middle child, who had most surprised him. He almost acted as though he hated Kalasin. It was quite possible that he did. Lagne himself felt a strong dislike for her, and all he had to go on was suspicion and one meeting.

He jolted forward as his coach came to an abrupt halt. Shouts sounded outside. Confused, he poked his head out of the flap, alarmed to find that all his servants were being forced to the ground.

He stepped out of the carriage, wondering where the mass of bandits, outlaws or rogues were. He saw the most movement coming from the front, so he headed that way.

Drawing himself up, Lagne commanded, with as much authority as possible, "Why is our journey halted?"

His servants were blasted back by a cloud of blue and a bundle of rags stood unsteadily. "I am afraid that it is my fault," a soft voice said. "And you will not be allowed on your way until my demands are met."

She spoke, although shakily, with the accent of a noble. He strode over to her. "Is this your idea of a joke? One person – a female – against the King of…" He trailed off with a gasp, eyeing the scars that decorated her cheeks in horror.

With no apparent idea of why he'd stopped speaking, the young woman – whose hands shook constantly, and fiddled with everything; her hair, her sleeve, her cloak – cleared her throat and began again. "Your Majesty, all due respect, but I am a desperate woman. Armed with my Gift, I don't think you should be worrying about my chances." The blue glow played around her slim figure, dancing warily. Lagne looked back, puzzled that no one was challenging her, until he saw the Gift swirling around his servants in a colourful mist.

He turned back to the girl. Her eyes, shards of sapphires, shot with streaks of blood, dared his. A strange sensation swept through him at the familiarity of her face. Lagne struggled to remember where he knew her from.

"I feel as if I have seen you before, miss."

Her hands flew up to her matted locks, dark as ebony, although there was no flash of recognition in her eyes. "I don't believe we've met."

He swept her a bow. "Lagne Halai, King of Galla."

She knelt and pressed her forehead to the floor, acknowledging his status in a gesture Lagne recognised as being Yamani. In the motion, he realised who she was. "Your Majesty. I am Alianne nih Haito, of Gerafon. I beg you to forgive my rudeness."

Lagne's brows crossed in a frown. Then she couldn't be Kalasin. But she still didn't look Yamani. Wasn't Alianne the Lioness's daughter? He had heard rumours, perhaps it was possible that Alanna and Jon could have… No. He had spent too long around the Tortallan court, to have his mind leap to such suspicions. This Alianne wasn't the Lady Knight's daughter. But neither was she the Yamani her action and name implied.

"Gerafon? I do not believe that is a place with which I am acquainted. Would you care to enlighten me?"

Colour flooded Alianne's cheeks. "It's a small town in the southern most Yamani Isle, your Majesty."

"Why did you leave?" he asked, biting his tongue when he realised how rude it had sounded. Still, perhaps it would startle her into a truthful answer.

"I grew tired of being asked to detail on my home surroundings. I'm headed to the capital of Galla," she added slyly, blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "A royal assassination attempt, actually. It looks like our paths will cross again."

A wry smile touched Lagne's cheeks. She'd trust him when and where she wanted to. "Would the lady of 'Gerafon' mind allowing my men to go free so we could continue our journey? Maybe then we could work out a travelling arrangement." She held his gaze a little longer, expressionless. "Unless, that is, you have other plans. If that's the case, I suppose I will just have to see you at my, ah, death."

She mumbled something, which he didn't catch, eyes darting all over the place.

"I'm sorry, my lady, would you care to repeat that?" he asked politely.

She raised her clear blue eyes to his green ones again, suspicion easily readable in her gaze. "Your Majesty, I just - how are you so certain that you can trust me?"

"True assassinators usually don't reveal their action plans," he said dryly.

Her eyes crinkled with laughter, a most un-Yamani-like action. "There's been insanity in every family," she stated quietly.

"Especially Alanna the Lioness's, so I'm told," he probed gently.

Her face twitched. He must have touched a nerve. "Why else would she put herself through all that training? Only one girl has successfully followed in her steps so far – perhaps Mindelan also has seeds of madness." Bitterness was now written into her expression as she continued without a pause to allow him to respond. "And now I must bid you good day, your Majesty, Mother-" She hesitated, swallowing tightly before continuing. "Mother will be wondering where I've got to." She curtsied and made to disappear off the side of the road.

The sharpness in her tone aroused his suspicion, and he remembered the tale of Kalasin's knighthood dreams, told to him by a disbelieving Liam, after a particularly difficult dinner. "I believe other girls have wanted to follow Sir Alanna. Times are changing in Tortall, my lady, and you write them off to your disadvantage."

"Wanted, but failed to," she replied hotly, a blush rising in her cheeks. He remained calm, a slight smile twisting his lips as he realised she'd just proven she wasn't Yamani-composed. "Maybe Keladry will fail!"

Lagne folded his arms across his chest. "One might remark on how much Yamani ladies have come to know of the Tortallans these days," he hinted.

She rolled her eyes, scrunching her skirt in her hands as she recognised her blunder. "You know I'm not who I say I am, I know I'm not. Please, I beg your Majesty to leave it at that."

"I'm willing to accept that." He eyed her, seeing Thayet in her calm countenance and in the way she clasped her hands together, but Jonathan in the proud posture and toss of her head. If there was even the slightest chance of her being Kalasin, he needed to take it, for her sake. The next carriage she stopped might not be so understanding. "However, if my lady has anywhere to go, I would beg her to impinge on my hospitality for as long as she deems necessary."


"Aren't you a pretty one?"

Ten-year-old Kalasin stared up at him in undisguised horror. She hadn't seen his equal. "You're not," she informed him, voice trembling with fear. "You're not pretty at all."

Harsh laughter met her words. It served to make her even more scared, although she made attempts in vain for it not to show through. Fright would give him something to play with. "I know. But I was. Once."

Kalasin's mouth wobbled, but she pressed her lips tightly together, the way her mother did when she was angry. "Can I go, please? It was very nice to meet you, but I need to go now." She had learned young that politeness usually got her exactly what she wanted.

He laughed again, but this laughter was no happier than its precedent. "No."

Kalasin frowned. "What… what are you going to do with me?" The question was tentative. She didn't want to know, but knowing would release her of this dread of the unknown.

He brought his face close to hers, and Kalasin winced, wrinkling her nose. He smelt worse than anything she had ever come across. "Why don't you wait and find out?"


I swirled in that evening's dress, feeling like a princess. Wasn't that ironic? I rubbed a jealous hand over the blue bodice edged with silver threads, and fluffed out the equally beautiful and expensive skirt.

"Now, now, your Highness," tutted a maid. "Don't go scrunching up your skirts."

I whirled around, eyes fierce.

"What?" I hissed, warningly.

The maid wasn't my usual one, and obviously had no sympathy for the poor girl who had been traumatised by her appalling kidnapping. She returned my glare with one every bit as forceful. "Princess Kalasin, with all due respect, this is your brother's birthday, don't spoil it!"

My eyes narrowed. Nobody spoke to me like that, nobody! I let out a shriek. "I see him! Oh! He's here, he's here, and he's going to kill me!" I wept, clenching and unclenching my hands around my skirts, determined to crease them now to spite her. I rocked on my feet, expecting her to fetch a chair, a drink, Kalasin's mother. She didn't.

The maid rolled her eyes. I stepped back in astonishment, thinking that I heard her mutter, "That would be a blessing that the gods don't appear to wish to bestow". But no. Surely not. I mean, I was Princess Kalasin. Or supposed to be, but that was only a minor detail. I was to be pitied, and cared for, and looked after because of my terrible ordeal. Nobody told me that it would be a good thing that I died, nobody.

"Princesses don't stare at commoners slack-jawed," she said tartly. "Stop with your visions, and behave."

I obeyed. He would come for me soon enough, and then they would all die. That was enough.


Lagne considered the problem of Alianne nih Haito. Or whatever her real name was. He still suspected her to be Kalasin, and the more he got to know of her, the surer he became of this. Unfortunately, every time the subject of her true identity had been broached, she had neatly evaded it. He had purchased a few gowns for her – those tattered scraps would never do for a noble, even if she wasn't royalty. Already she looked more cheerful, the pink setting healthy glows in her otherwise pale skin.

He needed to keep her close to him, partly because otherwise she'd probably just slip away, and partly because...

"Geoffrey, would you fetch Alianne for me?" he requested.

The man bowed. "As you wish."

She appeared within moments, and curtsied, having dropped the Yamani pretence shortly after their first meeting. "Yes, your Majesty?"

His eyes examined her quickly. His healers had set to work on her wounds, the worst of which, she had assured him, had been healed using her own Gift. She had just been too weak to walk and heal.

She blushed under his gaze, dropping hers to stare at her hands, which fiddled with her skirts. "Did your Majesty want me for something?"

Reluctantly, Lagne took his eyes from her. "Would you care to dine with me tonight?"

For a minute, he thought that she was going to refuse, and wondered why he was bothered. Then her sapphire eyes lifted to fix on his face, and she nodded. "It would be an honour. Your Majesty."