Alanna scowled across the room. She hated balls, and this one… Her scowl consumed most of her face.

"Cheer up," the Prince ordered as he swept a new girl around the room. "It's your brother's celebration dance."

That was true. This was all in Thom's name. She did all the work, and she got punished for it by a ball in her brother's honour.

Alanna raised her eyes to Jonathan, reminding herself that he had tried to kiss her whilst her brother was performing heroic deeds. Well, actually, he had tried to kiss Thom, and she had been the one fighting, but that didn't matter. He still thought he owned her. "We'll see about that," she muttered, and strolled over to the lady who had just been released from Jon's hold. Alanna slipped a piece of paper into Lorene's slim hand and walked away.

"Would the troll like a dance?" Jonathan joked, eyes twinkling with his so-called humour.

Alanna glared at him. "I don't know. Why don't you ask Delia herself?" He raised his brows at her bad-tempered reply, and disappeared into the crowd of dancers.

Lorene patted Alanna on the shoulder. "Is it really that… size?" she asked, horror in her solemn blue eyes.

Alanna nodded gravely. "That's why he's after so many different ladies. Once they've… they don't... Never again." The lady's blue eyes widened to plate-size. "Nobody likes to say in public, he believes he's just a woman magnet. It wouldn't do to upset the next king, if you get my drift…"

Lorene was a gossip-fiend, and if this worked, Jonathan just might be in trouble.

Just then, Jon appeared again out of the colourful cloud of people. What was he? Some sort of annoying creation made to torture her?

Alanna glowered, anticipating what he was going to say. "No, I would not like a dance with his Royal Highness, if it's all the same."

He smirked at her, proud to be able to prove her wrong. "Actually, I wanted to ask Lorene if she'd care for another." He held his hand out for the lady to accept.

Lorene's eyes travelled the width from his index finger to his thumb. Muffling a shriek, she ran away.

Alanna pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. Jonathan, completely confused, stared at her.

"What did you say?" he demanded.

"No, I would not like a dance with his Royal Highness, if it's all the same," she repeated. "I suppose Lorene didn't want one either."

Jonathan sat next to her. She wrinkled her nose, as if an unpleasant smell hung in the air nearby. "Is this because of the kiss?"

"Ask Thom," she prompted. "He didn't seem to enjoy it much. Now, excuse me, I need to celebrate my victory over Ralon."

Jon's dark brows crossed. Alanna raised her own and slipped into the roomful of dancers, young and old.

The musicians struck up a waltz, encouraging young lovers to take the opportunity to dance. Alanna pursed her lips, eyes scanning the room for company. She wasn't lonely, exactly, just… alone. Which was different, obviously. She saw Lorene dragging her brother's knight master out from behind a curtain, and stifled a laugh. The huge giant despised court functions. As did she, come to that. Far too much prancing and fluffing of feathers, which seemed to her to be appropriate behaviour for a menagerie, rather than a court.

"Might the lady care for a dance?" a smooth voice asked.

Alanna's eyes met blue ones approvingly. "She might. It depends on who is asking."

His mouth curled in a smile. "Such spirit." He extended a hand. "I would be Duke Roger, the Prince's cousin."

The redhead dropped into a curtsy, murmuring, "It is a privilege to meet you at last, your Grace."