The nighttime study group met in the library as planned, with Owen of Jesslaw wandering in last, looking rather dazed.

"You look very odd," Nealan of Queenscove remarked as the younger page took his seat beside him. "Are you okay?"

"I just got kissed," he said dreamily.

"What!" Esmond of Nicoline screeched. "That's not fair! I haven't even been kissed yet!"

"It's sad when a younger guy gets kissed before you," Kel giggled. "Especially if that younger guy is a Jesslaw." She turned to Owen. "So? Who was it?"

"Lady Vanessa," he replied vaguely.

"Of Maren?" Seaver of Tasride asked incredulously.

"Her older brother is an assassin," Kel muttered.

That snapped Owen out of his reverie. "What?" he panicked.

"It's just what I heard," she added hastily. "It may not be true."

"She has a big forehead," Neal said suddenly.

They turned to stare at him.

"That was…random," Faleron of King's Reach said.

"Yeah, and it was just the other day when you were mooning over her," Owen sniffed, a little hurt.

"He has a point," Kel told her best friend. "You thought about her to the point of obsession."

"Oh, shut up," Neal said irritably. She shrugged, suppressing a smile, and looked down at her book.

It was then she was hit with an overpowering feeling that she was being watched.

Nervously, Kel looked up and around; no one was in sight. Still…the little hairs on the back of her neck were prickling so bad she reminded herself of an angry cat. Her eyes darted around, her ears strained to hear above the whispers of her friends, and still she saw and heard nothing.

"Kel?"

She jumped, and realized it was just Neal.

"Oh, it's you," she breathed.

He stared at her, one arched eyebrow raised in amusement. "Who did you think it was? Little Bunny Fufu?"

Cleon of Kennan snorted. "What gave it away? Your twitchy pink nose? Your rather long ears?"

"Why must you pick on me," Neal cried, overdramatic as always. He turned beseechingly to Kel.

"There, there," she said sympathetically, patting his head. "It'll be alright."

"No it won't," he wailed.

"As daft as always, I see," a cold voice said. The feeling she was being watched vanished. "Will you ever grow up, Queenscove?"

The entire study group quieted, staring at the handsome, blue-eyed squire suspiciously.

"What do you want, Stone?" Owen growled.

"Oooh, nasty," Joren smirked. "Can't a guy just come by and say hi?"

"Not when that guy is Joren of Stoned Mountain," Cleon snapped.

"And yes, that slur on your fief was on purpose," Neal added. "Now, what do you want?"

"I just wanted to get a good look at Mindelan," Joren said indifferently, glancing at her. "After all, she could die tomorrow. Maybe you should do the same. Get a good look at your bed-warmer w—if she dies."

Kel stared at him. What the heck was wrong with him? Why would he care? Better yet, why would he be thinking about her death? She was suddenly chilly. Unless, of course, he had planned something dangerous…utterly dangerous.

"I thank you for your concern, Joren, but I assure you, I don't plan on dropping dead anytime soon," she said crisply. "Good night to you."

He gave her the strangest look she had ever seen. He smiled tightly at her.

"Of course," he said coolly. "See you tomorrow, then?"

"Of course."

~*Before the Library*~

I wonder if Mindelan and her little posse are in the library. Maybe I should drop by…let her know…or give her an inkling of what's in store for her…

Joren paused at the foot of the stairs, looking up them, pondering. For some reason he had a bizarre desire to look at her face. If the assassin Tony hired was going to kidnap her when he said he was—which was tonight, or the very early morning—then it would be the last time he ever looked at her. And that bugged him.

Must be the stress, he decided, settling the matter and starting up the stairs. It's the first time I ever hired to kill anybody. Just side effects, probably.

He slid into the library and shut the door. A little further into the room he heard voices, four or five deep ones and another slightly higher, softer one. He sidled in, quietly, as was his way. The Stone Mountain in him enjoyed a silent, sudden entrance.

Joren sighed softly and leaned against the wall, watching Mindelan. She was thirteen, the age where a lot of girls would be thinking about marriage, maybe even getting betrothed. But she was sitting there among boys—

—Stupid slut—

—wearing a page's uniform, with short hair and big muscles. Not gorgeous, maybe, but…charming in her own, tough little way. The one thing he thought girlish about her were her eyes; green-hazel, with the longest lashes he had ever fucking seen.

Ugh. Stop it, Joren.

He spotted Queenscove, putting on false waterworks and Mindelan patting his head. He rolled his eyes. What children.

"…won't," the brunette was wailing.

"As daft as always, I see. Will you ever grow up, Queenscove?"

They silenced and glared at him.

"What do you want Stone?" the roly-poly page—it was a Jesslaw, he knew, Bowen, or something like that—growled. Wow, incredibly intimidating.

"Ooh, nasty," Joren scoffed. "Can't a guy just come by and say hi?"

"Not when that guy is Joren of Stoned Mountain," the Kennan carrot-top said snappishly.

"And yes, that slur on your fief was on purpose," Queenscove said. "Now, what do you want?"

"I just wanted to get a good look at Mindelan," Joren said in his indifferent way, staring at her. "After all, she could die tomorrow. Maybe you should do the same. Get a good look at your bed-warmer w—if she dies."

Kel was looking at him shrewdly. Joren suppressed a smile. She had no idea what she was going to get.

"I thank you for your concern, Joren, but I assure you, I don't plan on dropping dead anytime soon," she said a little stiffly. "Good night to you."

He looked at her, a tight smile on his face, his eyes unreadable. Why was he feeling so…weird?

"Of course," he said coolly. He was beginning to be…uncomfortable? "See you tomorrow, then?"

She looked at him, brow furrowed. "Of course."

~*~

Next chapter…the kidnapping! Muahahahahahaha! REVIEW!!!!!