A/N: This was originally going to go with the prologue, to be Chapter One, but I decided it was too long...so here goes.

Chapter One: Conspiracy

Sir Faleron of King's Reach held his sister tightly as she cried, shaking with suppressed rage. "Easy, Meg," he whispered, kissing her forehead and hugging her again before he gently disentangled her from his embrace and sat her down next to him. He took the bowl of water and dipped a rag into it. "What happened?"

She sniffled a bit, then looked up at him. Faleron was, as always, struck by her appearance; while Faleron and his father were both solidly built, slender but muscular, capable of handling themselves, Meg always looked like she would be blow away in a strong wind. She was only slightly too thin; her pale skin made her look even more fragile. Everything about Meg was delicate – her slim fingers, the long-lashed light grey eyes that she shared with her brother, her willowy build, her tiny nose, her height. She looked, Faleron thought sadly, just like their mother, though she, like her brother, had her father's dark hair. It fell forward in a curtain to hide her face as she looked away.

Faleron put two fingers under Meg's chin and tilted her head up to look at him. "Meg," he said gently, "stay still." He touched the rag to her cheek, beginning to clean the cuts on it. "Don't worry. I won't yell, or scold. You know me."

Meg sniffled again. Her eyes filled with tears anew, and Faleron sighed to himself. He had been an only child until he was nine, when his mother Kierana gave birth to Meg. The girl was a novelty to him, and he'd taken care of her until he went to Corus to become a knight. Meanwhile, Kierana, weak from childbirth, had wasted away and died before Meg was two. Devastated by this loss, Elris had undergone a transformation, gaining a quicker temper and a love for alcohol. Without Faleron, the son he loved and doted on, he turned his anger on Meg. He'd forbidden her to play with the village children, and instead kept her inside, causing her skin to go pale. When he was drunk, which was often, he beat her. Consequently, Meg had grown shy and introverted, but with a quick temper. It was an odd mix of personalities, and she was an odd girl. Faleron, though, loved her, despite the difference in their ages. He knew he was her only friend, her protector, and he took this role very seriously, especially now that he was a knight.

"Meg, spill it," Faleron said softly, continuing to clean her cut. "What did you say to Father?"

Meg winced. She looked up at her brother, then looked away and said quickly, "I told him I wanted to be a knight."

Faleron dropped the rag. "What?!" he demanded, thunderstruck, staring at his wisp of a sister.

Meg's eyes filled with tears. "I knew you'd say that," she whispered.

Faleron instantly felt guilty. He leaned forward to hug his sister. "Meg, I didn't mean it like that...I was just surprised, is all." When she remained silent, Faleron cursed his father for making her so timid, and whispered, "Meg, I'm not Father. You can talk to me."

Meg nodded. "Well...it's true."

"I can see that." Faleron chuckled, then added, "I never knew you wanted to be a knight."

Meg looked up at him. "Whose fault is that?" Her voice was gently teasing, but Faleron took her words to heart. All her interest in his duties as a knight, her desire to meet his famous friends – including Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan, as well as the knight who'd been squire to the famous Lioness – and her wish to learn the basics of hand-to-hand combat and sword-fighting...Faleron shook his head. How did he not notice Meg's ambition earlier?

"Don't beat yourself up about it," Meg said softly, hugging Faleron. "I'm a mysterious girl, I know." She winked at him, and Faleron felt a rush of pride. He had instilled some backbone into the girl after all.

Faleron tickled Meg, making her giggle and shove him away. "You are indeed, little one. Now..." He leaned against the tree, studying his sister through dark eyelashes. "Enlighten me. Why?"

Meg rolled over onto her stomach, toying with a blade of grass. No one would take her as the type to be a knight – not with her timid nature, fragile build, and aversion to conflict. "I want to help people," she said softly, her grey eyes distant. "I hate being helpless...picked on...I want to make sure that doesn't happen to anyone else. I want to protect the small."

Faleron chuckled again. "I'm afraid Kel's already taken that title, little one."

"Not like that," Meg protested. "Nothing so melodramatic. I don't want grand things...don't want to do great things, go down in history. Well..." she amended sheepishly, "maybe I do. But that's not the main reason. I don't want combat or great battles. I want to protect the people, like your group did at the refugee camps."

"We did see battle, though," Faleron said softly, recalling last year's events.

"I know you did. Which is why it won't do for me to become a lady or anything." Her voice was scornful. "If I'm going to protect the common people, I must know combat. And I'm not going to get decent combat training moping around King's Reach."

Faleron heard the bitterness in her tone; his heart went out to his sister, isolated and beaten by their father all of her young life. "And you waited until now to tell him? It took you eleven years to get the courage to talk to him?"

Meg nodded, still playing with the grass. "I knew he wouldn't take it well..." she said quietly, dreamily.

Faleron knew that for all her shyness, Meg had a streak of determined stubbornness in her. He could sense her repressed sense of duty and love for her fellow people, her true willingness to help those in need; that was her dream. Faleron had sensed the same spark in Kel when she was younger – heck, she still had it. He wouldn't try to talk Meg out of it. "You know it'll be hard," he said softly.

Meg nodded. "I don't care. I want to learn. It'll be hard on me, 'cause I'm so small and skinny...I'll probably bruise myself to death and back before I learn anything." She grinned ruefully. "But I don't care. I'll survive. And either way, I'll have some knowledge of how to defend myself and others. That'll be invaluable when I help you with King's Reach, when we're older."

Faleron noted that she was already taking it for granted that she'd give up or be sent home. It was true – he couldn't see his dreamy, shy sister becoming a knight. However, he did think it would be good for her, to get some training and accustom herself with the palace. "You're obedient...that'll help you a lot with training," he mused. "And you don't meddle in other people's business. You're small, but you're endurant. I think you'll last at least a year." There was, however, one big worry on Faleron's mind, and he spoke it now. "But that's not what worries me, Meg. I know you can do it. You're not the problem. The other lads...that's where the problem lies. I know when Kel came to the palace, it took the lads – and me, even – a long time to accept her. Some were outright poisonous."

"None of you were, though," Meg said softly, referring to the circle of knights that were still Kel's friends. "And you accepted her in the end."

"No, we weren't," Faleron agreed, "and yes, we did. You'll make friends too, but it'll take time. And not all of the boys will be your friends." He reached out to gently touch his sister's cheek. "You're so sensitive, Meglet. What'll you do when some of the boys ransack your room, steal your things, set traps for you, are plain mean, just because you're a girl?"

Meg looked scared, but she gulped and said slowly, with determination, "Whatever they do...I'm sure I've had worse."

Faleron hugged his sister tightly, then; she squealed and wriggled away. They sat there, Faleron under the tree and Meg on her stomach, playing with the blade of grass, for a while. The twenty-year-old knight spoke, then, gingerly voicing his other major concern. "What of your Gift?"

Meg didn't answer, but focused her attention on the blade of grass in front of her. She let it hover at the tip of her finger, then looked at it. Tendrils of golden fire crept out from her finger, covering the grass for a few seconds. She held her hands out under it; the ashes of the grass fell slowly through the air, then swirled around above Meg's hands in a sort of ballet. Then they came together in the shape of the blade of grass and stayed still in the air. Meg closed two fingers around the base of the ashes; they slowly came together and turned green, to reveal the blade of grass again.

Meg handed it to Faleron. "I hate it," she pronounced finally.

Faleron had to grin faintly at the murderous expression on her face. Elris hated the Gift, not having it himself, and was terrified and furious when it appeared in his daughter. But he couldn't entirely ignore it; after all, the flame of her gift was golden, and it was strong. Even Faleron, who wasn't Gifted himself, could sense it. The mage Numair Salmalín, when Faleron had come to the palace, had apparently sensed a "fingerprint" of strong magic on him, and promptly questioned him about it. Faleron was stunned to find out that only the strongest mages, such as Numair himself or Lady Alanna the Lioness, left those kinds of marks. In later years, as the "fingerprint" grew stronger, Numair asked Faleron if he would be able to tutor his sister. Faleron, however, had advised the mage not to get mixed up in his family affairs – not only did Elris hate and fear the Gift, but so did Meg. She restrained herself to lighting candles – never in Elris's prescence, of course – and little stunts like this one. It was difficult for her to supress the nature of her magic, Faleron could see that – perhaps she could get training at the palace, maybe even from Numair.

When he voiced this opinion to Meg, she yelped and sat up. "I won't get training!" she cried, her voice anxious. "Is that why you're supporting me? You want me to become a mage instead of a knight? No! I hate my Gift! I hate it, hate it, hate it! If I ignore it, it won't be so strong, and I'll get some peace! Can't you leave well enough alone?"

Faleron winced; it wasn't often that he was on the recieving end of his sister's temper. Meg was patient, but for all her usual shyness, she was ferocious when angry. Idly, the young knight wondered if it was a requirement for female knights to have incredible fits of anger. "Sorry, Meglet," he apologized, spreading his arms out in a peace offering. "That's not what I meant...it's just, the best mage in the realm, Numair Salmalín, expressed an interest in teaching you...I thought he might teach you control, maybe some useful things...if you don't want to, it's all right."

Meg bit her lip, before remembering what Elris had said about that, and instantly let it go. She nodded, then flung herself into Faleron's arms. "I'm sorry too," she whispered into her brother's shoulder. "I'm just scared...if he can teach me control, I'll be happy...I really want this, Faleron...I want to be a knight..."

"I know you do, Meglet," Faleron whispered, hugging her tightly and stroking her hair. "And I'll do everything in my power to realize your dream."

Meg pulled away; her eyes shone in delight. "You mean..."

Faleron nodded solemnly, conspiratorially. "Father's leaving in three days. Once he's gone, start packing. I'm taking you to Corus next week."

Meg let out a shriek of glee; she flung her arms around Faleron, kissed his cheek, and ran off, looking happier than Faleron had seen her in months. He grinned; moments like this made being a big brother worthwhile.