Even though she was no longer a little girl, Lianne couldn't help but laugh and clench her eyes shut when George Cooper, Baron of Pirate's Swoop and her uncle (by love if not relation) wrapped his strong arms around her waist, picked her up, and spun her in circles on the dance floor, just as he had when she was much smaller. Her Uncle had always been one of her favorite dance partners, though she no longer had to stand on his feet to keep up.

The largest Midwinter Second Night party was in full effect, and the palace was decorated with its usual splendor. The pomp and circumstance of the evening had come and gone, and many of the guests had left the Crystal Room in favor of the ballroom, where there was not so much polite conversation and a good deal more merrymaking.

Lianne was dimly aware that, along with being spun in circles, she was being taken somewhere, but she did not know where until George deposited her on the ground. She opened her eyes to find herself at the edge of the dancers, and then shut them again, dizzy. George put a hand to her shoulder, laughing as he steadied her.

"There we go, my girl." Once the room stopped spinning treacherously and settled into its proper place, Lianne looked up into the eyes of her uncle, returning his smile. "It's not Midwinter until I've had my dance."

Lianne inhaled deeply to regain her breath, absently catching sight of a redhead moving in their direction. "Until you've spun me around until I can't see straight, you mean? Don't worry, Aunt Alanna, I've only borrowed him."

George turned to face his wife, the King's Champion and Baroness of Pirate's Swoop and Olau, now beside him. She smiled, though, as was often the case recently, the smile was not as full as it once may have been. "I appreciate it. Once upon a time he'd try to talk me into dancing all night. Now I can sit in peace. George, Jonathan wants you."

"I'll be back for you later," George informed Lianne, kissing his wife on the cheek and beginning to carefully dodge his way through the milling crowd. Alanna watched him go, looking tired despite the smile lingering around her lips.

Lianne hesitated, unsure. She had always gotten along very well with her Aunt Alanna, though she did not see her very often. Yet, now she felt awkward and unsure of what to say. Alanna glanced sideways at her, and her purple eyes softened, losing some of their downcast air. "Oh, don't let a stick in the mud like me spoil your fun. Come on – Daine's about, but I haven't seen her yet. I'm fairly certain someone said she was bringing Sarralyn with her tonight."

Brightening instantly, Lianne followed her aunt towards one of the smaller sitting rooms, eager to see Daine and her daughter again.

-

"Excuse me," As soon as she saw George across the room, Queen Thayet the Peerless removed herself from the small group she had been talking to and crossed towards her husband, still seated on his throne and deep in conversation with Gareth of Naxen. George arrived a moment later, just as Thayet was seating herself.

"Your Majesties," George nodded, mouth set in a thin line. He held up a hand as Gary moved to excuse himself, and glanced quickly around the area. "You need to hear this, too. But perhaps not here."

King Jonathan of Conte, stood, his face momentarily stony, though he replaced the frown with a neutral expression quickly. "Of course. My dear –"

Thayet rose as well, taking her husband's offered arm. The foursome wasted little time exiting the Crystal Room, and did not speak until they were carefully tucked away in a small parlor off the grand hall with the door locked and the room checked for any unknown presences.

"I'm sorry I couldn't see you sooner," Jonathan said once they were all seated, watching George closely. "What is it you wanted to discuss?"

George hesitated, looking from Jonathan to Thayet. Without turning, he could sense Gary's eyes on his face, inquisitive. He took a deep breath. "News from Aly, Jon. About Rubinyan."

Thayet frowned, puzzled. "I thought he was busy putting his household in order."

"He is," George supplied, contemplating his words, "Which includes looking into relations still returning from exile after Oron's death. Aly doesn't know much about many of the families coming out of the woodwork, but a few months ago, Hiresh Rukhev returned to the capitol."

"I've never heard of him," Gary said, eyebrows knitting together thoughtfully. "But the family name sounds familiar."

"He's a nephew of Oron," George supplied, leaning forward in his chair. "He was sentenced to death a little over two years ago, and has been hiding on Ikang Island since, as far as I can gather. Rubinyan officially pardoned him and returned his titles and estate. He's considered a lesser prince, now."

Jonathan could not suppress a heavy sigh. "It worries me that Rubinyan is organizing. A year ago, the powerful families were too scattered to support the royal house. Now –" He paused, fingers stroking his beard in thought. "It's good to know who's coming into power, at the very least. And it's good to know they still have a way to go before they've totally settled their court."

"Indeed." Thayet folded her hands in her lap, voice as calm as always, despite the faint look of unease on her face. "It'd be foolish to pull any of the troops from the northern border yet, and there's no question as to which Navy is superior. We can't afford conflict with anyone right now, never mind the Copper Isles."

"Ah, there's the thing," George clucked his tongue, not entirely willing to go on. "Aly's written that the word about is that Rubinyan isn't looking for war with Tortall. Actually, he's in the market for an alliance, now that power is shifting. The outward excuse is that with a king unable to rule, the country can't afford any enemies."

Gary nodded his assent, voice thoughtful. "He's right."

"He is. And so Aly expects you'll be hearing from Rubinyan soon, Jon, about the creation of formal ties between Tortall and the Copper Isles." George looked meaningfully around at those present, jaw set. "Through a marriage for Hiresh."

A quiet settled on the room. Thayet, after the briefest of moments, paled slightly and looked back at George with wide eyes.

"Marriage? He must know perfectly well that we'd certainly not break Kalasin's engagement; our relations with Carthak would never recover. And certainly he'd realize we would never send Lianne out when –"

"I don't think," George interrupted Jon midway through his sentence, voice very quiet, "He realizes that at all. Hiresh is around 21. Lianne is just the right age to be considered as a wife. There she would be considered a lesser princess – unable to inherit, of course, as a woman, and not likely to take the throne here. To him it must seem a perfect match."

"Absolutely not." Thayet's eyes were hard as she shook her head, meeting her husband's eyes. "I refuse to even consider it."

"Give word to Aly that she has done us a great favor by getting this to us in advance." Jonathan sat back in his chair, blue eyes serious beneath furrowed brows. "It will give us time to think up a diplomatic way to say no."

"It will have to be very diplomatic," Gary said, shaking his head slowly as well. "Rubinyan is certainly saner than Oron, but no less ruthless, I've heard. We'll have to be careful in how we approach this."

George nodded stiffly. "At least we have some time."

-

Sarralyn gurgled, much more interested in the braceleted arm holding her than the group of women happily chatting over her small head. At 18 months old, her fascination with shiny objects took up a good deal of her time, especially when in the presence of her many adoptive aunts, who always had something pretty for her to examine, and usually suck on. In this case she was so fascinated that she did not respond in the least when her name was mentioned, as she usually did.

"At least we're through teething, which is a small blessing," her mother was saying, though even if she had been paying attention, Sarralyn would have had no idea what that meant.

"Think if she hadn't stopped shape shifting – imagine the teething!" The speaker was Onau Chamtong, horsemistress for the Queen's Riders and Sarralyn's godmother.

Daine blanched, casting a sideways glance at her daughter. "I thank mother every day for curing her of that habit, and try not to imagine life if she hadn't. One of us would have lost a limb!" The wildmage grinned, adding as an afterthought, "Probably Numair."

"I feel like I haven't seen her in ages – she looks so different!" Lianne beamed at the small girl in her arms who was now standing and tentatively holding onto Lianne's shoulders as she critically examined the silver filigree about her neck. "Does she talk much yet?"

"Not all that much," Daine said, watching her daughter experimentally chew on her own fingers. "Mostly she says 'ma' and 'da', and of course, 'no' much more than I'd like. I don't think she has a clue what it means, of course. She says no to everything."

"I'm sure she'll learn soon enou-aaaah." Lianne could not help but wince and trail off as Sarralyn, having abandoned the necklace for the much more interesting silver eardrops, decided to see if she could take one, and pulled Lianne's earlobe enthusiastically.

Daine was standing before her in a second, carefully lifting the infant away with one hand and removing her hand from Lianne's ear with the other. "Sorry! Come on sweetling, let's not rip that out. Good girl. I forgot all about warning you to watch your ears, Lianne."

Despite a now aching and very red ear, Lianne laughed with the rest of the women and continued the conversation.