I was shocked when I saw Melly's face, and then furious. Blood ran from her mouth and nose, and a wound on her temple bled sluggishly. She'd been hit so many times all of the bruises had merged into one swollen mass. It was so bad around her left eye that she couldn't even open it.

"Melly," I asked slowly. "Are you alright? Can you walk?"

Her open eye remained unfocused for a moment, but she recognized my voice. I saw her slowly focus on my face, and suddenly she burst into tears and threw her arms around my waist.

"I was scared," she sobbed. "I was so scared."

I winced when she tightened her grip on me, her arms pressing against the bruises I'd acquired tilting. But I said nothing of it and ignored the pain, putting my arms around her thin shoulders and hugging her as gently as I could.

"You're safe now," I told her.

She continued to cry into my shirt, her tears quickly soaking through the fabric. I stroked and hand over her hair and tried to soothe her as best I could, but stopped when I felt a large lump underneath her matted hair. My anger quickly returned as I realized just how badly she was hurt.

The bastards who had done this to her lay in a heap across the floor. I'd done my best to surprise them, knocking one out cold with a quick blow to the back of his head with the hilt of my dagger. But the other had pulled a knife from his boot and tackled me. Now he lay in a pool of his own blood, my dagger buried to the hilt in his chest. Vaguely I realized that he was the first man I'd ever killed, but Melly was much more important at the moment.

All was silent but for her soft sobbing. After a moment I spoke, feeling an unusual urge to explain myself. "Gwenna told me you went to get clothes, but when you didn't come back she thought you got lost. Since I was already finished I came to look for you."

I stopped talking when I felt her hands bunch into fists, fingers curling tightly in my shirt. Leaning down I rested my cheek against her hair and hugged her a little tighter, and her sobs began to quiet. I could only imagine what horrific things were running through her mind.

The girl she had rescued had nearly crashed in to me on the stairs, crying and talking so fast it was hard to understand what she'd been saying. But it had been easy to guess from the bruises on her face and the tears on her clothing what had upset her so. I'd sprinted up the stairs and down the hallway, following the angry voices of the men. Melly had fought them like a wild cat, clawing and biting and hitting anything and everything she could. In a way it made me proud, to know she fought so hard even though her chances of winning were slim to none, but then the bigger man had struck her, and anger had clouded my thoughts. Now he lay on the floor with my blade in his chest.

And knowing that I'd killed the bastard made me feel good.

It was a frightening thought, but I didn't have time to contemplate it. Suddenly more men were at the door, armed and shouting. As they shoved me away from my friend I recognized one of the men assigned to watch me. They took one look at the room, saw the blood on my hands and Melly's injuries and leapt to what was the obvious conclusion.

"Get down, you miserable cur," he snarled at me. Grabbing my shoulder, he slammed his boot into the back of my knees and pushed me face first into the floor. "I've been waitin' for you to slip up."

"I didn't do anything," I growled, even though I know what the reaction would be.

"Shut yer hole," he snapped, putting his boot down on my head and pressing me hard to the floor. I felt my hands pulled behind my back and bound by some sort of cloth. Then, with one hand in my hair and the other on my shoulder, he yanked me up to my knees and then my feet and started to steer me towards the door.

One of the two guards with him was checking the two fallen men, and the other was trying to talk to Melly, asking her questions but getting no response. She was still crying, her eyes dazed and confused. The guard gently took her arm and guided her to the bed, trying to talk her into sitting down. But then she looked up and saw me, and suddenly her eyes were sharp and clear again.

"Stop!" she cried. "Leave him alone!"

The guard held her back when she would've run to me, but she grabbed his hand and bit him and he let go with a curse. She rushed over and grabbed my captor by the arm, pulling hard and trying to break his grip on me.

"Let him go!"

He pushed her away with one hand and sent her staggering back. "Be quiet, girl. He's goin' back to where he belongs."

"Stop it!" she cried again, but he ignored her and shoved me out the door. I heard her growl in frustration, then she drew a deep breath and shouted:

"The granddaughter of Roald II of Conté commands you to stop!"

We both froze when we heard the king's name, and the man holding me slowly turned and looked at her.

"You must be addled in the head to think I'd be stupid enough to believe that," he scoffed.

"If I were lying I'd think of something a bit more believable than that." She braced her feet and glowered at him, the ugly wounds on her face making the expression twice as powerful. "My name is Melisande of Conté and as a member of the royal family I command you to let him go!"

He stared at her in open disbelief, but I could see doubt clouding his eyes. Like me, he looked at her black hair, her pale skin, and the remarkable blue eyes possessed by most of the Royal family. It wasn't much in the way of solid proof, but when I looked her in the eye I knew she wasn't lying.

He slowly let me go, but before he could undo my hands Melly was there doing it herself. When I turned to look at her she refused to meet my gaze and there was a sudden heaviness on my chest. This could change everything.

The man, who's name was Nolan Danriksson, may have accepted Melly's claim of royalty, but he wasn't about to let us go. He and one of the guards escorted us through the Palace to an upper chamber I had never seen before. Bookshelves of fine red wood lined the walls and a large ebony desk dominated the far side. Behind the desk was a chair of the same wood with dark blue seat cushions, and the wall behind it consisted of large windows of very fine-quality glass.

We were told to sit in two of the chairs facing the desk. Nolan left us there without a word, and suddenly we were alone in a very loud silence.

She was the first to speak, her voice soft. Her head hung forward so her hair blocked my view of her face. "I'm sorry I lied to you."

I took a deep breath. "Why did you do it?"

The answer was obvious, but I wanted to hear in her own words. She was slow to reply, her bruised and bloody hands fidgeting nervously in her lap. When she finally did speak her words came in a great rush, as if she were afraid to stop lest she lose her courage.

"I was afraid you'd treat me differently if you knew I was royal. I've never had friends like this before and I didn't want your first impression of me to be that of a pampered noble." She paused and took a breath. "I just wanted to be Melly."

A door opened behind us and our conversation was cut short. Melly turned to look at the newcomers, but I had already guessed their identities... or at least one of them.

"Grandfather!" Melly cried, her bloody face lighting up with joy. She leapt from her chair and raced across the room. I turned just in time to see King Roald lean down and sweep her up into a tight embrace, lifting her high off the floor and spinning her around, just as I had seen my father do countless times with my sisters.

King Roald was tall and broad shouldered, despite his age. His short hair was entirely silver, but his beard still held bits of black. The lines on his face creased into a smile as he held his granddaughter, but the minute he put her down and took a good look at her the smile was gone, replaced by shock and anger.

I wasn't surprised when his angry gaze turned immediately to me. But before he said anything the man behind him put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. I recognized Prince Jonathan right away; he looked exactly like his father. I felt a momentary gratitude towards him for stemming his father's anger, until he shot a suspicious look my way. I sighed.

"Melisande," the king's deep voice was full of concern. "What on earth happened to you?"

She clung to his hand and leaned against him, obviously reluctant to talk about her harrowing experience. Roald picked her up again and moved to sit at his desk with her in his lap, stroking her hair and speaking to softly for me to hear.

Prince Jonathan turned to me. "Tirragen, I gather?"

I nodded. "Yes, my lord."

"How exactly do you fit into this?" He asked, his tone openly accusatory.

Melly spoke before I could answer. "This isn't his fault, Uncle Jon. He saved me. If it weren't for him I'd be much worse off."

"Melisande was being attacked by two men." I said, choosing my words carefully. Her new name felt odd on my tongue. "She couldn't fight them off on her own."

The story slowly unraveled as we took turns speaking. She told them how she'd been here for almost a week with Donovan, training with the pages and squires, and why she'd kept her presence a secret. Then she told them about going to fetch clean clothing and discovering the men assaulting the girl, but her words stopped abruptly after that. She turned away from us and hid her face against her grandfather's shoulder, leaving me to tell the rest.

"I believe they intended to do to her what they couldn't do to the other girl, your majesty. I arrived to late to stop them from striking her, but it went no further." I took a deep breath. "I knocked one of them unconscious, but I had to kill the other."

I only heard what Prince Jonathan muttered because he was standing right next to my chair. "Should've killed them both."

The king was silent for a long time, obviously struggling to control his temper. But at least now he was angry at the bastards who'd tried to rape his granddaughter, and not me for simply being there. He kissed her hair and pulled her closer to him in a tight embrace, then looked at me.

"Then I owe you my thanks, young squire." He said, and meant it. Then he shocked me by continuing. "It was wrong of me to jump to conclusions."

I was dumbstruck, but somehow managed to speak. "Th-thank you, sire."

Prince Jonathan reached out and shook my hand with the slightest of smiles. He left the room, then returned shortly with the queen at his side. A small, elderly woman, Shinkokami's hair was pure white and her skin was lined with age, but her eyes were large and dark, and she was still very beautiful.

"Obaachan" Melly broke her silence when the queen arrived, slipping off her grandfather's lap and running to throw her arms around Shinkokami. The old woman was obviously shocked and dismayed at her granddaughter's appearance, but said nothing of it. She put her arms around Melly's shoulders and hugged her tightly. In passing it occurred to me that this was why she spoke fluent Yamani.

"Meri-chan" she said softly. "Okaeri"

That word, whatever it meant, was enough to make Melly burst into tears again. She clung tightly to her grandmother, sobbing even harder than she had when I first found her.

"Tadaima," she said, her voice breaking as tears poured down her face. "Tadaima"

Obaachan - Grandmother (affectionate)

Okaeri - Welcome home

Tadaima - I'm home

I decided to use Japanese for the Yamani language, just because Tamora herself had already borrowed a few words, like naginata and hoshi, and it was easier that way because I'm actually learning to speak it. I really wanted to use "okaeri" and "tadaima" because in Japanese they are much more meaningful than "welcome home" and "I'm home" are in English. It's hard to explain... I guess it's just a family bonding thing. Oh well.

I'm about... half way through chapter 12, and it's progressing pretty well. I think that'll be the last of this part of Melly's story.

It wasn't just a coincidence that Eyvind's sisters were named Igraine and Viviane, lol. I was reading the Mists of Avalon when I wrote chapter 10, and they were the first names to pop into my head and I liked it enough to stick with it. And I got other names like Eyvind, Somerled and Padriac from Juliet Marillier. She's just about my favorite author nowadays, and her newest books are a good source for Nordic names, which I need for people from the northern parts of Tortall or Scanra and such.

Well, it's late and I need to go bed. Take care, and I'll see you all in chapter 12!