Disclaimer: Oops. Keep forgetting this. I don't own any of Tamora Pierce's amazing characters. Unfortunately. The Sailan Isles and their occupants are the product of too many mochaccinos.
A/N: Thank you for the reviews! I really, really appreciate them. And please excuse any wrong details in this chapter. I wasn't sure what Alanna's married name would be or if I got Onua's name right?
'Oooh.'
'Oooh' indeed. Daine agreed whole-heartedly with Zek's awed murmur. She rested her hands in the mane of Zebara, a sprightly but even-tempered mare, leaned back and stared.
As Sir Renwald had so confidently pronounced, the company had reached the monarchy's palace not one hour after their departure from Port Ballyntyne. The journey had been uneventful, the horses enjoying the familiarity of the route and passing through field, woodland, river and valley without incident. Their mounts were of various sizes and temperament, but all a beautiful pure white and proudly bedecked in Sailan's royal blue. Daine had been pleased to hear that the horses were treated well – spoiled excessively, in fact – by Raillenden's horse-mistress and groomsmen. She had also been thoroughly entertained by Zebara's constant barrage of facts about their surroundings – Goddess bless, it was like keeping company with Numair! – and glad to see Onua's obvious contentment at being able to ride again.
While chatting to the talkative mare, Daine had unsuccessfully tried not to peek at her awkwardly seated love. Several times, she'd had to suppress giggles at Numair's valiant attempts to look comfortable atop the placid Bandit, prompting Zebara to demand an explanation of the joke. Zek had then joined in the conversation, one thing had led to another and consequently every horse present – and, no doubt, soon every horse in the stables – was acquainted with the name 'stork-man'. A fact that Daine might just keep to herself. She somehow didn't think Numair would be amused that the nickname had traveled the Emerald Ocean, and beyond.
Amused by Zek and Zebara's banter, and enraptured by the beauty of the Raillenden landscape, it felt to Daine as if they arrived at the gates of the palace in mere moments. And now, gazing up at the vast dwelling before her, she was utterly without words. She couldn't imagine a building more imposing than the home of the Isles' royal family.
'Big,' Zek whispered in her ear. Clearly she wasn't the only one feeling overwhelmed.
Mithros, was it ever big!
Craning her neck, Daine peered upwards at golden stone walls, row upon row of windows and arrow-slots, parapets and turrets, flags and banners. Biting her lip nervously, she watched exquisitely dressed men and women walking about an immense paved courtyard, and met the gazes of heavily armed guards. For an instant, she lost the confidence that Numair's love, and her friends' support, and living amongst Tortall's court had given her, and was the same defiant and scared girl who'd first arrived at another palace.
"Take away the silk and the jewels, and they're just ordinary mortals who could only wish for magic like yours," a voice murmured in her ear.
Shaken from her frozen state of apprehension, Daine startled and turned to meet Numair's understanding eyes. He had drawn Bandit up to Zebara's side, and reached out to touch her thigh gently.
"They should be worrying about meeting you, not the other way around," he told her.
Then he grinned.
"And if they knew what happened in Carthak, they definitely would be."
Trepidation replaced by embarrassed vexation, Daine balled a fist and smacked him on one hard shoulder.
"I wish everyone would just forget about that! I apologized, didn't I?"
"That you did," Numair agreed, still smiling.
"And Kaddar forgave me," Daine said slyly, glancing sideways at the mage as they followed Alanna and Onua's mounts through the great gates.
As soon as the words left her mouth, Numair's amused countenance slipped into a scowl.
"Of course he did," her disgruntled love said snappishly, "You could probably have obliterated his entire country, and he would want to kiss and forgive."
"Uh hmm," Daine said, hiding her smile behind her hand.
Numair looked over at her suspiciously.
"Stop trying to provoke me!" he protested.
"I will," Daine assured him airily, "It's far too easy."
She received a sharp tug on one of her curls in response.
Grinning at him, she replied, teasingly, but truthfully: "Besides, you know I only have eyes for you."
"I should hope so too."
She nodded with an exaggerated air of gravity. "After all, why would I want an Emperor when I can love the best horse-tailed mage in the whole world?"
"That is true," Numair agreed, with a characteristic lack of humility.
Daine giggled, and he reached for her hand, pressing an affectionate kiss into her palm.
He let her go briefly, as they halted in the palace courtyard and dismounted with the rest of the riders, before firmly interlocking their fingers.
Raising her chin to at least make a show of bravado, Daine tried to ignore the curious glances they were receiving.
Sir Tremain dropped smoothly to the ground, and turned to smile at them.
"Welcome to their majesties' palace!"
Smoothing already immaculate clothing – and not looking the least travel- worn after his ride – Sir Renwald nodded at them stiffly.
"If you'll follow me," he began, "I'll..."
He was cut off as the enormous barricaded doors were pulled open.
Daine swung around with the others to watch as guards marched out, before parting smartly to create a path for the four people that walked through the entranceway.
In front were a handsome man and woman who strode forward, arm in arm, beaming smiles of welcome.
A polite distance behind followed a girl of around Daine's age, with an open, pretty face and a friendly smile. She came eagerly toward them, several steps ahead of the strikingly good-looking, if rather mulish, young man who lagged unenthusiastically behind.
As the curious murmur of voices in the courtyard ceased, and people at once began to bow respectfully, Daine realised that she was looking at the Sailan Isles' royal family.
Thayet stepped forward smiling, and as the couple that Daine assumed were King Benjamin and Queen Lijana stopped before her, all three royals at once bowed and exchanged greetings.
Daine stood back and waited with Numair, Alanna and Onua to be introduced. She assumed that the first contact between Tortall and Sailan sovereignty was going well, judging by the smiles and chuckles.
Thayet turned around and motioned them forward.
"Your majesties, may I present Numair Salmalin, Alanna of Trebond, Veralidaine Sarrasri and Onua Chamtong? Numair, Alanna, Daine, Onua: their Royal Highnesses, King Benjamin and Queen Lijana of Raillenden."
Daine executed a near-perfect bow. Gods knew, it had taken her long enough to practise it!
Straightening, she got her first close look at the rulers of the Sailan Isles, and was instantly impressed. She'd had it in the back of her head that the king and queen would be autocratic and aloof – she wasn't sure why, since Jon and Thayet were not – but the couple's sparkling eyes and up- turned lips instantly belied any such notion.
King Benjamin was a tall man – almost as tall as Numair, Daine noted – with hair the colour of burnt wheat and eyes like the Dominion Jewel. Queen Lijana almost rivaled her husband in height. She was a beautiful woman with dark brown hair and kind grey eyes. If the young people hovering back were their children, the royals were probably at least in their far-thirties, but the queen's infectious and mischievous smile made her seem at least ten years younger.
Gently bringing the younger two forward, Queen Lijana smilingly confirmed their identities.
"Allow me to introduce our children," she said, in a surprisingly husky voice, "Our son, Braydon, and daughter, Azassandra."
It was interesting, Daine decided then, how you could form impressions of people on the spot. She liked Princess Azassandra at once. Meeting the young woman's gaze, they both smiled hesitantly, the other girl cast a rueful glance towards her sulky brother and Daine liked her even more. Prince Braydon, on the other hand...It was a sad thing, she thought, that the sullen young man glaring from his father's side would one day inherit the rule of such a beautiful place.
Seeing her looking at him, Braydon moved lecherous eyes up and down her body, and quirked a lascivious smile at her.
Daine glared back, and was entertaining fantasies of taking wolf-form and chasing the prince round and round the courtyard of nobles, when she felt Numair firmly wrap an arm around her waist, regardless of any censorious stares.
Looking up into his face, she saw that his eyes were narrowed on the younger man, lips thinned dangerously.
She glanced between them, and rolled her eyes as she gathered some sort of silent, manly ritual was taking place. Numair obviously got his point across, because Braydon sneered and turned away, his unwelcome attentions on Alanna now.
Daine smirked inwardly. If he tried anything there, he could wave goodbye to any ambitions of siring an heir one day.
Suddenly her neck felt bare, and Daine realised with a start that Zek was gone. Spinning around, she saw that the curious marmoset had been attracted by an arrangement of unusually coloured flowers.
Unfortunately, the flowers were arranged on the no doubt fashionable – although it looked fair stupid to her – head piece of an expensively dressed woman a short distance away.
Wincing, Daine immediately took off after him, hoping desperately that she could catch him before they were both disgraced.
Why was it that as soon as she met new people...?
Crouching, she scooped Zek up before he could make a lunge for his prize, and shrugged apologetically at the startled woman.
'Bad,' she informed her chagrined companion.
Zek peeped at her worriedly, and Daine had to laugh.
'Carthak was bad enough,' she told him, 'I have to make a good impression here.'
Numair appeared at her elbow, taking in the situation and shaking his head in mock-severity. However, he couldn't stop the smile that pulled at his lips.
Daine looked up at him defensively.
"Well, if she would wear a hat that looks like a weed patch!"
And Numair gave in to his laughter.
It was probably fortunate for the mages and Zek that their brief disappearance went unnoticed by all but their friends, as eyes turned toward a new arrival entering the gates.
Alanna – in mid-conversation with Onua – turned to see what the commotion was about. And – in a very un-Alanna-like movement – her mouth literally dropped open.
"Good gods."
"What's wrong?" Onua asked, following Alanna's astonished gaze, and pausing. "Horse lords!" she breathed.
The two women – and every other woman around them – watched as a man strolled casually towards them.
And both women had to blink several times to make sure they were seeing correctly.
He was, without any doubt whatsoever, the most beautiful man they'd ever seen.
Young, probably only a couple of years older than Daine's eighteen, he was solidly-muscled and walked easily, confidently. Rays of sunlight caught in golden-blond curls and reflected from already alight green eyes. His face was strongly carved, with a square jaw and firm, full lips that looked ready to quirk into a sardonic smile at any moment.
To the immense embarrassment of Alanna and Onua, they were unable to stop staring – even when Sir Tremain came to stand by them.
Grinning openly as he observed their stunned expressions, the Champion shook his head. "He always creates a bit of a stir, that's for sure."
Alanna dragged her eyes away with difficulty, and looked at Sir Tremain, fighting down a blush she thought she'd conquered years ago.
"He?" she asked succinctly.
"Jardan Treylrawne. Our wild mage."
Onua's head snapped around.
"What?" she asked in disbelief.
Alanna's eyebrows had shot up. "Gods teeth," she murmured.
Thayet came over to join them, opened her mouth to say something, and then caught sight of Jardan Treylrawne.
"Son of Mithros!" she exclaimed, before looking mortified at this departure from royal dignity.
"Yes," Onua agreed, looking at the handsome wild mage once more, "He could be."
"Who is that?" Thayet asked, trying not to stare.
"I think that," said Alanna slowly, "Is Numair's worst nightmare."