Polite Society

Disclaimer: Joren and Kel and what not belong to Tamora Pierce.

A/N: For BETH (darkladyadrienne) on her birthday. As I love her sooooo. smoooch She is the writer of all things Kel and Joren and pretty and this is a birthdayish tribute to her. :-)

Joren was beginning to notice that it was far bloody harder than he'd thought to find a young maiden with more than two thoughts in her head with whom he may dance and converse. If there were any such maidens, they were hiding, for the ilk Joren found himself twirling around the floor were about as dense as lead. And there was scarcely anything challenging about lead. A mere smile would win their hearts in the very blink of an eye. Joren knew how to court women. He'd been instructed from a very young age in the complexities of 'polite society' and could dally effortlessly with the convent-reared maidens. But Mithros they were boring.

He sighed and cast his flinty blue eyes about the crowded room, pausing on Keladry of Mindelan. She was smoothing non-existent wrinkles from her plain gown and tucking her hair idly behind her ear. It was down past her shoulders now, her mousy brown hair, and Joren had never seen it so long. He studied her, perhaps longer than he'd intended to and decided he liked her hair long. It was an improvement, if anything. He watched as she kindly rebuffed what had to be a young sorcery student, or a noble's son never sent to train as a knight. He had to be knew to Corus, Joren judged, as everyone knew that Keladry of Mindelan danced with no one if she could help it.

Perfect, Joren decided and set out across the ball room, his natural, cat-like grace serving him well, and attracting many an eye to his being. When finally he stood before Keladry, he inclined his head in the smallest bow he could get away with and still be considered polite.

"Yes, Joren?" the girl asked, a clear, guarded edge to her voice.

He smiled a charming smile at her—it had made the Thornlake girl weak in the knees—and stepped in a bit closer, wagering with himself as to how close she'd let him get before spurning him. "Keladry."

A pause, and Joren saw a distinct spark of panic in her hazel eyes.

"What do you want?" she demanded, trying to keep her voice level.

He smiled and said quite simply, "A dance."

Now, Joren had seen her mask slip before, but he reckons it's never been quite this amusing to watch.

She shakes her head. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I must decline."

He had her hand in his in a split-second, taking wicked pleasure in the way her breath hitched and eyes widened. "Why not?" he entreated, regarding her with a level gaze as he stepped another step closer.

"Because I hate you," was the replied that slipped from between gritted teeth and the darkness that flashed in her eyes when she realized she had nowhere to step back to had to be the most wonderful thing Joren had seen all night.

"You don't have to," he intoned, a suggestive quirk to his elegant eyebrows. He squeezed her hand and allowed a ghost of a smile to grace his lips. "You could dance with me instead."

She yanked her hand back. "I don't want to dance with you, so if you'll excuse me—"

Joren took a bold step forward and took her chin in his hand. "Tsk, tsk, Keladry. All I asked for was a dance and this is the treatment I receive? What do you think of me then?"

"Honestly? I think you're a self-centered, arrogant prig," she said, a glint in her hazel eyes. "Not that it matters but what do you think of me if you've come to ask me to dance?"

"Honestly?" he parroted, a mischievous grin flickering briefly over his features. "I think you've more brains that most of the other ladies here. An observation, by no means a compliment. And," he continued, "You're a challenge. And I like challenges."

She bristled and sniffed in disdain, trying to pull away. "Well, if that's what you're after, you can find some other lady. I'll have you remember that I am a squire and not some air-headed maiden you can toy with."

"Precisely." And with that, he drew her into his arms and pulled her onto the dance floor, ignoring her protests and soft 'umh!' of surprise.

She saw out the entire dance with him, a smug scowl on her face. He attempted to converse with her, and found she would not speak more than two words at a time to him. The dance ended eventually, and she moved to flee from the dance floor entirely. She was stopped however, by his warm hand that still held her own.

He met her eyes, his own tinted with a hard sort of sincerity. He smiled a polite smile and kissed the back of her hand. "Thank you for the dance."

He started away, but stopped when a sharp, low voice muttered, "Joren?" He turned, standing tall: the very picture of elegance.

Keladry's eyes were smoldering when she looked at him, but she asked smugly, "Another dance?"

His lips quirked upward in a wry smile. "After you just called me a self-centered, arrogant prig? I'm astonished."

"How about we leave it with the fact that you 'shocked me with your polite demeanor' and perhaps we could converse this time?" she asked, a bargaining, challenging look in her eyes.

He bowed, the slightest bit lower this time. "I should be delighted."

"You should be nice more often, Joren," she said wickedly as he spun her back out onto the dance floor. "You might be surprised at what happened."

"I'd have some vaguely intelligent maiden like you mooning after me?"

"I said you might be surprised; I didn't say the world was coming to a fiery end."

He smirked. "You're so unbelievably charming," he said, rolling his eyes.

She laughed lightly and replied in a voice just as sardonic as his. "I'm trying my very hardest. Just for you."

"I'm flattered."

"As well you should be."

"Want to get out of here?"

She didn't say anything at first, but then nodded. "Yes, I think so."

---

The spoke for hours that night, tucked away in his apartment in chairs before a roaring fire. They revealed things that surprised the other, starting with a few lighter issues, moving into deeper ones. They spoke a few words on the feud between them, but thought it better to move forward. They could be friends, Keladry decided, but they could not look to the past.

When the light of dawn crept in through Joren's window, they both laughed softly and hid yawns with their hands.

Joren smirked. "Up with the dawn like always, eh?"

Kel yawned again. "Always trying a way to make things harder for me, eh?"

"You brought this on yourself."

"Excuse me? You asked me to dance."

He laughed and rose to help her up and send her on her way. When he stood above her, he dropped a quick kiss on her lips.

She froze, her eyes wide as he slowly pulled her to her feet. "Did you just...?"

He sent her a questioning look, as if he'd done nothing at all.

Her eyes narrowed. "Consider yourself lucky that I have somewhere I need to be." There was a tone in her voice Joren had never heard before: a teasing, humorous inflection.

"And while you charge at things and trip over your own feet all morning, I think I might have to sleep till noon," he replied, his own voice as teasing as hers had been.

She took one large step forward, wagering how close she could get before he backed away and kissed him rather soundly, spun on one heel and left. Over her shoulder, she grinned a devilish grin. "Perhaps—if you're lucky—I'll save you a dance tonight."

As it were, luck was most definitely with him that night. Who needed 'polite society' when one had a snappy, sometimes downright mean maiden with which to converse and cavort?

A/N: I do soooo like reviews!!