Title: Best Warrior
Author: Heiress
Rating: PG
Pairings: Not yet decided
Summary: Everyone knows how Alanna's secret was revealed through that one stroke in the duel with Duke Roger. Well what if that stroke had been completed in another battle, at another time?
Disclaimer: This all belongs to Tamora Pierce. I own nothing at this point except the first bit and embellishments on the plot from ITHOTG though I do have minor claims on the plot later on.
Suggestions for further plot developments are welcome and much appreciated. Flames will be doused with my muses' tears.
Chapter the Third
~*~*~
The full moon that evening glowed brilliant silver, casting its light through all of the windows of both city and palace. All of the creatures, both animal and human, drew health and strength from the Great Mother's lantern. All of the creatures, but one.
The man walked across one of the palace's wide, open courtyards, within the light of the moonbeams, but refusing them. He walked quickly between the buildings, but he did not hurry, or scuttle, or look suspicious in any way. This man looked purposeful, as if he knew exactly where he was going and had absolutely every right to be there.
::And that he does:: One murmured to herself, her comment silent and omnipresent. :: but no mortal has the right to do as he does when he gets there.:: The deity sighed, a sigh of night air and wolves howling at the moon. :: But we cannot interfere,:: There was a pause:: My chosen shall take care of that.::
Inexplicably, the man shivered.
~*~*~
: -and nearly ran into the Crown Prince of Tortall, who was lounging against the doorframe and staring right at her.
: Told you so:
Alanna's throat made a strangled noise directed at the furry black blob now licking its paws around her feet. She could not look down to see how Faithful responded because her gaze was locked on Jonathon, and his never wavered from hers.
It's all right, it's all right, the squire chanted mentally, all I have to do is stall for a little bit and then he'll have to leave or be late to the banquet. By the Goddess, what can I stall him with? "Well, don't you look dashing-"
The prince cut her off, "It's eight-o'-clock you know."
Alanna stared at him, open-mouthed. "What do you mean? It can't be. I've been in there for three and a half hours!"
"No you haven't," the black-haired man said, trying to suppress a smile at the consternation in his squire's violet eyes. "You locked yourself in your room only an hour and a half ago."
"So you interrupted the compliment that I was intending to give you just so that you could tell me that my internal clock has gone wonky?" she challenged, trying to regain her composure.
"Well, that and the fact that trying to stall me won't work."
Alanna grimaced, knowing that that manner of escape was now closed. "Gary or Raoul might stop by," she countered, "Or Alex."
With a sigh at the redheaded girl's tenacity, Jonathon ticked the three knights off his fingers as he dismissed their interruption. "Gary is at a "personal meeting" with Lady Cythera, Raoul will be avoiding this whole wing of the palace for fear that I will see him and make him come to the banquet, and Alex barely has time to talk to any of us anymore, let alone drop by right before a court function."
Alanna opened her mouth to spout off several more, even less likely names, but was again cut off.
"Stop stalling for Mithros sake and tell me what's wrong!"
Alanna tore her gaze from Jonathon's and focused on the floor, debating what to say. On the one hand, she could tell the truth. She could get all of the weight off of her chest, have a good rant, and maybe Jonathon would finally come to his senses. Of course, Ralon of Malven might come back to court as the newly crowned Emperor of Carthak to declare his everlasting love for Sir Myles.
On the other hand, she could lie. Lie to her best friend, lie to the man who would be king of her country and to whom she would swear fealty to. And what with the way that this day was going, she wouldn't only feel incredibly guilty, but Jon would figure out that she was lying almost immediately. Damn.
She glanced up at Jon before shifting her gaze to the right, where a blur of motion caught her eye. She looked up just in time to see a small shadow dart through the door.
::Abandon me why don't you!:: she thought at her familiar. He didn't deign to reply. Goddess!
Suddenly she was struck with the perfect idea, one that Jon would never doubt, never even question. Unfortunately, Alanna wasn't sure if she would survive the accompanying mortification. Alanna opened her mouth as she looked up to Jonathon but only a hoarse croak came out as her cheeks began to warm.
The prince's hand came into her field of vision and carefully tilted her chin up so that she was looking directly at him. His gaze was inquisitive, and now, slightly worried. She wouldn't look at him. Her eyes flickered over the desk, the fireplace, a stray paper on the floor, her show of embarrassment only a slight exaggeration of the truth.
"It's just-" the girl's voice came out small, despite the deep breath she had taken before speaking. "It's just the moon-days Jon. She said I might get a little, well, different but I-"
At just that moment, what his squire was talking about registered in Jonathon's head. He jerked his hand away from Alanna's chin as if he had been burned and self-consciously stepped back.
"I-I had no idea," he stammered, looking anywhere but at the embarrassed girl in front of him. "I really didn't mean… well…I'm sorry but- I have to go." And with that, Jonathon of Conte, Second year knight and Heir to the Throne of Tortall, fled into his room like a toddler from the equinox demons.
Alanna shook her head, amusement at her friend's antics dispelling most of her embarrassment. She sat down at her desk to work on a letter to Thom and wait for her knight-master's bruised dignity to recover.
Ten minutes, the letter, and a deportment assignment later, Jonathon emerged from his room, perfectly composed. After a few seconds of looking at every object in the room but his squire, Jonathon cleared his throat. Alanna glanced up from her sprawled position on the couch. "I-I shouldn't have pushed you and I-"
"You don't need to apologize Jon." She said, letting her book dangle from one hand. "You didn't know and I was," here she paused, looking for the right words, "out of sorts."
She stood, leaving her book on the floor, to offer her hand to Jon across the barrier of the couch. "Nothing doing, nothing done, and naught to remember."
He accepted her hand without hesitation, reciting, "There is nothing in the doing, there was nothing done and there is naught to be remembered."
A moment of silence so intense it rung in their ears followed this proclamation until Jon dropped Alanna's hand. "I have to get going," he said, heading toward the door even as he spoke. "Delia's waiting for me," were his last words as he stepped out of the door, a dreamy looking smile on his face.
Alanna snapped her mouth shut just in time to keep from yelling-something. She wasn't sure what exactly but she had the idea that it wouldn't have been very polite, and might have landed her in jail for describing the prince's ancestry in such detail, and with so few mentions of kings, queens, or much of anything that wasn't a farm animal.
Author's Notes:
-Hopefully this chapter will be uploaded with all of the appropriate Italics and formatting because I have been informed that the pervious chapter did not. I will be re-loading that one as well.
-That last bit was some sort of old-fashioned ritual of oathtaking or forgiveness and may or may not become part of the plot, (I'm not telling.)
-Next Chapter:-a sweet-obsessed lord and another encounter with Delia.
-Plot suggestions will be much appreciated.