It was a warm spring morning when Owen of Jesslaw padded through the familiar halls of the Cavall estate, grinning to himself over how wonderful it was to be alive. He worked his way through the twisty passages before stopping in front of the closed door of his knight master's study. Owen reached his arm out to knock when a high pitched voice stopped him.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Owen tilted his head, amused, as he addressed the speaker. "Why ever not, Lady Teresa?"

Lord Wyldon's youngest daughter wrinkled her nose in disgust from her perch on the window seat. "Don't call me that."

A smile pulled at Owen's lips. "Why ever not, Lady Teresa?"

Teresa gave the squire a look that one gives when they have discovered something especially nasty on the bottom of one's shoe. She then turned her attention back to the book she'd been reading and Owen raised his hand once more to knock.

"Never say I didn't try to warn him…"

Owen looked Teresa. Or rather, the book in front of Teresa's face.

"Warn who? About what?" asked Owen, puzzled.

"That silly boy my father is determined to call his squire."

Owen spun wildly as he looked around the hall, desperately trying to find at whom Teresa's dialogue was aimed. Bewildered, he concluded that they were the only ones present. Girls, he thought scornfully, are so strange.

"I tried to tell the silly boy—"

Owen interrupted here, indignantly as he puffed out his chest. "I am not a boy. I'm sixteen."

Teresa continued as if he had not said anything. "—that he shouldn't disturb father. Therefore, it shall not be on my guilty conscience when father murders him."

Owen started. "What have I done now?"

Lord Wyldon's daughter continued speaking to a non-present third person. "If only Squire Owen would remember that he is not the only person in Tortall, the world would be a better place. And although I must concede that if something is amiss with father it is generally the squire in question's fault, it is considerably pig-headed to jump to conclusions. Assuming is ever so vulgar."

Owen relaxed visibly. "Then what's wrong with Milord?"

Teresa paused. Then she relented, "although I do not see it as being any of Squire Owen's business, I feel it is fair to warn him as to the extent of fury with which he will be met with should he knock on that door." She paused once more and grinned wickedly. "Mother asked the Lioness to tea."

Owen's eyes widened and he choked on laughter that was threatening to rise. "Why in the Gods' names did she do that?"

Teresa's giggling ended abruptly when Lord Wyldon's door began to open. Rising from her seat, she grabbed Owen by the arm and they scurried around the corner.

Lord Wyldon, a scowl heavily etched on his face peered into the corridor. "Odd," he remarked in a deadly voice. "I could swear I heard voices out here."

The knight's voice carried around the corner and Owen smiled innocently. "Oh no my Lord," he whispered quietly, "they were just in your head." Teresa gave a disapproving glare that turned into guilty giggles. Owen looked at her in horror and clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. They heard a pause and a loud bang to signify the closing of Lord Wyldon's door.

Teresa pushed Owen's hand away and with a dignified glare, swept off down the hall.

"Good day, Squire Owen."


Author's Note:

1) The much anticipated disclaimer: I don't own it.

2) This is the beginning of a longer short fic I'm writing. I may post the rest... I might not. It involves Alanna actually coming to tea. Here's a sample:

Meanwhile, Wyldon pounced on his cue. "Yes, math. I had to finish my squire's math lesson. And that is why I was late. You know how important it is to teach a squire the fundamentals of math Lioness, don't you?"

Alanna, took this as a personal insult to her less than average skills in math. Neal winced.

"Excuse me but some people value chivalry and honour more than algebra."

"Honour? You, of all people Lady Alanna, wish to discuss honour?"

"Wyldon," hissed Viven as she glared daggers at her husband.

Alanna looked as if she'd been slapped. "By the tongue of the Goddess Cavall, what was that supposed to mean?"

The room was silent. Alanna and Wyldon were staring each other down, neither giving an inch.

"Language, my Lady," said Neal finally. "Not in front of the childr—"

The two knights broke eye contact and turned on Neal. "Queenscove," they began simoultaniously.

"Stay out of this-"

"Or you will regret it-"

"For the rest of your life."

"And I promise, the rest of your life will last-"

"Oh, sixteen seconds."

"Seventeen if you're lucky." And then they turned back to each other.

3. Thanks so much to everyone who read and reviewed my last Owen fic, The Squire I. You're all wonderful :)

4. Thank you Leavers "When you quote me I sound stupider "Beavers for nagging and beta-ing ;)

Ciao!

Fen, er, Lyre. Don't know who I am. Pick one.