It was early in the morning of Alanna's birthday. The Lioness herself was out on the practice courts, sparring with the boys. In her absence, the other girls had gathered in Sandry's room to compare final notes for the afternoon's picnic.
Cythera, as official President of the Random Picnic Association, had commandeered the armchair; Sandry got the desk chair, and the others were reclining on the four-poster. Cyth was holding a neatly scribed list up, and was examining it with intense scrutiny.
"Right," She said decisively, "Daja, have you sorted out the food?"
Daja nodded dutifully, trying not to laugh. You'd never have thought it to look at her, but Cyth the hopeless, daydreaming romantic was a born organizer- of other people, anyway, even if she couldn't keep her own desk tidy. Cythera continued inexorably, "Tris, you sorted out transport?"
Tris rolled her eyes. "I borrowed a donkey, Cyth. I'd hardly call it 'sorting out transport'.
Cythera of Elden glared at her. "Did you or didn't you?"
Tris sighed, with an air of sufferance, and assured Cythera that she had. A slightly mollified President of the Random Picnic Association continued, "Sandry, you sorted out invitations?"
Peacemaker admirably refrained from pointing out that yelling at the boys to come to a picnic didn't exactly come under the heading of invitations, especially when tey would have invited themselves anyway, the greedy pigs, and merely nodded.
"Right," Said Cythera, clearly in her element and oblivious to the rest of the world, "Let's pack the stuff up."
Officially, of course, Alanna didn't know about the picnic, but since pretty much everyone involved, including Cyth herself, was completely incapable of keeping a secret, she had in fact found out within a day. The one point the others had held their peace on, despite all of Alanna's pestering, were the presents; they were to be presented at the picnic, and that was that. Thus Alanna, out on thew courtyard with the boys, was practically humming with excited adrenaline; she had grown to adore presents, or at least the good ones. At the Convent, Cyth had always got her some kind of weapon, knowing how much she yearned for them; any other trinkets she received from some passing acquaintance had hardly been worth bothering with. Now the prospect of at least eight presents was hovering in the air, and every one of them promised to be brilliant. Sandry, for example, had been very quiet over the last few days.
Once it was clear that even sparring for twenty minutes with Gary- rather difficult, since she had to concentrate on what he was doing and not be distracted by the interesting way his chest moved- was not going to dull her energy, the news was passed out that everything was packed up and ready to go. The message was relayed via Briar, who had been teaching Jon street fighting over on the other side of the courtyard. Actually whooping with delight, Alanna sheathed her sword in the middle of a duel-something she had been told at least a thousand times to stop doing- and dashed off towards the stables.
They had been eating for half an hour. This was not to say they had been there for half an hour; not, this was after about an hour of riding, unpacking, setting out, sitting down, decided that bit over there looked comfier, realizing that somebody was sitting there, brushing the ants out of Cythera's dress and trying to stop the trees growing around Briar. In the centre of the group sat Alanna, grinning like an idiot and surrounded by pie, notoriously her favorite food. Unfortunately the kitchen had forgotten to label which pie was which, leading to the dessert being eaten before the starter, but Cythera had insisted that his added to the fun. The boys were still eating as if they had never seen pastry before, despite the fact that they had already eaten a hamperful of pies between them. Everyone else, however, seemed to be flagging.
Cythera the ever-vigilant, however, was watching everyone like a hawk and had the art of timing down to perfection. Clapping her hands together, she proclaimed, "PRESENT TIME!"
In the tree above her, several birds took flight. Alanna squealed. The boys looked at Cythera imploringly, but there was no mercy in her green eyes, and the put down their pies reluctantly.
Settling herself back against the tree, Alanna grinned. "Who first?" She wanted to know, holding her hands out. For a moment, there was a complete hubbub as everyone tried to get the person on their left to do it. After a moment, Daja agreed, and produced a little parcel wrapped in white linen. Trying not to rip the cloth in glee, it took Alanna a minute to unwrap it. When she did, though, she had to catch her breath with wonder.
The young smith-mage had produced a dagger of shining steel with a bronze hilt. The designs on the bronze were evenly embossed, so that leather could be comfortably wrapped around it, and the steel was as sharp as Alanna had ever felt. It was light enough to be thrown, and small enough to be acceptably worn in a Lady's sash, but could be used at close range as well. Running her thumb lovingly over the crosspiece, Alanna noticed the design on the hilt.
A rampant cat.
"It's a Lioness." Daja explained, reaching over to touch it. "it won't lose that edge for years, and then it will sharpen again easily."
Alanna, on an impulse, flung her arms around her friend. "It's lovely." She said, with a warm smile. "Thank you."
Not to be outdone, a grinning Jon and Raoul produced a matching shield; a Lioness rampant emblazoned on the front. Though she knew she might never be able to use it in battle, Alanna felt tears coming to her eyes. "Next year," Jon joked, grinning at her, "you get the armor."
Cythera produced a set of jewelry; earrings, ring, necklace, bracelet and circlet. "In case you forget you're a girl." She said mischievously, wrapping her arms around her best friend.
Tris brought forth a volume on female warriors; Briar a complete set of lockpicks, which he assured her never failed to come in handy. Sandry produced a woven tapestry of a female warrior in black armor, leaning on her sword. At last only Gary remained, and she turned expectantly towards him, her heart thudding. What could she possibly expect from him?
Nothing, it seemed, that he could give her in front of the others; for he leapt up, took he by the wrist, and pulled her out of the glade, ignoring the catcalls and whoops from the others. Weaving amongst the trees for a little way, they came to another, smaller glade. Blinking and laughing breathlessly, Alanna looked around.
Her jaw dropped.
Standing in front of them was one of the young stable boys from the palace, holding the prettiest mare Alanna had ever seen. Milky cream in colour, with a golden shine to her mine, the stood tossing her head and nickering softly. Alanna turned back to Gary, astonished; he smiled down at her. With a nod dismissing the stable boy, he pulled her towards the horse and started stroking the mare's mane.
"Beautiful, isn't she?" He asked, trying not to show how fast his heart was racing. "I got her from the Bazhir traders. Her name's Moonlight. She's all yours."
"Gary, you… I can't…"
Neighing gently, the horse leant down and licked Alanna's neck. The Lioness, silenced, laughed and stroked the sand-coloured beauty. Glancing back up at her betrothed, she smiled. "Thank you, Gary."
They stood there for a moment, neither quite daring to speak. Then, as if some strange external impulse were guiding him, Gary slowly brought his lips down to meet hers.
As they separated, he murmured softly, "Aly, I need to tell you something."
"Hmm?"
"I was going to tell you at the ball, but… Aly, I love you."
It was a perfect moment. Even the wind that shook the upper branches fell silent, and however clichéd it might seem, Alanna swore that in that time, and in that place, the world stood still.
It occurred to her, as she pressed her lips to his, that clichés, after all, had to start somewhere. Quietly she intertwined her fingers with his, and murmured softly, "I love you, too."
They walked back slowly, leading Moonlight, with their fingers still laced together. As they rejoined the others, Raoul leant over surreptitiously to Jon.
"Just the two of us confessing at the ball then, you reckon?"
"Looks like it."
