Summary: Alanna went to the convent. She can't miraculously fight. She isn't suddenly beautiful, or the realms most powerful mage. Corus definitely isn't peachy. And Roger?
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to the one and only Tamora Pierce. Hail.
More than Ornaments
Chapter Three: A Lighter Outlook
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Jonathan and Alanna hurried back up to the ballroom, just as the nobles began to depart. Or rather, flee.
Alanna was confused. Why were they leaving? She voiced this to Jonathan, who was franticly searching the room.
He frowned. 'Why wouldn't they? You would have to be crazy to stay.' He took her arm again and lead her to where Francesca and Francis were standing. Jonathan nodded to Francis, whose eyes showed all too well their knowing.
The blonde looked at Alanna. 'You have to get out of here.' He pushed his sister towards her. 'Both of you.'
'Why?' Francesca shook her head, her eyebrows raised.
'Why are people leaving?' Alanna looked over her shoulder at the diminishing crowd. 'I don't understand.'
Gary came up behind them, pulling on Alanna's arm for the second time that night.
It was Francis who answered them, after a sharp look at Jonathan. 'People are scared. They don't want to show allegiance to Jonathan by attending a party with him.' He threw a sour look at exit.
Gary tugged Alanna's arm again. 'We have to go.' His glanced briefly at Jonathan, surprised the prince was still there. 'All of us.'
'Why should we?' Alanna met Gary's muddy-brown eyes, her voice full of annoyance. 'If people continue to act like this, then he's won already. He wants everyone to go, to be in fear and alone. Why should his Majesty obey a Duke?' She raised an eyebrow at Jonathan.
He shook his head. 'You don't understand. I can't afford to face him right now, not when there are too few willing to stand by my side.'
'You have to have faith in your people first. Show them courage, let them know you're fighting and then, maybe they'll have faith in you.'
The prince smiled at her, but it did not show in his eyes like it should have. 'You have no idea how much I'd give to believe that.'
Francesca laughed uneasily. 'Believe it then.'
Alanna beamed at her friend. 'You can't let anyone walk all over you like this, in present circumstances least of all your cousin.'
An older, taller man who looked suspiciously like Gary tapped Jonathan on the shoulder. 'Your Majesty, may I suggest you depart. Now.'
Jonathan hesitated. 'What for?' He gave his father's best friend an appeasing look. 'To retire for the night, or hurry to greet my dearest cousin?'
Sir Gareth the elder looked around the room, where very few people still stood. 'To retire, of course.'
'No.' Jonathan looked back at Alanna. 'I don't think I will.'
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It was nothing compared to the party a half-hour ago, but the remaining Tortallan nobility did their best.
An elderly lady played lightly on the piano, but the twenty or so nobles gathered in small groups, chattering half heartedly. No-one was game enough to dance.
Would the Duke even show up?
Alanna sat in a corner table with Thom, arguing insistently about his relationship with Lady Delia.
'I hate her,' Alanna pressed, trying hard to quieten her voice.
A shaggy old man chortled into his brandy next to them.
Thom was looking thoroughly annoyed. 'She says she doesn't even remember you.'
'What?'
The shaggy man snorted and Alanna threw him a menacing look.
'She's lying. There is no way, even considering how stupid Delia is, that she has no memory of me.'
'That sounds slightly arrogant, sister dear.'
'Arrogant?' Alanna was furious now. 'She was awful to me. Consistently.'
Thom smiled. 'Obviously it didn't mean that much to her. You take everything far too seriously.'
'And where is your lovely lady now?'
Thom's face reddened slightly. 'She decided to leave.'
Alanna couldn't help but smirk. 'Oh, really? That's a shame.'
The man next to them laughed again, and Alanna could take it no longer.
She swung right around on her seat. 'Do you mind?'
Thom groaned, burying his hands in his face. 'See what I mean? You completely over-react with everything. It's not like Delia and I are serious anyway…'
The man bowed his head to her, talking over her brother. 'I'm Sir Myles of Olau.'
Alanna liked the man instantly, and thought it was definitely time for a change in the discussion, as it was beginning to appear that she might loose. 'Lady Alanna of Trebond.'
'It's a pleasure to meet you.' Sir Myles raised his glass to her, and drank deeply.
She couldn't help but smile. He was harmless enough, and certainly drunk enough anyway.
'And you.' She picked up her wine glass, tilting it to him in turn.
'Myles teaches the pages.' Thom looked around, grinning at the knight. 'His was my favourite subject.'
Myles laughed. 'And so it should be!'
'Too right.' Alanna looked up to see Gary had joined them. He sat himself next to Alanna, ignoring the dirty look Thom threw him.
'This is the most dull party I've ever been to.' Gary reached forward to the jug, filling another glass. 'And it's all thanks to you.' His voice was serious, but Alanna could see the laughter in his eyes.
'Is it really?' She looked at him in mock-offence. 'You can leave any time Sir Gareth. No one will miss you.'
Gary snorted. 'Is that so?'
He leaned back in his chair, rubbing shoulders with Alanna for a short moment. Thom looked ready to kill.
The squire growled. 'It's nearing midnight now. If his Grace doesn't show up by then we can go.'
Gary began to reply, but cut himself short when all sound shut off around them.
Alanna tried to stand, to get a better look at the doorway, but Thom and Gary pulled her down again.
'Don't draw attention to yourself,' Thom whispered through gritted teeth in her ear. She was about to bite back an angry reply when Gary silenced her with one word.
'Please.'
She didn't have to wait long to get a better look at Duke Roger of Conte anyway.
He glided into the room in exquisite dark blue-black velvet, two sneering men flanking his sides. Alanna inwardly cringed. The man simply radiated importance, but if he'd wanted a warm welcome home he'd come to the wrong room.
Jonathan was the only one to voice a greeting, as sarcastic as his was.
'Roger, it's a pleasure to have you back among us.'
Roger showed the prince a frighteningly innocent smile. The man would not be intimidated. 'As it is a pleasure to be back.'
He made a show of glancing slowly around the room. 'Why so few people? I had heard there was a ball.'
It was the older Knight of Naxen who answered. 'It is quite late, Roger. Many have long since gone to bed.'
'How kind of you to wait up for me.'
'Oh, don't worry yourself.' Jonathan's eyes met Alanna's for the briefest of seconds. 'We were only enjoying such a fine break in the weather.'
Roger smirked, but didn't bother with another reply.
Duke Baird covered a wide yawn. 'If you'll all excuse me,' the Chief Healer smiled lightly. 'I don't think I feel like chatting any more. There really seems to be nothing more to say.'
One by one the nobles left, showing no signs of fear to the Duke so many usually fled from. He stood still, watching them all depart, burning their images into his memory. They would pay.
It was certainly not what Roger had been expecting. His Grace had been away for three months, forcing support for himself along the coast line. He had left Corus weak, frightened and in tatters.
But tonight it had regrown. The nobles showed a brighter strength of unity and a group had purposely stood to defy him.
Roger sneered. Another week, they wouldn't have a clue what hit them.
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