The Prince groaned, flinging himself down onto his bed. His friends looked on sympathetically. "So you are betrothed then?" Eremin asked, though it was more of a statement that a question. Liam looked at his tall, fair-haired friend and sighed heavily. "Yes." And that single word held more weight than fifty words shouted. "Who is it?" the other boy in the room asked. Lachran of Mindelan was a year younger that the other two but they were firm friends none-the-less. He hadn't picked up his aunt's expressionless façade and his tanned face was depressed, in sympathy for his friend. Someone had once remarked that he should have been a player, even his golden brown hair seemed to droop.
"An Everton Princess. Named—"
The fourth friend burst into the room, ebony hair whirling. Looking at the despondent faces his expression changed to a look of bewilderment.
"The only time I've ever seen you this depressed is when you were nearly betrothed to that Maren Princess. And you can't be betrothed this time. The only country there are negotiations with is Everton." The others stared at Prince Aranias of Everton in surprise. Finally Liam spoke.
"You must have forgotten your younger sister then because she's my betrothed."
Aranias sat down suddenly, looking incredulous. "You're betrothed to Asa?"
Liam frowned, "Princess Asina if that's the same thing." Aranias gaped at him. "Wait, Asa? You can't be betrothed to Asa. That's—"
"The truth," Liam interrupted with finality. Aranias continued to gape. Asa? His sister. Betrothed to a Prince? Responsible for peace negotiations? No Way.
"Why not, anyway?" Eremin asked confused. "And you might want to shut your mouth you're letting in flies," Lachran added. Aranias shut it. Realising that his friends were staring at him expectantly he attempted to explain.
"Well she….I mean…..it's just…." He sighed, "She's just not the type alright." The expectant look stayed riveted on him. "Asa – she's different. No, I mean, oh I don't know what I mean. By now I'd have expected my parents to have sent her to a cave on the mountain, out of sight and sent people and their problems to 'the old seer'. But I suppose they couldn't do that. Some of the nobles might object if the princess suddenly disappeared. But to betroth her! I know they wanted to get rid of her but I can't see how this was the best idea. I suppose as she is the only Princess left it was the only option but really! To make her responsible for the success of negotiations…" he whistled. "They trust her less than me especially considering the amount of pranks the two of us pulled. And they say it's got worse since I left…" Realising that he was babbling and his friends were staring at him even more now, Aranias finished with a weak; "I don't believe it…"
"What's got worse?" Eremin asked looking confused. The others nodded in bemused agreement. Aranias looked decidedly uncomfortable, as if he'd said something he shouldn't have. There was and awkward silence. Finally Lachran broke it with a characteristic comment; "Well at least we learned something else that makes you talk no sense. The only other time I can think of is when…" Aranias glared at him. "Will you stop mentioning her?" For the first time, Liam gave a small grin at the old joke. They all knew of Aranias' old infatuation of one particular lady none of them cared to mention in his hearing. Well, except for the occasional hint of course…
"We're getting away from the point here guys." Eremin reminded them with his usual curiosity, and unwillingness to let a subject drop. (something he had inherited from his Uncle, Nealan of Queenscove, although had been saved from picking up the insufferableness that came with it by his mother's genes.) "Why exactly is it wrong for her to be betrothed to our dear friend Liam here?" "And answer so that we can understand this time," Lachran added with a grin.
Aranias looked at his friends and once again wondered how to say it plainly without saying anything that his sister would prefer to say herself. Deciding that there wasn't one, he resorted to shrugging helplessly and saying nothing. When this didn't work he tried, "It really isn't any of your business." Unfortunately it was the wrong thing to say. Liam, who usually never lost his temper, exploded. "None of my business! None of –" he spluttered. "You seem to forget that I'm the one marrying her thank-you very much! If she's so much of a freak that she shouldn't be let out of her rooms, I think I ought to be told!"
Had it not been for that word, and the tone it was said in, Aranias might have kept his temper and managed to give some kind of half explanation that might have satisfied his friends. But at the word 'freak' he control snapped. A hundred images of others saying that word to his sister, sped through his mind as he stood up to glare at Liam. He could see her laugh it off a few times, ignore them or cry alone in her room. And he could see her do exactly what he was doing now, as he hissed at Liam, lashing out in anger. "You don't deserve to know anything about her unless she wants you to. You think she wants to know every little thing about you before she arrives? Better to be what some idiots call a freak than to have no feeling." The jibe at the time Liam had done nothing to help someone had been too good to resist, never mind that the boy had killed himself with guilt about it afterwards. "You think you will manage and be the perfect Prince but you will fail!" Another sore spot. "Asa will hate you!"
Liam also stood up, glaring the same unnatural hatred towards his best friend. "Well it's a good thing I hate You then because now I won't have any obligation to like her!" The other boy glared at him with renewed hatred. Well done Aranias, now not only does he think her a freak without meeting her, he's decided not to like her as well. His anger stemming from more protectiveness of his sister, Aranias turned and stormed out of the room. Liam soon followed, in the opposite direction. The other two looked at each other helplessly, knowing full well that some kind of drastic measure was called for to re-unite the two. Unfortunately, for once neither of them had any ideas.
Asa rubbed a hand tiredly against her eyes, having no idea that she was the subject of intense argument. This was lucky, as had she known, she would have demanded that they quarrellers never say her name again. In less than polite tones. However, since she didn't, there was nothing to distract her from the busy seamstresses and the Etiquette Mistress's lecturing, which were quickly beginning to cause her to loose the tight grip she had on her temper. The night before had not been a good one; after trying hard to think of anything good about her betrothal she had only thought of two things. Seeing her brother and getting away from her parents. Another small part of her was infinitely curious about the country that so often figured in her dreams or visions, but that part was firmly ignored. It was already late when Asa had given up on that and finally decided to go to sleep, but it had been a sleep plagued with confusing, nonsensical dreams, and most of all The Dream. The Dream that made her wake up sweating, often screaming, and totally unsure of what anything meant. Waking with a feeling of knowing, but unable to even get simple things clear in her mind. In fact, when Aranias had been there, and had woken to her screams, she had often been unable to speak anything but gibberish. Not that anyone else knew. Too frightened by her screams, no-one came to comfort her now.
This was the reason for her fatigue. And being dress fitted didn't improve matters. Especially when she was not only being dress fitted, but also taught the finites of etiquette. At the same time. As if she didn't have enough to deal with as it was. There were two weeks until the ship left for Tortall and she still hadn't figured out a way to transport Shadow safely and secretly. It seemed that hiding a huge wolf was more difficult than she had originally thought. Perhaps once she was on the ship, she would have a cabin and Shadow wouldn't have to be so hidden. But then you came to the problem of where he would pee….
Her thoughts were rudely interrupted by the Etiquette Mistress and then the sharp jab of a pin as a seamstress was distracted. And it was easy to be distracted when this Mistress got angry. "Princess Asina, are you even listening to me?" Looking up at her, Asa decided that a white lie was probably the best in this situation however sinful. Not that she had ever had any qualms about lying. Especially to Mistresses who, after her nod, quizzed her on what had been said for the last hour. Which she had, as a princess, of course been listening to. Which was why she couldn't remember a single thing.
The Mistress glared at her. "Oh, err, right… the first thing I'll say to him is…." A thought blossomed... "Hello!?" The woman looked shocked. "Of course not child. What do you want him to think – that you are a barbarian?" Personally, Asa couldn't care less, and from what Aranias had said in his letters, Prince Liam wasn't a sucker for formality. She hoped. Else she was in so much trouble. The mistress was still staring at her expectantly, like a bomb about to go off. Think Asa, think. Something you would never dream of saying normally works. "Um, you aren't walking straight?" The Mistress practically exploded. "What do you mean you aren't walking straight? Do you think him to be a drunk child? I am getting nowhere with you! The impropriety!" And so on. Oops. Perhaps not this time then. Oh right, it was Eremin of Masbolle who didn't walk straight. Wasn't his father's brother's wife the Lady Knight or something? That was it.
The Mistress finally stopped ranting when the seamstresses had finished fitting Asa for the dress. "Go and change into an evening dress. You will practice dining with the family tonight. At the sixth bell sharp. I'll see you tomorrow; Princess Asina has another fitting for her ball gown." This last remark was directed at the seamstress. Turning back to Asa who had frozen in horror she said irritated, "Quickly now." Asa turned and ran off, ignoring the calls at being 'ladylike'. Arriving at her room she flung herself down on the bed, trying to suppress a groan. These next few weeks were going to be long.
Three weeks later, having survived fittings, manners and a journey of concealing Shadow, Asa stared out of the window in the carriage at the Palace at Corus. She knew what it looked like, having accidentally seen a vision of it when tracing the words, written by Aranias in his letter, longingly, but that was different to actually seeing it. Visions were always too clear or too vague. This was infinitely more, err, real. Well it would be you dolt, it is real! She berated herself scornfully, but admitted that she had not quite expected it. Well, she thought nervously, before glaring mentally at herself for being so weak, here goes nothing.