Discalimer: It's not mine, it's Tammy's how many times to I have to say this??

Umm, I haven't read the Lioness quartet in… a while. I pretty much got them hammered into my brain after the sixth time reading them, but if I make any mistakes, don't hesitate to tell. ; P

Spellbound

The wild winds coldly blow;

So this is Corus.

It was bustling, all right. Loud, crowded, smelly - quite a contrast from serene Lake Tirragen. The people here jostled to and fro, going about their daily chores, having loud conversations in the street, yelling to buy, buy, buy. Despite the fact that it was freezing outside (the high winds just made it worse), the marketplace was full to bursting. Just the noise itself was enough to drive a country boy mad.

I'll never get used to this place. The palace was a relief from the city, guards standing attention at the gate as if to stop any of the insanity of Corus from leaking into the Royal Palace.

Alex's guard, Kane, turned back to Tirragen when they reached the palace - he would not be staying with Alex. However, Rodric, his twenty-something manservant, would.

Alex and his escort went past the gate with hardly a word spoken on either side - once he entered the palace, he was swiftly brought to the office of Duke Gareth, who was in charge of the pages.

"Alexander of Tirragen, eh?" The Duke looked down at his papers. "Well, welcome, Alexander. You will work hard here - very hard, but it is all in the hope that perhaps you might learn something." He smiled cheerlessly at his own joke. "If you work hard enough, you will be rewarded with time off - but believe me, you will earn that time off. If you misbehave - well, there are plenty of chores here that need doing."

The Duke went on to explain about pages and squires - Alex wasn't really paying attention, he'd heard it all before from his father.

"I see you brought a servant with you?" The Duke turned to Rodric.

"Yes, your grace," Rodric said. "I worked here for a few years before moving to Tirragen. I know my may around the palace."

Gareth nodded. "Right, then. You show Alexander to the tailor. Dinner is in an hour, you'll be expected to attend." He put out his hand like he expected Alex to kiss it - which Alex did.

"Yes, your grace." His father was quite strict on deportment - Alex was familiar with such manners.

At the tailors, Alex was measured by a snappy old man and his clumsy assistant, dumped with a gigantic pile of clothes, which he carried to his room (it was the third from the end of the hall - his name was written in chalk on the small board on the door) and dumped on his bed. He picked out an outfit and changed behind the large folding screen in his room, leaving Rodric to fold and sort his clothes.

Alex entered the dining hall after a bit of wandering - despite Rodric's directions, he still became rather lost. He figured out where he was supposed to get his food from, then paused with his tray, looking around at all the tables, wondering which he should sit at. At some tables there were soldiers, a few servants, any guests of rank too low to be sitting in the great hall with the king.

Alex must have looked rather lost, because a boy about his age tapped him on the arm and pointed to a table where some others in the same uniform that he was wearing were sitting, eating and talking.

"Um, you're a first-year, right? You should be over there." The boy talking to him was a rather self-effacing blond fellow. "I'm Francis. Of Nond." He held out his hand, and Alex shook it.

"Alexander of Tirragen." Francis smiled shyly, and led the way to the table.

"Francis! Who's the new kid?" a tall, rowdy boy with darkish hair yelled across the table. That began a string of names and introductions, which Alex tried his best to memorize. Most important, of course, was Prince Jonathan, who was starting as a page this year. The tall boy was Raoul of Goldenlake; and then there was Gareth of Naxen, the Duke's son. There were a few others after that, but those were the ones that Alex thought most important.

"Hey," Gareth, who was sitting to his left, leaned over. "Just to warn you – take a look at that guy down the table. Blonde hair, sitting beside that page who keeps scratching his nose?" Alex nodded. "Watch out of him - that's Ralon, he's trouble." Gareth went back to his conversation with Raoul, leaving Alex to wonder what he had meant.

~*~

It was late at night, and Rodric was asleep in his chamber. Alex had been here for almost a week now, and he still wasn't falling into 'the rhythm of things'. His classes, plus homework took up his entire day - he had no free time. Of course, Alex's father had told him all this, as well as the other boys, but it was one thing to hear it, and another thing entirely to experience it. He chafed at the rules and regulations, and though his work was relatively easy, there was just so much of it.

He shifted at his desk again, trying to concentrate on his history homework. He just couldn't think tonight. He kept looking out the window at the moon, thinking, I should be out there. Finally he just got up and started pacing, unable to stand still. What was wrong with him tonight? He should be tired, but somehow, he was wide awake. He felt like he could keep pacing like this all night, and be spry and uppity the next morning.

Alex turned to the window to look at the moon one more time. The light shone in softly though his window, calling him. Suddenly he couldn't take it anymore. He had to be outside. He clawed at the windowsill, fumbling with the latch. The latch seemed cold to his hands, so cold that it burned. Somehow he got the shutters open and clambered up on the sill. His room was two stories off the ground, but Alex wasn't afraid of falling at all.

The night... Alex sniffed the wind. It smelled of freshly cut grass, horses, the forest. He wanted to go, be out there. His neck itched, the sensation travelling all the way down his body to his toes.

Smoothly and without warning, he jumped off the windowsill into the darkness. For one terror-stricken moment, he seemed to hover there, two stories above the ground, until he plunged towards the ground to land on four feet. Four feet?

He began to run, run and keep running. Fur rippling down his back as his bone structure seemed to re-arrange itself. His running began to grow smoother, faster, more connected. He only had one destination: the forest. He yearned for the hunt, the chase, blood.

~*~

A pair of brilliant green eyes flashed in the night as a guardsman watched. He made the sign against evil on his chest and prayed that he had imagined it.