A/N: Here it is! The Chapter is here! Refer to AN at end of chapter, but since you've all been begging for it (just guess…) and I finally managed to get the last clip in there, which I've wanted in here for ages…ta-da!

Big Events

subtitled: Shalens, parties, and kisses

I didn't tell anyone about the visit with Debegri—not Jhussav, not Ermliana, not even Alaerec. I even considered telling Arthal, but she, too, was summoned to Debegri's cell, and when she returned, she burst into my sitting room and flung herself into my arms, weeping.

I didn't ask her what happened—it had to be something awful.

But we comforted each other, and no one would ever have to know.

The case was finished up around three days after my visit with Debegri, and at that point, we were gathered to witness Marscopa's magic removal and destruction.

This would totally remove Marscopa of ever attempting a magic trick, again. She wouldn't be able to say the words or make the proper hand movements—not even for play illusions which I had read about.

The magic removal and destruction ceremony, called Shalen, required all of the mages on the council of mages, save for one—the strongest magician—and was incredibly draining.

Den was the strongest mage, being the leader of the Council at the moment, and, until his death, when another mage would take his place. We had become good friends with the young man—he was only fifteen or twenty years older than me, and he was well-liked by all.

Den led the Shalen, but was not part of it. Each mage had a different bit to read, while Marscopa was imprisoned in the shimmering barrier she had been in nearly two months before. All had to put a drop of blood into a bowl of pure ekirth and then each had separate spells to recite, which had to be perfectly coordinated. Arthal and I were asked to watch, being bound as we were, and all the others were invited to watch. It was supposedly very beautiful.

The day arrived, and we entered the Shalen room of the main council building—the ritual had to be so strictly followed, even in the way the room was cleaned and set up, that it had its own room.

It was of pure black marble, with soft Glowglobes in niches in the wall to provide light. Each Glowglobe shifted and changed colors smoothly and gently, giving the room a slightly darkened feel. A circle of ekirth, was embedded in the floor, and, around three hands behind it was a railing also of pure ekirth.

When my father stepped into the room, he let out a soft curse and muttered about the expense.

Jhussav nudged me, and we grinned at each other. It was the first time my father had expressed some sort of emotion other than sadness or disappointment since my mother's death, nearly half a year ago.

Half a year ago.

It had gone by so fast—those five or six months were the most painful of my life, both physically and mentally. Each day had seemed to crawl by as slowly as possible, yet looking back on it, it had gone by in a flash.

I smoothed my black skirt. I had stopped wearing my mourning clothes in the Council's city when I didn't see my father everyday; I didn't think my mother would approve. She was always so vibrant, so happy—why would she want us to mourn for her forever?

I still missed my mother desperately, and always would, but I would remember her life with as much happiness as I could possibly draw upon.

Which, actually, wasn't much. Most of my life, I had gone by in thinking that my parents thought it was my fault my mother was ill for most of my early childhood. Afterwards, our relationship was slightly strained until I was around thirteen, and we didn't grow close until a few months before her death.

I would always regret not getting to know her sooner; for I had discovered that I loved my mother, almost more than anyone else in the world, and that I always would. I had always observed her from afar—the servant's passages or from under the table at balls; hiding in the foliage at picnics—and I think I always admired her, and hated her a little; I was never as graceful as she.

Until after her death. I had grown nearly a hand in the five months she had been—dead, I had decided dead was the only word for it—and had begun to actually develop a bit of grace.

Alaerec's teaching me how to dance was a bit helpful, and so was the fact that I now had to be composed—I was a Duchess after all—but mostly, I think it was the grief. I had less energy and want to be happy and free and energetic, and, thus, clumsy, so I wasn't.

I was still awful at swordfighting, though.

Jhussav's nudging me into Alaerec and out of the doorway brought me out of my reverie.

The mages were entering, with a floating, though awake, Marscopa, in, as usual, the barrier.

Den brought up the rear, and took his seat in a bluewood chair in the front of the room. He waved his hand and the chair began to float well above Alaerec's head, where he could see all of the goings-on.

"Are you ready, Council?" he called down.

The rest of the mages nodded in one smooth motion.

"Then let the Shalen begin." He opened the book and began to read.

"By the power of the blood,

By the power of the mage,

Let the magic removal and destruction of Marscopa Likshen Merindar begin!"

Leda, the lead Dark magic mage (also Den's—er, romantic interest), was to be the one to hold the barrier. She stepped forward to the ekirth bowl, floating in midair by its own power, and carefully pricked her finger.

"I, Leda Nashilo, seal this imprisonment with my blood.

I will hold the barrier of white magic with all my might, my strength, and my dignity.

I will remain strong in the face of fire and death.

Nasreil holdemlon selios, infedil lindio shamalyn. .

So sealed."

And so they went, with each mage doing something else. And then they spoke the spells.

Leda whispered something over and over again, an ostenato beat under the melodies, harmonies, and countermelodies of the others speaking and gesturing.

Colored light began to flow and swirl from the Glowglobes, making me gasp with delight.

Marscopa slumped in the barrier, and the voices rose to a shouting climax.

There was a sudden boom as Marscopa snapped up, arms and legs out and head back. The shimmering light pink barrier turned white, and then it exploded, sending light everywhere in a disc of brilliant white light.

Iridescent things, just small enough to be seen, rained down on us.

Marscopa fell slowly to the ground, unconscious. . Den lowered his chair, rushed out of it, and caught the fainting Leda in his arms. We all (except Jhussav, who was, as he later said, 'disgusted but intrigued') looked away politely.

The mages then took several days to recuperate, and I was free! The first two days, I said everything bad about Marscopa I could—Alaerec and Ermliana became quite bored. It took me several months to get out of the habit of saying something bad about Marscopa every day.

It wasn't long after the Shalen that we returned home. Liselia and Lestran, Ermliana's sister-in-law and brother, threw a welcoming-home party for us.

It was at the Argaliar house, with delicious food and almost the entire Court in attendance.

I had a new dress that was dark red and cream, and brought out my eyes. Ermliana's pale blue dress contrasted with her pale skin and dark hair, and Alaerec looked as fashionable as ever—in a velvet burgundy tunic and cream shirt and breeches. My father wore black, as usual. Jhussav was in bright green that made me wince every time I looked at him, but then he'd never gone for style.

(I recall Ermliana making a comment about how Alaerec and I matched. I had flushed a brilliant pink and Alaerec had raised an eyebrow—a sure sign that he was nearly embarrassed.)

It was a very nice party. I danced a bit, with a few people whom I'd never met, flirted a bit, talked with Ermliana a bit, and drank three glasses of punch.

I'd drank the Court punch before, and I really wasn't all that tipsy, just a bit flushed and hot from dancing. So I decided to join Alaerec, who was sitting on a sofa a little ways out of the crowd, in between the fireplace and the door to the balcony.

He smiled faintly when he saw me, and patted the seat next to him. I took it, settling my skirts about me, and leaned slightly against his arm, which was draped over the back of the chair. "So, enjoying the party?"

Alaerec grimaced. "It's a nice party—Liselia and Lestran are excellent hosts. I just don't want to be here all that much. Usually I don't mind parties; it's nice to get out of politics and talk horses with Anamoras and Khialem—I mean, Chamadis over there." He gestured to a tall, thin man leaning against a wall and the slightly shorter newly-married woman chatting easily. "But I just didn't want to be here tonight. It's been kind of exhausting—all of it."

I agreed—it was possibly the nicest party I'd been to in my time as Duchess of Savona, but it had been exhausting. We talked for a bit more, and then sat in a peaceable silence, observing the crowd.

Suddenly Alaerec said, "Elestra, I—" and then broke off suddenly.

I turned towards him. "Wha—"

Perhaps Alaerec had had too many glasses of punch. Or maybe he was just happy. Or maybe—

I didn't want to think about that possibility.

But no matter what, he slid an arm around my waist and pressed his lips to mine.

It lasted just a few moments, but when he pulled away he was as red as my dress, and I probably was too.

I stood, brushed invisible dust off of my skirt (a bad habit, but I just couldn't help it), and opened my mouth to say something.

Nothing came out. I sighed and tried to think of something to say.

Nothing.

I turned and walked away, flushing like I never had before.

But not before I caught Ermliana leaning against a wall, grinning at me like an idiot.

Damn.

I was in for the grilling of my life.

I didn't try to decipher why there were tears in my eyes. I merely hurried out of House Argaliar complaining illness to all I asked, and, once I was out of sight of the house, sprinted through the gardens until I collapsed in my chambers, confused, exhausted, dazed, and slightly stunned.

Because—well, damn, I'd liked it.

What was wrong with me?

Happy now? I am. Ireally like the end of this chappie—although I think the beginning's kinda crappy.

Reviews:

Wake-Robin: Here's the fluff you asked for…er, a long time ago! Enjoy!

Thea: Yay! Many languages! De nada…although that's neither German nor French, and I may have spelled it wrong…how 'bout this? You're welcome…plain English, although I much prefer Latin. Yeah, Elestra kissing Debegri was not my idea…Debegri asked for it, and I couldn't refuse him when he denied me cookie dough until I wrote it in…yeah, I'm crazy; my charries talk to me.

Sheyana: Well, I would like to be in bed more—five hours a night is just not enough sleep, but it works, and here's the chappie, when I could be asleep….oh, what I do for my readers… No, actually, I really really wanted to post this and I really don't want to sleep—it's Thursday and I can go to bed as soon as I get home from school. I love you all, and so I will do anything to keep you happy. And my inner author happy, too… :smiles hopefully:

FelSong: I read your review, squealed with joy, and then went back and fixed all of Elestra's kick-ass/American/punk-girl language because your review made sense and most of those phrases (there were two or three, I think) didn't even need be there. Thank you so much for your review—it made me happy!

Rubic-cube: Glad you liked the chapter…here's the update!

Abby: Thank you! Once more, your review made me happy…you give good compliments! I'm happy you were happy because e I was happy because your review made me happy…er, did that make sense? Anyway, I hoped you liked this chapter.

Thank you for the lovely reviews; they make me happy.

I have very little idea what will happen next; I probably won't update until after Easter (a.k.a. March 27)—before that is Spring Break and then my cousins are in town. But then, I might write the chapter on the twelve-hour drive to and from Colorado, so who knows?

Hope you enjoyed—I really enjoyed writing this chapter, even though the beginning sucks.

Signing off,

neb