It's been ages since I last updated, huh? I'm gonna try to keep going with this over the rest of the summer and not drop it, because I know what a pain it is to forget the whole story line and have to reread from the beginning.
Thanks to all of my reviewers, soooooo much! You guys are the ones that keep me writing (OK, even if it does take a while)!
XOXOXOXO Chris
It was a fork. That's what they called it in chess, when one piece was protecting two others, and the opponent had set it up so that the protecting piece was forced to sacrifice one to save the other. Alanna was that piece, to choose between Jonathan, or Thom and Elizabeth. Alanna had been thinking about her life a lot in terms of chess these days.
The only way to prevent sacrificing either piece was to kill the offending pieces of the opponent. Namely, kill Roger. But that was impossible. He was an equal swordsman, but a much better wizard, and a very clever man in general. And, if she attempted such an assassination out of desperation, and failed, she was very sure that she would sacrifice all three of her friends.
Deep in thought, she had not noticed that she had company at the wine table that night, where she was downing her third glass of champagne. Roger snaked a hand around her waist, causing her to look up and for her free hand to tighten around the dagger under the surcoat of her gown. Roger had been getting a lot more physical with her lately, something that she had observed with growing unease. She always found him stroking her hair, or her cheek, and holding hand-kisses just a little bit too long. He told her many a time that once she had killed Jon, they would be free to marry each other, but Alanna had never taken it seriously. Now she was beginning to wonder if she ought to.
Taking her hand regretfully off of her dagger, Alanna used it to peel his hand off of her waist. "You," she hissed, "are not my betrothed, and you are not family. Therefore, you have no right to engage in any physical contact with me in public. Direct quote from 'The Young Lady's Guide to Life at Court'."
He smiled at her dubiously. "And since when have you read 'The Young Lady's Guide to Life at Court'?"
She glared back. "Since I've been held prisoner in my own rooms to keep any assassins away from Tortall's future queen."
He laughed at that. "Protect the assassin from assassins. I like it."
Alanna failed to see the humor.
Mother Margaret joined them at the refreshments table to add a pastry or two to her bulk. As she struck up a rousing conversation with Roger about bonnet fashions, Alanna slipped away. Being future queen had made her extremely popular with the ladies, which only irritated her to find women who had shunned her for so many years kissing up to her. She left the party early and went up to her rooms, where she played a game of chess by herself.
Jonathan's hearty laughter filled the air as he stepped into her room later that day. Alanna, amid a bustle of seamstresses and Mothers, glared at him from underneath a triple-layer veil.
"You look," he said, lifting the veil and giving her a quick peck on the lips, "Like a wedding cake, not a bride." He spoke the truth. Alanna was sampling one of the many dresses that were possibilities for the wedding. This one had a triple layer skirt and rather square bodice, and she came off looking indeed like a many-layered cake.
"And that is what I have spent the last half-hour telling them," she told him with a great deal of annoyance. But apparently my opinion doesn't matter here. I'm only wearing the dress."
Mother Margaret curtsied to Jon deeply. "I beg your pardon, your Highness, but oughtn't you not be seeing your bride in her dress before the wedding? It is very bad luck on the marriage."
Jonathan grinned. "Mother, I think it more likely that pigs will fly than for my fiancé to wear that to out wedding."
She curtsied again. "Very good, you Highness," the Mother murmured, miffed.
"I believe my mother wore something a bit less ridiculous to her wedding," Jonathan turned back to Alanna. "Perhaps you could borrow it."
Alanna had noticed that Queen Lianne had remarkably good taste in dresses for being a court lady. The idea seemed a good one, even if the wedding wasn't exactly going to tie a lasting marriage, given that she had orders to slay the prince the night after their vows. "What would I do without you?" she asked him, smiling. Inside she was crying. What will I do without him?
"You know," Roger began later that night at their weekly meeting in his chambers. "I've been thinking about the place where I've put you, with all this guilt your going to be feeling for killing the prince."
Alanna raised her eyebrows in skepticism.
"And I would just like you to know, my dear, that no matter what, the prince will die. You'll just be doing the killing. You could consider it noble, actually. You know how to kill people nicely, quick and fast. Any other I might entice to kill Jon would be more apt to torture, first."
Alanna was quite sure that it would be torture enough to be killed by your lover for no explained reason. She was wondering if she should bother to relay this to Roger when somebody rapped on the door to his suite. It was Alex. He spoke to Roger briefly, causing the Duke to look alarmed and very, very angry. As Alex spoke more the Duke looked more panicked. He grabbed his wizard's rod, which lay by the door and strode out with his squire, forgetting completely about Alanna.
Alanna stood up, smoothing her skirts in the back out of habit. She had never explored the Duke's rooms before, only the main guest area. She stretched and looked around. Three doors opened from the room she stood in. The first was a privy, the second, a bedroom (where at least half of the court had slept at one time), and the third, his workroom. "Careless, Roger," she murmured, pushing the door that he had left ajar open further.
Among vials that simmered with reds and dark, slimy greens, was a table. Two goblets and a dagger rested upon it. The goblets held a clear liquid (poison, Alanna could tell), and the dagger…she knew its purpose well. Books of sorcery lined a side of the room. Another wall looked at first like a tapestry. Upon further examination, Alanna realized with a jolt that it held not different scenes of the hunt, but views of real people. Thom slept in a prison, his hands cuffed to the wall with chains that glittered orange, chains that she suspected kept Thom's gift out of reach. Another tapestry showed a little girl staring out at the land below her, standing in the highest tower of a run-down castle. Her clothes were worn and her face lonely, but Alanna saw no injuries on Elizabeth's face. Other scenes showed less fortunate people, some dead, some nursing wounds and missing limbs, and one old man being beaten by two burly guards. Alanna turned away, sickened. She had seen enough of Roger's workroom.
She left, shutting the door behind her to keep him from being suspicious of any snooping she might have done there. Alanna stopped to relieve herself in his privy before leaving. As she stood to leave the privy, she tripped and fell against the wall, her weight banging against it with a hollow sound.
Alanna had been around thieves enough to know that secret rooms could be very useful things. She groped at the wall until her fingertips found the cracks to open the door. She dug into the wood with her fingernails and pulled out. The door swung open, and Alanna gaped at the sight her eyes beheld.