Disclaimer: Ok...plot and a few characters are mine. But the overall universe is unfortunately not mine, but Tamora Pierce's.
Title: Ghost of the Past
Author: winky-wink
Genre: Romance/Humor/Drama
Rating: T (Just to be safe)
Pairing: A/J...unless I hear great roars of disapproval.
Musical Affection: 'Teenage Dirtbag' by Weatus.
Author's Note: RumorGoddess: It would seem so, anyways I hope you enjoyed this.
dumb and jaded: Good. Yeah and I don't ever plan on keeping you guys hanging for a long period of time.
FanFictionFanthom: I love being good at cliffhangers and twists. It really pleases me to know that I keep you guys hanging on by a thread lol.
Queen Alanna of conte: Yeah, the more people that come, the more confusing it gets.
WitchyMage: I know, I didn't make it seem as if it would be Alex until like last minute. And yeah, Lincoln complicated a lot of things lol.
Lutefa: OoOo Latin, that is so cool. And, yeah, Alex and Roger are both horrible in this fic. Also, nice guess on how they're going to get out of this, unfortunately it doesn't work out that way.
Tortall Princess: Thanks! LOL...we'll see how much damage Lincoln does..
Silveni: They can convict anyone, but would they? You shall see...oh and yeah I guess Lincoln isn't really Tortall-ish. I dunno it sorta came to me in earlier chapters so I just kept the name. Who did you hope got thumped?
Confusedknight: Wow, thanks so much. Lol, yeah, Alanna is lost. She's not exactly awesome at this sort of thing. And, yes I do have msn. Goes with my email on my profile. Anyways, thanks again.
epobbp: Haha, heres your update. And yeah! I hate people who take years to update, literally! One of my most favourite Tortall authors does that! It is so annoying!
everlynstia: Thank you, thank you. You're too sweet.
elsepethana: Yeah, I love the my fair share of cliffhangers. Oh, you got a story? I shall go and check it right after I post this chapter. And cool new name! ((thumbs up)) Oh and thanks for the review too.
Lady Knight: Thank you. I'm guessing it would've been extremely hard to figure out. Especially since I didn't give too many clues.
Rosemary's Graddaughter: Haha, funny line. Anyway, I don't know what else to say because I usually don't understand the majority of your review to tell you the truth. Not that I mind.
Saphron: Hey...and wow thanks a lot. I don't really know what to say, that's probably one of the best compliments anyone's ever given me. Oh and thanks too for the advice to get more involved in writing. I'd really love to take a class at a community college but I guess I'll settle for just a basic class since I'm fourteen right now. But thank you so much once again.
Sorry if this chapter got out late... was being stupid.
'Each morning puts a man on trial and each evening passes judgement'-Roy L. Smith
It seemed as if everything was happening at once. Five men, who looked suspiciously like some of Alanna's friends from the Dancing Dove dressed up as noble men, pulled out their swords and daggers. Women screamed and many pages and squires did the same, even though they were supposed to be Knights someday. The Lioness noticed some lady near her fall into a dead faint from the shock and others gasped. George rushed forward, his hood falling down around his shoulders. He took his dagger and smashed its hilt against Lincoln of Conte's head. The shrieking that followed was so deafening that Alanna had to cover her ears.
Two of George's men lowered their weapons and picked Lincoln up from the marble floor. No one dared try to save him because no one else had thought to bring their swords. From the other side of the great wooden door Alanna heard chairs scraping and knew that nobles and Knights of the King's Own were due to burst though it at any given moment. Amidst the chaos, she scurried to the door and held the knob, holding everyone in.
"Geor-," Jonathan tried to speak with the King of Thieves but was cut off when the Rogue held his knife to his throat.
"Do not trifle with me, Your Highness," George warned, sounding as if the two had never met before.
The Crown Prince looked awfully confused for a second before understanding. To every noble in the crowd, it would seem suspicious if they had met before.
Playing along with the charade, Jon said, coldly, "You'll never get away with this, you vulgar brute."
The Lady Squire's fingers clenched over the doorknob as she felt Knights struggling to barge through. Fortunately, her grip was firm. But even Alanna had to admit, this was a rather difficult task with long noble lady nails.
George gave his secret friend a toothy grin, "We'll see, my Prince."
Hollering orders to his men, he raced off, carrying the royal Nephew with him. The boys of the Dancing Dove knocked over china vases and crystal statues along the way to the great disgust of the nobles in vicinity. Once they'd turned the corner, Alanna decided that that was enough of a headstart. She released the doorknob and was practically trampled by six Knights of the King's Own.
Leading them was Lord Issac, who almost dropped his sword on Alanna's head. "My lady! Forgive me!"
Before she could reply, he had snatched her up by the elbow and was shouting at his men, "You fools! You idiots! Can you not watch your path? You almost crushed the King's own niece!"
"My Lord!" a squire, who was still red-faced from screaming, cried, "They've kidnapped Lord Lincoln!"
"Lincoln? Of Conte?" the Commander of the King's Own demanded, face scrunched up in thought.
"The very same," Jon assured, "They've kidnapped my cousin, Issac."
"Your Highness, we will stop at nothing to save him," Issac responded, giving Alanna's knightmaster a great, flourishing, bow, "But, may I ask, who are 'they'?"
Lord Provost, who had come out of the court room behind the own, said, with an almost smile, "This looks to be the work of public enemy number one, my old friend, George Cooper."
"The King of Thieves?" Cythera asked in distress, "He was here?"
"So it would seem," Lord Provost rubbed his chin, thoughtfully, "How does he do it, I wonder?"
Alanna and Jonathan glanced at each other and quickly looked away, lest they look overly mysterious.
The Prince coughed, "My Lords while this is all very interesting...we all came here for a very important reason."
"Very true, Your Highness," Lord Provost agreed, "Lord Issac, we all make our entrance to the Court Room. I believe you and your men shall go off in search of George Cooper and his cronies?"
"But what of Alan of Trebond?" Issac demanded, looking hesistant to miss such an interesting trial just to run off and save some half-Scaran.
"I highly doubt Alan of Trebond will get savage and need to be guarded," Provost said, sternly, although the corners of his mouth twitched.
The young blonde Knight merely shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. He barked at his men to look alive and they were off. Alanna watched them go, extremely amused. The day that Issac out-smarted George and found Lincoln was the day that she'd actually be good at ball room dancing.
Lord Provost went into the Court Room and inclined for everyone else to follow. All the nobility did, staring curiously at Alanna, Jonathan and Arram Draper. The Lioness sensed that some of them recalled clearly that Lincoln had confidently stated that she was not his sister. Arram, was one of them. He kept stealing frowning glances at her, as if trying to solve her or something.
"Thank Mithros, George just saved us," Jonathan whispered to Alanna so quietly that she was the only one who could hear, although almost everyone other court gossip wished they could too, "At least Lincoln isn't around to spur questions. Not now at least."
The young Trebond gulped, hoping the questions would never come. She was instantly distracted when she noticed Thom, who looked worse for the wear. His red hair was in tangles from being left uncombed for a week and his nose was dripping from a cold. His squire's uniform was folded but overall not too horrible. His expression was nonexistant.
Alanna came to the first pew and sat down beside Abigail and Lady Winfred. Across the aisle from them sat Roger and Alex, who was secretly polishing a blade. Delia and Helena sat with each other, near Lady Catherine who shot Alanna a quick glare.
"My Lord Provost," King Roald, who was also attending this most fascinating of trials, called out, as they entered, "Would you care to enlighten us on what happened just outside our doors?"
"Nothing to worry you, Your Majesty. The King's Own is on the case," Lord Provost replied, placing his hands together as he took his place on the jury.
There were fourteen members of the Tortallan royal jury, Lord Provost, Sir Myles, Duke Gareth, Duke Baird, and about ten other respected members of Court. King Roald and Queen Lianne were also present and would be allowed to give an opinion on the issue, although their word was not veto in this case. Duke Roger, who was normally part of the jury, was taken out of it for this particular case since he was already so heavily involved in the conviction.
Alanna felt twitchy, knowing there was very little she could say or do now, unless she was called up to be a witness. Most of the case was left in the hands of Arram Draper and Gary. Jon couldn't do much either since he was a Prince and it was bad for him to show favourtism. The Lady Squire glanced across the aisle and caught Roger's eye. He gave her a steely smile and she looked away, curling her hands into fists in her lap.
Beside her, Abigail was also curling and uncurling her hands, not daring to look up lest she catch Alex's eye. Perhaps the arrival of her brother would cheer her up, she'd been so down lately. Alanna squeezed her shoulder, supportively, hoping it would make her feel better because it made the Lioness feel better, slightly.
The court marshall looked to the King once everyone was settled in the pews. Roald nodded, bobbing his head, "Let the trial begin."
"Duke Roger, you may bring your prosecution forward," the court marshall said, hand on the gavelling as if he was expecting that he'd need to use it a lot.
Roger gave a charming grin and stood, shuffling a few scrolls together and setting them on a table in front of him, "Well, good men and women of Tortall, this case has only one obvious outcome when you study the facts. But let's start from the very beginning, a week and a day ago on the night of December fifteenth, the servingmaid Abigail attends the very first Midwinter Festival Ball disguised as a noble lady. The next morning she somehow received note that a young noble man attending the Ball glimsped her and wished to see her again. So, the next night, on December sixteenth, she goes to meet up with him at the southern sheds, which have been abandoned for years. Only a regular of the Tortallan palace would know that-"
"Objection," Arram Draper interrupted, causing Roger to stop and everyone to look at him, "Not only a regular of the Tortallan palace might know that. Anyone could. I did and I'm not even from this country. The defence wishes the Duke of Conte to withhold his presumptions."
The court marshall nodded, eyeing Arram with a certain respect, "Objection stands."
Roger tried to smile at being slighted, but it only came out as a grimace, "As I was saying, Abigail went to meet up with her admirer. To her great dismay, that suitor had rather more physical than emotional notions in mind. After he raped her, he ran off, thinking she'd tell no one. Abigail, on the other hand, went straight to my Aunt, Lady Winfred and told her everything, which is why we're here now. But, you all must be wondering who said rapist is? To answer this, I would like to call up Maid Abigal to the stand."
Abby snapped her head up, not expecting to be called up. Winfred gave her an encouraging push and she stood up, shakily. Pushing her hair out of her face, she began to make her way to the witness stand. Alanna crossed her fingers, praying that Roger wouldn't eat her alive, especially now that she was so weak.
Once Abigail had been sworn in, in the name of Mithros and the Great Mother Goddess, Roger began his questioning, "Tell me, Abigail, were you at that ball?"
"Which ball?" the royal Niece inquired, raising an eyebrow, and sounding stronger than she had in days.
"The very first Midwinter Ball," Roger clarified, looking her up and down, haphazardously.
"Yes," she admitted, not looking at all ashamed, although many nobles in the crowd gasped.
"Tell me, tell us all, why did you go?" The Conte Duke demanded.
"I was...bored with life," Abigail replied, speaking half the truth, "My mistress goes everyone and just once I wanted to go somewhere too."
"I see," Roger kept shooting knowing glances at the jury, as if they were keeping exactly what he was thinking, "Now, when you got your note, did you tell anyone about it?"
Abby caught Alanna's eye and looked away, fast, "I told my mistress."
"Lady Alanna of Conte?"
"Yes," she nodded, biting her lip.
"And what did she say? Was she aware that you went to the Ball?" Roger demanded, asking careful questions, not really wanting to get Alanna in trouble too.
"No, she didn't know that I was planning to go to the Ball," the royal-turned-niece assured, "When she found out, she reprimanded me."
Alanna remembered the brief conversation she had had with her fake servingmaid at the ball for which she considered a reprimand.
"Abby!" Alanna whispered, harshly, coming closer and looking around for people, "What do you think you're doing?"
The royal Niece slid the mask back against her nose, "Having a little bit of fun so don't get all 'Etiquette Master' on me."
"A bit of fun? What if you got caught! You're dressed as a noble but you look like my new green-eyed, chestnut haired maid! That makes you not royalty which means you cannot break the rules!" Alanna snapped, indignantly.
"That sounds reasonable. So it wasn't Alanna's fault that you went to the Ball?" Roger implored, wanting to clarify it for the jury.
"No, not at all," Abigail whispered back, staring at her lap.
"Ok, Abigail. Would you care to enlighten us on what happened when you told Alanna about this note from an admirer?" the Conte Duke demanded, leaning against the stand in which Abby was sitting in.
"Do you think I should go meet this suitor or not?" Abby inquired, as if it were so obvious it had been dancing naked under the Lioness' nose.
The Lioness in question looked skeptical. Going to meet some suitor after dark didn't seem like the smartest thing to do, but then again this could only be another noble and therefore they weren't likely to be very dangerous, more certainly lovesick.
Alanna shrugged, "Go if you want."
The Lioness almost wanted to slap herself silly when she remembered what she'd said. She should've stopped Abby from going. She should've trusted her gut feeling, her intuition. Instead, she had thrown caution to the wind and now here they were, in a dank puddle at the bottom of a well.
"She told me it was my decision if I wanted to go or not," Abigail replied, "So I went."
"So you went," Roger repeated, "And when you got to the sheds, who was there? Who did it look like was there?"
"It...it looked like it was Alan of Trebond," Abigail forced out of her mouth, "But-"
Roger of Conte spoke over her, repeating in loud tones, "It looked like it was Alan of Trebond!"
The jury, who had been twirling their quills and mere observing until now, promptly began scrawling notes across their scrolls. The Duke of Conte grinned in response, turning back to Abigail, "And what did Alan do?"
"Objection!" Gary cried, getting heated, "He can't just start calling the rapist, Alan, just because it looked like Alan!"
"Objection stands," the court marshall sighed, knocking his gavelling.
"Fine, fine," Roger rolled his eyes, "And what did the rapist do?"
"Raped me, that's all," Abigail replied, eyes blank.
"Didn't you try to fight him off?" the socceror inquired, checking his nails for dirt again.
"I did kick him in the stomach, but he overpowered me," Abigail's voice quivered and cracked.
Roger gave her an empathetic smile, "So he was probably in good shape, am I right? I ask the jury, who is in better shape than a squire? Squires train everyday and are-"
"Objection!" Gary cried again.
"Objection overruled," the court marshall dismissed him, "Go on, Duke Roger."
"Yes, erm, where was I? Oh yes, squires train everyday and are taught the art of wrestling. Servingmaids are not. It would not be difficult for a squire, even a small one, to overpower a servingmaid. Is that correct, Duke Gareth?" Roger asked the head of the squires and pages.
Duke Gareth shifted in his seat, looking displeased, "It is correct."
"Good. Now, dear jury, I have the maid professing that the rapist looked like Alan of Trebond. I have witnesses who claim to have seen Alan of Trebond exiting those very southern sheds on that very night and I even have proof from the head of the squire regime claim that it is possible for Alan of Trebond to overpower Abigal. What more can I say? I rest my case," Roger bowed and went to his pew.
"Does the defence have any questions for the witness before they bring their side of the story forward?" the court marshall demanded, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, we do," Arram Draper stood up, brushing off his black cloak.
The entire court followed his movement with their eyes, wondering how he'd save Alan of Trebond's hide now. He went to Abigail, giving her a rare smile.
"Tell me, maid, do you disagree with anything that Duke Roger has said?" Arram questioned.
"No," Abby shook her head.
"Me either," Arram agreed, "Now, have you ever worked for anyone other than Lady Alanna?"
"No," Abigail replied once again.
"But you must've seen many other ladies and done little things for them here and there, right?" the Tyran asked.
"Objection," Roger called out, "What has this to do with case at hand?"
"Your honor, this truely does go somewhere," Arram said, before the court marshall could speak.
The marshall looked Arram up and down, then said, "Objection overruled, for now."
Arram smiled, "Now, back to you. Can you answer my question?"
"Yes, I have done things for other women of court," Abigail nodded, looking dumbfounded.
"Then you must've seen very strange beauty treatments, no?" Arram posed question after question.
"Yes, I have," Abby admitted, twisting her hands together.
"Have you ever seen women use a beauty potion?" the mage inquired.
Abby nodded, vigourously, "The magic kind? Yes."
The jury and the audience looked intrigued. Alanna shot a quick glance at Roger, who's face had lost its smirk. Beside him, Alex of Tirragen gulped. Delia leaned foward from the pew behind them and whispered something, furiously, into Conte Duke's ear.
"Alright, thank you, Maid Abigail," Arram beamed at her, "Now I'd like to call to the stands Eleni Cooper."
The Lioness twisted around in her seat, watching Eleni walk up to the stands. She hadn't even realized Mrs. Cooper was here! George's mother looked rather nervous at being here amongst all these snooty nobles, although she walked with an elegance that most could not manage. Roger watched her go up, face still cool but Alanna thought she might have noticed beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
"Now, Mrs. Cooper, you make beauty potions, am I right?" Arram Draper demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Quite right," Eleni nodded.
"Who is your main clientelle?" Arram questioned, looking her straight in the eye.
"Ladies of the Tortallan court," Eleni responded, brushing her bangs out of her face.
"I see. So could anyone at court, anyone here, find easy access to a specific beauty potion to meet their needs?" Arram implored, gesturing with his hands.
Eleni nodded, "Very easy access."
"Now, these particular beauty potions are usually used to cover up blemishes, lengthen hair, change its color, change eye color or even your bone structure for some who are drastic. But could it be used to create an exact replica of someone? Could someone use it to, let's say, look exactly like someone else?" Arram asked, eyeing the jury, whose quills were moving faster than a hummingbird's wings.
"Yes. It's been done before, so I can't see why not," Eleni answered, her hands neatly in her lap.
"Thank you, You may go," Arram dismissed her, then turned to the jury, "As you can see, all of Duke Roger's eye witness accounts mean nothing if the supposed rapist only looked like Alan of Trebond. We cannot be one hundred percent sure, can we? Finally, I'd like to call up Alexander of Tirragen to the stand."
Shocked whispers broke out throughout the audience. Why was he calling up Alex of Tirragen, who's name hadn't been mentioned in part of this case until this very moment? Alex looked nonplussed and went up, silently.
"Hello Knight of Tirragen. Now, tell me, were you at the first Midwinter Ball on December fifteenth?" Arram demanded.
"Yes, everyone saw me there," Alex nodded, rubbing his sweaty palms against his breeches.
"Were you aware that the servingmaid Abigail was there too?" Arram raised an eyebrow.
"No, of course not," Alex said, trying to sound offended.
"I see. Well, did you hear Abigail say that she tried to defend herself against persuer?" Arram questioned, "Yes? Well, then, you must've also heard your ex-Knightmaster, Duke Roger, say, 'Who's more capable to overpower a poor maid than a squire?' Wouldn't you agree that a Knight is more capable?"
"I suppose...," Alex trailed off.
"Wouldn't you, Your Grace?" Arram turned to Duke Gareth.
Gareth, the Elder, smiled, "Yes I would."
"Just as I thought. Now, you also would hear that Abigail said she managed to get in a kick of her own. She said it hit the stomach of the rapist," Arram Draper explained, "Would you care to show the entire court your bruiseless stomach and therefore your innocence?"
"Objection!" Roger spluttered, "There was no warning of this!"
"What warning do you need if he's innocent? I just want to see his stomach," the Carthaki mage retorted, eyes flaring.
"Objection overruled," the court marshall agreed, "Show us your stomach, young Tirragen."
It was as if Alex was being sentenced to his death. He got extremely pale, but reluctantly stood. He took off his cloak. Then his coat. Then his doublet. Alanna could almost feel the anticipation in the air. Bruise or no bruise? He unbuttoned his shirt and there, just to the right of his belly button, a fading purple bruise. The entire court gasped. King Roald and Queen Lianne looked at each other, shaking their heads.
"A bruise," Arram noted, quietly, as if shocked himself.
"Objection!" Roger hollered, "Alex is a Knight! He could've gotten that bruise anywhere throughout this week!"
"Actually, I have twelve witnesses present here today, including Alex of Tirragen's own mother, who can vouch that he was never off on any Knight duties at all throughout this week. Since it is Midwinter Festival week, hardly anyone has been doing any work," Arram Draper snapped back, "Would you care to interview them now?"
"Objection overruled due to evidence now given," the court marshall declared, "I believe the jury has seen and heard enough from both sides?"
Sir Myles of Olau stood, coughing a bit, "Yes we have."
"Then let the jury go into deliberation. Shall we give you the better part of an hour?" the court marshall asked and when Myles nodded, he hit his gavelling three times, "Court ajourned till the fifth hour."
Immediately, everyone rose. Alex quickly came to Roger and he, Delia, Helena and Lady Catherine left the Court Room has rapidly as humanly possible. Alanna watched them go, knowing they were under hot water. Arram came to them and Alanna couldn't help but hug him. He looked surprised but managed to pat her back in mutual thanks.
The Lioness watched Lord Provost lead Thom back somewhere, although this time it didn't look like the dungeons. She had hope that they'd won this case. It had gone more smoothly than she'd thought possible and it was all thanks to Arram's quick tongue.
Hugging Abby, she pulled away, "Oh and I've got good news. Your brother, Lincoln is here to see you. It was quite the surprise."
"Lincoln?" Lady Winfred blinked, pulling up behind them, "Where is my dearest son now?"
"Kidnapped," Jonathan laughed, coming up behind them.
Raoul and Gary, who just finished shuffling papers, came too, "I can't believe George kidnapped him! I didn't even see what went on properly from where I was standing."
"It's a joke," Alanna giggled, "He kidnapped my brother as a joke. Can't you see that even Lord Provost didn't take it seriously?"
"Some joke," Gary said, darkly, "Provost will have his head one of these days."
"George? Nah," Raoul grinned.
"Why don't we all go there now and meet up with dear Lincoln?" Alanna suggested, not trusting George to cease to take an ear as a royal souvenir.
"No way," Gary shook his head, "Arram and I need to stay back and finish up a conclusion or prepare an appeal in case we need it."
"I'm skipping too," Raoul said, downcast, "My great Aunt wants us to have a quick tea together."
"Then I'll take you all," Jonathan offered, "Care to join us Maid Abigail?"
"How can I say no, Your Highness?" Abby said, giving her deepest curtsy.
Alanna smiled, feeling her heartbeat slow down so that it came at a steady pace. Her breathing became normal and her entire being felt like it had shrunk now that it had released all her worry.
The Dancing Dove was not used to hosting nobles. Even when Alanna, Lady Winfred, and Jonathan came in their simplest clothes, they were still the most overdressed and glamourous people in the entire pub. Abigail, on the other hand, fit in well with her servingmaid's skirts. The Lady Squire hoped none of her usual friends would recognize her as Alanna of Conte or else she'd never hear the end of it. Especially since most of them thought she was a boy.
"Good afternoon, Solom," Jon greeted the owner of the Dove, "Can we see George?"
Solom gave them all a rotten toothed grin, "He's been expectin' ya. He's over in teh back room."
The group of four began making their way to the back room of the Dancing Dove, Alanna leading the rest since she was the most frequent visitor. Lady Winfred was fanning herself even though it was the middle of winter. She was extremely excited to be reunited with her first born.
The Lioness didn't even wait to knock on the door as she made her way into George's room. What she saw stupefied her. George and Lincoln sat by the hearth, chugging down whisky and sharing battle stories.
"You know the Shang. Came right at me before I could say a word so I-oh, hello Mother," Lincoln greeted his Mother.
Winfred glared at him, "Oh, hello Mother? After months apart that's all you say? I see you haven't changed one bit-"
She was cut off when her son stood up and lifting her off the ground as he hugged her. She tried to pull away and get down, "Lincoln! You release me this instant or else I'll have your neck!"
He put her down and kissed her, lovingly, on the cheek, "You haven't changed either."
"Oh hush you," Winfred scolded, stroking his hair and patting his cheek, "Go greet your sister now."
He turned to Alanna and Abigail. One who had the blue Conte eyes and brown red hair, the other who had emerald green eyes and chestnut hair. He took a step towards Alanna, spreading his arms wide, "Erm-sister?"
"Oh no," Alanna swiped her hand, "Abby's over there."
He turned to the servingmaid, looking her up and down, skeptically, "What've they done to you?"
He wrapped his arms, tightly, around her, "I heard what happened. Where's the idiot that did it? You give me the word and I'll butcher him."
"No," Abigail gave a weak giggle, "He'll get what's coming to him anyways."
"You look so...different. A potion, George says. Amazing. However, what's more amazing is this story the Rogue of Tortall tells me," Lincoln raised an eyebrow and glanced at Alanna.
The Lioness blushed, "That would be entirely my fault."
"Someone could've told me," the royal Nephew sniffed, defensively, "I can keep secrets, you know."
"But is teh surprise not fun?" George teased, offering his whisky to Lady Winfred, who shook her head.
Lincoln shrugged, then bowed, "Tis a pleasure to meet you, sister Alanna."
The Trebond's face just got redder at being treated like a lady, "That's really not neccessary."
Lincoln winked at her, crinkling his scar. He turned back to his Mother and sister, grinning, "When did you two gain so much weight?"
To avoid getting in the middle of an intense family conflict, Alanna chose to go to the window sill. George, smiling, left the room, a beer bottle in each hand. Jonathan chose to follow his squire to the window sill as bursts of indignition broke out from Winfred and Abigail.
"What a week, hey?" he stated, running a hand through his coal black hair.
"Yeah," Alanna nodded, softly. The sun, while far from its setting, was beginning to dip in the sky.
"At least Thom will be freed," Jon leaned against the small sill, watching a street vendor try to sell imitation gold necklaces.
"You think so?" the Lioness asked, shooting him a sidelong look.
He nodded, "How many more months till your birthday?"
"A bit over two months," she replied, "Then I'll be seventeen. After that, another year and I'll be a Knight."
"And then?" he questioned.
"And then? Then...then I'll ride off to have adventures of my own," the Lady Squire declared, eyes glazed and dreamy.
"You'll up and leave us all? What if I-we need you?" the Crown Prince demanded, just as Abby's laughter broke out in the background.
"All anyone has to do is call be back and I'll help out if I can," Alanna replied, stretching her back.
"You know what? There's been something I've been meaning to tell you ever since Midwinter Festival started but I got sidetracked with all this trial business," Jonathan admitted.
"What's that?" the Lioness inquired, getting the inkling that she knew exactly what.
Her Knightmaster opened his mouth, seemed to think better of it, then shut it again. Finally he said, "I'll save it for later. I've kept it this long, what's a few more days?"
Alanna wanted to say something along the lines of a few more days she could be bethrothed and married to Roger for all she knew. Or someone could discover she wasn't Alanna of Conte or that Alan of Trebond was a girl. Anything could happen in a few days and she could be gone forever. However, she didn't want to worry him so she said nothing.
The pews creaked as the audience moved restlessly in their seats. Lady Winfred fanned herself, percariously. Alanna followed suit, trying to stop herself from sweating. It was hard to do so when Thom's future was on the line. After what felt like an eternity, the jury filed out of a back room. No one looked pleased with what had happened within and that worried her. Sir Myles didn't give her his usual wink but then again another traditionalist wasn't exactly cheery either.
In a chained stand, Thom stood, although this time Alex was standing with him as a possible suspect. Beside Alanna, Abby's hands started to shake. Even Arram Draper and Gary looked unsure of what they would give as their verdict.
The court marshall cleared his throat, "Has the jury come to a conclusion?"
"Yes," Myles nodded, standing up.
"How does the jury find Alan of Trebond?" the court marshall demanded, looking anxious and excited himself.
Alanna held her breath.
"The jury finds him not guilty," Sir Myles smiled, "He is released of all charges."
"Unchain him," the court marshall ordered.
Knights of the King's Own came forth and released Thom, who flexed his wrists, comfortably. He glanced over his shoulder at his sister and gave her a grateful smile. However, all was not finished.
"How does the jury find Alexander of Tirragen?" the court marshall asked, gavelling slipping out of his grip because he was so entranced by the intensity of the moment.
Nearly everyone leaned forward as if they were afraid they wouldn't hear otherwise. Alanna grabbed Abigail's hands, frightened.
"The jury finds him guilty," the Olau Knight pronounciated, clearly, "However, due to his services to the country in the Tusaine war and his contributions to bandit hunting and duties of the King's Own, we have decided to give him penance. We require him to pay Lady Alanna of Conte, mistress to the raped maid, 1000 gold nobles."
"Unchain him too," the court marshall ordered again, "Young Tirragen, pay your punishment and you may go free. The court is dismissed."
Alanna was furious. She couldn't believe they'd just let Alex escape like that! It seemed as if Tortall and all its glory and justice had failed her. Had failed Abby. Trying to controll herself, she rushed over to Thom and folded her arms around him till he couldn't breath.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered in his ear, surprised that she actually felt like crying, "I love you so much."
Releasing him, she almost broke out into giggles at the look on his face, "I love you too?"
To destroy the awkward moment, the Lioness snatched close to everyone up in a hug at the celebration at Thom's freedom. Abigail tried to look happy but Alanna sensed she was upest that Alex had gotten off so easily. To any wealthy noble family, 1000 gold nobles was a hefty amount but nothing they couldn't afford. So they'd go with twenty gowns for a wedding instead of thirty or they'd cut back on the wine. Nothing big.
"I apologize that it didn't work out the way you wanted," Jon told her, clasping his hands around her elbows.
"It's nothing that I won't get over," Alanna told him, "I just hope Abigail can too."
He smiled and brought her in for a hug. She was short enough to squeeze her head under his chin. Pulling back, she gave him a celebratory kiss on the cheek. Instantly, she regretted it. She had never in her whole entire life ever, ever, kissed anyone on the cheek. Not Thom, not her father, not Coram, not George, not anybody. Not even a woman. And now she had just kissed her Knightmaster. Hopefully, he wouldn't get the wrong impression.
It didn't seem he did, however, because, while a spark of emotion passed over him when it had first happened, he was soon nonchalant and smiling platonically. Behind him, though, his elder cousin looked anything but expressionless. When Alanna caught his eye, she knew what his expression said exactly, This is not over.
Author's Note: Ok, now that the trial is over, what do you all think is coming next? Expect the most confusing-est because that's what I'll try to give you lol. Hmm...let me see...oh and by the way expect another character too arrive soon. And this one is not at all nice and agreeable. Don't expect this one to let Alanna strut around as the royal Niece.
winky-wink