Chapter Eleven ~ Play-Acting
The depths of her eyes showing the feelings she had hidden on long nights past. She looked forlorn, sad, remorseful, and almost vulnerable. Soft fold of crimson velvet fell in soft folds around bare feet. Her violet eyes seemed old, so very old. But she couldn't even be twenty yet! She gripped the hilt of the dagger softly, and with deadly skill.
Her eyes closed, shutting away her soul. The knife reluctantly left her hand and she dropped to a sitting position. Pulling her knees close, she leaned back against the stone rail; a tear welled up and slid down her face, disappearing in the darkness of night. A sadist smile crossed her lips and she opened her eyes again, meeting his own without a trace of disturbance or surprise. Instead, a hunter's haunting and lethal expression surfaced. He broke the gaze and retreated back into the darkness.
The small figure on the balcony pushed herself to her feet and swept inside.
Alanna watched with narrowed eyes as the maid scurried around the room, supposedly doing her job of serving the Lady. But she wasn't a lady; she had never been and didn't want to. Oh, maybe there had been a tiny part of her that had wanted, it had been miniscule then, but it didn't exist now. Her dreams had been shattered, but this was better than nothing. She paused. Was it?
She shrugged the the thoughts away, turning to more important matters. Three months. Three months in Tortall already...had it really been that long? Mistress Cooper had taken every waking minute of the two long months to toil over this and that, always fussing. She knew the woman was being kind, and she was doing this despite the fact that she was getting no rewards, or even gratification for it. She wondered why the Rogue's mother had agreed to it. There was no gain, and she had lost time she usually reserved for her patients. Of course, Alanna had never brought this up, she had learned from the times.
And as if that hadn't been enough, the month at Terrin's Fief Riverswarth had been sheer torture. They had constantly bickered at the beginning—she was fine with that, in fact, she welcomed it—but after the first week of hectics, Terrin changed. He avoided her, but spoke politely to her whenever they happened to meet, as protocol demanded. She was puzzled by this, never in her life had someone acted like this to her.
She mulled over the long pause in the fencing lessons, but tried to assure herself that it was better not to be around Terrin. But then, on the day before they were supposed to leave, he suddenly sprang on her the talk which they should have had when she'd first arrived.
She had reacted less surprised than she really was when he told her the fact of which he was from the Copper Isles—a second son of someone or the other, she hadn't really heard or brought herself to pay attention—his mother had been an heiress to the fief, Riverswarth. It was small and unheard of most places, but it was a fief. He had said nothing about the whereabouts of his parents, the fief, or any more about the plan. Just a silver band studded with a moonstone. If memory served, it was at the bottom of one of her trunks; she wasn't sure which one. She smiled wryly to herself and gave a soft laugh.
The maid turned around and looked at her in surprise, almost at the door. She looked her over critically and curtsied, leaving the room a bit too fast to be natural. Alanna sighed, now the maid would gossip to the other servants. She predicted that there was going to be a rumor about the new (and betrothed) lady at court, who might be mentally imbalanced.
She grimaced and walked over to the canopied bed, on which a creamy silk and satin gown lay. The maid had learned early on that this lady did not like to be fussed over...by anyone. Alanna stripped and donned the lighter gown, which was to be for their welcoming reception. "Don't know why he didn't think to tell me before the last minute about that oh-so-unimportant fact of his mother being a 'friend of the queen', and that we have our own wel—"
"Talking to yourself? That's not very healthy, are you sick?" Terrin asked smoothly as he stepped into the room. She glanced at the door, which was supposed to be locked.
"No, but you are." She glared daggers at him. "And it is also unhealthy to walk in on an assassin while she is changing, if you haven't noticed."
He looked her over, noticing that she wasn't fully dressed; patches of skin were still uncovered. "You know, you don't look half bad that way," he remarked calmly.
She glared daggers at him. "You perverted—"
Once again, he had stopped her from finishing a sentence by clamping his hand over her mouth. "Don't say anything and I don't have any reason to do anything drastic."
She pushed him away and continued dressing, cheeks flaming faintly, trying to ignore his dancing eyes. "I think I liked it better when you were moody," she muttered under her breath. If he heard her, he ignored it well. She strapped on the matching white shoes which had been left out for her at the foot of the bed and walked over to the tables. Grabbing a comb, she began running it through her hair, wincing as it caught the tangles in the mass of copper.
Terrin was behind her. I have to stop letting him do that, she thought. Plucking the comb out of her hands, he pointed at the seat. Watching him with suspicion, she grudgingly sat. She moved until he was behind her again, and surprised her by the feel of soft hands gently untangling her hair.
She whipped around and stared at him, frowning. "Who gave you the right to come in here in the first place?" she demanded.
Terrin pointed at her ring finger, but when he spotted no ring paused, but continued to untangle her hair. "You know that you have to wear it, or people will get suspicious," he started, not missing a beat.
"I can't find it," Alanna replied resolutely.
"Alanna, my dear—" Alanna jumped at the usage of her given name, which put together with 'dear' startled her to an extreme extend. "Your new name, remember?"
She again wondered if Terrin knew the truth, he seemed to know so many things. "I suppose," she replied, her spirits dampened for the night. She twisted a piece of loose thread around her fingers, playing with it, relaxed at the soothing strokes of the comb in her hair. She didn't realize that he was the one combing—or in fact that he was there—until he set it down and offered to call the maid.
"What?"
He looked smug and amused, and that irritated her beyond anything. "The maid, Alanna, dear. To curl your hair—as much as I like combing it, I do not curl hair."
She found her train of thought again and threw him a hostile look. "I wouldn't have guessed if you hadn't told me," she replied tartly. "You seemed to excel at the art of combing hair, too, along with your other skills." She stood up to try to get him out of the room. "Go call the maid, then, I don't care."
He gave her another look-over before leaving. She probably didn't notice, but the cream cloth contained teasing hints of violet woven in, to bring out and accent her amazing and startling eyes. The gown itself was a work of perfection, whoever she had hired to accommodate her had certainly done her work well. Being only slightly off her shoulders, it was tight around her upper arm, loosening until they billowed and hung artistically at her side. The skirts that draped from the contrasting black bodice and swathed her legs were neither to too loose or too tight. The gown suited her to the last detail.
Smiling lightly, he reminded her of the ring and her duty, before crossing the threshold into his own adjourning room. He heard the click of the lock fall into place after the young woman had slammed the door shut quickly after him.
Terrin knocked thrice and waited. The door swung open to reveal his "betrothed's" hair curled into striking ringlets and piled on her head to give her height. From what he could tell from the scowl on her face, it didn't please her. She stuck her head out and looked around, pulling him in. "I want to show you something."
Since when did she show me anything? He wondered. "The only thing I could imagine you showing me is the way to death," he commented mockingly.
She gave a twisted smile. "It's my most revered wish," she replied brightly. She had gotten a glass containing red wine in the time he was gone. She dug out a ruby from somewhere and showed it to him. There was a soft clink as it was dropped into the cup.
Terrin watched with raised eyebrows as the gem melted away, leaving the red drink undisturbed. Reaching over, plucked the glass off the table, raising it into the air for inspection. "It's poison," he noted. "I thought you were supposed to spend the money on jewels, not this."
She shrugged and pulled out a small sack. Clearing away the space before Terrin, she emptied the contents. Clear-cut diamonds, garnets, rubies, opals, and jewels of every color shimmered before him. She watched him expectantly.
"All poison, I presume?"
She smirked, plucking a diamond out of the pile. She took a glass of water and dropped it in; the liquid fizzed for less than a second before settling. "No residue or any visibility." She ran her hand over it making the cup glow purple, then white. "Undetectable by magic, unless the mage happens to be more powerful than me."
"Is there any reason to why you're showing me this? Or is it just to prove that you can spend your time following your whims and I can't?"
She laughed. "I just wanted to warn you to watch what you eat or drink from now on," she replied good-naturedly and swept the rest into the sack.
"I see you've learned to flirt somewhat."
Her eyes narrowed. "Don't try me," was all she said before walking to the window and staring out, refusing to even notice his presence.
He sighed and moved to stand beside her. "Aren't you going to get rid of the glass? You can't pour the wine outside, it'll poison the plants," he pointed out.
She shrugged and took the glass from him, draining the glass within a minute. His eyes widened, but then fell on the Carthaki bangle dangling on her wrist. "I should have guessed," he drawled. "You do know that showing off like that could kill you one day."
"I didn't know you cared." She set the glass down and wiped the blood-like wine off the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand and walking out the door into the hallway.
"You're right, I don't," he said softly.
"Are you coming? We're going to be late if we don't leave now."
"I didn't know you cared," he scoffed, echoing her words.
Alanna stopped him when they were almost at the party room. "What kind of socialization was this again?"
"A get-together, nothing really formal. The Queen just wanted to 'welcome a son of an old friend', or at least that's how she put it." He glanced down at her. "You have the ring on?"
"Of course," she replied stately. Cocking her head to the side, a thoughtful look appeared in her eyes. "Is the Prince going to be there?"
"Of course, he's her son after all, if you didn't know. See, the son of a Queen would usually be the Prince," he replied sardonically.
"Of course," she echoed smugly, a vile gleam in her eye.
Terrin thought it over and grabbed her wrist to keep her from walking ahead. "You brought one of those jewels, didn't you? You know you can't poison him on the first day."
"I didn't bring the jewels, if you're going to fuss and worry anymore; hire yourself out as a nurse. Children will appreciate it more than I will." In an after thought, she added: "Plus, they don't know the handling of sharp weapons."
"If you are referring to the sword, you don't, either," he retorted and stepped up beside her, offering an arm.
She took it hesitantly; play acting was going to be harder than she originally thought.
A footman was waiting by door, when they presented the paper which was the formal invitation; he opened the door, welcoming them. The second they entered, Alanna felt the attention shift.
The Queen, a frail and somewhat pale-looking woman walked up to them, she smiled happily and took her hand. "Lady Alanna, welcome to Tortall!" she said to Alanna. "I'm so glad that I finally get to meet the woman Valetta's second son is going to marry. I've heard about it for months, it's strange how I didn't get a letter from Valetta herself though; I suppose it's harder overseas..." Alanna smiled reluctantly back, her smile as fake as the guise of the betrothed she donned for her real mission. "And you are the twin of Page Thom? He saved my son's life, and I am in Trebond's debt for that. It is sad you had not returned to Tortall until now. How was Carthak?"
She smiled weakly, it was not exactly the best of things to do when her past was brought up. "It was fine Your Majesty, but perhaps a bit too hot. I found it so different from here." And so much more mundane, she added to herself in a sarcastic thought.
The Queen nodded, and she was relieved when the older woman turned her attentions to Terrin. "How is your mother?"
If he was uncomfortable, he didn't show the slightest hint. "She's doing fine, your Majesty. I have a younger brother now."
"Valetta was always a terrible letter writer," she mused. "When did this happen?"
"Thirteen years back, Your Majesty."
She nodded and led them to the table, where a manservant proceeded to seat them. The King, of course, sat at the head of the table, and the Queen beside him. Beside her sat a man who she supposed was her brother, Duke Gareth, who she had heard about from Mistress Cooper during the protocol lessons. They had been the only ones already seated, to her surprise, the rest of the inhabitants of the room where all young men and women, around her age. A blond woman was introduced to her as Princess Josiane from the Copper Isles; Terrin seemed almost reluctant to greet her.
As she continued looked around, she found that she recognized two of them. The Prince, of course, and Gary. She suspected that they also recognized her, from the way they were staring. There was no exchange of words, for the meal was quick to begin. The rest of the evening merged into each other. Because it had been an 'informal' gathering—though it had seemed very formal to Alanna—of only those of high rank, or personal friends and family of the monarchs and their son, there was no dancing.
Three things stood out that night more than anything else, though. The first was when Prince Jonathan and Gary—introduced formally as Sir Gareth the Younger—approached her, and her acting skills were put to the test.
"I did not know that you were a noble lady," Gary mused. "Not since you walked the streets freely the last time we met." There was a lull as he thought whether or not to apologize. "I'm sorry for being...in the state I was, that time."
"No need," Alanna picked up smoothly, a trick she had picked up from Terrin. "You did not know who I was, then."
"So you are betrothed to Lord Terrin, are you not?" the Prince interrupted.
She gave another small, forced laugh; this was starting to sicken her. "I am," she replied, as solemnly as she could, which was not very. "But I don't see where it concerns you," she muttered.
He frowned, but let it be, choosing to ignore it. Both men bowed and left, leaving Alanna with a smirk on her face.
The second was on the balcony, where Terrin had taken her to talk. As always, she grew annoyed, and ended up with him returning inside alone while she studied the waning moon. She had thought she saw eyes watching from the tall oak tree, whose upper branches were level with her face. They disappeared when she threw a knife at it, though. Unfortunately, this also brought a few of the young men running.
"Is there something wrong?" one of them had asked.
She was ready to snap back at them, but stopped. Instead, she said in hr sweetest voice: "There were eyes in the tree, and it gave me a scare. They disappeared when you came, though."
Most of the others had accepted the story as a fact, but bother the Prince and his cousin where suspicious. Which of course, had nothing in common with the third and last memorable event, which couldn't be considered one, since it was also a dream.
A door. A wooden door, with a knife embedded in the middle—her knife. The door seemed familiar too, but she couldn't seem to be able to place it.
Then nothing.
I can't seem to be able to write stories without mysterious happenings, can I? Or dreams, or balconies. Oh, and descriptions of dresses. Or a mysterious guy. *-*
It was a long-ish chapter, what do you think? Darn. I forgot that I promised to put in Roger and the guy-who-everyone-knows-is-Alex in this chapter. See, I hate promises. *bangs head against wall*
Below are the questions for chapter 9 and 10, since I forgot last time:
Question: Is Alanna going to tell Jon about Thom soon?
Answer: Well...let's let her get on associating terms with Jon first, before we move on to that. One thing I can say is, Jon is probably/maybe going to play a kinda big part in the next chapter. I'm not sure...
Question: When Alanna finds out that it's Roger that sent the fever will she stop trying to kill Jon?
Answer: I don't know...I'll ask her if you want.
Question: Is George going to show up again?
Answer: Yes, definitely.
Question: Who is Terrin going to be going as?
Answer: *points up*
Question: What're the prince and his friends going to think of 'Lady Alanna'?
Answer: Tell you what, just wait a bit more.
Question: Is there anything that's going to happen with Terrin and Alanna?
Answer: Huh? What gave you that idea? *walks away whistling innocently*
I don't know why I bother to post Q&A since half of them go unanswered, maybe it's to make the chapter seem longer.
~Reaya