"It's really a blessing you've twisted your ankle," Gareth confides to me as we shuffle up a tapestry-decorated staircase in the palace on the way to my new quarters. "Duke Baird can fix it in an instant, of course, but if you don't let on that its completely healed you'll be allowed to skip the welcome tour in the gardens, and I can assure you that it is dreadfully boring."

My heart plummets a little. Is that why he caught me when I fell out of the carriage? So that he could skip a tour of the gardens?

"And," he adds mischievously, "you'll get first pick of the suites that have been set out for the ladies. I happen to know that the Lilac Suite…"

He trails off as I miss one of the steps we've been climbing and twist the other ankle. My weight brings us both down, and we roll down the stairs together. Gareth stands up immediately, apparently unhurt, but I am unsure of how to proceed with two bad ankles. I stare up at him from the floor helplessly. Cythera's shoes or not, I am going to dispose of them the second I am settled in. They are clearly a safety hazard, even if they do add three inches to my height.

"You all right?" he asks concernedly, eyebrows knit together in worry as he stares down at me on the floor. I bite my lip and explain that I am not capable of walking.

The expression that blooms on his face now is similar to what Cythera looks like when she devises a particularly clever scheme, like using her gift to destroy every hairpin in the convent so that the teachers are forced to wear their hair down until an emergency shipment of hair ties arrives.

"Well," he begins, and I notice that his gaze has strayed from my face and is now fixed on my bosom. Honestly. What is a respectable lady supposed to do in this situation? It certainly isn't taught at the convent. "We don't have that far 'till we get to your suite, and I doubt we would run into anyone…I guess I'll just have to carry you."

I squeal before I have time to wonder if it is ladylike and break into a fit of giggles, protesting Gary futilely as he descends and scoops me up easily. His strong arms support me, one under my knees and one on my back.

I attempt to lash out with my arm, still giggling, so he will put me down and we can wait for more proper assistance, and he squashes me against his chest so that my right arms is pinned. I breathe in the sent of smoke, cologne, and horses and fall still, content to stay nestled against that safe body. He begins to whistle as he strides easily down the hall, and I am calm in his arms for the rest of the trip.

When we reach the ladies' apartments, Gary (Gareth is what his father calls him, he tells me, and it makes him nervous) insists that I take the Lilac Suite even though it is the biggest by three rooms. The other girls will be furious with me for claiming it, and without Cythera to protect me I fear I may become quite unpopular. But Gary has already proved to be too stubborn to argue with so I let him deposit me on a mauve loveseat in the sitting room of my new suite.

As he exits to fetch a healer, I hand him Cythera's traitorous sandals. "Could get rid of these, please? They've cost me more trouble than they're worth." And they're worth quite a bit too, if they're Cythera's.

He complies, but I see him tuck a shoe in his belt pouch as he leaves. Is he taking a trophy? My confidence comes rushing back. Maybe I'm not just an excuse to escape a tedious tour after all.

I wake up the next morning with a distinct feeling of foreboding, and it takes me a moment to recall recent events. Ah yes. I am at odds with the other girls for stealing one of Corus's most handsome (and wealthy) bachelors, and for claiming the best suite available. I can only imagine the names I've been called. Clara has a wicked tongue, and once she invents a new name for someone the other girls are quick to catch on. I am betting that "thieving whore" is not the worst of it.

A sharp rap on the door sends me out of bed (my ankles are as good as new, thanks to Duke Baird) and searching for a robe to wrap around my nightdress. I locate it in a trunk by my bed and answer the door as I pull it on. It is not Gary, to my disappointment, but a page with large round eyes who ogles at my bosom (improperly exposed because my nightdress is a gift from Cythera, who has a fascination with naughty lingerie) with less subtlety than Gary last night.

Snapping the robe over my breasts, I stare at him impatiently until he remembers that he has been sent to do something other than gawk. The boy looks at his feet for a moment and abruptly breaks into a well-practiced speech with a completely wooden voice. The main idea is that I am welcome to the palace, etc., etc..

I cut him off half way through. "That will do, thank you. Are you here for anything but formalities?" My brashness astonishes me as much as him. At the convent I would have been given oatmeal suppers for a week if I addressed the staff so impertinently.

The boy hands me a small bag of coins bearing the Eldorne seal. As I retreat back to my room to calculate how many new gowns the money will bring, the page calls me back.

"Wait, there's more." He offers a red rose that he's been holding behind his back the whole time and brandishes a scrap of parchment in front of him in a threatening manner.

"Eyes as green as emeralds fine,

Skin as pale as…"

I squawk in indignation and grab the parchment from the boy's hands. Gareth may smell lovely, but I cannot abide sappy poetry.

As I begin to slam the door shut, the boy offers one more scrap of information. "Miss? It's the prince's birthday tonight. There'll be a ball."

I accidentally do slam the door shut in my excitement, but I reopen it quickly. "Hey! Boy! Fetch me a seamstress, and be quick about it!"

The woman my page brought back for me is professional and shrewd, and as soon as I empty the purse my mother sent and ask how many dresses I can get out of it, she is all business.

"Oh, probably three good dresses, or five less…polished ones from the girls we're training right now, if you'd like to go that route."

I narrow my eyes. She obviously knows about Eldorne's money problems or she wouldn't dream of mentioning work that is not from professionals.

"But," she continues, ignoring the glare that I give her, "do you have other dresses? I have some skill at altering dresses, and it's a good deal cheaper."

I am torn between showing her the exit to my rooms and telling her never to venture back into the Lilac Suite while I am the inhabitant, and eagerly thrusting open my wardrobe door and sharing each dress, some of the years old. I remember the imminent ball tonight and repress the urge to satisfy my pride and send her out.

The seamstress looks at me with pity when I display my collection of faded, worn dresses. I have a good four-dozen dresses, but I can only wear about half of them. Being poor has made me frugal, and I have kept the other patched dresses in the hope that I can sell them or repair them someday.

"I knew your mother, once," the woman shares as she examines each of my pitiful dresses. "She was a good woman. She doesn't deserve your father, begging your pardon. It was an arranged marriage, did you know that?"

This is new information. I abandon my wary glare, silently begging her to enlighten the rest of the mystery that my mother has become to me. She is meek and submissive, and unless Father has changed he still hits her when he is drunk. And yet she has never taken it to the courts, or stood up for herself in any way. My mother has become the ultimate guide for me – the woman I must not become. I am as daring as I can get away with where she is cautious. I manipulate people, and she is a wide-eyed, passive thing who pretends that any change in her life is a good one. I understand how my mother works, but I have never been able to fathom why.

"Your mother was the youngest of four siblings, three of them sons, and she never had much value in her family. I believe that she became engaged when her father lost a game of poker." She waits to see if I will reject this information, but I cannot think of a reason that she would lie about this. I have sunk to lavender couch, closer to a faint than I have ever been. I am no longer so impatient with my mother.

"It killed her, Delia. She'd always been so eager-to-please with her father. She knew that she wasn't as important as her brothers, but she'd always hoped that maybe, maybe her father had some spot in his heart for her. But when she became just another thing for him to gamble off…it just broke her.

"Now then," she says, back to business as though she has not just divulged the most painful secrets in my mother's past. "You'll have to purchase a dress for the ball tonight in Corus, as we haven't time to make one, but if you'll let me play with these dresses," she gestures towards the wardrobe, "I believe I can make something out of a number of them."

"How much-" I begin, moving towards the meager purse on my dresser, but she doesn't let me ask.

"Come now. Consider it a favor from an old family friend." Gathering my faded dresses up, she makes to leave.

"Please," I call out unsteadily. "Who are you? How did you know my mother?"

She hesitates, as though deciding how much to tell me. "Abigail Whice. And I sewed for your mother, too."

I have a feeling that she's left something out.

A Note from the Author…

Delia's always been my favorite character in the Tamora Pierce's books, so I'm having fun with sculpting her into the person she becomes in the later Alanna books. I'm afraid it might become a slightly angsty as it goes on, because Delia will have to go through a bit of hell to gain an evil quality…but I can't give anything away. Not that I know exactly where this is going (but that's what makes it fun!)…

Does anyone know offhand how old Jon is when Delia arrives at Corus? I know she arrives the day before his birthday, but from skimming the chapter I couldn't find an exact age he was turning. And is Alanna about 3 years younger than Jon? I never really got the age relationships. It would be a big help if someone could explain this to me.