This chapter has been slightly edited since i posted it a few hours ago. There was some confusion about Delia's reaction to Roger changing from hate to adoration in a couple seconds in the first scene, so check that out if you were confused before.

There is no ball tonight, so I am free to spend the day as I will. Finding that my mail does not offer me relief from the confusion of my life, and in fact confuses me more, I depart from my rooms.

The archery court is an ideal place for me to be, I discover, as I string my bow and nock an arrow. The court is empty as most of the palace is taking lunch. I glare at the target as though it is the source of all my problems and release my arrow.

It hits dead center, reminding me of Cythera's skill with the bow. I allow myself to smile.

"Is there anything you aren't good at?" a warm voice asks me.

I don't bother to turn around. "Roger of Conté, I thought I made it clear that I wanted you to stay away from me." I keep my voice as cold as I can, although I am aching to spin around and kiss him senseless.

"I can't help it," Roger states calmly. "You are…how did my cousin put it? You are like honey, and I am a mere fly. You are the flame, and I am the moth. You are the carcass, and I am the vulture."

I laugh in spite of myself. "Oh Mithros, Roger. If you ever try to woo a girl, don't use poetry. You Conté men don't seem to have much skill with it."

"Well then," Roger asks, "How should we court the ladies?"

I give up on self-control. Roger obviously does not intend to stay away from me, and it is impossible for me to keep my wits about me when he is around. "I'll give you a hint," I murmur, stepping close to him. Laying a hand on his chest I hook the other arm around his neck and bring his head close to mine, crashing his lips over mine forcefully. He groans and pushes me backwards until I am pinned to the wall of the shed of archery supplies, lips still attached to mine. One of his hands pulls the barrettes out of my hair until it swings down around my face in chestnut curls.

"Does this mean," Roger gasps, "that you have no qualms about deceiving my cousin?"

I scoff. "Jon does not interest me. I am through with him. He is a child next to you."

He stops kissing me and looks me squarely in the eye. "You have told him this?"

"No. I mean, well, I've been ignoring him all day, but I haven't directly turned him down yet. I hoped he would give up eventually. But I've been bombarded with bad poetry and trinkets all morning."

Roger does not smile. "You must take him back, Delia. Jonathan must not know about you and I. He must suspect nothing."

I gape. "What? Whatever for?"

"Jonathan…my cousin has a fragile mind. Insanity runs in the Conté family, you know. And I believe that he feels very strongly for you. If you turn him down…well, it's best for all of Tortall if you do not upset his mind so much. The Goddess only knows what would happen if you were to turn him down. Please, Delia. For the sake of Tortall, do not abandon my cousin."

"But…but what about us?" Why hadn't anyone warned me that Jonathan was slightly insane? He certainly doesn't seem it!

"What my cousin does not know won't hurt him," the duke assures me, smiling mischievously. "Come here."

He grabs my white-gloved hand and pulls me inside of the archery shed, tugging on the tie of my bodice lacings.

OoOoOoOoOo

I ponder where to find Jonathan as I emerge from the archery shed, twisting my hair back up into a bun. He could be anywhere in the palace, but the only place that I can find without getting lost is his room, so I head towards it.

Alan answers the door when I knock on Jon's room. I furrow my eyebrows. "Alan? What are you doing in Jon's room?"

"My room is attached to Jon's," he informs me coolly, and begins to close the door.

Excuse me? "Wait a minute, Alan. I'm looking for Jon. Do you know where I could find him?"

"Probably in Corus, buying flowers and chocolates. That's what he's been doing all morning." Alan glares at me scathingly, as though it is my fault. Which it is, actually.

"When you see him again, could you tell him that I was looking for him?"

Alan nods hesitantly.

"Thank you, Alan," I say, sauntering off before he can slam the door in my face.

OoOoOoOo

When I return to my room, Abigail is hanging up newly mended dresses in my closet. I remember my mother's letter.

"Abigail, how well did you know my mother?" I ask her conversationally.

She stiffens and glances at me warily. "Well enough."

"Well enough to know that, when a servant stole fifty gold nobles from her, she called it 'unkind'? And when my stupid, drunk father punched her in the eye, she said it was a 'misunderstanding'"?

Abigail just looks at me, waiting for me to get to my point.

"What then would provoke her to call you a traitor, Abigail Whice?"

She sighs and puts down the dresses she was holding. "I knew it would come to this, eventually. Your mother would never repeat what happened, so I suppose it's up to me to tell you. Are you certain you wish to know?"

I nod.

"To be frank - I was your father's mistress. My father was the steward of Eldorne, so we could have had a respectable marriage. But Eldorne has always been such a damned poor fief…" She trails off.

"Yes?" I inquire impatiently.

"I met him long before he knew your mother. He liked me, but I wanted nothing to do with him. I had an inkling that he would need to marry for money, and I didn't want to get involved. But eventually he won me over. Eldornes have a certain aura that seems irresistible to the opposite sex," she adds, glancing at me.

If only it didn't apply to Jonathan.

"Eldorne crops failed for three years in a row, and your father became desperate for money. We both realized he had to remarry, but he promised to keep me in the castle as a seamstress so that we could continue to see each other.

"He met your mother's father playing cards in Corus. The amount of money your grandfather put on the table impressed him, and over a few bottles of whiskey they made the agreement that should he win, he would win the hand of your mother. He won.

"It was only after the marriage that he made the discovery that your mother was penniless and that the money he had won gambling was fake. That was when your father truly became an alcoholic. We became careless with our tryst, and soon enough your mother walked in on the two of us together, in bed.

"She ordered me out of the Eldorne fief forever, but truly there is not much for me to go back to. Alcohol is your father's first love, now, and I imagine my family does not miss having another mouth to feed."

She looks at me wryly. "And now I suppose that you are going to tell me to leave your chambers and never come back?"

I shrug. "That was my mother's battle, not mine. I have few enough friends as it is, and I should hate to sacrifice you for the sake of family pride. Besides, I would be hard-pressed to find another seamstress who repairs my dresses so well."

OoOoOoOo

That evening as I am dining alone in my room, I am interrupted by a frantic pounding at my door. Jonathan.

Adjusting my scarlet nightgown so that the neckline hangs low, I unlock the door and allow him inside.

"Delia, what did I do to make you so angry with me?" he asks me meekly, and I am slightly revolted. Roger would never act so needy towards me.

With a sigh, I shake my head. "I was just tired, Jonathan. It was nothing you did. Don't worry about it."

"I bought you something," he tells me, bringing a jewelry box out of his pocket. It holds an emerald pendant that would match my eyes. Already I am calculating how much I could sell it for in exchange for more gowns. I force a grateful smile and admire the handiwork. If only I could spend money so easily.

It is ironic that the prince buying my love disgusts me, when most of the girls in Tortall would gladly buy his. Irony seems to be a leading theme in my life.

Sorry about the misspelling of Cythera in the earlier chapters. I would go back to fix the spelling of her name, but i really can't be bothered

To Drop You Oboe: Yes, I've read A Great And Terrible Beauty (by Libba Bray, for those of you that haven't. Read it!). It's one of my favorite books, and what made me want to try writing in the present tense.