CHAPTER 19: Alexander of Tirragen

The night of Jonathan's nineteenth birthday that August, a seething Alanna sat on a window seat, glowering at the boys on the other side of the room flocked around a girl from the convent. She had just made the mistake of introducing Gary to the girl—chestnut-haired, green-eyed, chesty Delia of Eldorne—and then got bellowed at by Jon for doing so. Apparently, she was just trying to make Gary like her.

Alex walked up, saw what had caught her attention, and laughed before sitting next to her. "Quite the player, isn't she? If she hasn't charmed evey man here before the night is done, I'll be surprised."

Silentely, Alanna agreed. Aloud, she asked, "Have you spoken with Jon recently? He seems uptight."

"When he has competition for a woman he wants? Yeah, he's uptight. What, did he snap at you for introducing Gary to Delia first? Ha. Gary and Jon won't be talking to each other tomorrow."

"Will they talk to me?"

Alex pondered the question for a few seconds before shaking his head. "No, probably not."

"Men!" she scoffed.

"Thank you, Alanna. I think you're great too."

Alanna had to laugh at that, and shook her head. "Sorry. That's not how I meant it."

"I know." He smiled. "Ah, look, it's Jon's dearest squire. My, my, he looks harassed."

"Harassed" hardly summed up Geoffrey—who, as Jon's squire, served drinks. The disgruntled boy made his way towards them and, slamming his empty tray down on an open spot on the window seat, cried, "I hate that bitch! She's just playing with them, flirting with first one, and then the other, and then the other, and then the other. And they're all getting so ticked with each other; I'll be surprised if they don't start a fistfight! And Jon is the worst of all—she keeps going back to him."

Alex got a kick out of this. "Oh, poor Geoffrey. The one man Delia will scare away by flirting too much. Careful—Jon's giving you the evil eye, so you had better run."

As Geoffrey scurried away, Alanna felt a prodding at her foot. She glanced down to find a black furball butting its head into her leg, trying to get her attention. She smiled. The cat she had found the night of the Goddess had earned the name "Faithful" due to his tendency to find and follow her everywhere. Even now, at a ball, he refused to stray too far away for too long. Alanna scooped him up and settled him on her left shoulder, his favorite resting spot. She had discovered that his mews tended to sound extremely coherent, and she was always interested in what he had to say.

"So, what do you think?" she asked him as Alex watched, amused.

She's interesting, Faithful replied carelessly. But I would like to know why your friend here isn't as stricken by her good looks as the other boys.

Alex laughed when she repeated the question aloud. "Delia's governess is my mother. I've met her too many times to be stricken by her."

Alanna could only accept that. Faithful, however, could not. Hmph, he muttered. Sure. Before she had the chance to respond, Raoul hurried up, looking hassled.

"Alanna!" he cried accusingly. "Why didn't you introduce me to her?" And then he dashed away to join Delia's flock.

Alanna stared after him, aghast, and then gave up. "That's it. I'm off to bed. See you tomorrow, Alex."

"'Night, Alanna. I'll tell you tomorrow if anything fascinating happens," he promised, settling back against the window to watch his friends embarrass themselves.

---

The following winter proved harsh for Alanna. Coram wrote from home that Lord Alan suffered from a murderous illness, and his body only continued to deteriorate despite the work of healers. Early frost had damaged the harvest, and the prospect of death from starvation darkened the villagers' ever-bleak days. Alanna jumped immediately to their aid, sending up blankets, firewood, food, and extra cold remedies in case Maude ran short. Often, she turned to Myles and Duke Gareth for advice, which they willingly supplied. As she worked, though, she couldn't help but worry that, once her father died, she would find herself alone and with no one to turn to, for Alan would never agree to let her, a woman, inherit the fief. She would have to get married fast if she hoped to change her predicament.

When she brought this up recklessly to George one night, he looked up from his desk where he scribbled on a piece of paper. "That's an option I wouldn't mind," he murmured.

Alanna ducked her head. Ever since that arcane kiss, he kept reminding her about it through small touches and subtle phrases like this one. They scared her in their own awkward way, and she forced herself to laugh them off. "You don't want to marry me, George. You need a girl who's wilder than me, who's prettier than me, who would help you rule the Rogue better than I would. You know I'd only make a mess of it. You know what? I think you should marry Rowanna. You guys would be great together. You both love knives and fist-fighting, you both—"

George laughed. "Rowanna's fine, lass, but I know who I want, and it's not her. In fact, that would be kind of awkward. Did you know she's working for me, as a spy?"

"Really?" she answered, pleased. "I remembered when we first started training at the convent—she was really excited about the idea of spying." Alanna frowned, realizing that she herself, on the other hand, had hardly dwelled on the prospect at all. What did she plan to do with her life?

"Yes, she said so. Well, did you know she's going to Tusaine to negotiate a marriage? She volunteered—actually, I kind of hinted at it, and then she volunteered—to keep her eyes open over there. She's been doing a really good job—better than I planned, actually. I have a flood of information coming in from her. She says mostly it's just a bit of uneasiness floating around, especially after your fight with Dain. She's had to deny that she knows you in order to keep from being shunned. Also, she says hi to you and Raoul."

Alanna smiled. "I'm glad you found her a way to help you, George. She must be ecstatic." Then she nodded at the paper-spewed desk. "Is that really what you do all day? Go through your information from spies? I never imagined you doing paperwork."

He chuckled again. "I don't spend a lot of time doing this. There's nothing too important to look over. They're all saying the same thing about the palace: Delia of Eldorne has every Court bachelor under her thumb."

"If there's a king of understatements, that's it," Alanna remarked dryly.

Delia knew how to keep her countless suitors on their toes, acting as if they meant more than the world to her one day and then as if they didn't exist the next. To Geoffrey's dismay, she picked Jonathan as her favorite toy; the squire suffered greatly from his knight-master's cross and irritable attitude after nights spent with Delia. Alanna tried to pity her depressed friend, but it turned out quite difficult when she, too, suffered. Jonathan kept demanding ways to make Delia like him more—he figured that, since Delia and Alanna shared a common gender, she would know what would please Delia more than the other boys pleased her. However, since the two girls shared little more than their gender, Alanna had absolutely no idea. When Jon started bellowing at her ignorant reply, she slipped away and joined Alex and Francis—both of whom managed to survive Delia's enchantments—somewhere safe, far from Jon.

One such day, she and Alex, during a nonchalant conversation of fencing tactics, discovered their corresponding interest in duelling one another. Duke Gareth continued to school them every morning, but he had never had them fence each other. Now, with Francis gone on an errand, they decided to try it out and headed for a secluded, inside fencing court with Faithful trailing behind them. As they stretched, Alanna reviewed everything she knew about Alex's advantages. Unlike her, he matched Duke Gareth in his talent, never foreshadowing his moves, and was blessed with height, strength, and dexterity. Still, she had Ali's training on her back and knew many Bazhir tricks that he had never heard of. Furthermore, she could boast of twice Alex's agility, able to weave, swerve, and duck in ways he would never, due to her nights wrestling with George. So, all in all, they almost stood on even ground.

With stretching finished, they grabbed wooden swords, stepped to the center of the court, and saluted each other. Then, like lightning, Alex lashed out. Caught off guard by the sudden movement, Alanna could only duck. She popped back up to block his next attack smoothly. Their actions picked up speed, and soon no time to think passed between strikes and parries. Alanna stopped concentrating on what her sword did as it switched from attacking to blocking faster than she could follow, and instead watched for any possible way to sneak past Alex's guard—a virtually impossible task.

Suddenly, her wrist twisted and her hand, unexpectedly lighter, wrenched. She bit back a yip of pain as her sword flew through the air. Then, she spotted Alex's weapon come sailing towards her from above. This time, a yelp did escape her mouth as she leapt to the side, her shoulder missing a bashing by inches.

"Alex—I yield! Stop it!" she cried, jumping back. If she hadn't moved, he would have knocked her out cold. All of a sudden, fright swept over her in a cold wave. The duel had ended with Alex as the winner. So what made him continue to lunge forward with that crazy gleam in his eyes? "Alex, that's enough!"

She hopped back once more, but not fast enough as his sword nipped her cheek. Fire blazed in her face, and she knew she had to get to her sword, which lay just feet to her left. She dropped into a crouch and, as Alex brought his blade down, dove to the side. Her fingers clasped the hilt, and she rolled to avoid his weapon again. She jumped to her feet just in time to block an attack headed for her left hip. But then his blade whipped around and smacked her right ribcage. She gasped at the pain, and then yelped as the flat of the blade collided with her temple. Her knees buckled, and she fell, dazed, to the ground.

---

Alanna opened her eyes to find Myles and Duke Baird, the palace's head healer, staring down at her. Neither looked extraordinarily happy; in fact, Myles appeared downright livid. Her head swam and hurt badly. So did the rest of her, she slowly realized, though this didn't surprise her too much since she lay on the hard, wood floor of the fencing court.

"What happened?" she croaked.

"Sir Alexander just tried to kill you," Myles snapped furiously, his abnormally harsh tone making Alanna flinch.

Duke Baird glowered at him. "Myles, that's enough. Alex just got a little wild. It's been happening to all the boys after being stuffed up for so long this winter." Then, his gaze softening, he turned back to Alanna. "He's being sent to work off some of his energy on patrol duty up north right now. He says to tell you he's terribly sorry and hopes you will forgive him."

Myles is right, said Faithful, who stood by her ear and out of her sight. Alex was trying to kill you. I went to go get Myles, and he brought Duke Gareth, who blocked one of Alex's strikes and sent his sword flying. Gareth was really angry. Alex was scared. He claims he didn't know what he was doing.

Alanna frowned, confused. "What?"

Faithful sighed impatiently. You were just about to be smacked to death by a wooden stick. I saved your life.

She smiled. "Thanks, Faithful. I owe you one."

Duke Baird confined Alanna to bed until the next day. That evening, she made straight for the Dancing Dove.

"He terrified me," she admitted. "I thought he wanted to kill me. Duke Gareth says Alex wanted to prove he was the best. But then why didn't he stop when I lost my sword?"

George didn't answer for a minute, but then said softly, "But you never trusted him before, did you, lass? You never introduced him to me."

This question had plagued Alanna for ages, and she had her answer prepared. "He became Roger's squire two or so years ago, and even after he became a knight, he was still too busy working with him to meet you."

"And what about Francis of Nond? Why haven't I met him?"

Alanna paused, and then groaned in defeat. And yet again, George proved correct. "Because he's close to Alex."

"But what's wrong with Alex? Roger's former squire is fine; you trust him."

"I have no proof, George!" she cried, exasperated. "I have no evidence whatsoever that Roger, Alex, or Francis is bad!"

"You don't need proof not to trust people," George told her firmly. "Take this fight as a warning. I doubt your next encounter with one of them alone will end so luckily."

Alanna leaned back in her chair as she let out a deep breath of air. "What am I doing, George?" she asked with her eyes closed. "I'm just a simple lady from the convent. Why did I want to learn to fight? I'd've been happier had I just kept my head down and walked quietly. Now someone wants to kill me, and I'm protecting the Crown Prince from his power-hungry cousin. How in the world did this happen?" She refused to think of being the Goddess' Chosen.

"You were just born strange," George replied solemnly, his eyes betraying his inner laughter.

Alanna couldn't help getting up and walking around the table to give George a hug. "Gods, Geore, I'm so glad I have you on my side."

His voice sounded oddly hoarse when he answered, "I'm glad to be on your side, lass."