Proof read by Danaye.

Chapter 31

Daine stopped short as she noticed everyone staring at her. Onua had brought her to an empty storage room where an unsteady table stood along with six chairs, four of them occupied. Onua had already seated herself. Scanning the room, Daine found an assortment of buckets, brooms and shovels buried underneath layers of dust. She turned to the one man that practically oozed authority and found him smiling at her. "I know," he said calmly, glancing around the room, "it's not as glamorous as the palace, but it will do for now. We needed a private place to talk."

She could easily guess who the man was as he said the last words. However, she didn't have a clue who the others were. The man behind her moved past her, slightly pushing her forward. Daine found that she was well inside the room when he suddenly closed the door behind her. The man's eyes twinkled mischievously as he settled into a chair on the other side of the table.

She moved towards the table cautiously, noticing that someone had made a hasty effort to dust off its surface. Daine lingered for far longer then she had expected herself to, not sure how she should greet the man who ruled her new home and had helped arrange her marriage.

King Jonathan recognized her uncertainty and gestured to an empty chair. A man beside it pulled it out for her. "Please, Miss Salmalin, sit. Otherwise, protocol demands that I stand. Given the nature of this meeting, we don't need such formalities. I'm Jonathan of Conté, the King of Tortall."

Her jaw was about to drop, but she maintained her dignity. As she cautiously seated herself on the offered chair, twisting her hands together in her lap, Daine studied the man. He was tall, but not nearly as tall as her husband. She also recognized the charcoal black hair that his son had inherited. Daine hesitantly met the king's eyes and was rewarded with a small smile.

"You have been introduced to Onua, yes?" Jonathan inclined his head towards the woman Daine had been speaking with all morning. She found herself nodding silently as the king continued, "Good, I would also like for you to be introduced to the rest."

King Jonathan turned his head to the left and motioned to a man with chestnut-brown hair and intelligent eyes. "My Prime Minister, Duke Gareth II of Naxen. His father was my father's Champion as well as his Prime Minister."

Duke Gareth inclined his head towards her. Daine gave a shy smile in return, still unsure about how to behave in such company. She hadn't thought about the fact that marrying Tortall's most powerful mage also meant being associated with the realm's most important people.

Her head snapped back to the king as he continued, "The man beside him is Baron George of Pirate's Swoop. He is Sir Alanna's husband. I've been informed that you've already met my Champion." Jonathan paused for a few seconds as if observing her, his bright blue eyes somewhat unsettling, "As for Baron Cooper, he's my...well, let's just say that he's the man one goes to when in need of certain information."

George Cooper, the man who had ushered her inside the room, smiled at her, flashing white teeth that only deepened the color of his tan skin. He waved a hand in greeting, "Hello."

Daine couldn't think of anything to say back. She only gave a small nod and turned back to the king as he introduced yet another man. Daine shook her head. Insecure over what part she would be playing in this meeting, she pushed herself from the chair. She spoke honestly, voicing aloud the thought that had been lingering in the back of her mind since the moment she had entered the dusty room, "Sorry, but I can't do this."

Light brown eyes caught hers and Onua raised her eyebrows in a silent question. Daine shook her head, taking steps backwards. "I'm sorry, but this is wrong," she said, trying to breath as panic spread inside of her. Her actions were foolish, she knew that, but she wasn't the type of person that mingled with a kingdom's elite. Before, her life had been simple. Now, it was becoming very, very complicated.

As she reached the door that would lead to her escape, a hand grabbed her wrist and Daine turned, only to look into soft blue eyes framed by a pale face. The eyes were not the king's sapphire ones, but still blue, as if the man was Gallan. She averted her eyes to the floor, embarrassment tingeing her cheeks with red. "Please, look at me," the man said softly.

His grip on her was gentle, matching his voice, "We know that you're frightened and that this is new." He slowly guided her back to the chair and she allowed him to lightly press her into a seated position once more as he continued speaking. "Nonetheless, we have something important to discuss. If you would only listen to him," he turned and gestured to King Jonathan, "it may very well be of great importance."

Something about him reminded her of Numair. It was the calm way he moved, quietly and patiently. She recalled that he had been introduced as a teacher at the Tortallan School of Magic, but she could not remember his name.

She froze as King Jonathan's voice rang out, "Lady Salmalin, we..."

Daine shook her head, interrupting his words. She knew it was rude, but she spoke anyway. "I'm no lady. A lady is regarded as proper, having a good family and a high social position," she whispered. Lifting her chin stubbornly, she continued, "I'm not refined, I'm not well spoken or well-mannered. I'm none of those things! I'm just Daine, a common girl and a bastard." She had spat out the last word out before adding angrily, "So please, don't refer to me as something that I'm not."

Jonathan was about to open his mouth, most likely to object, but was cut short by Onua's voice.

"She has a point," Onua said calmly, meeting the king's stare. "You've been surrounded by head-strong women all your life, Jonathan. Why call a mare girl something she isn't?"

The king glanced at the K'miri, narrowing his eyes. "She is married to Numair and he's a noble."

George coughed, raising a single eyebrow. "Actually, Jonathan, Numair is a merchant's son." George then pointed to himself, "I'm a former thief. Onua was nearly beaten to death by her own husband." He turned to gesture at the man who had grabbed Daine's wrist earlier, "Lindhall here helped Numair escape from Carthak, he's practically a criminal. The only one who can properly call himself 'noble' is Gary here." George clapped the Prime Minister on his back, "And of course, Majesty, yourself as well. Not even the Queen can call herself noble, for she came here as a former princess fleeing from a war torn country."

Daine let her jaw drop, unabashedly, down to the level of her chest, not believing her ears. The king's nearest advisers were mostly commoners. No wonder everyone back home had considered Tortall either a place of peculiarity or a place of opportunity. She quickly closed her mouth, feeling strange. Galla wasn't her home anymore and would never be again .

"Should I go on?" George volunteered, "or is it enough to say that you have a woman as your Champion, another girl openly pursuing her shield, and..."

Jonathan sighed, clearly defeated. He looked at Daine. "My apologies," he held his hand above his heart, "I promise from now on to only call you Daine. Is that acceptable?"

She nodded.

The King of Tortall smiled at her. "Good," Jonathan said, pushing a tray of sweetened rolls towards her. He gestured to the food, "Please, you must be hungry..." He allowed his words to hang in the air as she shook her head. "No?" he questioned, still smiling.

If Daine had met this man before Numair, she would had fallen for him instantly, but now that wasn't the case. He was handsome, yes, but he wasn't her husband. King Jonathan rose from his chair, leaning over the table to take a roll for himself, "Then I'm going to have one. It's rare for me to be able to eat these. I always seem to be the last to reach the kitchens whenever they make them."

That must be a lie, Daine thought as the man with the nicely trimmed black beard sank his teeth into the food. As a king, he must have servants to bring him any food he desired. "Why am I here?" she asked, interrupting the silence.

Jonathan used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth of crumbs. "Tortall is in a fragile situation. That being said, we need to be prepared for anything that might happen. As it is, we, the Tortallan Crown, are sheltering the Crown Prince of Galla at the moment and..."

Daine rose from her seat immediately. "If you think, for a single moment, that I'm going to help you bring down Galla then you are mistaken! I will not be involved in such a thing."

A man, Lindhall she corrected, caught her wrist and she was lowered to her seat again. "Easy there," he said, speaking in kind and soft tones, "King Jonathan isn't even considering besieging the country. Quite the opposite. He wants to help the people who are going to be caught in the middle of the fighting. He also looking to possibly treat with Scanra."

She paused, considering his words. "You mean warriors like the one Numair and Alanna fought near the border?"

Jonathan nodded. "The country is vulnerable. Although his father is deceased, the heir is too young to take the throne and nobles are already striving for the crown. They will try to kill him if he re-enters Galla or they succeed in finding him. We have him under safe protection. Our intelligence tells us that a warlord is..."

"Sun Tzu," Daine whispered quietly, almost to herself, but just loud enough for everyone to hear her.

Jonathan nodded again, his eyes gleaming with interest. "That the warlord Sun Tzu is going..." he stopped suddenly as Daine shook her head. He looked confused, but waited for her to say something.

"He isn't a warlord, Your Majesty."

The man opposite her suddenly leaned forward. She found herself looking into the eyes of Alanna's husband. "He's only a general," she explained, thinking back to the royal healer and how catastrophic her wedding night had been.

George turned his head slowly, only to meet the eyes of the king. They looked at each other in complete silence for some time and Daine wondered if there was some sort of silent conversation going on between them. Jonathan finally leaned back . "Well," he concluded slowly, "that changes everything."

"How so?" Daine questioned before she could stop herself.

It wasn't Jonathan who spoke this time, it was his Prime Minister – Gar-something was his name. "Had it been a warlord, the situation would have been," he hesitated a bit, "less complicated. A warlord fervently seeks power, but is limited in his knowledge of strategies. He needs other warlords' aid in order to be successful in his endeavors. A general, on the other hand, is dangerous." He spoke the last word with deep, grudging respect before he continued, "A man trained in the art of fighting or as some would call it, 'The Art of War', is not someone you'd want to cross paths with, but occasionally it happens. If a general sets his mind to do something, he will not rest until it is done. A general isn't the type of man that easily accepts failure and he will do almost anything to achieve his goals."

A shiver ran down Daine's spine. "So, you're saying that war is on the horizon?"

Everyone around her nodded silently.

She breathed in deeply, taking in their grave expressions. "What can I do to help?"

Her ears and head ached from all the information that had been exchanged. She had volunteered her help to prepare the riders or anyone in the need of it, but beyond that, she knew of nothing that could help them other than what they already knew.

They had questioned her about the nobles back in Galla, trying to find out which ones had the most powerful connections, but after some time they had realized that she had nothing really to give them. She had explained to them over and over again that the nobles hadn't associated with her at all, unless their horses were sick. The Tortallans had finally given up and left her to sit by herself, her presence forgotten.

Suddenly, someone poked her in the shoulder and she found Onua gesturing at her to follow her. She stood silently, so as not to disturb the discussion that took place behind her, and followed the horse-mistress out.

She was in the process of taking a step over the threshold when the earth rumbled under her feet. Daine could feel various mice scatter over the floor of the corridor she was about to enter, fleeing into the nearest holes. "Earthquake?" she whispered, frowning at the floor where small pebbles danced from the earth's tremors.

King Jonathan shook his head. He was still sitting down. "Tortall doesn't have natural earthquakes. That is the aftermath of some of Numair's magic."

Daine found herself still frowning. He seemed to be somewhat displeased and annoyed. Jonathan suddenly turned to George, "Where did you say Numair and Alanna went this morning?"

George shook his head, "I didn't say anything — just that my dear wife left early this morning without saying where she was going." He paused for Jonathan didn't seem to be happy with his explanation. George shrugged, "You know how she is, Jon. Alanna has her own priorities, and I'm not going to have her followed like when she was masquerading as a boy..."

Jonathan nodded slowly, but his piercing blue eyes were slightly cold. Daine wondered what dispute she had missed, because the tension inside the room rose significantly. "Just as long she stays away from Mindelan..."

"Or else?" George asked coldly.

A hand grabbed her upper arm and dragged Daine from the room. Jon's reply was muffled as Onua pulled her down the corridor. When they left the hall, only to stand in the drizzling rain, Daine could hear some kind of argument escalating. Onua closed the door behind her, and Daine turned to glance back in the direction they had come from. "What was that about?" she asked, startled.

"Disagreements," Onua replied curtly, "King Jonathan has banned the Lioness from having anything to do with one of the pages."

They walked further out into the rain. "But I don't understand," Daine continued, "why can't a knight help a page? Surely, it is in everyone's best interest that they learn from the best and isn't Lady Alanna the best of the best?"

Onua shook her head. "Not when it comes to training of the first female in living memory permitted to pursue a shield…"

Daine stopped short, turning her blue-gray eyes to the other woman. "There's going to be another Lioness?" she asked, startled. She was realizing more and more everyday that Tortall was so far ahead of Galla in terms of opportunities.

Back home, only select men had been permitted to train and becomes knights. The fact that Tortall was going to have not one, but two female knights – Daine shook her head as if to clear her mind. It was too much to comprehend, she thought to herself, not for the first time. She vaguely heard Onua answer with laughter. At least her new friend was finding this amusing. Daine wasn't sure if she would ever come to the same state of amusement over such things.

"Maybe. If the Gods will it and everything goes their way. Although, no one really knows which way that is."

They were walking directly over the grounds, not far from the now empty paddock, towards another large building. It was not, however, as large as the building that the horses resided in. The Riders were nowhere to be seen. Daine was still utterly confused over the controversy she had been told about. She couldn't understand why it was so important to keep one of the best knights away from a future knight. "I still think that everyone should be taught by the best, nevertheless…" she muttered as Onua opened a door for her and ushered her inside.

Both Daine's thoughts and tracks came to an abrupt halt, causing Onua to crash into her back. In front of her, two long tables stood with small benches placed on either sides. They were occupied by women and men on both sides, eating and talking in quiet conversation — until some of them turned their heads to look directly at Daine.

Onua took a step around her and smiled apologetically as the talk subsided and everyone turned to stare at Daine. "Don't mind them," she said, walking over to the counter where a woman was filling a tray with food, "the rumor about you has, of course, spread like fire fueled by the wind."

She followed Onua slowly, trying to ignore the stares and the whispers.

Someone dropped their goblet of water, and it splashed all over the table and ran down into a woman's lap. "Hey!" the woman exclaimed, jumping up from the bench. She found other men with their forks frozen in mid-air and their open mouths hanging open, oblivious to the fact that the food they were about to stuff into their mouths was slipping from the utensils. The women, on the other hand, were sending her angry looks.

Daine glanced to the side, unsure, and brushed some of her loose, curly hair back. Blue eyes danced mischievously in a young man's face as he lifted his hand to wave at her. She found herself smiling back, but grimaced when she saw the girl beside him elbow him in his ribcage.

About to take another step, everyone around her stood abruptly, their eyes still on Daine, or so she thought. Suddenly, a woman cleared her throat. Daine turned around slowly as everyone saluted behind her and found herself face to face with the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.

Smiling at her, the woman rolled her hazel eyes and leaned to the side, glancing around Daine. For a moment, her eyes held utter amusement, but it was gone within the next second, replaced by firmness. "The king and I don't pay you to stare," she said sternly, and waited for something.

It came instantly. Noise broke out as everyone scrambled down to their seats on the benches and the sound of conversation filled the air. Daine sighed loudly and looked back at the woman who stood in front of her, an odd smile on her face. She was about to bob a curtsy, but a firm grip on her upper arm prevented her from doing so.

"Oh, no you don't," the woman shook her head, making her black hair dance. "I'm in informal clothes, so no need for that, dear."

Daine's mouth dropped, for what must have been the tenth time that day, and she closed it sharply, almost biting her tongue in the process.

The Queen continued, as if not noticing anything, and she dragged Daine along with her. "Yes, I know. Everything is overwhelming, but once you get used to it, it's not that bad at all." She stopped and turned away from Daine, speaking over her shoulder, "I'm Thayet jian Wilima, or I used to be. Then a man, you know my husband, swept me off my feet."

Thayet turned back to Daine with a tray filled with food. She was smiling pleasantly, but it slowly disappeared as she took in Daine's expression. "Oh, please don't look so startled, my dear. I'm not that scary," she turned to Onua, frowning deeply, "am I?"

Onua shook her head, "Daine just needs some time to settle in. Numair and Alanna had things to do, so he left her in my care." She walked away from them and Thayet followed, muttering something sounding like 'typical Numair'. Daine found herself left behind as Onua seated herself at an empty table — the only empty table, Daine realized.

The horse-mistress gestured at Daine to follow, which she did, but not as willingly as she was supposed to. A king that didn't stick to protocols and a Queen that was eating in front of her wearing as plain of clothes as Daine wore herself — this was the strangest court she had ever been to. Though, she couldn't compare it to many others because the only court she had been to had been her home. Daine sighed deeply and seated herself beside Onua. Silently she corrected herself, Galla was now her former home.

Apparently, Thayet had heard her sighing and was smiling at her reassuringly while she leaned forth and clapped Daine's hand. "So, what do you think of all this?"

Daine looked around, taking in everything. What did she really think about this? "I think…I've landed in some kind of unreal dream and I'm not sure that I'll ever wake up."

Both Onua and Thayet laughed, as the Queen pointed at Daine with her fork, "Her, I like!" She filled her mouth and swallowed before she continued, "She's got spirit. Jonathan was right about his choice for Numair. She'll be perfect for him."

She had been observing everything, from the explosion to the arrival of the Queen's Riders and the King's Own – along with two other people she hadn't expected. Kahlan was kneeling down beside the young man whom she knew little about. She had, on the other hand, heard about his reputation.

Brushing away some of the dust, she looked down into an attractive, if not handsome, face. She frowned. The resemblance between him and the wild mage was astonishing. Her examination was cut short when the Rogue himself showed up along with his thieves to retrieve the assassin, and she hurried away from the scene. Still trying to solve the puzzle as to why this dangerous assassin looked like the wild mage, Kahlan found herself standing in the middle of the road when people came riding past her. She recognized members of the King's Own and The Queen's Riders on either side of her, blocking her way out.

Kahlan glanced up at the men and woman on either side, suddenly glad that she was covered in dust because it allowed her to blend in. She volunteered to help with whatever she could. She threw herself into the task, only to be startled back to reality when a large and muscular man dropped from his even larger horse, to land with his boots firmly planted on the ground.

She stopped her movements, in awe of the man's appearance. The blackness of his hair matched well to the blackness of his eyes. It was also the way he moved and the way he ordered his men around — it was a breathtaking sight.

With him roaring orders, she found herself withdrawing from the Queen's Riders and the King's Own, wanting to study the man further. It didn't matter in the least that the men and women had made quick progress with their surroundings and had begun searching for survivors, she only had eyes for the black haired man.

Fascinated, and slightly overwhelmed, Kahlan remained close by, taking in everything around him. It wasn't that she was falling for him, she was only mesmerized. If only he had...Kahlan suddenly smiled wickedly, her blue eyes vivid and left the scene quickly.

"Oh, rack off, ya bloody show pony!"

A man, dressed richly, impatiently waved off a poorly dressed young woman who was offering treats. His hand accidentally struck the basket and its contents went flying over the side only to land in the mud. The woman began picking up the treats from the ground, but the man deemed her work to be too slow and tried to kick her. Before he could get a properly aimed kick in, he stumbled forth and down into the mud himself.

Scowling and cursing loudly, he rose from the ground, trying in vain to brush off the mud. The crowd around him had come to a halt, openly staring at his muddy clothes. He lifted his head, eyes burning with anger, only to find that the woman had skipped off and was nowhere to be seen. "Who did that?" he demanded. "Who did that?" He shouted, his voice rising in anger.

The crowd before him promptly pointed at something behind him, their eyes opened wide. The man turned, about to scold whoever it was that had forced him to the ground, but stopped abruptly, wisely choosing to bow instead. "My Lady," he whispered.

Alanna lifted her glove-covered hand and gestured to Raoul, who brought forth a trembling young woman. Her long blonde hair was tousled and her clothing in disarray.

The crowd split, allowing the muscular man through. "Let go of me!" the woman screamed furiously, her blue eyes burning, and yanked her arm free. She glanced up at Raoul and was about to snap at him, when she caught sight of Alanna shaking her head slowly.

"I did nothing," the woman started to say, but closed her mouth firmly. She crossed her arms in front of her as Alanna crooked an eyebrow. Alanna calculated that she was about twenty or so. She turned her attention back to the man, "I think you owe the lady an apology…and payment for the goods."

"I owe no such thing," the man began, but stopped when Numair came up behind Alanna.

"What's the problem, Alanna?" he asked, looking from the muddy man to the short, red haired woman standing in front of him.

"Oh, no problem other than him," Alanna said, pointing to the man in front of her, "he was about to kick this woman for being in his way." She leaned forward slightly, her violet eyes cold, "Or do you deny this as well, Sir Edeson?"

Sir Edeson glared daggers at Alanna. "I did no such thing. Anyway, the woman is nothing but a common thief."

"Liar!" The woman in question screamed suddenly, about to jump towards the man. Alanna recognized the eagerness in the girl's spirit, but Raoul grabbed a hold of her before she got the chance and yanked her back against him. "Let go of me!"

Numair took a step forth, bringing himself to stand beside Alanna. "What's your name?" he asked, dipping into his gift.

"My name is..." Sir Edeson stopped as Numair shook his head, realizing that the tanned man wasn't speaking to him, but the young woman.

She tried to wriggle free, but Raoul held her firmly. "Kahlan, sir — and I'm no thief!"

Numair smiled, seeing no traces of a lie. "So it would seem," he said calmly, slowly turning to the man still standing in front of Alanna. "It seems that you not only owe Lady Kahlan an apology, but also payment for the damage you did to her treats. However, if you still insist on claiming your innocence, we may need to escort the two of you to the Lord Provost. Maybe Lord Quinlan will find this interesting?"

"No!" Sir Edeson shook his head, "I'll apologize to the woman, but I'll do nothing more."

Alanna leaned forth, narrowing her eyes, "So you are denying the woman payment for the damage you did?"

Sir Edeson lifted his head, "Yes."

She sighed loudly. It wasn't the first time that Sir Edeson had proven to be quite annoying and difficult to be around. She just wished, for one single day, that the man wouldn't make trouble, but it seemed that he thrived on making life difficult for everyone — even her. He was known for this, challenging authority whenever he got the opportunity.

Sir Edeson was one of the men that regarded Alanna as something that belonged under his shoe and the king as something he could use after he had visited the privy. Everyone knew this, for he was almost always in conflict with the law. Alanna had lost count of the times she or others had brought the man before Lord Quinlan.

She turned to Raoul, where he was still holding the young woman firmly in place. "It seems that we are taking a trip to the Lord Provost yet again."

"What about her?" Raoul asked, looking down at Kahlan.

Kahlan just looked up at him and impudently stuck her tongue out at him, while pulling a face. 'Why not make this believable?' she thought, lifting her right foot and stamping it down. She was going to do everything in her power to make sure that they brought her with them.

Raoul cursed loudly as her heel was planted firmly down on his foot. He turned the young woman around so she was facing him. Alanna mentioned to him that he could just leave her, but he shook his head, angry over the treatment Kahlan had bestowed on him.

Kahlan grasped at the last straw in her act and looked down between them. She spat on his boot and lifted her head, smiling wickedly. This only caused Raoul to growl even more. 'Now I have him where I want him,' she thought.

Large, calloused hands shook her shoulders and Kahlan's head danced back and forth. "You little —," Raoul suddenly stopped himself, realizing that he was uncharacteristically losing his temper.

"Lerant!" he shouted, jumping when someone poked him in his arm. Turning, Raoul found his standard-bearer standing just behind him.

"You didn't need to yell, sir, I have been standing beside you this whole time," Lerant said calmly, looking Kahlan over.

She pulled a face at him in return for his investigative look. She was suddenly pushed into the arms of the young man. "She's going with us," Raoul said coldly. "Make sure to keep an eye on her and don't fall for any of her schemes."

Lerant nodded and grabbed her arms, rather roughly, Kahlan thought. "Gladly," the young man told her and pulled her away with him.

Kahlan turned her face away, only to glance back at where the Commander of the King's Own stood, taking deep breaths. She smiled secretly, her blonde hair dancing up and down with each step she took.

Finally, somewhat calm again, Raoul nodded at two men. They walked from his sides, grabbing hold of the muddy man. Forcing Sir Edeson's arms around to his back, one of the men known as Domitan listed the charges against the man. Sir Edeson was proving to be difficult as he suddenly began to shout insults at not only Numair and Alanna, but also everyone standing around him.

Domitan cursed low as Sir Edeson, placed up on a horse, began to slide to the side — intending to drop to the ground. "Oh, no you don't," he said, gesturing to some of the other members of the King's Own. "Place him on his stomach, that way he can't do anything besides use his filthy mouth."

Everyone was mounting their horses except Numair. "Aren't you coming?" Alanna asked, turning her horse towards him.

Numair shrugged, "What about Liam?"

Alanna smiled, her violet eyes bright with laughter, and turned her head towards a group of men. The men suddenly found the ground or their surroundings more interesting than what was going on in front of them. Numair followed Alanna's gaze as she replied, "Oh, he already knows that we are going to meet him later."