Author Note:
I apologize in advance if this chapter is not as grammatically correct as others have been. I have been sick all week and haven't had time to re-read it over and over again. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Adendum:
Officially proof read and re-posted. (Same with chapters 1-4)

Review response:
"Me" – Norina of Heath is the name I have given the younger sister of Fianola from the book "Squire".

-5-
Examinations

Three days later, Inara was called up to the infirmary. She resembled her father as she paced back in fourth. No one would tell her anything. Not how Gilyith was. Not how he'd happened to regain warmth when the last thing she had known was the cold feeling of his hand in hers; And definitely not why she'd been called to the infirmary from the middle of her etiquette class.

Finally, a door on the side of the room she'd been brought to opened, revealing Duke Baird, looking very tired.

"How is he?" she demanded. The duke just looked at her pleading face, and ran a hand over his own exhausted one. He motioned for her to sit down as he took a seat across from her. The moment she touched the chair, she jumped up again, and resumed pacing. "Grandpa, I can't take this. Why won't anyone tell me what's going on? What's happening?"

"Inara, please sit. You're making me tired just by watching you," he told her steadily. Inara frowned, but took a seat anyway, although she kept fidgeting. She wasn't a big fan of waiting. "No one has told you anything, because we don't know ourselves."

"What do you mean, you don't know? Is he going to be alright?"

"Yes; I can tell you for sure that the boy will be fine after he's spent a few more nights here. We'll send him back to lessons as soon as we see fit," he told her.

"Good."

"But that isn't why I asked you here, Inara," he told her. "I need you to tell me what happened out there that day."

"I already did," she retorted, getting upset. Why did everyone keep assuming Gilyith's survival had something to do with her?

"I need you to tell me exactly what happened. The boy, he had magic worked on him before my healers saw to him; before Lord Padraig's men even reached him to bring him here. I need to know what you did."

"I didn't do anything! NOTHING! I can't do anything. I HAVE NO GIFT!" She was half shouting, half crying. "You know better than anyone else how much I wish I had that power! I would give my soul to Mithros himself if I could just once light a candle without a match. Do you know how happy that would make Papa? Do you know how proud of me he'd be?" She sobbed, collapsing onto the floor. It wasn't fair. Why did everyone have to assume she did something she hadn't the power to do; something she'd never had the power to do?

"Hush," Duke Baird told her. He knelt beside her, his arms wrapped around her body as she shook with tears. "Your father is very proud of you." She shook her head in his arms.

"If I had the Gift like Baird, or Emry and Kennith, or even Donalin, I could have done more. I could have made it so Gilyith wouldn't have needed to spend so long here. I could have melted the ice to get him out instead of calling for Seth. I could have summoned help in the fire."

"Narie, baby, you can 'if' yourself to death and nothing will change what is," he told her, pushing her away and brushing tears off her face. "Why does he mean so much to you? He's the boy who's been tormenting you since September?"

"I don't like him, grandpa, but I don't want him to die. Just because I don't like who someone is doesn't mean I think they shouldn't live. He can't help who he is."

Duke Baird nodded. "It's that attitude that makes your father proud of you. No amount of healing Gift could ever replace that. Now tell me what happened."

"I already told you, I couldn't have done anything. You tested me yourself. Test me again if it'll help."

"I did," he replied. "While you were in here alone."

"And?"

"Nothing's changed. But maybe it wasn't something you did. Please, Inara?"

She took a deep breath and pulled herself off the floor and into the chair, still crying a bit. "Alright; Seth left to get help after we'd pulled Gilyith through the ice. He told me to take off his outer clothes and keep him warm. I did, but it wasn't helping, so I dragged him to the fire. He got colder not warmer. I started rocking back and fourth while I prayed. I prayed to myself, to Gilyith, to Mithros, to anyone who would listen."

"Is that it?"

"I think so," she told him. "I had one of his hands in mine."

"Where was your other hand?"

"I don't remember… no, wait. I held the stone my brothers sent me."

"Stone? Was it an opal? Something they may have stored some of their gift in?"

"No," she said, pulling the pendent out from under her tunic and handing it to him. Duke Baird examined the small green stone. "Its – "

"Jade; I know."

Inara nodded. "They said it was used for protection, healing, and love," she told him.

"It is. But it can't store power, only channel what already exists, when it comes to healing. Protection and love, I can't say much about. I suppose it might work much the same way. But still, you would need your own power to make it work," he told her, and began to hand it back when he changed his mind. "You're sure that's all that happened?"

"Yes sir."

"Would you mind if I borrowed this and asked some of the mages to have a look at it? It could be that it only looks like jade and really is something else."

"That's fine," she replied. "Can I go now?" She was tired and hungry and relieved all at the same time. All she wanted to do was get to supper before it was over.

"Of course. I've kept you from your food too long already. I'll have someone bring the pendent back to you when we've finished with it." Inara nodded and bowed to him, before dashing out of the room.

Gilyith returned to classes shortly after her encounter with her grandfather looking as if he hadn't nearly been drowned and frozen to death. A week later, Master Numair entered their magic class on immortals being taught by Tkaa, the seven foot tall basilisk, and asked to see her. Inara was excused, and followed him into the hall.

"We couldn't find anything unusual about your stone. It's definitely jade, though," he told her, handing the pendent over. "You didn't see anything unusual happen, did you?" he asked her.

"No sir," she replied, glad to at least have the stone back. She fixed the chain back around her neck and let the familiar weight rest against her chest. She thought she felt it warm for a moment as if her heart was welcoming back an old friend. "Do you require anything else of me, sir?"

"Um… no. Go back to your class. Just promise me you'll let someone know if you remember anything else? I know how hard it is to recall everything in a drastic situation."

"Yes sir," she replied and bowed, before going back to her class. She heard his footsteps disappear behind her.

As the weeks wore on, Inara began to notice a few changes around her. She was getting bruised less and less in hand-to-hand combat. It seemed the exercise balls she'd received from the lady knights were really paying off. She'd added them to her morning work outs and even found some time on occasional evenings to work with them. She continued to improve with her sword work to the point when none of the first years wanted to be her partner in class. When she asked Sam and Benton if they were angry with her, they laughed and explained that they just didn't want to look bad. She didn't care about Hakim. Nothing changed for the better in archery. If anything, Sir Zahir's attitude got worse since she'd killed the doe in one shot. He seemed to catch on to how he'd actually been helping her, not hurting her pride, and now he pretty much ignored her completely, even when she made an obvious error.

When the snows finally stopped and any lingering moisture on the ground melted away, Lord Padraig came into the stables and told them they'd be starting something new that day and that they'd best hurry and finish getting their months ready and meet him at the far field.

Curious, the pages quickly finished their work and trooped out of the stables and down to the practice court. Although it was almost March, a chilly late February wind whipped through the air, making the pages' teeth chapter. The horses didn't seem too fond of the icy blasts either.

"Like your sword work, I put this off too long," Lord Padraig began. "But that couldn't have been helped. We'll just have to see to it that you improve faster than normal." He paused, a small shadow of a smile on his lips, as he stepped aside to reveal a barrel containing long wooden poles: lances. It was then that Inara noticed there were four quintain dummies set up around the court, each providing plenty of room for a charge. Attached to each dummy were a sandbag and a shield with a circular target painted on it. "Older boys, come collect a lance. Sponsors choose a second one for your first years. Jasson of Conte, report to me."

Evan appeared at Inara's side only minutes later carrying two of the lances. He held one out to her. Inara stared, looking it over.

"You don't want it?" Evan joked. "I'm hurt."

Inara smiled slightly and reached out to take it, but then pulled her hand back. It doesn't weigh more than the other one, does it?"

"What? No," Evan retorted. "Here," he said, handing both to her. She took them carefully, weighing each in her hands, and then happily returned the one Evan had chosen for himself back to him. "Why would you even think that?"

"My ma was tricked into starting on a weighted lance," Corin put in, riding Titan up beside them. Even shook his head.

"I would never do that to you, Inara," he assured her.

"I know, but I just wanted to be a hundred percent sure. I can't be unless I've chosen the weapon myself," she replied, leaning across Hikari and planting a small kiss on his cheek. "Thank you."

"Eww… Inara's acting like a girl," Benton called out to them.

"She is a girl, you little dolt," Asten advised. Inara laughed as she kicked Hikari into a trot and joined her other friends near Lord Padraig, Evan and Corin following behind her.

"Settle down," the training master ordered the boys. They all fell silent immediately, even the first years. "Page Jasson is going to demonstrate for us," he explained and nodded to the prince who rode to one end of the field lining himself up with one of the quintains. "When charging, you need to keep the tip of your lance high enough to strike the shield of your opponent. The lance must cross diagonally over the shoulders of your mount. Why shouldn't you hold it straight out in front of you?" Inara had been watching Jasson who demonstrated the correct way to hold the weapon and then switched to holding it straight out as Lord Padraig spoke. Corin's hand went up.

"Masbolle?"

"You wouldn't have time to turn your mount to keep from getting speared, my lord. Also, you might hit your mount in the head."

"Correct."

"Comes from his Ma," Yancy whispered to no one in particular.

"Now, these days the lance is just as important as the sword. It is your best defense against immortals such as ogres and giants. So, if you strike the shield accurately, which is within the circle on the dummy, you will have made a successful pass and you will ride by safely."

Jasson thundered down the field; his lance struck the center of the target circle and the quintain rotated to allow Jasson to pass by unharmed.

"If you strike anywhere else on the shield you will not make it through without punishment."

Jasson made a second run at the target. This time he purposely missed the circle. He struck the shield on the outside edge. The quintain turned in a full circle, causing the sandbag to thump soundly against the fourth year's back as he passed through. Jasson didn't look pleased about having done it, even though he'd done so on purpose.

"Fourth years, line up at the far quintain. Third years beside them. Second years, you're to my right. You could all use the practice. I want to hear the sound of your mounts hooves striking the ground; not the sound of sand bags hitting pages. Conte, that had better be the only time one hits you," he instructed. Jasson bowed and raced off to join his year mates, while Lord Padraig turned to the four first years. "Alright, let's see what you can do. Tirragen, you're first."

Sam made his pass at the dummy, followed by Benton and Hakim. Benton and Hakim hit the shield, although they were no where near the target circle. Sam barely managed to keep the point of his lance high enough to hit the shield and just managed to tap its side. Like his year mates, he felt the hard thump of the sand bag against his back. Finally it was Inara's turn. She positioned Hikari, hefted her lance into her arm, and kicked the mare into a charge. Her lance hit shield just as Benton and Hakim had done, and the sand bag thudded against her as she passed by. So she wasn't destined to be a great jouster like her aunt. At least she didn't do any worse than the other first years.

Lord Padraig kept them at it the whole afternoon. They almost missed the sound of the bell that signaled for them to wash up and head to lunch. By the time Inara ran up the hill to her room, her entire back was one gigantic bruise.

Besides tilting lessons being added to their schedules, another change entered Inara's life at the palace; one she wasn't prepared for, and didn't notice until Seth pointed it out to her. They were walking to Evan's room for their study group in mid-March when Seth spoke to her. "Has Gilyith been laying off you lately? You don't have as many bruises, and you haven't been to infirmary since before Midwinter."

Inara had just shrugged in response. She didn't like to dwell on the behaviors of annoyances like Gilyith, but now that Seth had mentioned it, she was beginning to think he was right. Well sort of, she reasoned later that night as she got ready for bed. Gilyith hadn't given up calling her names. If anything, he seemed to do it more often. Half-breed, whore, and hybrid seemed to be among his favorite, and his voice dripped poison when he talked to her. However, he never tried to get her alone. He no longer played tricks on her or laid as much as a finger on her. All of her bruises were from combat practice, not getting into fights with other pages. Gilyith had even visibly flinched when she accidentally brushed up against him in line for supper one night.

"I wonder if he's afraid of me," she whispered to herself, as she stared at herself in the mirror that night before bed. She wasn't exactly intimidating, being all of four foot, five inches, tall. One more inch than she'd been when she started training back in September. She shook her head and finished braiding her hair, and then pinned it up. "Boys," she muttered, slipping into bed that night. She was asleep almost instantly, something she'd picked up since she'd arrived at the palace. Her dreams revolved entirely around the day of their hunt.

A week later Inara walked into her history class, startled to see that the desks had been rearranged. No longer where they in a circular pattern, but in rows, each facing the front of the room where a plush chair rested beside the hearth. Sir Myles was already seated there. Just as confused as all the other pages were, Inara took a seat.

"Good afternoon," their teacher said smiling. "I'm sorry not to have warned you, but we've just recently been advised of a change in our normal curriculum. We're going to be having a little test to see how well prepared you all are for your examinations." The boys stared at him, completely stunned. Apparently this was very new. None of the older boys looked prepared at all. "Now, now; don't gawp. I'm surprised none of your other classes have put you all to a test yet. Anyway, never mind them. Take out a sheet of parchment and a quill. You'll need to write your answers," he told them, cheerfully. Glumly, the pages did as they were told, most still in shock. Others were muttering angrily to themselves. "Asten, my boy; would you mind removing the top sheet off the easel? There's a good lad," Sir Myles commanded to boy who sat closest to the easel that usually held a map of the realm. When Asten removed the blank sheet, he revealed twenty questions written in dark ink. The boy quickly re-took his seat. "You have until the bell rings to answer these and turn your sheet into me. Feel free to leave as you finish." Groaning, the boys got to work.

Sir Myles had been right. They arrived, tired and irritated, to etiquette class only to find screens set up to form five cubicles in front of a desk with a single chair. On the far side of the room, eight tables were set up so that all twenty boys could be spread out around it without being able to see what another boy was doing.

"Great! Just great; I barely knew the answers to Sir Myles' test and now we're going to have to suffer through this!" Yancy complained, gesturing at the room.

"Quit exaggerating, Yancy," Evan told him. "You probably did fine. Besides, the questions on the examinations aren't nearly as detailed as the ones Sir Myles gave us."

"Really?" the three first years asked hopefully, as they followed the other boys to the huge table and took seats at the table.

"Really," all six of the older boys informed them.

Master Oakbridge entered the room, looking positively ecstatic. "Figure's he'd be trilled about this," Asten muttered just loud enough for Inara, who sat beside him, to hear.

"Alright boys," he stated. "We're going to test how much you've learned this term. I doubt it's much, but we'll have to get evidence that our country isn't doomed. Take out three pieces of parchment." The pages obeyed, pulling out quills as well. "On the first page, you all will write me a formal invitation to a dinner party at your fief. Second page, draw me the proper table setting for a Midwinter service. Label your diagram. And third page, write the proper way to address a noble of the following ranks: knight, lord, Baron, Duke, King. While you work, I will be calling you in groups of five to show me if you've mastered your bows. Once you've all finished, you'll be paired up, and we'll have a waltz. Get to work." Master Oakbridge did seem a little too prepared for their test. Inara had to wonder if he'd always had something like it planned and was just waiting to be allowed to use it. She had barely started her invitation when the master of ceremonies summoned her with the first group to demonstrate bows.

Making sure to keep her face Yamani blank, she slipped into one of the cubicles, noticing she could see Master Oakbridge clearly, meaning he could see her every move as well, but she couldn't see any of the boys beside her. The man spoke quietly, ensuring that the five in front heard his commands, but that the boys continuing to work on their written portion didn't hear a word. Master Oakbridge took them through six bows: A yamani greeting, a bow to someone of lower rank, a bow to their training master, how to greet or show respect to their monarchs, a yamani bow to the emperor, and a bow to a lady when requesting a dance, although the last Inara found amusing. She would never really have to use that last one. After each bow, the master of ceremonies wrote something for each of them on a piece of paper. At last, they were sent back to their work, and the second group was called.

By the time all twenty pages had finished their bows, they'd all completed their written assignment and turned it in to Master Oakbridge who then paired them off and labeled each group with an A and B. Inara ended up with Asten as her partner. "A's will be the man; B's will be the lady. We'll do the dance twice. The second time, you'll switch roles," he paused for a moment. "Hollyrose, Queenscove, you will only dance once," he told them, to their joy, although it didn't last very long as both weren't entirely good at the waltz. Several times Asten apologized for stepping on her feet and she actually managed to trip him once or twice. By the end, all the pages were laughing, and definitely not taking their 'test' seriously. Master Oakbridge finally shooed them out of the ball room, remarking that no ladies would ever dance with them and they would fail to win brides.

"Well, that was interesting," Evan remarked, as they made their way to supper.

"Yes, very," Asten agreed.

"How about you puppy? Learn any new tricks? Or old ones?"

"I can't tell you how prepared I feel," Inara answered. "I am confident that I can take my new found talents and land any lady at the next court ball," she stated. The boys stared at her for a moment, trying to figure out if she was joking or not.

Finally, Yancy broke the silence. "No fair. You're going to get all the women with your superior skills."

"But how can my skills even hope to compete with your man smell?" she laughed. "No, no. Alas, I feel it would be hopeless for me to try. You all take the women," she told them. "I'll settle for whichever of you fails to land a proper lady."

"Queenscove's only saying that. She really goes for one of those pansy academic boys, that way she can be the butch one in the relationship; right half-breed?" Gilyith jeered. The group hadn't heard him and his friends come up behind them. Inara whirled around to face him. Her friends knew better than to interfere, but Evan and Seth had to keep hands on Jasson and Corin to remind them.

"Why don't you say that to my face, Marti's Hill?" she snapped, stepping closer to Gilyith. He didn't move, but continued to glare at her.

"I thought I did. But you're so ugly, I guess I mistook your bum for your face," he answered.

"At least you understand your mistake. I still haven't figured out which end of you I should be talking to," she retorted, taking another step towards him. This time Gilyith clearly backed up.

"You wouldn't be so brave if your friends weren't behind you, slut. Is that how you got their loyalty? Sleeping with them?" Gilyith growled. Now Benton and Sam had to help the older boys restrain Jasson and Corin, as well as keep a hand over Evan and Asten's mouths. Yancy too had moved to assist them. Seth continued to hold onto the prince.

"I don't need their help. But I see you're not even brave enough with your friends to back you up. Are they pansies like you too?" she continued moving towards him. For every one step she took, he seemed to take two back. Soon he would either have to turn and walk away, or else be backed into a wall. At her suggestion, Thorville, Lorrence, and Hakim had all glared and moved toward her, but a glance at the eight behind Inara made them reconsider. Inara wouldn't let her friends interfere with the issues she had with Gilyith. However, she hadn't forbid them from taking out his friends.

"You're not worth my time," Gilyith finally answered. He spun on his heel and headed in the opposite direction. His friends glanced at him and then at the mess hall in the direction they'd been headed. When Gilyith didn't stop to look for them, they pushed past Inara and her friends and stormed into the mess for supper.

"What was that?" Yancy asked. "Did Marti's Hill actually just give up? I mean, he knows Inara won't let us help."

"Too many witnesses?" Benton inquired.

"No," Inara whispered. "He really is afraid of me," she added to herself, although the boys heard her. She shook her head. "Let's just get supper. It's too much work to figure out that one." The others nodded and together the nine of them walked into the mess hall.

"It's a good thing he didn't hit you, Narie," Corin said, slinging a hand over her shoulder.

"Why's that?" she asked him, laughing.

"It totally would have ruined your birthday," he told her, winking. He left her, and went to collect his train. Inara had to laugh. Up until that moment, she had forgotten it was her birthday.

"Well, happy birthday to me," she muttered and raced to catch up with her friends.

The following weeks were filled with tests in each of Inara's three other classes, as well as countless quizzes that could be announced at the drop of a hat. Even their combat instructors seemed to be testing the pages, but a formal exam was never announced. Twice, in hand-to-hand, she caught Eda Bell writing something on slate while watching her. It didn't help that both times, when her attention wavered, her opponent landed a blow on her unprotected body. After the second time, Inara realized it was better to focus on her training than whatever the instructors were up to as they circled between practicing pages.

Despite the now constant bad mood that had settled over the frustrated pages, most of them actually did really well on their tests. It wasn't the results that bothered them, just the constant pressure. The boys became irritated and were more likely to jump at a friend's attempt at a joke than laugh. There was only one class that they weren't tested in after the first day. Sir Myles alone seemed to understand how much pressure they were put under already, and thus, history became their safe haven. Often, he would let the boys spend most of the class just talking and socializing, something they didn't get to do much now that every waking minute had to be spent studying in case an instructor decided they should have another surprise examination.

Inara leaned back against the wall during one of these informal history classes, her knees pulled up to her chest watching Corin and Asten play some type of card game. All she could tell was that Asten was winning. Jasson, Yancy, and Seth were talking about who the older two boys would squire for in the coming year, while Sam and Benton were starting their extra work for their mathematics course, hoping to get a jump on everyone else. Beside Inara, Evan was using the spare time to read. It was only the second book she'd seen him with since Midwinter. Inara tilted her head down to read the title, but failed, unable to see due to shadows and the lettering being upside down.

"What are you reading?" she asked her sponsor as she up righted her self.

"The Creation of the Realm," Evan muttered.

"Oh." After a moments pause, Inara turned back to him. "What's it about?"

"How all the fiefs and such came to be in Tortall. How the Conte's took the throne," Evan replied, without looking up at her.

"Is it interesting?"

"I wouldn't know," he muttered back. Inara sighed and looked at Corin and Asten again, before once again turning her attention back to the grey eyed third year.

"Did you ever talk to your father?"

"No."

"Why not?" Inara asked. Suddenly, without warning, Evan slammed the book shut. Inara jumped as he glared at her.

"For Mithros sake Inara, can't you see I'm trying to read? I'll talk to my father when I'm good and ready, so just stay out of my business. Mithros, you can be such a little brat sometimes," he yelled, getting to his feet. "Great. And now you've made me lose my page. Leave me alone and go play with your dolls or something."

The last thing he said cut her. Inara glared at him, her eyes brimming with tears, but she refused to let him see her cry. She pushed her self to her feet, dusted her self off and stomped away, nose in the air until she was as far away from Evan as the room would let her. Their other friends looked from her retreating form to the scowling third year.

"Evan, that was a little harsh," Seth finally spoke. Evan turned his glare on the older boy.

"She was irritating me."

"Yeah, but 'Go play with your dolls'? That was a low blow," Asten told him. Evan sighed and shook his head. He started to walk off.

"Jesslaw," that was Jasson, and he didn't sound happy. However, he kept his voice even so Inara wouldn't hear him. Evan turned back to the prince, anger in his eyes. "You owe her an apology."

"I don't owe her anything," he snapped back.

"Look, we're all on edge these days," Jasson told him. "But you didn't have to yell at her."

"I didn't see you telling her to lay off, your Majesty. She has no right to stick her nose where it doesn't belong," Evan argued back. He wasn't in the mood to deal with this now.

"You could have talked to her. It isn't that big a deal to close a book and talk to someone," Corin put in. He leaned against a desk, arms folded across his chest. His eyes however, said he was far from relaxed.

"She's not my responsibility," he hissed.

"Actually, she is," Jasson told him. "Remember when you volunteered to be her sponsor? Or did you forget you might actually have to care about someone else but yourself. Lord Padraig knew you'd get bored eventually but he still let you sponsor her. You took on that responsibility, just as your own sponsor took you on."

"Leave him out of this," Evan hissed, stepping towards Jasson.

"Why? Is it a sore spot for you? The only other person you ever cared about?"

"Shut up," Evan told him. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I don't do I?" Jasson egged him on. Evan suddenly punched Jasson in the face. The older boy whipped blood from his jaw, and stared at the younger page, who was breathing heavily. Sir Myles was moving as quickly as he could toward the boys, the other pages parting to let him through. "Feel better?" Jasson asked him as the elderly knight reached them.

"What's going on?" the knight asked. Jasson sighed and turned to face him.

"Nothing; I fell," he replied, looking at the on lookers. Everyone nodded. Sir Myles gave him a look. "It's resolved, Sir Myles. Really."

"Do you want to go see Duke Baird, Jasson?"

"No sir, I'm fine. I fell is all," he replied simply, looking at Evan. The boy was red faced and staring at his shoes. He knew Sir Myles had seen it all. The rest of the room's silence broke when the bell to go to etiquette rung through the room. Sir Myles finally sighed and nodded, letting Jasson and Evan file out behind the other pages. If Jasson refused to admit he'd been struck by a friend, than it was his own business, and his right to work it out himself. Sir Myles wasn't going to interfere.

Inara had only seen Evan standing angrily behind Jasson. She'd heard the sound of fist striking bone and flesh, and she knew that it was the prince who had been struck. Even more upset, Inara avoided Evan and the rest of her friends for the rest of the afternoon. At supper, she took her tray to another table occupied by a few second and fourth years. She sat at the end and ate in silence, completely aware that her friends watched her. She didn't care. She wanted nothing to do with Evan. And if he was with her other friends, than she would have to be the one to isolate herself. And even if he wasn't there, she didn't want to talk to anyone.

She finished her supper quickly and retreated to the sanctuary of her own room. She would do her extra work alone that night, even though she really needed Seth's help with mathematics. She sat down on her window seat and pulled her knees to her chest, leaning her head against her knees. Inara finally let the tears she'd been holding in since Evan shouted at her flow freely. Each one left a trail down her cheeks and stained her clothing as she sobbed silently. She didn't care when Gilyith called her names or even when he beat her up. She did care that one of her friends, a person she respected and had even grown to really care about, had basically all but slapped her. Did he really think she should be home playing with dolls? If so, why had he taken her on? Why had he chosen to sponsor her?

Someone knocked on her door. Inara kept silent. She didn't feel like talking. The person knocked again. She continued to ignore it. A third knock, and this time a voice called to her. "Inara; It's Asten. Listen, we're going to be studying in Seth's room. Evan's not coming. Anyway, if you feel like joining," he paused. "Well, that's where we'll be."

Inara tried to dry her face on a section of her tunic as she heard his footfalls leading down the hall. At least they respected her choice. She finally got herself under control and went to her desk and began to work. She'd been doing work for nearly an hour when someone knocked again. Just as before, Inara ignored the knocking. The person knocked a second time.

"Lady Inara," a voice spoke. "It's Lidia," she added. "Sir Myles asked me to check on you."

It sort of surprised Inara that Lidia had spoken to her teacher, but it didn't surprise her that Sir Myles wanted someone to check up on her. She knew that he heard Evan yell. Everyone had. And when he didn't do anything about it in class, she knew the old knight didn't want her to be embarrassed further. Instead, he'd planned to have someone she could trust check on her when she was alone. Thankful, Inara did answer the door. Lidia wasn't just her servant. She was her friend. And most of all, she was a friend who didn't know Evan of Jesslaw very well. She opened the door and let the girl in.

"When did you speak to Sir Myles?" she asked, leaving the door cracked. If anyone came by and heard voices, they would know immediately she was only in her room with another girl. She led Lidia inside and sat on her bed. Lidia sat down beside her.

"I serve him his supper in his room most evenings. Well, him and his wife."

"His wife is still alive, too?" Inara asked, in almost disbelief. Lidia just laughed.

"He told me you were in an argument with Master Evan this afternoon, and you might need someone to talk to."

"I did fight with Evan. Or rather he yelled at me," Inara replied, turning away from the older girl, ashamed. Lidia put two fingers under Inara's chin, forcing her to look at the maid.

"What did he say?" the girl demanded.

"He told me I shouldn't pry into his business, and that I should go play with my dolls. All I did was try to talk to him, and he just blew up. I don't even understand what I did that was so bad. I hate boys," she shouted the last words. "I just hate them."

"Hush," Lidia told her, seeing that the tears were going to come from her mistress again. She could see evidence that the girl had been sobbing earlier. "You don't hate him. If you did, you wouldn't be this upset. I've seen how you act when Master Gilyith insults you. I believe, he is the one you hate," Lidia told her. Inara twisted her hands in her lap and nodded.

"I just don't understand him," she muttered. Lidia put an arm around the younger girl's shoulder and rested her chin on her head, much as her mother did at home.

"There's not many who do understand boys, Lady. There's only one thing you can do to find even a partial way to figure them out."

"What's that?" Inara asked.

"You talk to them," Lidia told her, crinkling her eyes in amusement.

"He'll never talk to me again," Inara replied.

"Of course I will," a voice from the door startled her. Lidia left the bed and opened the page's door wide enough to reveal Evan standing in the entrance, hands behind his back, his face apologetic. He bowed to the maid politely. "I'm sorry, I was passing by; not eavesdropping."

"Lady, I believe you have a guest."

"I don't want to see him," Inara retorted, turning her back to the door.

"You don't have to look at him to talk to him," Lidia replied. She let the boy in the room and slipped out before Inara could protest, leaving the two pages alone.

"Go away," Inara growled.

"I came to apologize," Evan stated simply. Inara whirled to face him. He took a step back at her glare. It was the one she used when Gilyith was tormenting her. "I don't blame you for hating me. I was a real jerk."

"You were," Inara remarked. She let him come closer and sit on the bed beside her. "I don't understand why though."

"I don't know," he started. "Well, these past weeks have just been so stressful."

"I'm stressed out too," she reminded him, angrily.

"I'm not finished yet. I just wanted to try and relax. The others know not to try and bother me when I'm reading. It's how I escape. I'm not myself when I read."

"I've seen you read before," she told him. "You never acted like that."

"I know, but, well, I don't think you'll understand. When you asked me about my father, I realized you were getting attached to me. I… well, you shouldn't."

"Why not? Why shouldn't I be your friend? Evan, you're my sponsor."

"The last person I let myself get close to was my own sponsor. He was a fourth year when I started," he told her simply. "The others are my friends, but they know I'm not very close with any of them."

"You punched Jasson when he mentioned him," Inara stated.

"Yeah, I did."

"He should have hit you back."

"Believe me, I know that. I owe him for not doing so. He would have easily broken my jaw," he told the girl.

"Why did you hit him? What does your sponsor have to do with me?" She had turned so that she was facing him, sitting cross legged on her bed. Evan remained staring at his hands, refusing to meet her eyes. He hadn't looked at her once since he first entered the room. Now he did, and Inara could tell he was hurting.

"Desmond of Kennen was killed by bandits when he and his knight master were ambushed on the road near Trebond. It was a month after he'd passed the big examinations. I'd just gone home for the harvest. I promised I'd never get close to someone again. They'd just get hurt."

"It wasn't your fault. Evan, you can't blame yourself for that. You weren't there," Inara begged. She pushed herself onto her knees and wrapped her arms around the older boy's neck, resting her head onto his shoulder as she hugged him. "Please don't push me away," she told him.

"You aren't scared of me?" No one had ever told him it wasn't his fault before. His father had barely looked at him when he reported the news. None of the boys even talked about it the following year.

"I've no reason to be," she told him.

"You forgive me for what I said? I never meant it."

"Of course I do," she added, releasing him. He turned to look into her eyes.

"I swear I won't let anything to happen to you, pup."

"I know you won't. But if anything does happen, promise me you won't blame yourself?" she replied. Evan hesitated. "Promise me."

"Alright; I promise," he told her. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

"Well, first of all, you're going to help me with my math, since it's too late to go and find Seth," she told him. Evan laughed and nodded. "And secondly, you're going to talk to your father before you come back next year. I mean it, or aunt Kel and I are going to have a long talk with him."

"Your aunt Kel would probably kill him."

"Do you want your pa dead?" she said, nodding.

"No. I promise I'll talk to him." He grinned at her. "I promise." She nodded once more and brought out her mathematics work. Evan wasn't as good as Seth, but he still managed to help her and they both were able to get some sleep that night.

When Inara and Evan showed up at breakfast the next day, the whole incident was nearly forgotten. Evan apologized to Jasson, who shrugged. "I deserved it," he told the younger boy. "But I'm glad you two worked everything out," he added. No one else said anything about it, but Evan and Inara seemed to have a better understanding.

The weeks passed, and March finally gave way into early April and with the first official month of spring, came the rains. One specific day, Inara was left with only a few of the older boys in the stables getting the mud out of Hikari's mane and tail. It was annoyingly slow work, but she knew if she was the mare, she wouldn't want to be left with grime all over her hair. The comb she'd bought around Midwinter worked perfectly, and the horse patiently let Inara do her work. By the time she'd finished, all of her friends had gone to clean up for lunch. Inara would have to hurry if she was to be on time, slightly glad that she wasn't the last one done. She put up her tools, handed Hikari a sugar cube for being good, and closed the stall. Had she not been in a rush, she wouldn't have missed the pile of tack that had been left in the middle of the path. As it was, her foot caught the edge and she tumbled forward over the pile. She tried to regain her balance and place her hands in front of her to slap the ground as she'd been taught, but the floor of the stable was caked with mud, and she went sliding, causing her to fall just perfectly to slam her left shoulder into the hard stone floor. She heard the crack of bone as she landed and curled into a ball, biting her lip until it bled to keep from crying out in pain. One of the other boys, the fourth year named Baldin knelt beside her.

"Don't move it," he warned, looking her over. She nodded, and winced, immediately regretting the movement. "I'm going to get Lord Padraig. It looks like you really may have hurt your arm," he told her.

"Wonderful," she muttered as he disappeared. Inara wasn't sure how much time passed before Baldin returned with the training master. The older boy went back to his mount while Lord Padraig helped Inara to her feet.

"What happened, this time, Queenscove?"

"I fell," she half laughed, but she was in too much pain to really find it funny. Lord Padraig looked at her as if she'd grown an extra head. "If you don't believe me, ask Baldin, my lord," she remembered to add the proper address just barely.

"It was a spectacular spill, my lord," the older boy replied from across the stable, his eyes shining in amusement. The training master turned back to the girl.

"If it's not one thing with you, Queenscove, it's another," he said, with an exasperated sigh. "If you weren't such an amazing swordsman, I'd have to beat you myself," he added. "I don't think I've ever actually sent a page to the healers for actually falling before."

"I wanted to be the first, my lord," Inara replied, glad that he found the situation amusing and wasn't angry with her. "I don't think I'll make it to lunch."

"No, I dare say you won't." He paused and looked her over. He could see beads of sweat rolling over her face as she fought the pain that would have made an average girl, or even another page cry out. Mithros, she really is trying. He thought to himself. "You're doing well in your classes. Stay in the infirmary until Duke Baird says you're well enough to return, even if it's not until supper."

"T-t- thank you, my lord," Inara struggled to get out. The pain was making her dizzy by that point.

"Page Baldin," Lord Padraig called. "I'll ask one of the hostlers to finish cleaning your mount for you if you'll kindly escort Page Inara to the infirmary. I fear she won't make it without help," he told the boy. The thirteen year old bowed and took the girl by her right arm, leading her carefully as she leaned against him, thankful for the support. She hadn't exactly thought about how she was to get to the infirmary. Now with Baldin's help all she had to do was focus on not crying.

Inara thanked the older boy the best she could when he left her in the outer room of the infirmary. A different clerk sat the front table. She took one look at the girl and ushered her into the main rooms. "Duke Baird's my grandfather," she muttered to the woman, knowing that would get her to the chief healer's attention instead of a lesser healer. Unfortunately, she hadn't been expecting to find her aunt and uncle chatting with him when she was brought in.

"Good heavens, Inara. This is the fourth time this year I've seen you in here," Baird told her, jumping to his feet.

"Four times? That's more than me," Lady Keladry laughed.

"Really, I would have guessed you'd have been a daily inhabitant of this place," Domitan of Masbolle teased her. "So, what happened, little one?" he asked his niece with a wink.

"I fell," she told them, gritting her teeth against the pain.

"A likely story," Kel laughed again.

"I'll explain once the pain's gone," she told them. "Right now, I think I'm going to pass out." And she did, right into Baird's arms.

When she came around, the sun had sunk below the horizon. "Wonderful," she muttered. "Maybe I should take a room here," she added to herself.

"It might be a good idea."

"Aunt Kel?" Inara jumped in surprised, jostling her still aching arm. It didn't hurt as badly as it had hours before, but she knew it was going to cause her pain for a while. "You're still here?"

"Had to make sure you were going to be alright. Your Papa would have killed me if I didn't. You had quite a break. Three places: one in your lower arm, one in the upper, and one in the shoulder itself. What on earth did you do?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Inara replied simply, as Kel handed her a cup. "This smells awful."

"It tastes worse," the knight told her. The girl downed the liquid, grimacing as it slid down her throat. "Now, tell me."

"I fell," Inara repeated.

"That's the oldest excuse in the book."

"No really. I tripped over someone's tack in the middle of the stable. I slipped when I tried to catch myself and collided with the floor, shoulder first."

"Goddess, you did fall!"

"Yeah. Lord Padraig said I was the first page he's ever sent to grandpa for actually falling," Inara growled. "Lucky me; I'll be the laughing stock of the pages wing."

"At least they'll know you for something other than being a girl," Kel told her, obvious amusement on her face. The door suddenly burst open, revealing eight very anxious pages, and one irritated clerk, who was shouting behind them. Duke Baird had to run to keep her calm as the boys circled around their friend. "So glad to see my son has manners," Kel muttered as Corin passed her.

"I only have them in etiquette class, Ma. I'm not ready to land a proper wife just yet," he joked and dodged her smack. The knight shook her head and left to go help Duke Baird. "Pup, what were you thinking when you did this?" he asked his cousin.

"That's just the problem. I wasn't," she told him.

"So, what happened? You didn't even land a blow on him?" Yancy asked her.

"Him?"

"Yeah, Gilyith? He came into the mess on time, spotless," Sam told her. "Baldin wouldn't say a word. Just that he'd brought you to the infirmary."

"He didn't tell you anything? He didn't say anything to anyone?"

"Not a word," Seth replied. "Why? Inara, what happened?"

"I fell," she told them. Jasson opened his mouth to argue but she shook her head. "I tripped over a pile of tack in the stable and broke my arm in three places." The boys just stared at her for a few moments. She tended to have that effect on them.

"Are you seriously trying to get us to believe that the girl who fell nearly perfectly her first day of hand-to-hand broke her arm tripping over some randomly placed tack?" Benton argued. "Because that's just dumb."

"Dumb isn't the word," Evan stated. "Inara, the little examinations are in two days! Or did you forget?"

"Mithros," she cursed. "I am such an idiot!" She flung herself backwards on the pillow as her friends began muttering to themselves.

Two days later she stood in front of her mirror trying to get her pages uniform to lay straight. Her long hair was plaited and pinned up so it wouldn't get in her way when it came to the combat portion of her exam. Her left arm lay useless in a sling. Many of the other boys had asked her what had happened, and she'd simply replied that she'd fell. They seemed to accept that to mean she'd gotten into another fight with a fellow page and lost, so it was never pursued. Baldin and her friends never spoke a word to any of the other pages, something Inara was very thankful for. However, she did learn that Hakim had gotten two bells of punishment work in the stables for leaving his tack out in the middle of the stable.

Now, however, Inara had to force herself to focus on the task at hand. She couldn't remember if she'd felt more nervous the first day of training or now. Two knocks sounded on her door. "Inara! We're going to be late," Sam cried from the other side. Inara put on her bravest face and stepped out, double checking that her sword hung at her left side instead of her right. Even though she was right handed and used nearly all her weapons with her right hand, she was a much better swordswoman with her left. Luckily, she could use both. She let a hand travel to her right hip, making sure her father's good luck gift was tucked inside her belt. Feeling the metal and silk through her tunic, she smiled. She was ready for this. She could prove herself.

"Maybe they'll get smart and send the half-breed home," Gilyith muttered loud enough for her to hear as she and Sam entered the training room. "And the traitor, too." Sam blushed bright red, but Inara laid her good hand on his shoulder.

"He's just mad that you're better with weapons than he is," she told the boy. Next to Inara, Samuel was the best swordsman in their year. He claimed it ran in the family. The other thing they had in common was that they'd both been frequent guests of Lord Padraig and Duke Baird over the course of the year.

"You're right, I guess."

"I'm always right," she assured him. "After we pass these tests, everyone will know we have just as much right to be here as they do; even more so." Why was she always able to say things to reassure someone else, but never herself?

"Do you really believe that?" he asked her, searching her eyes. Inara put her yamani face on and nodded. "Inara," he scolded.

"Alright; I believe it for you."

"You need to believe it for you too. We're going to be fine," he told her. "We're going pass these tests, and the big examinations, and the Ordeal. We're to get our shields and we're going to fight for our home, our king, and our friends, together; the traitor and the half-breed. They'll sing ballads."

"Since when did you grow a sense of humor?"

"Just now," he joked. "Although the seed was planted a long time ago," he laughed.

"Yeah, well, your timing sucks. You couldn't just let me wallow in self pity?"

"Self pity? No. But if you're a good puppy, I'll let you go wallow in the mud later to celebrate."

"You hit your head or something this morning, Sam?"

"Do you think they'd let me skip the examinations if I said I did?"

"Doubtful," she laughed, hugging him around the shoulder. She had to stand on her tip toes to do so. He'd grown so much in the past year. She wouldn't admit it, but for once she was glad she didn't have to be the one to lighten the mood. It got exhausting.

True to his word, Inara, Sam and the other first, second, and third years passed their exams. Relief settled over the group as they took their places at dinner that night, more talkative then they had been in about a week. The only boys who remained pale were Jasson, Seth, Baldin of Welner Creek, and the other three fourth years. They all remained tense, no matter what any of their friends did to try and relax them. Jasson and Seth didn't show up at any of their study sessions for the next week, and they pretty much ate every meal in silence after celebrating with the younger pages.

A week later, Inara sat between Evan and Corin at the big examinations. Seth and Jasson had refused to see anyone that morning and, just like all their year mates, they had chosen to eat at a single table in the corner of the mess hall for breakfast away from the younger boys. The hall where the question portion of the examinations took place was packed to full. Everyone had come to see the crown prince get tested. The families of each of the other five boys were present as well. Inara sat in silence, eyes intent on the fourth years through out the whole procedure, and again on the practice courts that afternoon.

Later that night, Lord Padraig stood up at the beginning of their supper to give his usual prayer. However, he didn't sit down once he'd finished, but instructed the new squires to take their new seats at the far end of the mess hall with the older squires. Inara and her friends clapped Jasson and Seth on the back as all six boys moved to their new tables. She couldn't help but grin as she watched Jasson and Seth take seats at a table occupied by Tobeis, who'd returned two nights before, and his year mates. Tobe hugged both new squires around the shoulders to congratulate them as she watched.

Supper that night was the best it had been all year. Dessert was even better, and chatter officially returned to the mess hall. "Wonder when they'll get chosen? Jasson told me he was more worried about not getting a knight master than passing the examinations," Asten told them.

"Jasson and Seth have nothing to worry about," Sam pointed out. "Now, Inara and I, well, do you want to tell them?"

"Sam and I decided we're going to be 'The Traitor and The Half-breed," she told them laughing. "Everyone's going to sing ballads about us."

"You two are nuts. People are going to sing about how crazy you are," Corin informed them.

"Yes, I can hear it now," Yancy laughed. "Beware the crazy squires. The Traitor and The Half-breed. The first will secretly start fires, and the other will invade your livestock's feed," he sang.

"Beware the crazy two. We should have ended them as pages. So crazy are they, they almost flew. It's sad their insanity has entered advanced stages," Asten finished for him.

"First of all, that song sucked," Inara laughed.

"And second of all, I am not an arsonist," Sam informed them. "Maybe a looter, but never an arsonist."

"I like to imagine the songs would be written by professionals," Inara added.

"Corin's right. You are nuts," Evan laughed. "But you've got time. It'll be Yancy and my turn next year."

"Aww, sad," Inara joked. "I'll lose my favorite chew toy."

"I'll be sure to buy you a new one," Evan replied, as she hung onto his arm. "Now let go; I want to finish this pudding. It's good."

Author note:
Ok, exam week starts… well today. Lucky for you all, I only have one final and I'm not overly worried about it so I can resume writing this. Sickness made me lose a week. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and please review. I love it when you do.

Fateless Wanderer