The blond squire rode his mare, deep in thought. Maybe this wasn't the way She had wanted it to go. Maybe this wasn't the way to mend things. He brushed the idea away. Pondering the situation wouldn't help it. Besides, this was the only strategy he knew.
Instead, he looked forward to his visit to the palace, anxiously waiting the time he arrived at those gates. It would be a week until their final examinations and he just had to be there. Someone has to watch out for Kel, he told himself.
Ever since the time he had tea with her, he had been trying to convince himself that the unannounced thoughts about Kel were nothing more than Divine intrusion into his head And the dreams were the same thing.
The tingling of his mouth when her full lips touched his, the fire burning through him when he felt her soft skin under his fingers, the pride when her cheeks flushed, and the embarrassment when he realized his face was red as well. That was just lust. And the dreams were simply a shadow of it all. It meant nothing.
"I can't believe you did it!" Kel told Neal, a bit of shock slipping through her mask.
Neal wiped the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. "Thanks for having so much faith in me, Kel," he drawled sarcastically. "I truly appreciate it."
"Admit it, Neal," the girl page reasoned. "You didn't even believe you could do it."
"Yes, but one always has hope." He stuck his air up in the nose haughtily.
Kel's best friend had finally hit the quintain dummy and most of the members of their gang were utterly shocked.
The gang -Roald, Kel, Owen, Faleron, Esmond, Merric, and Seaver- gathered around Neal, ignoring the fact that all of them were soaked in sweat and dirt from falling off the horse and having the sack shower them in mud.
"Keep your jaws closed," Neal said to his friends. "Certainly, you knew I could do it."
Owen shook his head. "We really didn't."
"Congratulations, Neal!" mumbled the ones who were capable of speech. Roald had been shocked into losing his voice along with Faleron and Seaver.
"Yes! Congratulations, Neal!" a voice that didn't belong to their group bellowed. They stiffened and stood upright. "No, don't let me ruin your celebration. Go ahead!" It was Wyldon.
They bowed their heads in disappointment and went back on their horses to get more physical torture. It was particularly wet that day from the newly defrosted spring. The branches held buds that promised beautiful flowers and an even better spring. But the transformation between winter and spring was terrible news for the pages. It meant slippery grounds and muck to cover their bodies when they fell off. Kel was one of the only pages that was clean.
When Lord Wyldon told the pages that they were dismissed, Kel half trudged and half sprinted up the muddy hill. It didn't require much effort despite the fact that she wore an extremely heavy harness.
She realized about a week before that she only had affections for Cleon because she wanted to block Joren out. He had been a bad man. Maybe this was just her being gullible. Anyhow, she didn't want any romance. She had to get her shield.
She washed up and dressed up into her page uniform. Then she went down to the Great Hall for lunch.
"I don't get it!" Joren cried to his friend Vinson. "I've made amends! Better than amends! Why hasn't she come yet?"
He shrugged and played with his fingers in his lap. "Beats me. But why did you even want to make amends anyhow? And who's she?"
Joren cursed himself inwardly. He shouldn't have said that. The blond shook his head and rubbed his chin, eyes downcast as he continued to pace his chambers. "That's for me to know and no one else to find out."
The two friends were in Joren's room. It had a collection of weapons and armor on one wall and a book shelf on the other. Vinson was sitting on the bed.
"Do you really read those?" Vinson asked, jutting a thumb toward the book shelf.
Joren looked up, barely knowing what he was talking about. He shook his head. "That's only for display," he said offhandedly. Clearly, his mind was elsewhere.
"Calm down, Joren," Vinson said airily. "It's no use worrying about it. It's not like pacing will reverse the effects of time."
He rolled his eyes. "I don't need time! I just… I don't know what I need."
"Then don't worry about it!" the squire said. "There are better things to do while you complain."
The blond bit his cheek in thought. Maybe he really wasn't doing it right. Finally, he sighed. "Fine. Go do them without me. I've got some things to do."
His friend stood and threw his hands up in frustration. "Fine! Don't blame me when your brain explodes from over thinking." He walked out of the room with a stormy air and closed the door behind him.
Once he was out of view, Joren changed into a regular shirt and breeches to mask the fact that he was royalty. He told his Knight Master that he was going into the Lower City and wouldn't be gone long.
"Very well," Sir Paxton said when Joren mentioned it to him. "Be sure to be back by the fourth bell. I've friends coming over and I'd like to flaunt you."
He rolled his eyes and wrapped his cloak around his shoulders. "Yes, Sir Paxton. Of course." And with that, he went down to the Lower City.
Joren of Stone Mountain didn't ride his mare, taking every precaution to make sure that no one would take him as a noble. He didn't want beggars following him around, waiting for the moment to knock him out cold and search his garments. Gold digging bastards, he thought grudgingly.
He slipped through the alleyways, pushing aside early drunkards and weaving through reckless children along the way. The paths were dank and dark from neglect. Mangy dogs and cats rummaged through garbage, in search of their next meal.
"Commoners are disgusting," he sneered, picking his way through the alley that lead to his destination. At the end was an oak doorway painted green. The windows were tall and narrow placed on either side of the door. They had a shattered pattern –probably to keep the eyes of onlookers from seeing whatever was inside.
Above the door was the symbol of Shakith –an eye the color of blindness with fading lines around it, creating the illusion that it was pulling through time and space, seeing what was yet to be.
The squire knocked on the door cautiously and jumped when an immediate answer came to the door. "It's open, child," a raspy, worn voice came from behind the door. "There's no need to knock on the door of Madame Cheska. I saw you coming the moment your friend –Vinson was it? –closed the door on you."
A chill ran up his spine. How had she known that?
A bell chimed as he opened the door reluctantly and saw the large room's wooden walls flooded with charms –pregnancy charms, fire charms, dream-catchers, amulets –and paintings of the gods and goddesses.
A shelf on the right side of the room held endless parchments and books that probably held spells both for good and bad intentions. At the left was a doorway concealed by a curtain of beads.
"Take a seat," the dark-skinned woman said. She sat at a circular table that was covered with a plain white cloth, boasting a crystal ball in its center. She wore a purple bandana trimmed with gold around her head, taming her wavy, dark hair. Her features didn't match her voice at all.
Her unnatural-looking green-grey eyes were lined with heavy black and her eyelids were shaded with purple. Her nose was short and broad and her full, red lips were curled into a crooked smile, revealing teeth on the verge of yellowing. She was rather pretty, but then again, any of the rings or necklaces she had on for display could've made that affect.
Her painted nails tapped on the desk impatiently. "I'ven't all day, Joren of Stone Mountain."
The squire gaped at her for a moment and eventually stumbled into the maple wood chair.
"I understand that you are a noble," she started, eyeing him from under her lashes. "I require ten gold nobles."
"But that's all I've got!" he protested.
"I know," she said, studying her green-painted nails. "Of course, there is another currency I have. But Phoenix feathers are hard to come by. So you can either pay my fee or flee." Her eyes flicked up to pierce his icy blue ones.
Joren stood up. Such absurd prices could only come from a con artist. "I'll go," he announced haughtily. "I'm sure there are other witches like you." He got up from his seat and made his way to the door. Before he could open it, her voice stopped him.
"Go ahead and seek help from those frauds," Cheska spat, throwing her hands flat on the table. "Do you truly believe that they won't rip you off as well?"
He turned on his heel reluctantly, seething. She smirked and held out an upturned palm to accept the money. He thrust his hands into his cloak and pulled out the money asked for.
"All ten," she reminded him smugly. He dropped the ten nobles one by one, letting her count it all. "Thank you." She seemed to smother it in her fist and she showed her bare palm to him. It was gone.
He sat down once more and sighed. "I need –"
She held a tattooed hand up so he would stop speaking. "I don't need an explanation," she said, eyes shut in concentration. With her eyes closed, he noticed that her eyelids weren't exactly painted purple. It was fashioned to look like a startling purple eye.
The fact unsettled him even further. But that wasn't the only reason as to why he was shifting in his seat.
Madame Cheska opened her eyes suddenly, her pupils retracting. But the shocked expression faded away and was replaced with a dark smirk. "You require assistance with a girl. Two girls, actually. Well, the other isn't really a girl."
"She said that I'd be fine," he said, fighting to keep his voice even. "I've made amends. Why hasn't she contacted me further? Told me that my mission is accomplished."
The fortuneteller cackled, tilting her head back. It only added to his anxiety. "That's because you haven't!" she said once she calmed down.
"But I have!" he remonstrated, fists clenching at his cloak. "I didn't do anything bad to any of them!"
The woman stood abruptly, the chair screeching the floor as she did so. She wore a dark floor length purple dress with a flourish of black sleeves and lavender trim. Joren stiffened in his seat. She circled the table, not caring to muffle the sound of her heels. She stood behind the blond and gripped his chair.
"Where is your heart, young master?" she questioned, tracing her index finger across his chest from the left to the right. "What do you listen to when you're faced with a forked road?" She put a hand on his head. "Your head?" And she put the other on his left chest. "Or your heart?"
"My head, of –" he started.
"You're using neither!" she interrupted, voice laced with malice. "Give me proof that your heart isn't as hard as your land." She grasped at his chest, nails almost digging into flesh.
He groped for an example of a time he used his heart for decisions. There was that time he broke up with a wench. But he hadn't really loved her in the first place. But he'd cried that time his father died. Certainly, his heart was working then. Perhaps that was the time his heart turned to stone. Perhaps that was when he refused to use it again.
But he didn't utter a word, fearing that one wrong word and she'd turn the rats against him or something.
"I thought so," she said smugly, releasing him from her hold. "And your head? Have you used it lately?" The woman didn't dig in this time.
He shook his head.
"See?" the fortuneteller said, bending down to whisper in his ear. "That is why you will face an early end," she said darkly. "You must relearn. You must feel for others again." She let go of him. "I don't see why I must tell this all to you. Certainly, you understood what She had told you."
Joren didn't move as she walked around the room, gracefully waving her hand over the charms, scrolls, books and amulets. "Ahh," she finally said in satisfaction. She pulled out a singed scroll holding a poem and a drawing of the Goddess in the right corner in a green cloak with golden trim. "And you'll need this…" she walked over to the other side and unhooked an amulet holding a russet red gem. She returned to her seat and let the items fall on the table.
"Take these," she commanded. "You'll need them."
He cocked a blond eyebrow questioningly. "Why?"
Cheska smirked. "Of course you haven't figured it out yet." She looked up to the ceiling. "Goddess, you picked a good one." She turned her attention back to him to see him looking at her as if she'd grown a second head. "I can't wait to see this one to unfold, child. And do remember that the truth is your best friend."
He took the scroll and the necklace reluctantly. "Thank you…" he said, still wary about the odd woman.
"Come any time," she said before he stood. "And make sure you don't die." The Fortuneteller tilted her head to look at him. "What a shame it'd be to waste such a pretty face." Joren could feel a blush on his cheeks.
She gestured toward the door. "Good bye, young master. And may all Gods Bless." She smiled crookedly. "May all Gods Bless, child."
"Thank you…" Joren repeated. He stood up, tucking his new belongings into his cloak as he did so. He went through the door, the high-pitched bell ringing not for the last time.
"And beware of a tall red-head, young master!" Cheska called after him before he shut the door. And Joren was off.
The blond squire sat awkwardly in the guest's room. This wasn't his place. Tea, a plump stranger, crackers, a thin stranger. This wasn't his type of crowd and he was getting a bit bored.
"Well, Joren here is the best swordsman I've ever seen," Sir Paxton boasted, a grin on his face. "Maybe even better than his father." That struck Joren in the heart. His father was always a touchy subject. And boredom had made his squire uniform seem rather hot.
He looked around the room, hoping to block out the sounds. The room was filled with late afternoon sunlight, bathing everything with a sunset hue. Potted lavender was placed around the room strategically so that you couldn't go anywhere without smelling the fragrance. In the middle of the ceiling was an unlit chandelier that reflected the light perfectly so that anyone looking at it would get a shot of sunlight in their eyes.
Joren turned her attention back to the table, his ears picking up his name.
"Joren," Sir Paxton repeated. "Do you mind pouring our guests tea?"
"Yes, Sir Paxton," he said grudgingly. "Of course, Sir Paxton." He stood and picked up the kettle to pour steaming hot liquid into the four cups at the walnut table. In the middle of the table was a vase full of roses coloured red, white, and pink.
As he sat back down and put down the kettle, he studied the two men he barely knew. On his left was Yahjok, a Bazhir, with dark skin, black eyes, and dark brown hair. His nose was straight and broken in some places. He wore a tunic and breeches in a muted shade of brown.
The other, Lawrence, looked to be a fat uncle with the Stone Mountain's signature white-blond hair and pert nose. The only difference was his grey eyes. This man wore an icy blue tunic trimmed with gold and white hose.
The sun had almost disappeared behind the horizon. Certainly, this little tea party was over. Just when Joren was about to excuse himself, Sir Paxton bid farewell to their guests and said that they had things to do. They stood simultaneously and bowed, thanking them for the time and the food. It took all of Joren's discipline to keep from sighing in relief. They escorted the Lawrence and Yahjok back to their rooms, promising that they would see them at the big exams.
Once they closed the door, Joren let out that sigh. "Finally!" he groaned shamelessly, turning on his heel in the direction to his rooms.
"Mithros, Joren!" Paxton chided. "You were like Sir Wyldon back there. What on earth were you thinking about?"
He would never tell anyone, but he had been thinking about that mysterious encounter with Madame Cheska. What had she meant? "Where is your heart, young master…?" The words rang through his head with the odd raspy voice. "You must feel for others again…Truth is your best friend…. Beware of a tall red-head."
"Nothing," he answered nonchalantly. "I was just bored, I guess."
Sir Paxton put an arm around his shoulders. "Oh, it was a girl, wasn't it? Who was it?"
But his Knight Master didn't give him a chance to answer. He led him down the halls, rambling on about the young women in the palace who he might be interested in. It didn't matter, though, because Joren was only half listening. Were her words some sort of riddle he had to work out?
Where is your heart, he repeated over and over in his mind. Maybe she's saying my heart is in the wrong place. Well, maybe I have been doing this for selfish reasons. But what does she want me to do? Make me feel something for Kel? That ought to be impossible.
They'd made it to their rooms and Sir Paxton said good bye, not really noticing his squire's trance like state. Joren managed to say "bye" offhandedly as he walked into his room and let himself fall on his mattress.
You must feel for others again… So I should feel the way for a blind man? That doesn't sound right. Truth is your best friend…
He rolled over and dug his head into his pillow. He knew what that one meant. He had to tell the truth to Kel.
Everyone was surprised when they saw that they had a blond visitor in the doorway. He blushed and looked down, feeling all those piercing eyes on him. "May I speak with Keladry…" he said, voice hardly inaudible. "Please."
Kel looked at her friends –Neal, Merric, Roald, Cleon, Seaver, Esmond, Faleron, and Owen –silently asking for permission to leave.
"Go ahead, Kel," Neal said in his usual drawl.
"Neal," Cleon said urgently through clenched teeth.
"Cleon," Kel said patiently. "I'll be fine. No need to worry."
So she got up from her spot on the bed and walked over to the door. "What would you like, Squire Joren," she said nonchalantly, her mask fixed in place.
"Can we talk somewhere else?" he asked, scratching the back of his neck.
"Sure," the page said. She turned back to her friends. "I'll just step out for a moment. Don't wait for me to finish your homework."
The big red-head opened his mouth to speak but Neal beat him to it. "Okay," he said. "Just don't be long."
She stepped out and closed the door behind her. "So?"
"When I said somewhere else, I really meant somewhere else," he said, amusement in his voice.
Her face showed a bit of shock. "Oh, I'm sorry. Where would you like to go? The palace gardens perhaps? So that you can kiss me and then just stalk off?"
"Hey," Joren said, hurt. "You and I both know that wasn't my fault. If you're going to pick on anyone, pick on Sir Paxton. He's the one who dragged me away." He took her by the arm. "Let's go to your rooms."
"Good," she said haughtily, her face not showing any sign that would give away her emotions.
They made their way to her chambers and after Kel whispered to the lock, they walked in and sat at her little table. Lalasa didn't welcome him, however comfortable her master was with him. Nor did the sparrows like his presence. They stayed with Jump under the covers.
"I think you should sit down for this," Joren said, anxiety rising up.
Kel cocked an eyebrow questioningly. "Okay…"
"Well, you know the first time we spoke." He gulped. "I mean we really spoke?" She nodded.
"And I said that Sir Paxton changed me… and other things?"
She nodded again.
"Well, here is the story behind that."
By then, Kel was on the edge of her seat. For months, he'd left her hanging with that story. She couldn't wait to hear it.
The squire breathed in deeply, preparing himself to let it all flow out. "Don't interrupt," he said before starting. "I might not be able to continue if you do."
She nodded hastily and gestured for him to start already.
"Okay…" he sighed. "Here I go. Get ready. Don't interrupt. Here I go. My story… I'm telling it…"
"Joren!" Kel yelled abruptly. "Hurry up!"
"Milady," Lalasa said timidly, appearing from behind the curtain to the dressing room. "Do try to keep your voice down, milady. I pricked my finger on my sewing needle."
Kel blushed crimson and looked down. That was very uncharacteristic of her. Lalasa retreated back to her room. "Continue," the page said.
"Okay. Long story or Short-"
"Long," Kel said before he even finished the sentence. "Just get on with it."
He nodded.
"Last time I left chorus, my Knight Master and I went to fief Naxen to celebrate a cousin's birthday. After the party, he decided that he didn't want to get off his lazy butt so he sent me to fetch a scroll for his mistress. I went to Trebond where the children were everywhere, not to mention that they were all very welcoming.
"Then I went over the hills and through the forests toward Corus until one night, the rain was pouring down non-stop and the sky was dark with thunderclouds. And there was this perfect willow tree with really thick branches. I thought it'd be perfect since there was a storm. The rain could never seep through to the ground.
"I decided to stop for the night. I covered Keany, my horse, with a blanket and settled down to build a fire. I ate and then slept in my bedroll. I don't know what woke me up. It was probably the absence of rain but I don't know for sure. By the moon in the sky, it was the middle of the night, almost precisely. Keany was asleep still but I just shot out of my bedroll.
"I saw a woman with extremely long, black curls. She was young and yet really old at the same time, as if she was flashing into the future. Her eyes were an eerie, unnatural grey-purple without pupils framed with long eyelashes." By this point of the story, he was sitting down, staring out at the clear sky, his eyes glazed over.
"Her nose was long as well and she had a mole on her left cheek. Her lips were thin and red, complementing her ivory skin. Her dress was marble purple and starlit blue with a tail trailing behind. 'Hello, Joren of Stone Mountain,' she said in a hollow voice that echoed in my ears. Although she was whispering, it brought me to my knees. 'I am Shakith, the blind Goddess of seers,' she said. The voice was absolute torture.
"'I've seen your path, Stone Mountain,' she said, malice in her voice." He shivered at the memory. "'You could be destined for many great things,' she said, her eyes widening. 'But you must change. Make amends with the girl you've been torturing all these years. You mustn't hurt her or any of her friends. You must change for if you don't, the Great Goddess will assure that you will only rule the square of land you'll be given in the Black God's realms.'
"'Certainly, I've repaid my bad deeds,' I said, cringing although she'd stopped speaking. 'I apologize. Your voice is torture enough.' She walked around my fire and out from the protection of the willow. Her heels rustled against the dry grass and I noticed that the grass was dry. To this day, I wonder if I dreamt up that storm or if she brought it so that I could be scared under the willow. I'm not sure.
"She laughed airily. 'But it isn't enough. You've two years to save your future, Joren.' She cackled again. 'For if you don't change your ways, you won't have one.' The goddess twirled back around, her skirts flaring up like a gigantic crystal ball. I saw a flash of my body being dragged out of the Chamber of the Ordeal…" He looked down.
"I don't just die. I lose all my honour. The honour of my fief, the honour of knighthood." Joren sighed.
"Anyways… She said, 'This is what will happen if you don't follow my instructions.' She started towards me and I was afraid that she was going to yell in my ears. Instead, she ripped off a piece of her gown and held it to me. 'Remembrance,' she explained. 'I will contact you when the Goddess sees that you've done well.' I gulped and accepted it, a jolt of fear going through my bones. I knew what I would see if I'd look at it. It's a remembrance of what I must do." He breathed for a while, chills still racing up and down his spine.
He sighed and continued. "She said good bye and left, leaving me to ponder her words. Look," he said, standing up. "I admit that we are friends now because of that incident under the willow. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you any sooner."
But Kel wouldn't listen to his explanation. Her eyes were glazed over, hiding emotion. She stared at the floor, thinking of what she'd just absorbed. "So you kissed me… not because you liked me but because your life was in jeopardy."
He opened his mouth to speak but she stood up abruptly, a new fire glowing in her hazel eyes. "You were lying all this time? You hadn't even remotely liked me? You were doing this all for your own selfish reasons?"
Angry and sorrowful tears started to form in her tear ducts. She'd been misled when everyone knew what was real. He had made her contemplate that moment and how she felt for months when it wasn't real. She'd been made a soft, touchy, girl. Just what he thought her to be.
"Is this story false as well?" she said, her volume rising reasonably. Once again, he tried to explain but she stopped him. "They were all right!" she burst out finally, not bothering to wipe the tears from her eyes. "Your heart was always stone! Nothing can pierce through that. And yet you fooled me… me! Get out."
It was odd that Joren literally felt hurt in the heart when he saw her crying. It was unnatural –for him at least. It wasn't a good feeling. "Kel…" he said, genuine remorse resounding in his voice.
But she wouldn't listen to reason just then. She pointed to the open door and looked the other way, never wanting to see him again. "Out," she said, her voice deadly soft.
"Kel," he tried once more. "I'm sorry. Just… don't cry."
"Why?" she bellowed. "Why are you still going through with it? The masquerade is over, Stone Mountain. You can leave now. And shut the door behind you."
Joren sighed and stood to leave. "I hope that someday, you'll see reason." And with that, he left the room.
Kel's sobs were faint but they were there, burning a hole through his heart. Was this what Madame Cheska meant? If so, was it supposed to hurt so?
The blue-eyed squire was not prepared for the moment he stepped out of the room and closed the door. Out of what seemed like nowhere, a fist hit him square in the jaw.
"You dare hurt Kel!" Cleon yelled, anger evident in his voice and in his grey eyes. "You've got to deal with me, first, Stone Mountain." He spat Joren's fief name as if it was poison. He held his fists up, ready for a brawl.
"Cleon, I don't want to hurt you," Joren said, rubbing his jaw in pain. He stumbled to the side.
"Oh, really, Joren? Well, you won't be the one doing the hurting here, anyways." The tall red-head lunged at him wildly in blinded rage.
Joren dodged him. He punched him in the stomach. "I'm sorry, Cleon. I truly am," he drawled sarcastically. "But you brought this onto yourself." He rammed him in the stomach with his head, bringing both of them to the ground. He took Cleon's right hand and dug his fingernail into the soft skin right before the nail of his thumb. The tall squire yelped. He threw Joren off him.
A couple of doors opened, revealing pages that the two hardly knew. They weren't there to stop the fight. They were there to cheer either of the boys on. The two of them stood up. Neither of them showed any sign of tiring.
"Go Joren!" yelled someone in the crowd.
"Beat him to a pulp, Cleon," someone else said with an odd accent.
Cleon punched him in the cheek as Joren attacked his ribs, wondering whose bones were breaking when he heard a crack. Before the blond could recover, Cleon took him by the shoulders and kneed him in the stomach.
For once, Joren was thankful that he was as big as Cleon for if he was, then his knee would've hit him in the tender area for sure. As it was, it didn't throw him off that much. He swiped at his knees with a foot. Cleon fell with a satisfying thud.
"The bigger they are, the harder they fall," Joren sneered, picking him up. He threw him across the hall. The pages cleared away to reveal a dumbfounded Lord Wyldon. The corridor was suddenly silent.
"Squire Joren!" he bellowed, slightly shocked. "Why are you two brawling in the hallway?" He wore a simple shirt and breeches.
"He tripped, milord," he said innocently, standing as straight as he could. Cleon was still on the floor, dazed.
"And the bruise on your face?" The training master cocked an eyebrow.
"I fell earlier while I was on my way here, milord." His voice didn't fail to sound utterly believable. But no matter how angelic Joren sounded, he knew that Lord Wyldon had pieced two and two together. There was no way out of punishment.
"I'll discuss this with both of your Knight Masters tomorrow, Squire Joren." He looked at Cleon who was sitting on the floor. "Squire Cleon. Don't suspect that you won't have punishments. Maybe not for fighting but for disrupting the page's free time. They only get a few hours a day. As you two are certainly aware of."
Joren hung his head, feigning remorse. "Yes, Lord Wyldon."
"Very well. Good night," he said. "And get Cleon to the infirmary, would you?" He turned on his heel and walked up the stairs to his room, shaking his head in bewilderment.
Once he was out of earshot, he said, "Well, you heard the man. Get Cleon to the infirmary." A couple of pages nodded vigorously and half carried and half dragged the big squire down to the infirmary.
Joren left the corridor but he didn't go back to his room. He wanted to think some more. He found himself wandering into the palace gardens. It truly was spring. The plants glistened with defrosted snow. They were dotted with little buds preparing to bloom for summer. He sighed onto the bench.
What a long day, he thought, staring up at the half-moon. The truth is not my best friend. My heart is in the wrong place… Ugh! I don't get it.
He put his head in his hands, his head throbbing.
In the distance, he heard a woman cackle. "You've got it all wrong, child!"
He looked up to see the last person he wanted to see that night. Or maybe, she was the first person he wanted to see.
(A/N) Whew! That was a very long chapter! Yay! I made it extra long because: I haven't updated for months and I had a lot to squish into this. Lol. Cleon and Joren get a beating! Muahahaha. I was practicing with fight scenes. Please give me your thoughts on that. :)
Did anyone see Shakith coming? I bet not :3 Well, I didn't leave any clues last time… so it's okay. And I made this Joren's special chapter because the last one hardly had any Joren. Poor dude. Sorry that it's a bit of a cliffhanger. But you know who it is, right? I think you do~
Well, this is getting too long. Please Review! I swear that I'll update sooner if I do (At least I'll get the next chap. Finished in the next month.) I also want you guys to read this: The Ultimate How To Guide by Magna Parva. Here is the URL .net/s/4225140/1/
It's about giving constructive Criticism, accepting it, Mary-Sues, and writing summaries. Very helpful and funny. Please read.
And you should also read 'The Beauty of Hindsight' by RoyalLady9099:
.net/s/7962602/1/
It's about Kel getting kicked out of page training and she becomes a Shang Warrior. But wait! There's more! The gang is reading Kel's four books given to them by none other than the goddess. It's very interesting and it has the whole plot planned out and everything! :D
Warmest Regards,
Nell