A/N: Sorry about not being able to update at an earlier date, school has been insane. In fact, I'm updating now instead of doing a history assignment because I'm sick of having to do work on a vacation. Do teacher's not understand the meaning of the word 'vacation'??? Anyway, here you go. Hope you like it. So let's see. I started this during December vacation, finished it during February, and then finally have finished all the corrections on the day I started to wrok at a summer camp. Wow…

Thank you so much, Willow, for betaing for me!

Disclaimer: Every character that you recognize and any situations that you recognize are properties of Sherwood Smith.

As Elestra had predicted, the next morning, Oria once again found herself in a light blue outfit, like the ones she wore every morning while riding her gray. Yes, a gray; it was one of the descendents of her father's own long-departed gray that he had claimed on his journey home from Marloven Hess. The horse was just as sturdy as it's predecessor, and quite a bit more beautiful; however, Oria's thoughts were not on her horse that morning. No, they most definitely were not. For yet another of Elestra's predictions had come true-- that morning, Oria was riding with her fiancé. And his deplorable brother. Or adoptive brother, it didn't matter what you called him. They were just as good as blood brothers, it seemed. The night before Oria had witnessed that the two had a bit of a rivalry between them much like the rivalry her father and the Duke of Savona had created once upon a long time ago, when Athanarel had been an extremely different place in which to live.

The trio had been riding for a while in silence; in fact, they had been riding in silence since they left the stables. Oria had not said anything, and the two foreigners had not spoken to her; nor had she been paying any attention to hear if they were quietly talking to each other. Suddenly, Oria heard her name and realized someone had finally said something directed to her. She couldn't help but wincing; from what she had seen both Lucieneres and Lucier were alike. And if she couldn't stand one, she was sure she would not be able to stand the other. Oh heaven help her; she was going to have to marry one of them! The thought made her shudder even more.

She was to be surprised.

"Beg your pardon," Oria said softly. "I was just thinking about the performers last night. Did you not think them splendid?" She wasn't quite sure which of the two she was to direct this to, as she had no idea who had spoken, so she merely said it in their general direction.

It turned out to be Lucieneres who had commented as he responded with a nod. "Yes, I did find them to be magnificent. I asked, however, if you did not agree that it is a beautiful day. Perhaps it is just an average day for you, but Marloven Hess, well… there is little sun there. It is… very gray."

Oria nodded in agreement. "My father once told me that he was in shock upon returning to Remalna from Marloven Hess. Perhaps it was not only the weather which was gray?" It was obviously a rhetorical question and she was sure neither Lucieneres nor Lucier would think otherwise. But of course, Lucier couldn't pass up a chance to speak, could he? Of course not! That was one of the traits Oria loathed in him-- always having to get a word in, even if he wasn't involved in the conversation.

"Lucien," he started, using a term of endearment for his liege and friend. "Oria and I were both at Dyranarya. I doubt she is any more accustomed to Athanarel's temperature than I am to Marloven Hess's, even if it is where our families dwell."

Oria couldn't help glaring at him. How dare he assume something about her? And for once, he wasn't the head of their year making him have a one-up above her as there was no rank based on title at the Academy. Here, she was a princess, and she planned on making sure he realized that he was now in her domain. Now, Oria Renselaeus was usually a kind-hearted girl and she had rarely, if ever, used her rank in order to belittle someone. But Lucier was most definitely an exception to her usual code of conduct.

"Excuse me, Lucier," she said sharply. "But I believe your prince directed his comment towards me. And if you had problems becoming accustomed to Marloven Hess's climates during our school breaks, then I think perhaps you should go back and accustom yourself to them during this break. I, however, have lived at Athanarel my entire life, save some time in other parts of Remalna and the time I've spent at Dyranarya. I am most certainly accustomed to my home's weather." She then winced at how flustered she knew she sounded.

The blond glared at her rival for an instant, only turning away when she was aware that she was being extremely rude to her guest. Lucier was just a guest of her guest and her priorities were to his liege. Her fiancé… Ria tried to stop herself from blanching but she took after her mother and could rarely hide her facial expressions. Burn Alec for getting all their father's indecipherability!

Lucier couldn't help but smirking slightly at Oria's discomfort and caught her eye in order to irritate her even more. Then, without any warning, he urged his horse ahead, leaving the betrothed couple behind.

"Forgive my brother, Princess," Lucieneres said after a momentary silence. "He forgets his place."

Oria raised one of her brows in a quizzical manner and was sorely tempted to say Really? I had no idea!, but she restrained herself. "There is no need to be polite about your brother," she said. "I am sure he has mentioned his dislike of me many a time during our breaks from the Academy."

It was now the young king's turn to look at Oria quizzically. "I beg your pardon, Princess, but Lucier has never mentioned you when discussing those at the Academy who he dislikes. In fact, I was overjoyed to hear that he would be accompanying me as I believed that the two of you were on friendly terms and thus no awkward events would occur." He paused for a moment, and dusted a bit of dust off of the front of his coat. "Ah… But there I go, making an awkward event occur. Come now, I have heard of Athanarel's splendid racetracks. Shall we have a go at them?"

The princess nodded and nudged her horse in the direction of the racetracks, the prince's words ringing in her ears: Lucier has never mentioned you when discussing those at the Academy who he dislikes. What game was Lucier playing?

As the two rode, the Queen and several of her acquaintances were admiring the portrait hall. Mel wandered between paintings, looking at the Queens of old and wondering what they would think of her. Even after all this time, sometimes she felt that she was unsuitable to be queen. Would any one of her predecessors have forced her daughter to marry a man she did not love?

"Meliara, look, a picture of your son-to-be's father." Tamara's words broke Mel's line of thought and she walked over to where Trishe, Renna, and the Duchess were standing. The three rarely stayed away from Athanarel for extended periods of time, even though they all had children who could remain in their steads. Renna still enjoyed racing as often as possible with anyone who would compete with her, nearly unbeatable as she was; Trishe enjoyed hosting her riding parties with her daughter, Trini; and Tamara only left Savona's side, who was constantly at Athanarel to "keep his cousin in line," as he put it, when they fought.

Mel did not consider any of the three to be her confidants; her husband and Nee were the only ones meeting that description who were ever at Athanarel. Oria was still one of Mel's dearest friends, but as she continued to refuse a title higher than steward of Tlanth, so confiding in her on every day court matters was not simple. However, the three with Mel now were her friends and when Trishe had invited the queen to explore the Portrait Hall with herself, Renna, and Tamara, Mel hadn't declined.

"His son looks just like him," Renna mused as she looked at the picture of the king brought down by treachery. In the picture he was only a bit older than his son was now and the similarities were uncanny. "But why is it here? Doesn't it belong in Enaeran?"

Mel shook her head and brushed her hair away from her eyes. "Vidanric had met the King in Colend and he managed to salvage the painting when Enaeran was taken over by the usurpers, fearing all memory of his friend would be lost otherwise."

Renna's lips formed a perfect 'o' at the explanation, and she shrugged. "How sad. But maybe the King of Enaeran knew that your daughter would fall in love with Vidanric's son and would want his heir to see his father one day," she said with a smile. Mel returned the smile and knew she was blushing. Vidanric had spread the lie that Oria had met Lucieneres at the Acadamy when he had visited his brother. Arranged betrothals were not a very accepted thing in the current court at Remalna, and they? had decided this would be easier on Oria.

"Renna, I don't mean to be rude, but I believe you are wrong," Tamara said, eyeing the portrait. "The young king has dark brown eyes and his father, by the looks of it, had light gray eyes. I'd say that his foster brother looks more like the king, as the two boys could be twins except for their eyes."

Mel frowned and then shrugged. "Well, perhaps his mother had brown eyes," she said, but an odd chill crept up her back. She had met the queen once and she had been a fair woman, with blond hair to match Vidanric's and blue eyes to match Mel's own. But Renna nodded, saying that must be so, and Tamara turned the conversation to a new dress she had acquired as they walked on. Trishe, however, stayed looking at the portrait. She had been silent throughout the whole discussion. Mel looked at Trishe and frowned again as she saw that Trishe was thinking. "What's wrong?"

Trishe smiled and shook her head. "Nothing. I just was remembering a time that I met this man. He was so full of life. It's a pity that he won't meet Oria, she would have liked him." Despite this, Mel felt uneasy. Trishe had been the one to place her ring so long ago and she always remembered details. Mel reached for the fan at her waist, twirled it in an arc, and waved it back and forth, not moving it in any specific mode, showing how unsettled she was. "Please, Trishe," she said, "What's bothering you about this portrait?"

Trishe shook her head again. "It's not the portrait. It was Tamara's comment. The Enaeran kings have had gray eyes for as far back as I can remember reading about-- it's almost as set in stone as the Landis' eye color," she sighed softly, looking down at her fan and not seeing the unsettled look that spread across Mel's face. "I guess I'm just clinging to the past. But change is good." She said the last part with a smile, and then Tamara turned around and asked them what they thought about a hairstyle she wanted to try.