Two days after Charm's initial attack, Alanna sat by her friend's bedside, worried. What if Roger truly decided to kill the innocent girl? If so, what would he gain? It all made her head hurt but no matter how hard she tried to clear it out, it stood stubbornly, rooted in her brain.
"Alanna," Charm said in her cheerful voice. "Why don't you show me one of your nice dresses? One from Jonathan."
The squire's eyes widened as she looked up to her friend. "But why?" She didn't need an answer. Pity and worry swirled in her eyes; Charm simply wanted Alanna to stop worrying.
She sighed. "Very well." And she left the room.
Alanna dashed through the halls and into her cambers, quickly slipping on her wig and a frilly blue and pink dress. She looked in the mirror and switched the hue of her eyes to blue. "Perhaps this will get my mind off him."
She went back to Charm's room in the infirmary, slower than when she left; people wouldn't think odd of a page running through the halls but when a lady would run through the halls, there'd be something wrong.
When she got there, she smiled. "Back."
Charm clapped her hands. "Twirl, twirl!"
Alanna laughed and spun around. It really was a beautiful dress. What could've brought the Prince buy it for her? It was truly odd, in fact. He had been so nice the past week. Was it an omen? Was he nice because he knew that he was at death's door? She was sick with the thought of losing Jon.
Without warning, she stopped spinning around. It felt as if she was choking. Is this what Charm felt? She asked herself. And she collapsed on the ground, unable to breathe. The only word she managed to spit out was "Help."
She awoke hungry, and weary-eyed. "Where am I?" she said drowsily. She looked around and saw Charm on her left side. "The infirmary?"
"Yes," Charm said in her usual -right now, sickening -cheer. "You've been asleep for two hours."
That made Alanna sit bolt upright. "Two hours?" Her friend nodded placidly. "That means I've slept through lunch! I can't continue to lay here. I've work to do. Where's Faithful?"
She looked around. Faithful should be there; whenever she was in trouble, Faithful would be at her side.
"Who's Faithful?" she asked.
"Faithful's Alan's cat. Black, purple eyes. Irritating? Ring a bell?" She looked at Charm.
"Yes. He came in here, scrutinized me, then told me that he couldn't stay with you because you look like Ariana when he's Alan's cat." Her even brows furrowed in confusion. "I'ven't a clue how I knew what he was saying, but I did."
But Alanna wasn't listening to her. She was wondering how in the world she got sick. Perhaps Thom was right, she thought. Charm's the bait and I'm the fish... I won't need to fake Ariana's death. I'm going to die.
With that, she swung her legs over the bed, intending to go to find help. Alas, she got dizzy, and fell back on her sheets.
The Prince sat idly by his father, studying the charts lay out on his table.
"Dunlath has been dropping in the market rates lately," his father said thoughtfully.
Jon was only half listening. He could think of dozens of other things that he could be doing instead of listening to his father lecture about apples or oranges going to and from other fiefs.
Meow, something said in the distance.
His ears pricked. Why was there a cat in the royal throne room? He wondered. He looked around, searching for anything to take his mind off whatever Roald was saying.
Jon shouldn't've been surprised when he saw a black cat slipping through the doors. Meow! Faithful said more insistently.
He looked at his father, thinking up a plan to get out. "Er —father."
Roald looked at him sharply. "Yes?"
"Could we possibly continue this another day? I don't feel very well." He sighed and put a hand to his head.
"Oh, of course," the King said sympathetically. "Time isn't an issue."
Jon smiled a small smile and stood from his seat, wondering just what Faithful wanted. He slipped out of the large doors and heard Faithful speak—really speak!
Alanna's in trouble, he said. When faithful saw the look in the prince's sapphire eyes, he rolled his eyes— if cats could roll their eyes. Don't look at me with those big, confused eyes. You knew that I could talk all along.
It was true, or at least, it was half-true. He had guessed that Faithful could speak the first time he heard Alanna and Faithful exchange a conversation. The prince's confusion faded away and was quickly replaced with anxiety. He walked along the corridor, Faithful trailing behind. "What d'you mean that Alanna's in trouble?"
She's sick, he said frankly. Sick like Charmaine. Let's go.
Jon trotted after him, the very worst possibilities racing across his mind.
When he arrived at the infirmary, he went straight to Alanna, not noticing that Faithful had left without saying good bye. He was alarmed by her skin tone. Just yesterday, we were laughing in the courtyard, he thought.
"Alanna?" he said softly.
Charmaine, who had been sleeping beside Alanna, opened her eyes lazily. "It's not Alanna right now, sir. She's Ariana today."
Jon's eyes darted towards the blonde. "How come you know Alanna's secret?"
"You should put a spell on this room or something. Elsewise, she'll be ruined." She yawned and sat up to drink water at her bedside.
"Right," Jon said. "I knew that." He spoke a word and the room was enveloped with blue.
Charm sighed. "That hit the spot." She looked around the room. "Isn't it curious that everyone's magic is a different colour? What if they all came together to perform a light show? That would be one of the most fantastic days of my life."
She looked at the visitor and her eyes widened. "Your Highness, my apologies!" She blushed hard. "I was half asleep! I didn't know that you were—"
Jon smiled. "It's fine, Charmaine. I'm just here to visit Alanna."
"She's sleeping, as you can see," she said bluntly. "Come back some other time."
The prince bit his lip. He didn't want to come back at another time. The girl he loved was sick and he had no idea how she got her illness— or what the illness is. "I'll just stay here. Wait 'til she wakes up."
Charm fidgeted in excitement. "Oh, yes. Of course, you can. We could talk. Get to know each other." Her eyes danced as she brushed her blonde hair straight.
Jon didn't mind admirers. He liked them, in fact. But with Charm's unnerving stare, he felt like prey and she was a tiger.
To be safe, he sat on the other side of the room and waited. They sat there together as he fingered the sapphire amulet at his neck with only Charm's random questions to break the silence. "So what do you look for in a girl?" she asked casually after roughly half an hour had passed, acting cool.
"I don't know," he said, trying to avoid the topic completely. "I've never really thought about it."
She frowned, wondering how she could get an answer from him. It was a while before she asked another question. "Are you in love with Alanna?"
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop the heat from creeping around his neck and all over his face. Jon, cool and collected Jon, was blushing. He shook his head sharply, evidently flustered.
Charm sighed. "So you do love Alanna. Mithros, it seems like everyone's in love with Alanna. I wonder if I'll find my prince charming."
The prince looked up to see sorrow in her eyes. Without warning, pity welled up inside him. "I'm sure you'll find your prince someday."
She met his eyes, sorrow turning to painful hope. "You truly think so?"
He smiled. "I know so."
Charm scrutinized him. "You're lying."
"I am not," he remonstrated. "I don't lie. Never have, never will."
"Men always lie," she said scornfully. "They lie that you look beautiful in a dress. They lie that you'll find true love. They lie that they'll stay with you forever. Then they'll go off and run away to a different country for no good reason, without a word. Without a note."
Charm's thoughts travelled back to that day when she'd searched for him and he was nowhere to be found. He had joked that he was going to run away but she hadn't thought that he'd actually go through with it, especially when they hadn't said their farewells.
Her eyes now reflected mixture of shadowing rage and sorrow. Jon thought long and hard whether or not he should say something to her but in the end, he decided against it. It was the wrong time and place, the wrong situation. Another time, he thought. But not now.
At that moment, Alanna opened her eyes. "Jon?" she asked sleepily.
He quickly got to his feet. "Alanna, what happened?"
"Oh, well, my necklace got caught on something. I should be fine now. And I shouldn't be in this bed." She swung her legs over the bed, bringing on déjà vu. Foggy memories of labored breathing and fainting wavered in her mind like dreams but she wasn't sure if it was only a dream.
It felt like something wasn't right and she didn't like the feeling. The squire swore that she would get to the bottom of it as soon as possible.
"Alanna, are you quite alright?" he asked, genuine concern on his face.
"No, I'm not," she said worriedly. "I don't think I remember what happened before I fell asleep. Choking wouldn't cause me to faint…"
"Would you like me to do a memory spell?" he offered.
Alanna nodded her head hastily. He put his hand on her head and muttered something quietly. All of a sudden, she remembered what happened and paled. I've Tommelbur poisoning… I'm going to die.
"Thank you, Jon. I remember now," she said. "It was like Charm. I couldn't breathe and then I fainted."
"Then that means we don't know what's wrong with you," he said gravely.
She thought for a while whether or not to tell him that she knew what was happening. In the end, she thought that it was best. He was her best friend; he had the right to know that she was dying. In fact, she should tell Raoul and Gary as well. They deserved the truth.
She opened her mouth to speak when she heard footsteps. Instead of telling him about the poison, she said, "Jon, eavesdropping spell." She had noticed earlier the blue tint around the walls.
He said another word and it disappeared.
From the door entered Roger of Conté, brilliant in a red and gold tunic paired with black hose. He was surprised to see who was in the bed but he didn't dare show it. Alan of Trebond was supposed to be lying in that bed, not Ariana of WhiteHorn. How Ariana got sick, he hadn't a clue. "I cannot believe that you're sick as well, Lady Ariana."
Alanna lay completely still. What was he doing there?
"Cousin, I didn't know you'd visit." Jon went over to give him a manly hug and pulled back.
"I visit Charm every day, your Highness," Roger informed his younger relative. "Just to keep her company. Although I see that I won't need to do that anymore, not with Ariana for her to speak with."
"Oh, you're welcome stay here anytime, Duke Roger," Charm said, batting her eyelashes. "I don't mind at all."
"I'll keep that in mind, Lady Charmaine," Roger said to her, flashing a smile. A visible blush spread across her face.
"Lady Ariana, would you mind if I asked you a question?" He waited for an answer.
It took a while for Alanna to figure out that he was addressing her. "Oh. Of course."
"Have you eaten anything strange, or accepted any food from strange people. Or just normal people?" He fiddled with a quartz crystal on his finger and she felt something in her mind. It was as if something was pulling the words from her mind, forcing them through her throat and out of her mouth. Her head didn't pound but it was so odd.
Against her incredible fear, she took a strand of her magic and tried to grab hold of its source but, to her surprise, the strand disappeared. She tried again and took a band of her magic; it worked. The sensation was gone. She also noted that Roger had stopped toying with his jewelry. "I can't say I have, your grace."
At that moment, she remembered something that happened the night before.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Alan. I'm afraid that I've two left feet." The duke smiled and took a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe the squire's shirt.
"It's fine, your grace," she said politely.
They passed each other afterwards without another word, as if it never happened. But until the time she went to bed, her mind pulled at her, telling her that something odd happened that evening.
It was Roger, she realized. And he was wondering if Alan had given me any of his food, which was impossible as Ariana hadn't attended dinner. Then again, the palace is a large place, he'd never know…
When Alanna broke his spell, he was unpleasantly surprised. How could she have stopped his spell? And why in the world was her gift purple: the same colour as Alan's?
"Why do you ask, your grace?" she asked.
He looked at her sharply. "There is a man selling rotten candy in the lower city. His name's Kale. If you see him, do refuse politely. That candy can make anyone wish that they didn't have a stomach."
The squire was suspicious— and she wanted to say so. I've no proof, she chided. Instead, she said. "I'll keep that in mind, your grace. But if you'd excuse me, I'd like to sleep."
"Of course." And with that, Roger exited the room.
"Jon," Alanna said urgently before he left the room. He turned and cocked a questioning brow. "Come're. I've something to tell you."
He strode over to her bedside. "Yes?"
"Wait… put up the eavesdropping spell again."Jon sighed and obeyed. To his surprise, Alanna put up her own eavesdropping spell as well, separating the room in two so that not even Charm could hear. "We have to make sure no one can hear."
"Even Roger?" he inquired.
"Yes, even Roger," she said quietly, sullenly. A lump started to form in her throat. "Jon," she croaked.
"Go ahead and say it, Alanna," said the prince patiently.
The words that came out were a whisper. "I— I'm going to…" She breathed in deeply. "I'm going to die."
"What was that? I didn't seem to catch it," he said, putting an ear to her lips.
"You dolt," Alanna chided, tears stinging her eyes and an ironic smile lighting her features.
"I'm going to die."
But Jon did not smile. His face paled and reddened again. He pulled back. "Alanna, this isn't funny." His voice was raspy and his eyes glistened with held back tears.
"That's because it's not a joke." I wish it was, Alanna thought. You know how I wish it was.
Jon's mind raced with thoughts. How'd she know? How could she know? What should he do, now that he knew? What would she do in her remaining days? "Alanna, how can you be so sure? No one knows what you have. Not even they are sure."
"Listen. I have Tommelbur poisoning. You need to contact Thom as soon as you can." She looked away and blinked hard, trying best not to cry. Knights don't cry, she told herself. So stop crying! But another part of her reasoned, unless you get the antidote, you won't even become a knight. That didn't break her stubbornness, however, and she didn't let the tears leak from her eyes.
"Tommelbur poisoning?" Jon asked, surveying her body with dancing, worried eyes. "Isn't that in Carthak? How could it come all the way here?" His voice was shaky, which was odd for the prince.
"It just did," she insisted. "Now go contact Thom. I want him to be at my funeral in a week."
Jon couldn't just leave her on her deathbed. "Duke Baird. He'll know what to do. He's Chief Healer. He'll know." Now, he was crying, unable to hold back tears.
"He won't. That's why he couldn't identify what Charm had! Because it's from Carthak! D'you think that he'll be able to cure it!" Alanna asked, meeting his blue eyes with fiery amethysts. "Go!"
The prince shook his head stubbornly. "Alanna, I can't lose you."
"You'll find another squire. He may not be as good as me, but you'll have to settle with him." Her eyes held pleading.
"But I can't settle for him," he whispered.
"Why not?" she demanded loudly, her voice cracking. I'm so sorry, she was unable to say. She prayed that he'd live on after her passing. That he would continue on his way, strong, proud, and prig.
"Because I could never love him as I love you."
For the first time, Alanna saw the way his eyes shined, the tears floating in his sapphire orbs. For the first time, she saw the admiration they held. "No," she said, frightened as she fidgeted in place. "No. Jon, stop. The last week of my life has been complete drama. I don't love you like that. So do not make me guilty by telling me you love me before I die. It won't help anyone. Especially not me."
She hurt him. She could tell. It was written all over his face in the downcast of his glassy stare, the grim line of his mouth, the lines from clenching his teeth. "I'll go contact Thom then." He broke the spell and so did she. With that, he left the room, his feet making little sound.
"What was that?" Charm inquired; annoyed that she had been left out. She looked at Alanna, suddenly alarmed. "And why are you shaking?"
Alanna shook her head sharply to dismiss her question and buried herself in her blankets. She regretted what she just said. Perhaps she did want some company. But Jon? He was her best friend and her knightmaster. Could she really risk their friendship for a chance at romance? No, she thought. I may lose my life in a week but I don't want to have a lover at my bedside. I want my best friend.
Jon went off to his chambers to speak with Thom through a magical link. Once he'd set it up, Thom's hazy orange robe appeared in the hearth. "Thom!" he called urgently.
Thom didn't bother looking; he was bent over a book— and by the irritation in his wince, he wasn't happy with being disturbed. "Yes, your royal highness?" he asked sharply.
"We need you here at the palace," he said.
The sorcerer noted the pleading in the prince's voice but didn't think much of it. "Jonathan, I'd love to help you— really, I do. But distance is quite an obstacle when it comes to asking assistance. So unless you need my help in a week—"
"Alanna's dying," he cut in.
Thom froze in the middle of flipping the page, his ears pricking to the sound of his sister's name. "This isn't something to jest about, Prince," he snapped, looking into the fire. The look on the prince's pale face was grave.
Alanna couldn't be dying. She was too good a squire to be hurt, too healthy to ever get sick. And besides, he'd seen her less than a week ago, how could it all change in a matter of two days?
"Tommelbur poisoning," he informed him. Thom stood up abruptly, his hair standing up and his heart thumping in his chest. Jon continued as Thom hastily searched his room for a piece of paper, a face towel, a glass sample holder, and a plant tapper. "She told me to contact you. He said that she wanted you to be at the funeral in a week. And I suppose that she wants you to see her as she's still alive."
When Jon realized that Thom wasn't responding, he snapped, "What're you looking for that could be more important than Alanna?" There are hardly any more important things than Alanna, he thought inwardly.
"I won't need to be at her funeral," he said, sounding miles away.
"Thom, you have to be there. And so does your father. I can't believe that you're going to let your own sister die without so much as a good bye!" he yelled, infuriated.
"Don't tell my father," Thom ordered urgently. "He'll just mess everything up, as always."
"Thom, what in Mithros' name are you doing!" Jon barked.
He looked at him before he walked out the door, his eyes dancing and filled with fear, anger, and life. "I'm going to save my sister."
Before going into the Exotic Garden, he was required to show a piece of paper that said he had been given permission to enter. He quickly asked Si-Cham to sign the permission slip. "I'm going to conduct some experiments on a certain plant," he lied, earning him a suspicious glower from the Master.
He signed anyhow, knowing that Thom wasn't foolish enough to cause trouble with a mere plant. But after he left, Si-Cham sent a mage to look after him, just to be safe.
Thom showed the guard the paper and he let him in with a wary glance at the expert mage. The purple-eyed mage was watched by all eyes. He was a mystery, a threat. Moreover, he didn't like contact with people in the City. This led to rumors such as 'he's working for Carthak, trying to overrun Tortall.' Most didn't reach Thom's ears, or he didn't really mind; he was too absorbed in learning all he could.
Now, all he wanted —no, needed —to do was find the Chalint, the sole cure to his sister's ailment. He looked around and spotted a mage in a green robe stained by darker green and colorful petals. "Hmm…" he said to himself, trying to remember the mage's name. "You, Ramat, is it?"
The mage looked around curiously and found Thom. All of a sudden, his curious expression switched to that of dread. "It's Robert. And I thank you for remembering your manners," he drawled sarcastically.
"Yes, of course, Robert," Thom said hastily. "D'you happen to know where the Chalint is?"
The mage he addressed cocked a brown eyebrow. "Chalint? Why d'you need it? Has someone been poisoned?"
He sighed. Must everyone nose into his business? "I'm going to conduct some experiments on it," he lied, not for the first time.
But Robert saw the lie clearly. The mixture of haste, fear, and worry that overtook Thom showed; he didn't even bother to block a truth seeking spell. "Your sister has Tommelbur poisoning? No wonder you're so unsettled."
This is why I don't talk to Robert, the copper-haired sorcerer thought irritably. He's like a soft convent girl. So emotional and… sympathetic. But he cursed himself all the same. How could he let this trainee slip through his defenses?
"Yeah, they're in aisle P-9," Robert said, a worried look on his face. "Good luck."
"Thank you," he said offhandedly, rushing to where he specified. Chalint was a type of cactus with thorns widely used for potions and acupuncture. Inside the green, rubbery shell was sweet tasting milk that clung onto toxins and brought it through the excretory through sweating or defecating.
"It'll be terrible," Thom said to himself. "But the ordeal will certainly be worth it."
"I never even knew you had a sister."
Thom looked up into Robert's gray-green eyes and groaned. It was either he ran very fast or he knew how to teleport because he could've sworn that he was on the other side of the room.
"I don't, so forget whatever you read in my mind." To the public, he really didn't have a sister. And he knew that Alanna wanted it to stay that way —at least, until she won her shield.
"But I read it loud and clear: your sister is sick," he insisted.
"No, I simply made you think that what my mind said was the truth," he said offhandedly, saying whatever first came to his mind. "It was an illusion of sorts." He took out his tree tapper and plunged the end into the cactus. He held the container where the milk dripped out and let it levitate there with a spell, trying not to overdo it. To his luck, it didn't fly through the Exotic Garden.
"Is there even a spell like that?" Robert asked as the other mage worked. Thom nodded. "But why go through all that trouble when you could just put an anti-truth wall up?"
"Because I wanted to test it out," he said, pausing the milk collection to wipe his forehead with the face towel. "See if it worked."
"And you really think that I'll believe that?" he asked, disbelieving.
"Yes, Robert. Because I'm sure you don't want to speak with me. You want to continue whatever you were doing in aisle B-4." He brought the cup level to his face to inspect it. It looked like healthy Chalint juice. Now, he had to get it to her. He couldn't trust anyone else to bring it to her; he had to deliver it himself. But how could he get there in less than a week?
"On second thought… Would you like to help save my sister?" He looked at Robert questioningly.
Robert couldn't deny an offer to help. And besides, his study could wait until the next day. "Just tell me what to do."
"I'd like it if you helped me create a spell or a potion to make myself a bird," he said thoughtfully.
The brunet's eyes widened. "It'll be terribly hard."
"But I know we're both wonderful sorcerers," he reasoned, turning on his charm. "Come, walk with me." He knew that he was using the poor mage, but if it meant saving Alanna, he didn't care.
The same moment Thom walked into the Exotic Garden, Faithful brought a dazed Raoul through the infirmary door.
Alanna, Raoul was looking for you. He said something about confessing his emotions, I think, the cat informed her before making for the door. He stopped talking when I asked who he was going to confess to so I just guessed. Good luck. And he was gone.
"Faithful just…" Raoul was still in shock. "The cat… it spoke to me. Cats… can…" He collapsed into a chair. "I've gone mad, I'm sure of it. Mithros, help me."
"It's eerie, I know," Charm said, amusement in her voice. "Especially with its purple eyes."
Raoul looked up and set his deep black eyes on the blonde. "Oh, hello. It's…" He snapped his fingers, trying to recall her name.
"Charmaine," she obliged with a smile that said 'I get that a lot.' "We met when Thalia first arrived."
He looked at the ceiling for a while, trying to scavenge the memory from his mind. He looked back at her and nodded. "Yes. I remember now. Charmaine. Get well soon." He put on a wide smile.
"Thank you," she said, smiling sheepishly.
Raoul looked at the pile of sheets on his right side. "Is that Ariana?" he wondered aloud. The blanket moved into a tighter ball. "Ariana, is that you? Why're you sick? What happened?" The questions just tumbled out of him, concern plain on his handsome face.
"Ariana, Raoul of Goldenlake is here to speak with you," Charm said cautiously.
The convent girl never really suspected that she was asleep; the soft, meaningless muttering and groans were enough to ensure her that Alanna was quite awake.
Under the sheets, Alanna's eyes widened. She'd managed to make the tears trickle out, little by little, because she couldn't stop it entirely. Why is Raoul here? She asked herself.
She peeked through a hidden space in between the covers and saw the big knight's tunic. He was leaning over her, trying to see if she was awake. "Raoul?" She threw the covers off. "What're you doing here?"
He looked down and saw the pink quality of amethyst eyes. She had long let go of the spell. "Have you been crying?" he asked. "And are you lightheaded?"
"No, I haven't been crying," she snapped. "I just woke up. And why are you asking if I'm lightheaded?"
He straightened. "Your eyes are purple."
Alanna's eyes widened and she said, "Then yes, I'm lightheaded. Terrible headache I've got, really."
Raoul looked down. "Okay. Then I'll be going. Get well soon." He turned to leave.
"Wait." She grabbed hold of Raoul's wrist and he looked back. "Would you like to know the truth?"
He cocked a coal brow. "The truth?" The short period of time that they'd been acquaintances was the cause for his confusion; he didn't know her long enough to exactly know what she meant. Perhaps she likes me, he thought, excitement running through his veins. "Sure."
"You might want to sit down for this," she said, patting the bed. He obeyed.
Charm was looking at the two with wide eyes, wondering what would happen. She's telling him, isn't she? She thought excitedly. Ooh, I wonder how he'll react!
Alanna breathed in deeply. Okay, she thought nervously. No need to beat around the bush. She wiped sweaty palms on the sheets.
"Raoul of Goldenlake, I am Alan of Trebond, Jonathan's squire. I'm a girl. The name given to me by my father is Alanna."
Her long-time friend blinked at her. "You must believe I'm an idiot to believe such a joke," he said, nervous laughter erupting from his throat. So much for hope will make dreams come true, he thought grudgingly.
She looked down shamefully and took off her wig with a shake of her head to fix her fiery locks in place. "I'm the squire who you stood up for against Ralon." She looked up into his deep black eyes, expecting rage, disappointment, heartbreak. But she saw confusion. It seemed that she needed the whole story.
"When I was ten, me and my brother switched places. I went to the palace, he went to the convent. I cut my hair, bound up my…" she trailed off and waved a hand over her chest. Raoul nodded in understanding, a blush working its way on his cheeks.
"I worked my hardest to keep up and I became Jon's squire. But then, I decided to wear a stupid dress," she spat out the words, "and I bumped into you. Jon talked me into ending it softly with you but after we danced… I just didn't have the heart."
Painful hope flashed in his eyes. She didn't have the heart! He thought. So I have a chance!
She went on through Jon helping her, Gary asking her if he could her escort, and the poem that she had almost forgotten. "Speaking of your poem, was it really you who wrote it?"
"Wait…" Raoul said. "So you're Ariana and Alan?" He ran his fingers through his curls. "This is so confusing."
"I'm Alanna, Raoul. I'm a girl. So don't be afraid that you fell in love with your own sex," Alanna retorted.
Charm giggled and covered her mouth, reminding herself that eavesdropping was bad —and it was worse when she was discovered eavesdropping. "Sorry. I was thinking of a joke I heard before," she said, pursing her lips to stop from giggling some more.
"Oh, and Charm knows this as well," Alanna added.
"That's amazing, Alanna." His voice held pure awe. He was certain that with this secret, he had fallen even further. "You're amazing!"
"So you're not mad at me?"
The knight blinked at her. "For what?"
"What d'you mean 'for what?' I lied to you! And you trusted me." This had been one of the most dreaded moments of her life for a long time. Now that it was happening, she started to wonder why it was so terrifying before.
Sure, she had lied to her. But if she'd wanted to be a knight all her life, she wouldn't have gone through all that hard work just to fulfill her dream. And besides, she was one of his best friends. How could he get mad at her?
"Alan —Er,— Ariana…" Raoul sighed. "This is a lot to take down. Just wait for it all to sink in. I'll get used to it soon enough."
Alanna laughed. "My name's Alanna. I swear I said so before I told you the story."
"Yes, Alanna," Raoul said, a tinge of mockery in his voice. "But one can forget. Especially on such short notice."
"But didn't you notice anything before?" she wondered aloud. "Surely, there were some subtle hints— things I couldn't help for the life of me."
"Well, you never swam, not even after I asked you to. But I excused that because of your fear of drowning." Alanna made a face at that; she disliked ever admitting her fears. "And then there was your size." The girl pursed her lips; that was a bit of a touchy subject as well. He bit suddenly dry lips. "And then there was your delicate little nose. The notes that rang in your voice when you spoke."
The insults were gone, the lighthearted light in his eyes faded. Alanna shifted uncomfortably under his intense stare. She did not like being scrutinized. "Notes?" she questioned.
As the pair sat in silence, Charm looked between the two. Gods, it's like watching an opera! She thought, excited. So dramatic!
His lips twitched. Gods, she couldn't make confessing easy, could she? "The musical quality in your voice."
Anxiety filled her laugh. "I have no musical quality in my voice." She attempted in vain to make it sound mocking but it came out shaky, disbelieving.
His voice grew more nervous with every word. "Then perhaps it was your stubbornness. The way you thrust your chin forward when you feel a debate coming. The way you always have to prove yourself. And the truth that you don't really need to." He was beating around the bush, he knew. Obtuse approaches were not his forte— in fact, it took a long time to even muster up courage!
His face coloured significantly, and Alanna didn't see the big burly Raoul who walked onto the battlefield in Tusaine. Not now. She saw the shy, level-headed Raoul —someone that hadn't been hidden inside, merely overlooked by eyes searching vaguely. "Surely, there were some subtle hints—things I couldn't help for the life of me."
She groaned inwardly. Did all her words have to be used as weapons against her? She had to wait for some moisture in her mouth before she could respond. "I have no idea what you're talking about…" She tossed her head to one side, deliberately avoiding his eyes.
He snorted, eyes properly downcast. Shouldn't she know that someone she'd known for so long would be able to read her? "You ought to know."
She pursed her lips. "I don't need to do anything about it," she remonstrated.
"So you do know." His eyes flicked up to meet hers, face still as red as a tomato. "You have no clue how relieved I was when I found 'Ariana.'" He noticed that as she sat up, Alanna went pale, and then red again. Her cheeks puffed up and she retched, a black-red liquid spilling from her mouth.
"Call Duke Baird," she said, looking up to meet worried eyes.
Raoul rose to obey. A part of him damned his timing. Of all the times of the day, I confessed when she threw up…
Alanna was relieved when he left the room. She didn't want anyone else to like her. She wanted to keep herself to, well, herself. But you did want someone to keep you company, a small part of her —probably the meddling Goddess within her— said. Someone who wasn't your best friend. Admit it. You like Raoul. She wiped her lips. And besides, if you really wanted to drive him away, you would've aimed for him when you threw up.
But she sighed that he had to leave. She still didn't get the answer to her question: Was Raoul's poem truly written by him?
(A/N) Hi! OMG!~ It is finally up! I am so sorry for keeping you guys waiting! You'ven't a clue how hard it is to deal with a sick character. I had to change 'Ariana's' dialogue so many times to fit the sickness, her personality, and the storyline. Goddess, I hope she gets better— and soon. Muahahaha! Can anyone guess the pairings? I've decided now and I have an ending in mind. (because if I don't figure out an ending, then this fic will go on and on.)
Gah! I reread this, and I really wanted to edit it . because... Raoul is so OOC! It was originally supposed to be... wait. I shouldn't tell you guys, should I? Hmph. It was supposed to be *Blank* so I sort of just replaced his name with Raoul's. So sorry 'bout that!
Anyways, I hope this makes up for my incredibly long absence. It's 6100+ words! And that's not including this A/N. So please forgive me. *puppy dog pout*
Teeehee. I was so tickled when I saw so many have my story on alert. ^_^ Thank you to those who reviewed! Mithros, this is getting long!
Until next time, readers! I hope you liked this chapter! And as always, reviews are wondersome! (No, I don't think wondersome is a real word but it sounds... wondersome! So I'm going to use it) :D
Warmest Regards,
Nell
P.S. D'you guys like long or short chapters? And why? Please feel free to tell me by reviewing or PMing. I always love to hear from my readers! And also feel free to guess who the pairings will be in the end. :3