Alanna's dreams were plagued with visions of her friends getting hurt, going away, falling into a crevasse. These caused her to wake up sweaty, throat sore from screeching. These certainly were not symptoms of the tommelbur poisoning, right? This was just her mind, worried for the people around her, worried that when she died, no one would be able to protect them.

A night passed and Raoul didn't leave her bedside. He slept in a cot beside them, ate breakfast, lunch and dinner there. He only left to train for an hour because Jon wouldn't stop nagging him about getting out of shape.

"You're lucky," Charm murmured. "A man always by your side."

"Oh, shush, Charm," the squire chided. "I never wanted any of this; how am I lucky?"

"Alanna, d'you think that I might die soon?"

The violet-eyed girl looked at her friend sharply. She knew that the chances of their survival were very slim. But she also knew that the knowledge of that wouldn't help. "I believe that whether you'll die soon or not, you should live every day to its fullest." She swallowed.

Charm sighed. "So you do think that I might die soon…"

This was not Charmaine. Charmaine was the bubbly, flirty, random, ditsy convent girl gossip that had befriended her at her first ball. Not 'Charm', the depressed girl on her deathbed.

"I don't, Charm," Alanna said sternly. "Don't lose hope. We don't even know what this illness is so don't give me that crap."

The convent girl's eyes shined with held back tears but the edges of her lips pulled up into a smile. "I'll make sure that I won't let any such crap escape my mouth."

"Good." The red-haired girl settled back on her pillow and yawned. She was sleepy.

"And you're sure this will do the trick?" Thom asked Robert.

The green-robed mage nodded. "The Hawk's feather was from my very own Goshawk: Regim. And the Wallink syrup was straight from the adult in the Exotic Garden."

Thom gave a thoughtful 'hmph'. "Very well. If this works, then put the vial's string in my beak."

"And you should also bring some of the potion," Rob told him. "We don't know when it'll run out."

The violet-eyed mage rolled his eyes. "Oh, fine." He said an alien word and the potion glowed bright purple then faded back to its original greenish- blue. "Now, it should last for two days— and that's only half of the potion."

"Show off," Robert scoffed, annoyed.

"I'm drinking it now," Thom said, ignoring the tone in his colleague's voice. "Be ready."

He gulped down half of the concoction and winced. He felt his bones lighten as they were exchanged for the hollow ones of a bird. Hair turned into feathers and his face into that of a hawk's: pointed beak and eyes looking forward, the sign of a predator.

He screeched, telling Robert to get the vial's string. The Green-robed mage obeyed and watched him fly through the room's window. "Mithros, Mother of Mountains, and Asintha," he whispered, eyes closed. "Please keep him safe, and please make sure that his sister survives."

Gary set his tray down beside Jon. "What's wrong?" He climbed into his seat, a piece of bread already in his mouth.

"Nothing," Jon said. It wasn't convincing; the monotonous word he uttered carried sorrow and regret, two things that Jon didn't have with him normally.

"And you expect me to believe that?" his brunet cousin asked, amusement in his voice.

The prince shook his head hopelessly and Gary laughed. "There's no use just moping about it, then. Go ahead and spit it out."

"What's wrong with Jon?" Alex joined their table, an odd addition considering he'd drifted away ever since he'd gone under Roger's care.

The brown-eyed man shrugged. "He's just brooding."

"About what, I suppose?" The slim knight looked at the coal-haired one, a calculating expression on his face.

"It's better just to leave him. He looked the same ten years ago, when his pet cat died."

Alex raised his brows, surprised. "Cat?"

Gary nodded. "I just hope it won't last as long."

The prince wasn't listening to the conversation around him. He had to do something! He couldn't let Alanna die just like that. He sighed and poked at the food in front of him. But he also knew that going to her wouldn't help either of them.

He had never heard words that stung so much like onions in the eye, much less words like that from her. He didn't want to remember them. So he lifted his head up. "How about we go for a ride," he suggested.

The two knights smiled. "Now, that's the Jon we know."

"Alanna, if we're going to die, I want to thank you."

Charm tore the blanket of silence that the female squire had been enjoying for more than an hour.

"Charm, that's not—" She was cut off.

"Just shut up, Alanna. I wanted to tell you something." Her tone was that of a four year old, being taken of her doll.

The purple-eyed patient laughed. "Go ahead."

"I want to thank you," she repeated, shifting under the covers. They'd changed into a ward's attire: a plain blue dress made for comfort, not fashion. Alanna squirmed and refused that any healer touch her; scars on a 'prim and proper' noble lady would surely make them speculate.

"Before coming to the palace," she continued. "I'd been alone."

Alanna's eyes widened. "You? Alone?"

"Yes, now shush. This is my moment," Charm snapped, making her friend go silent. "I'd been too talkative and the other girls turned to avoiding me. Even the instructors didn't like me. They said that I was too loquacious and plain weird. That I was unbecoming. Then, I met a boy during summer." She turned on her side and closed her eyes, smiling.

Silence passed. Alanna wasn't sure whether her friend had fallen asleep, lost courage, or had been daydreaming.

"And then?" Alanna prompted. "You wanted to tell a story, and now that you get the chance, you don't finish it?"

Charm shook her head to clear it of her daydream. "Right. Sorry." She blushed. "Anyways, his name was Oswald and he had the most perfect green eyes ever. Not to mention his hair was the perfect messy. But enough about appearance!"

The blue-eyed noble giggled. "We'd watch the sunset from my window sill, and he'd tell me stories about his life as he made a ring of flowers and then I'd tell him some stories as I drew him in a sketchbook… That'd happen every evening and he'd go once the sun had disappeared. I'ven't a clue how he became so good at jumping from tall places. He said that he grew up as a mere peasant."

Charmaine's bubbly tone vanished with a gulp and a lump in her throat. "And then one day, he joked about running away from everything. His problems, his family... I didn't believe him. Then, a week after, I ended up sitting there… drawing a ring of flowers, waiting for someone that wouldn't come. I stayed there the next day as well, and ended up waiting for nothing. Hoping for nothing. I believed… that he really ran away."

Alanna jumped at the sudden sobbing. She'd never heard her friend cry before. In truth, she hadn't heard someone cry so sorrowfully and meaningfully since Francis' funeral. She heard footsteps. Her eyes flicked to the door way to see Jon at the door.

"So… That explains your opinion of men." His voice came out quiet, unsteady.

The red-headed page widened her eyes at the prince. His clothes were soaked through with sweat and smeared with mud. Where had he gone to get so… filthy?

Charm's laugh broke her musing. Not a giggly, girly, flamboyant laugh. A laugh. Genuinely amused little laugh.

"Of all the things to come to mind, Alanna, you think of such an odd, perverse, unrelated question!"

"Charm!" Alanna said in an urgent whisper.

Jon wiped the sweat off his forehead. "It's not Alanna." He walked over and sat on his squire's bed.

The blonde turned around slowly, but quickly went under the covers once he saw his sapphire eyes, looking expectantly at her. "My greatest apologies, Prince Jonathan. I am not decent. I mustn't show my face."

The boy sighed.

"What are you doing here, Jon?" Alanna chided, trying to make her voice loud enough for Jon to hear and yet quiet enough so Charm couldn't.

"Someone was joking around while we were out for a ride and Gary ended up getting stuck in a lake of sludge. It took all three of us to get him out." He rubbed the back of his neck. "He's fine now. So I made my way back and heard you two."

"And then you decided to eavesdrop," Alanna sneered. "Of course."

He opened his mouth to protest but shut it quickly when he realized that there was nothing worth saying.

The squire let out a small 'hmph' and glared at him. "Now, go away. I've a feeling that Charm won't get out from under the sheets until you do."

The coal-haired knight bit his lip. He looked at the lump of blankets, eyes worried and contemplating. Perhaps he was wondering whether or not he could do anything to help. In the end, he stood. "May all gods bless, ladies. And may you two recover from this illness." With that, he walked out of the room, heels the only sound filling the silence.

"Mithros, Mynoss, and Shakith!" the blue-eyed convent girl said, rubbing her face and emerging from the white cloth. "The prince makes me so nervous! Oh, I can't believe he heard all of that!"

"Right," she said, a bit dizzy. She could feel it coming. Her saliva was getting thin. Her stomach about to heave. She went over the side of the bed and wretched above the basin ready for her upchuck. There was something new. The blood she spit up was purple. "I don't know what that means…" She collapsed back on the bed and coughed. "But it certainly isn't good." With that mumble, she lost consciousness.

Thom the hawk wobbled uneasily as he glided through the azure sky at top speed, the vial still in his beak. He had an uneasy feeling in his stomach, and he wasn't sure if it meant it was time for lunch or if something bad was happening.

He wobbled a bit more, cursing his lack of physical endurance. It wasn't only the flying that took its toll on him; it was the low temperatures. If one handed him a spell for flying, he could configure, dissect, and rebuild it in less than an hour and spend the rest of the day considering how it worked, where it originated, and if he could make it better. But if one told him to fly, he wouldn't last more than several hours. Surprisingly, he had already been in the air for five hours.

The wizard stubbornly pierced through the sky, putting a spell on his little body to keep his stamina up. He had to get there as soon as possible, and the potion he drank had only three hours left. He had to keep going. Not one minute could be wasted.

He flew over a dense forest, blanketed by a layer of snow. Perhaps he could find an unfrozen river or a lake for him to drink and rest. He certainly needed to rest soon. Passing out would waste more time than stopping. If it takes roughly seven days to travel there on horse-back, and goshawks can travel three times the speed of a horse… it should take at most three days, he thought.

He sighed inwardly. It was still much too long. He needed to get to his sister as fast as possible. But he could only fly on, and settle for the current circumstances.

The hawk felt like he was flying more than one hundred and fifty miles per hour, although he was well aware that he couldn't stay at that rate for too long. All this flying got him thinking, hoping, regretting. What if he was held up? And then it'd be too late?

He cursed and cursed and cursed himself. He should've known by the time Alanna reached out to him that something bad was going to happen to her sister. Why didn't he act upon those instincts? Why couldn't he leave his experiments for once?

The forest thinned beneath him, and he noticed a river. I may as well rest for a while, he mused. Within half a second, he was diving at more than one hundred miles per hour down to the river, and he only swooped up when he was about to make contact with the water. Perhaps I could get used to this form, he thought, laughing inwardly. He settled at the river bank.

"What's that…"

A voice came from behind him and he turned carefully, fear washing over him. It had been a long time since he felt fear. He was one of the best students at the City of the Gods, and it was usually him who was feared. But he knew he was vulnerable as a bird, and he wasn't sure whether whoever found him was friendly with winged creatures.

Thalia swooped through the palace halls. If anyone else walked so fast, they'd look weird, and troubled. But Thalia didn't. She still looked like a princess, her hair flowing behind her as she smiled at the people she passed by. It was a mystery how she did it, she had her own brand of magic.

After a few turns, she arrived at her destination: Ariana and Charmaine's room. She took a moment to catch her breath before she opened the door. What she saw didn't surprise her, but it also didn't exactly make her rejoice. Ariana and Charmaine were asleep and pale, lying on two individual beds. Her blue eyes almost filled with tears. Both of the women that she'd entrusted her product to looked like they were at the Black God's Door. She also saw an extremely large man in a tunic and breaches, his curly hair unruly.

"Oh, my…" The two whispers sounded delicate and concerned, the way a princess's speech should.

The man turned and set black eyes on her. He stood and bowed to her, as he would to any lady. "Good day, madam," he said formally. "I take it you're here to see Ariana and Charmaine." Courtesy required him to welcome and entertain her.

She curtsied, and smiled a warm smile— one that would cause anyone's insides to melt and skin to go red. But he didn't blush, he only smiled back. Was he courting Ariana? She didn't know. But it sure looked like love was in his eyes.

"Excuse me, sir. But could I have the honor of knowing your name?" she said, venturing further into the room. She an ermine cloak over her floor-long emerald layered dress. She took the cloak off for now and set it on an oak chair, since the room was being heated by a hearth. She offered him her hand.

"Raoul of Goldenlake." He took his hand in hers, and kissed the back of it. "And yours?"

She raised her brows. He'd actually forgotten her. "Thalia, princess of Galla."

His eyes widened. "My greatest apologies." His mutter was accompanied by a deeper bow.

"Pay my title no heed," Thalia said. "How are they faring?" A worried look crossed her face, but was quickly washed away. Worry lines were not what a princess needed.

Raoul sighed. "We don't know what's causing the sickness. Ala—" He caught his own tongue. "Ariana, she threw up purple blood." A shiver went down his spine. "Duke Baird believes that maybe her Gift is fighting the illness, but I don't know…" He turned to stare at Ariana's face. "She doesn't look any better."

Thalia put a hand on his shoulder. "I know. I'm concerned as well. But with Ariana's fighting spirit, I'm sure she'll get well anytime now." She didn't need to say anything reassuring about Charm; he didn't seem to mind her that much.

His lips twitched in an effort to smile. "I hope that what you say is true, Princess."

"You're so pale that you seem to have gotten sick as well," she remarked. "Have you even eaten supper?"

His head flicked to look at her, eyes wide with shock. "Is it twilight already?"

"Much past. I rode out as the sun began to sink behind the horizon."

He looked between the door and Ariana. He was probably choosing which to choose: food or watching over her. She strode further in and sat at Ariana's bedside. "You can go, Raoul. I'll watch over them for the time being."

His right cheek sank in, and it seemed like he was chewing something. She figured that he was chewing on his cheek. "Take care of her. And watch out for throw up, and incoherent nonsense coming out of her mouth. Tell her that I went to eat dinner, and that I'll be back soon."

Thalia smiled. She recognized that worry very well. It was how a lover would worry. "Go on. I'll be sure to do just that."

With a final look, he dashed out of the door. She could still hear his heavy footsteps even as the door slammed shut.

"My dear, what have you gotten yourself into?" she whispered to Ariana, although she was obviously asleep. Ariana stirred, and she realized that her locks were red, not black. Also they were too short to be hers. Perhaps they cut it off and dyed it? That wouldn't make sense.

The princess rubbed a specific part on her neck, brows knit together in thought. It could very well be that the sickness got to her hair… but if it had reached that far, then would she not be dead? Also, Charmaine's hair didn't seem to have changed.

"Jonathan…"

For a moment, she thought that she was awake. But she soon realized that Ariana was only talking in her sleep. "Shh…"

"But Jonathan… He needs me…" She rolled over.

Thalia inhaled sharply. What could this mean? Was she having a strange vision, where she played the role of a knight and she was going to save the prince? Although that seemed like a beautiful idea, it was pretty farfetched. Although that didn't mean that Ariana couldn't experience it in a dream.

And then there was an awful possibility. She could've been cheating on Raoul. Or, if Raoul was only courting her, then she might've been more interested in Jonathan than in him! She sighed. "Poor Raoul… And Jonathan isn't even at her bedside like he is…" Thalia couldn't blame her, though. Who couldn't fall in love with the crown prince? Tall, handsome, smart, charming, witty. Even Thalia herself found herself attracted to him— but she couldn't let people know that, and she couldn't let herself fall. She was a princess, and although it was a lovely place, Tortall was not her home.

She found herself thinking back to the sickness itself. Wasn't there any way she could help? She'd been watching mages at work for a year and a half now; she must've picked up something useful. She dug up her mind for something resourceful. What could've caused the sickness?

Allergies? No, the chances of them both being allergic are slim, since they're very distant relatives… She moved onto the knuckle of her thumb. Something dirty? That could be it. They spend enough time together for it… Her mind continues to go on, cogs working slowly but surely.

When she started chewing the base of her thumb, she realized that the things she was thinking of must've been thought of before. She'd need to have more information to conduct a proper investigation. And the two people she could've asked were asleep and sick.

She groaned. Boredom and helplessness: two of the things that she hated the most. She stood, if only just to move around. In an attempt to start pacing, her heel caught on a part of the rug, and she fell onto Ariana's legs. She yelped, and then bit her tongue. She was in a room with two sleeping patients! Ariana stirred, successfully kicking Thalia's back. But the princess couldn't open her mouth, or else she'd wake them up.

Slowly— very slowly— she tried to remove herself from the bed. She was incredibly thankful that Raoul had left; otherwise she would've been downright shamed.

Her attempt to escape was soiled, however, when Ariana hooked her leg onto Thalia and kicked her back down. "You're doing that on purpose!" she whispered, outraged. But she reminded herself to keep a level head. She breathed deeply in and out, and tried to wriggle out of her hold.

"Don't leave me…" Ariana whined in her sleep. A tinge of fear was laced in her voice. Thalia wondered just what was going on in her dream.

She sighed. "I suppose that I'll just stay here, then…"

Not a minute later, Ariana yawned and woke up. She moved her legs, trying to investigate what was caught in them. She propped herself on her elbows and saw Thalia. "What in Mithros' name are you doing in my legs, Princess!?"

Thalia closed her eyes and scoffed. Really? Of all times? But Ariana released her, and she was thankful. She sat up on the bed, and studied Ariana's face. Something seemed off. Were her eyes actually purple? "I came to see how you and Charm were faring. I'd heard that the two of you were sick with an unknown sickness."

She stared at her, and Ariana squirmed. "Is there something on my face?" she demanded, embarrassed.

"Your eyes… were they always that shade of purple?" The princess tilted her head, eyes squinting.

"Well, of cour—" Her eyes widened, and she slapped her hand over her mouth. "I mean. I'm lightheaded. I said that when my eyes are purple, I get lightheaded. That's all."

Thalia sighed and put pressure on a specific part below her ear. "That was a terrible cover, Ariana. What really are you hiding?"

Ariana chewed on her thumb, her face coloring for just a moment. "You should probably listen carefully if you want me to tell you, Princess Thalia." She gulped, and by the looks of it, she looked like she was having a hard time.

She blinked at her. What did she expect to find out? She certainly had no idea that there was actually something so important to have a warning. "Go on… I'm all ears."

Alanna shifted under the sheets. She'd very well forgotten that she was Ariana for the moment, and that she was supposed to be wearing her wig.

How was she supposed to say this? She'd only known Thalia for what—a week? She couldn't possibly explain it to her, and then have her understand and forgive her. But she was on her deathbed, and she didn't want to die with all these secrets to her friends.

"Okay…" she breathed.

"Ariana, you've repeated that very word several times," Thalia said, lips pulling up to form a held back smile.

"Okay…" She shook her head to clear her thoughts. She had to say it someday— and that day seemed to be the most convenient. I'll just blurt it out. She looked down. "I'm Alanna of Trebond, and I'm trying for knighthood." Her words must've been so fast that Thalia wouldn't understand. She half hoped that she didn't— then she could laugh it off and dismiss the whole thing. But if she demanded to know, then she'd be forced to say it all over again.

Thalia's lips pulled to a grim line. She seemed to have heard. "Ariana, if this is a farce, now isn't the time for one."

"It's not, Thalia. I swear by Mithros." She looked up to meet stormy blue eyes. The princess' pupils moved a lot, as if examining every inch of Alanna's face. The squire did not like it.

"I believe you," Thalia finally said.

Alanna let out a little sigh of relief.

"But I still don't understand at all." Her brows furrowed in confusion.

"Alright…" It was more of a sigh than a word. "I'll explain."

She retold her story: the one that she'd only repeated to two people before she put on a dress. And now, after the uncomfortable ordeal, she has repeated it to two more people. Thalia would be fifth.

The princess nodded as she told her story, fingers sometimes picking at the sheets and lips sometimes twitching at the content. By the time she finished, the sheets were full of wrinkles and had a hole in it.

"Do you get it now?" It had been moments since she'd ended the story.

Thalia grinned; that was the last thing Alanna thought that she'd do. "Ariana, you are amazing!" She gave her a quick but firm hug. "Imagine that! Switching places, becoming a knight. It's a beautiful dream come true!" Alanna croaked to be let go, and Thalia obeyed. "Sorry 'bout that."

Alanna smiled a bit. "It's okay. And my name's Alanna of Trebond."

Thalia sighed. "If only I could do the same thing."

You wouldn't want to, Alanna thought. Thalia had the spirit, that was true, but she'd need extra hard to get to where Alanna was. Not to mention she'd have to fake a boy's voice, and by her shrill tone, it seemed that she wouldn't succeed at that.

The door slammed open to reveal Raoul. Alanna jumped, and then settled down. "It's you."

"Sorry. I had to eat." He wiped what looked like a semi-thick whitish substance off his chin. Alanna didn't want to know what it was.

Thalia's eyes darted between Alanna and Raoul. Perhaps she should've left. "I'll visit Prince Jonathan. There's something I'd like to ask him. Call me if Charm wakes up." With that, Thalia took her cloak and walked out the door.

"Well, don't just wait in the doorway, you big dolt," Alanna chided.

Raoul blushed and ducked his head as he closed the door. "I believe we have a conversation to continue…"

The squire bit her lip. She couldn't run for the exit. She could hardly make it past the bucket. "I suppose."

"I was saying that… I was so glad to find "Ariana." Because I'd fallen in love with…" He set large black eyes on hers. "I-I thought that I'd fallen in love with a man: A-Alan."

For some reason, that made Alanna's stomach warm. She felt giddy, and she swore that her neck was red. It was an odd feeling, but she didn't want to banish it away. She felt happy, too. She was ecstatic to hear that Raoul loved her before she even wore a dress. And that he only loved Ariana with the dress because society said that men could not love other men.

"You're smiling," Raoul said. "I don't know what that means. Are you laughing at me or happy or just smiling?" He rubbed his hands on his breeches. His face was incredibly red.

Her eyes widened. She hadn't realized she'd been smiling. Alanna wiped her mouth, as if that could wipe the grin off her face. Surprisingly, it worked."Sorry." Raoul sat on a chair by her bed. The moments passed in silence. Alanna groped for something to say. You're forgetting something, she insisted to herself. You're forgetting something very important!

"The letter!" she finally said, thinking aloud. She put a hand to her lips. "A letter. I received a letter, and it said that it was from you. I was never sure, though."

Raoul's brows furrowed. "Letter?" He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. "I haven't even given it to you yet…"

"Then what was the thing I read a few nights ago?"

The big knight shrugged. "Why would anyone forge a love note? Maybe if I saw it, then I could determine the writing, or the style."

"I left it in my room," she muttered. She felt angry, betrayed. Someone had given her a fake love letter, and she wanted to know who the culprit was. "I'll deal with that later. And so should you." Sternness filled her eyes as she stared at Raoul. "Go to sleep. In your own chambers. I don't need a guard."

Raoul shook his head. "I don't know why, but I feel that if I leave you alone… something or someone'll get to you." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Please understand, I just don't want you to stay safe."

Alanna wondered about what he'd said. Something or someone'll get to you. He didn't have the Gift; how could he know that something was out to get her? Maybe they had a strange connection. But that was too odd for Alanna. "Alright. But be sure to rest— either here or your room. We don't need any more sick people on our shoulders.

Raoul chuckled.

The bird shuffled, as if trying to find its footing. George Cooper looked at it. It was a very odd sight, a bird standing on level ground. He stepped closer, his leather boots lined with ermine making a crunching sound of the snow. It had a black and brown pattern from the back, and a sharp downward beak. Its eyes were set forward, like a predator. But something was different with this one. Its eyes held intelligence. The bird turned.

His hazel eyes widened as he was taken aback, startling the hood of his cloak off. The bird's front was white with black spots, a lot like ermine. But that wasn't out of the ordinary. What caught his attention was the vial hanging at its mouth. It was probably a messenger bird of some sort. But messenger birds could only deliver messages so far. What was this one doing in the middle of the forest, having a break?

If George wasn't sure that it was a bird, he could've sword that recognition flashed in its eyes. It cawed, a shrill sound erupting from its mouth. The vial fell. Any other bird would've flown away at the sight of a human, yet this one was cawing at him. Perhaps he was in its territory? No, a bird with a vial was domesticated, certainly.

After a long time of cawing, it moved its head as if stretching its neck in exhaustion. It began scratching the snow. "What in Mithros' name…?" Once the bird was finished, it walked out of the way so George could read.

Thom.

"Thom?" He had heard of Alanna's twin, but he was sure that her twin was a boy that looked very much like Alanna. And he was sure that Thom wasn't a bird. "If you're really Thom, nod your head. Or scrape the snow three times." The bird did both of what was mentioned. His brows furrowed. It was true that his Sight led him to things that were a bit odd, but this was rather unnatural. Nonetheless, he trusted his instincts that this was Thom.

"What are you doing?"

Thom cawed an annoyed caw.

"Right. You can only answer yes or no questions."

Thom nodded. George sighed.

"Now, how are we supposed to figure things out if you can't answer these questions?" He stroked his chin, glaring at the ground. He was whispering more to himself than anything else. "You're in bird form for a reason, yes?"

Another nod.

"You ought to explain how you did that to me later, lad…" He wagged his finger and started pacing. "Have you heard that Alanna's sick?" He stopped and studied him. The bird nodded vigorously. "Gods, this is weird." It wasn't everyday that George spoke with birds. "Is this something about Alanna?" He knew that Thom didn't care about anyone else but his twin. A nod. "Is the vial important? And you're taking it to her?"

More nods. "And you're a bird because… of experiments?"

Thom began to shake his head no, then nodded, then went back to shaking his little bird head.

"Alright… Well…" The King of Thieves didn't know much to say. In truth, he had been on the way to the City of Gods so that he could ask a mage for assistance. Now, he probably didn't need any. "If it counts…" He took out a piece of dried meat. "I don't want you to starve and resort to hunting rodents. He tossed it to Thom, and he gobbled it up.

He cawed thanks and took off, weaving through the trees. George had to gasp at the speed of the hawk. He ought to ask Thom what breed it was and get one himself.

George made his way back to his mare, and made for the way back. It was amazing how he'd travelled so fast in one day, and then stopped at the right time to see Thom. He was relieved to know that help was on the way, and that Thom would get to Alanna before he did. But he was still worried as he rode in his saddle. The uneasy feeling made him push his mare a bit harder. He wanted to get back to Corus with his love still alive.

Jonathan of Conte stayed in his rooms late at night, contemplating. He wanted to know just what happened— where he had gone wrong. Perhaps it was too early to confess. Or too late. What if she'd fallen for Raoul already? His head started hurting. Despite the cold night, he felt hot and restless. He threw off his blanket and sat up. He clucked his tongue, rubbing his face.

Was he jealous? Alanna was way more than just a girl that he wanted to win over. She was different, and unique. He wanted her happiness. He wanted to make her happy. And he wanted her. If Raoul shared his feelings, he didn't know.

He slammed himself into the bed. If only he could stay with her! But Raoul had replaced him. That was evident. Something small pricked his heart and he rolled over. He forced himself up, just to jolt himself out of despair. He could have anyone else at court, and yet he fell in love with the only one who vowed never to fall in love. It was ridiculously stupid! Why was his heart so unreasonable?

But he knew that those were the least of his worries. Alanna was in danger. And he had no idea of what caused it. Not a single clue. Tommelbur poisoning seemed very farfetched, but still he believed Alanna. Maybe Thom had gone to help her. But time, he realized. It'd take up a lot of time. Alanna would need to endure days of hardship before her brother came to her aid. If only he could accompany her in those times.

He sighed. "Wallowing's not going to get you anywhere, Jon." With that, he climbed back into the sheets and tried very hard to doze off. In the end, he succeeded.

(A/N) Okay, I'm sorry for being absent for more than half a year. I hope this makes up for it? If any of you guys thought that I was dropping this fic, be happily informed that I have an ending and it's on the way~! :D

Have I mentioned that I love Thom? Because... I do. :3 He's my favorite Redhead — right up there with Merric.

Waah~! So I read an article on POV, and I realized that I'd been doing the wrong thing for so long. So I'm trying to fix up my writing, but it's so much easier to do it the wrong way. I hope I did well here, though. But tell me all your thoughts about this chapter in a review. It'd help me greatly! Tell me if you didn't like anything, or if there are issues that I should fix up. Or just drop me a line! I'd certainly appreciate it.

Also, I think I know why I was having a very hard time writing. Before we moved, I had my books within my reach on a bookshelf not that far away from the computer that I use. While I'd write, I would glance at my beautiful books for some reason. Maybe just to think clearly, or to remember something canon. When we moved, the computer and my books were in different rooms. I found myself staring at empty space, and maybe those books were what I needed to concentrate. So I moved it recently and here's the next chapter!

I hope you liked it! Sorry for rambling. I've missed you guys ;_; If you guys want to talk to me, just drop me a line.

Warmest Regards,

Nell