A/N: I own only the characters that no one recognizes. I hope you enjoy! I'm not sure I like this chapter. It seems kind of disjointed.
Thanks to: missgrant: I'm glad you like it and thank you for the review! And of course we will see some of our old favs! I think one might pop up either this chapter or the next. xP
Hush: I don't know who you are, but thank you for the review. Never fear! All questions will be answered in time.
Francesca was woken at dawn the next morning by knocking on the door. When she opened it Fianola grinned at her. "Get dress, and come on." The older girl ordered. Grumbling about people who didn't know how to be polite when they wake someone up, Francesca did as she was ordered. Fianola lead her on a run around the palace ground. They would pause at infrequent intervals to drop into push-up or other exercises that would help the two girls keep up with the boys. They made it back to their rooms just before the bell that signaled the start of the day rang.
"Do you do that every morning?"
Fianola replied with a shrug. "Mostly. If I need more practice with the staff or hand-to-hand or something I practice that instead."
"Why," Francesca asked before she could stop herself.
"Before I entered page training, I saw a joust. Lord Wyldon of Cavall against Lady Knight – she was a squire then – Keladry of Mindelan." Francesca wondered if Fianola was aware of the awe in her voice. "She remained in the saddle. Afterwards my sister, a friend, and I went to speak with her. She gave us some advice when we told her we wanted to go into training."
The two girls parted way to get ready for the day. It was their last day to 'laze about', according to the training master. After breakfast Alan, Traver, and Fianola led her and Liam to get palace uniforms and showed them to each classroom they would be 'forced to endure'. The day flew by; when Francesca laid down that night she decided that life at the palace wouldn't be that bad.
The next morning she rolled out of bed at Fianola's knock and let the other girl in while she changed. They went on another run and were headed back when – as they turned a corner something small, golden-brown and compact launched itself at Francesca's chest. The impact knock the girl back and without conscious thought her arms came up to grab the projectile. She looked down to meet a pair of green-gold eyes.
"What are you doing you thrice-cursed creature!" Francesca dropped the bobcat, who then began cleaning himself - apparently not seeing why the twolegger was unhappy and yelling.
"Friend of yours," Fianola asked with poorly disguised laughter.
"At the moment? No, just the cause of some bruises." That caused Fianola to lose her battle with the laughter she was trying to hide. Francesca huffed and headed for her room, ignoring the bobcat that followed her like a shadow.
"How in the world did you end up with a pet bobcat?"
"He's not a pet," Francesca said as the cat hissed. "I found him as a kit – his mama was dead, so I took him to one of the maids. She has cat-magic; he comes and goes as he pleases. I call him Rain."
"Why?"
"It was raining the day I found him." Fianola gave her an odd look before heading to her room.
Rain settled himself on Francesca's bed, ignoring the girl's dirty look. "I can't have pets. Go to the Wildmage if you have to stay." When the servant knocked on the door Francesca threw a blanket over Rain before opening the door. She ignored the thrashing blankets that were Rain. When she'd finished dressing, Francesca rushed out of her room and nearly ran into Liam, and the others. They were herded off to breakfast – Francesca ate what the others' had put on her plate, though her stomach protested at the very thought of food, she knew she'd need the energy.
"So do you know how to use any weapons?" Francesca glanced up at Alan then back down before answering.
"Yes, my brother taught me a bit of hand-to-hand, staff, sword and with the bow."
Traver whistled low. "I'm impressed. How'd you get him to do that?"
"I told him I wanted to join the Riders," Francesca admitted, shamefaced. "He didn't know my real plan until a month or so ago."
"Is your family really that against you becoming a knight? I mean, I know you said that the other night, but…"
"My family is afraid." Francesca told them with a sigh. "And I didn't tell my brother because he never asked – that and my family thought that I'd never be able to become a knight."
"Why," Fianola asked.
Because have you ever heard of a seer that was a knight? What happens if I get a vision in the middle of battle, or a joust, or practice? Does my body just freeze? Francesca just shrugged, keeping her fears to herself. They took their plate to the washers and headed off to the practice courts.
Francesca watched the Shang masters, standing towards the back. She watched as they taught each of the first years how to fall. When it was her turn to be thrown Francesca offered her hand and was unable to even attempt to hold back the vision before it slammed into her full force.
She was looking up at the sky. 'I'm flying,' was her only thought before she slammed into the ground. As she tried to get her breath back something large, white and soft nudged her face. She sat up she saw her horse. At the other end of the tilting lane she saw a knight – both of them were wearing padding a glance around revealed that they were on the practice courts.
"Feel up to another go?" the knight called out.
"Sure," Francesca muttered. "My family already thinks I'm insane – might as well prove them right."
"How'd you manage to land perfectly?" Traver's question came at the tail end of the vision.
"Umm… I told you I had some training. I guess I was lucky." Francesca hated her visions. She never knew what was happening when she had them. When the bell rang they headed off to learn staff fighting. Francesca was a nervous wreck – she never knew what triggered her visions. She knew it was probably stupid but she always hoped that if she ignored them, then maybe they'd stop.
She did well enough with the bow that the teacher told her to change from long to short then recurved bow – just to see where her talent was. When the training master announced it was time for riding all of the new pages ran. Francesca maintained pace with Traver, wishing that she'd been allowed to bring her horse from Nond. Night had been a thirteenth birthday present. She was a large black mare that – according to her brother – had come from the finest herd from the Bazhir.
Reaching the stables Francesca spotted a mare to rival her Night for beauty and grace. She moved toward the mare swiftly – praying that no one already claimed her. The mare was a grey with a dappled pattern of white and sliver that resembled snowfall.
"She'd picky miss." Francesca turned towards the voice. The man had straw colored hair that stuck out at odd angles. Francesca looked back at the horse.
"I'll take her. I think we'll do alright together. What's her name?" The man frowned at her.
"Snowstorm," Francesca nodded, and began to tack up Snowstorm. She was one of the first pages to get out there. When everyone had arrived and the training master gave the order to mount up, Francesca did so with ease. Her family may have been against her earning her shield, but her father always said that no child of his would have problems riding – male or female. While they pages were putting their horses through their paces Snowstorm proved the man in the stable right. It began with little things – making her repeat commands, going too fast or too slow, small bucks.
Eyes narrowed, Francesca tightened her grip on the reins. She leaned forward slightly. "Pull as many tricks as you want. But I think you'd prefer to be out here working than being stuck in the stables." By the time they took the horses back to their stalls Snowstorm had begun to behave.
Fianola and Francesca ran the hill – most of the boys walked. Entering her room revealed a sleeping Rain. A quick wash was all she managed – and all she expected – before hurrying to lunch. Francesca sat at the table that Alan, Fianola and Traver had claimed as their own. The pages descended on the food like starving men. Francesca wasn't paying attention so she didn't realize what story Fianola was telling, until she heard her mention grumbling.
"So, where is your 'not a friend at the moment'?" Liam teased.
Francesca couldn't choose between giving Fianola and Liam a dirty look. Deciding to be generous she shared it between them.
"Sleeping last time I looked." She grumbled a bit. That earned a laugh and they demanded that Francesca tell the story of how she got a bobcat as a pet. "He's not a pet," she sighed. "I was home visiting my family – oh, a year ago – and decided to-"
"What do you mean 'visiting'?"
"I was at the convent for – hey!" Francesca pounded on Liam's and Traver's backs since they were sitting next to her. When all of her friends could breathe without chocking again she gave them strange looks.
"You went to the convent!" Fianola practically shrieked.
"Yes," Francesca mumbled. "I'd rather have spent three years in the realms of Chaos."
"Why?" Francesca raised one eyebrow at her friends.
"Would you want to hear things like 'Walk slowly,' 'Sit up straight,' or 'Oh, how did you get your embroider so tangled!', 'Now don't frown, you'll age sooner and never find a husband then'. Every day, for three years?" Her friends looked at her with varying degrees of horror. She shrugged. "I don't think my impression was that bad." She told then blandly. "In fact I think it was quite good."
"Sorry, I'm still trying to imagine a life like that." Alan shuddered.
Liam snorted. "I actually had to go through similar training."
"Yes, but you are a prince that one day may make a political match." Fianola told him.
An argument began on whether or not royal children or typical noble ladies were worse off. Fianola, naturally, sided with Francesca who wondered how in Shakith's name this arugement started. They were heading off to their classes – still arguing – when Francesca finally got tired of it.
"Is this really necessary? Who cares which is worse? Fianola, you and I are the only ones ever at risk for going to the convent – and I think it's a bit late since we are both here." Francesca snapped, she glared at them all. "After all, unless Alan and Traver are hiding something big – and I don't see why they would – we are the only girls here. Liam, you are a prince! Do you realize how many girls in the convent are being sent there because their parents want them to marry you? Goddess, I can't believe I'm actually saying this – but this has to be the most ridiculous fight I've ever heard – and I've heard argument on hair treatment, of all things!" They were still trying to comprehend what she said when she strode off. Only to run into someone.
Francesca glanced at the person she'd run into, only to discover the crown prince and his wife. She bowed hastily. "My apologies, your highness. I wasn't watching where I was going." Francesca could feel her face flaming and she all but whispered. She fled before either could say anything.
The prince and princess watched the girl run off, before turning to the four she'd been reprimanding.
"You know," Liam said. "I think that is the most I've heard from her."
"And she actually looked us in the eye, instead of glancing up then back down," Traver added.
"What was the argument about," Roald asked his younger brother.
"Whether going to the convent or being raised royal was more torturous."
"She's right you know," Alan said. "I think this is the stupidest argument I've heard."
"I've never seen someone's face go white, then bright red like that," Fianola added. Everyone looked at her. "What? Have you? Come on, we're going to be late."
A/N: Yeah, not the best ending maybe; but I promise that it will get better! I'm currently writing another fic, which is a series of one-shots of what various characters think about Kel when they first meet her, so I'm splitting between writing that and this. Please review! ^.^