A/N: Hey everyone, sorry it's taken me so long. Finals and life got in the way. Well here we are, hope you like it. Please review.

Francesca's face was still glowing with embarrassment when she arrived at her first class and chose a seat to slump into. Classes flew by; the most interesting by far was the classes taught by Sir Myles, Lindhall Reed, and Takk the basilisk. Mathematics and reading and writing were mildly interesting but also fairly boring as Francesca knew a good bit of what the teachers – Mithran priests – were covering.

Francesca decided that etiquette was dull, no matter if you were learning it to catch a husband or not. At dinner Fianola and the other acted like the argument from lunch never happened – which suited Francesca just fine. When she went back to her room to grab her books she discovered a letter sitting on her desk. Francesca headed towards the library, not noticing Rain following her until she arrive and her friends laughed at the sight of a bobcat following her like a shadow.

Francesca scowled at the creature. "If I get in trouble because of you, I'll skin you." She told him, the others laughed, clearly seeing that the threat lacked heat. Sitting down she opened the letter.

Dear Francesca,

Life is even duller – if that is possible – with you gone. I truly envy you. Mama and Papa refuse to hear anything more about me trying for my shield however. Why in the world didn't you share with me what you told your parents that convinced them to let you try? If you had, then maybe we'd both be in the palace now.

Francesca snorted at that. Her parents had repeatedly brought of the reputation –or lack thereof – of the Lady Knights, thinking that she actually cared about that. She'd told them that if they were that concerned of her earning a false reputation then she'd go join the Temple of Desire (A/N: Think back to Mastiff, I think I phrased this correctly, but I sort of stole this line from when Lady Sabine is telling Beka about the cult of the Gentle Mother, and how she got her family to stop trying to convert her.), that way she didn't have to worry over false reputations.

But no matter now, you'll just have to introduce me to all your new, handsome knight-to-be friends. That way if my daughter one day want to earn her shield, there is no way my husband can say 'no'. Well, I am presented to court in two years. If the war is over then I'll get my brother to introduce both of us to the Lady Knight! Until then I'll be waiting for your letter - yes, I do expect one – where you can tell me all about your life as a page. I plan to live through you.

Goddess Bless,

Aisha of King's Reach

P.S. Don't worry about your visions. What will happen, will happen. And you know ignoring them is stupid.

She scowled at that. Aisha never understood why Francesca hated her visions and wished they'd go away, and she probably never would. Shaking her head, Francesca tucked the letter away and started on her class work.

Francesca days took on a pattern. In the morning she would run with Fianola, then breakfast, and morning classes. After that she would quickly wash and then rush to lunch, then afternoon classes, and after that dinner. After dinner she would sometimes write a letter to Aisha, or start early on class work.

About three months into the year Francesca realized that she was comfortable enough with Alan, Liam, Fianola and Traver, that she didn't look down whenever she spoke with them. If they noticed they didn't comment – probably thinking that she would turn shy again.

"I have to write my Ma," Alan was saying one evening at dinner. "She's fighting in the war, and according to my Da, getting letters from us remind her not to take stupid risks."

"I just got a letter from my little sister," Fianola sighed. "She's still mad that she's not here anymore."

"What do you mean anymore?" Francesca asked.

"We started training together, but she broke her leg – fell off her horse tilting – and Mama and Papa insisted that she come home at once. They won't let her return to training."

"What about you, Francesca?" Liam asked. "You write to your parent pretty regularly, right?"

"No," she responded, a bit shocked. "My friend Aisha has been writing me – and demanding replies." They chuckled at that. "But I haven't spent any mail to my parents, and they've not sent me anything."

"Why," Traver asked. "I get mail every month."

Francesca gave a one shoulder shrug. "My father and I…don't see eye-to-eye. My mother hasn't spoken to me since, oh I guess it's been two years now."

"What?" Francesca shrugged again, feeling uncomfortable as her friends stared at her in astonishment. "My father tried to arrange a marriage for me – and before that he sent me to the convent. And mother and I… we differ in opinions. She's returned every letter I've sent her for two years, unopened. After I got the first few back I stopped trying."

"That's horrible," Liam stated.

"It's all right, not every family is happy." Francesca told her friends.

"Does no one in your family care enough to send you letters, or something?" Traver demanded.

"I get letters from my brother, and up until I started page training my great-aunt and I corresponded frequently. It's hard for her. My father's cousin that died during his page training? That was her only son. Apparently I am the very image of him – well, except for how long my hair is and eyes."

"Your brother's in the King's Own, right?" Fianola confirmed.

"Yes, he's a sergeant in the Third Company." Francesca chuckled. "My parents sent him a message begging him to talk since into me when I first made it known that I wanted earn my shield. He replied that he had nothing to say against Lady Knights, as he worked with Lady Alanna on occasion, and was watch the next lady-knight –to-be as she went through her squire years. He then sent me a message telling me that if I wanted to do this, so be it, but if I got myself killed before I earned my shield or before the paint was dry on my shield – he'd never forgive me."

Once more they laughed and Francesca thought that the topic would be dropped. She was wrong.

"Does your mother not think that lady's should be knights?" Fianola asked, head tilted to one side.

"Not exactly," Francesca hedged. "She thinks I can't be a knight."

"Why?" Francesca squirmed a bit in her seat. Her mother didn't think that she could be a knight or even a rider because she was a seer, simple as that. Francesca wanted to be more than that.

"I'd really rather not talk about it." Francesca told them eyes downcast, voice as quiet as when she first met them. The four traded looks that she couldn't see then changed the subject. It was a while before she joined in the conversation, and the others thought that it was because she was still upset, they never realized that she was lost in her own mind.

Francesca heard her name being called turning she saw her brother. Dusty from the road, and sweaty from a long days ride, but she didn't care. With a yelp of joy she race over to him and threw her arms around him. Aiden picked her up and spun her around, when he set her down he held her at arm's length.

"Let's see," he said teasingly. "Both arms, both legs, your head's still attached. How many times have you gotten bashed on the head?"

"Only a time or two. I duck," she replied flippantly. "I didn't expect you back for midwinter," she told him.

"My lord's thinking about taking a squire, also the war's over, and we need to refill the ranks." Francesca laughed and shoved him.

"Go bathe," she ordered.

She blinked and was once more sitting in the mess hall with her friends. Equal parts worry and relief washed through her. Worry because the visions of the future she got were becoming more frequent; and relief because she knew that her brother would return alive from the war. Some time ago she learned to tell the difference between definite futures, and possible ones. The one she'd just seen was definite. She hated seeing possible futures, every possible outcome depended on a few details, and when seeing one she – and she assumed other seers – saw all the possibilities one right after another.

Another thought occurred to her. Midwinter was coming up – would Aidan return this year? Or would she have to wait until next year to see her brother? She resolved to write to him. She stood and left the mess hall with her friends still thinking. Francesca noticed that after that evening, her friends didn't mention family much around her.