Author's Note: Tamora Pierce owns. Pas moi.

Chapter 7: Husband and Wife

"And do you, Lady Alanna of Trebond and Heir of Olau, Knight of the Realm of Tortall, and King's Champion, take this man, Sir Jonathan of Conté, Knighted Prince and Heir of the Realm of Tortall, to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do."

Alanna's voice rang through the temple. It sounded strong and assured, but to her ears, it sounded flat and tired. It carried across the bright room, decorated with the banners of Conté and Trebond and Olau. Alanna's own personal banner, the lioness rampant, was there as well. White flowers on green branches graced the windows that allowed great slabs of sunshine to permeate the room.

"In the eyes of Mithros, the Great Goddess, and all the gods, I now pronounce you man and wife." The priest's words rang out over the crowd. "You may now kiss the bride."

In a splash of color, the white-silver magic of the priest surrounded the couple as their own personal Gifts, violet and sapphire, intertwined around their joined hands and then exploded throughout the vast room.

Jon smiled at Alanna and she tried to give him one back. His eyes registered her unhappiness, but he could not talk to her then. They were in front of their subjects and had to appear as if all their dreams were coming true. He slowly lifted the veil from her face and lowered his face to meet hers. When their lips touched, the gathered assembly went crazy, leaping to their feet. Hats were thrown and jubilant cheers rang out.

Turning to face the crowd, Jon tenderly held Alanna's hand. She could feel that he was trying to convey a soothing message by the way his hand squeezed hers. She tried to take heart that she, at least, was not alone in her troubles. She smiled at him, and feeling like a performing monkey, kissed his cheek. Together, they walked back down the aisle to the waiting carriage, ready to escort them back to the palace for the ball. Passing so many familiar faces, Alanna smiled for their sake—they were all so happy for her, that she couldn't help but feel some of their happiness. It did not penetrate her heart and lift her spirits, but their smiles made it easier to mirror the expression on her own face. There was Thom and Faithful and Thayet and Buri and Raoul and Gary and Liam and Eleni and Myles and Duke Gareth and Coram and Rispah and Maude and some friends from the Blood Hawk tribe… Everyone was there, well almost everyone. One beloved face was missing from the crowd, but she would not dwell on it.

Halfway through, Alanna tripped over the long white dress and almost fell. Jon caught her and helped her to her feet. He laughed as she muttered something about gods-cursed heeled shoes.

Once in the carriage, she relaxed against the plush velvet seats. She pulled off the gods-cursed heeled shoes and put her feet up on the seat. Jon wrinkled his nose at them and she giggled, and put one of her feet in his face. He grabbed it and started tickling her foot and Alanna shrieked with laughter.

"Well, that went smoothly," Jon said as he released her foot.

"You could say that," Alanna said lightly, not really wanting to talk about what had just happened—that she had promised eternal fidelity to this man, that she would cleave to him and only him, that she would be by his side in both sickness and health, that she would obey him in every matter, and that he would be the most important person in her life.

"I'm surprised at the turn-out. I mean, every noble house was represented, but the crowds, Mithros! I think all of Corus came."

"Well, it's not every day that the king-to-be marries a lady knight who happens to be his Champion and a legend to boot," Alanna teased.

"Why is it that your accolades are longer than mine?" demanded Jonathan, grabbing for her foot again. "Perhaps it is to make up for your height."

Alanna stuck her tongue out and yanked her foot out of his reach. Talking with Jon was still fun, and their friendship was still as intact as ever, but Alanna was afraid to talk to him about deeper topics. She managed to dodge all intimate, meaningful conversation until they reached the palace. A footman opened the door and Alanna scrambled to pull her shoes back on, wincing as they pinched her toes. She was about to climb out when Jon offered her his hand.

"And now, my wife—" Jon began, adopting a mock-formal tone. However, he stopped as Alanna grimaced. It was hard for her to think of Jon as her husband, even though he was…and had been for now almost half an hour. And now her husband looked dead-set on having a serious conversation with her. She scrambled for the door of the carriage, but he stopped her with one of his kingly glares—the kind of glare that you just didn't disobey. He leaned out of the carriage and shut the door.

"Alanna, I know that I have been busy with dealing with matters of the state and everything else in the world, but I know there's something wrong."

Alanna sat back on the seat and did not look at him. She chose, instead, to marvel at the intricacies of the miniscule silver-and-gold embroidery on the white silk of her wedding dress.

"Alanna…"

"Jon, there's nothing wrong. You don't need to worry about it. I'm just…tired."

"Alanna, look at me." His cool hand cupped her beet-red chin and lifted it so that she was forced to meet his eyes. "I am your husband. Why do you make that face whenever I say that?"

"I'm just not used to it," Alanna lied lamely.

"You're lying."

Alanna jerked her head back from his grip. "I am not—"

"I don't know why, but I know that you will tell me when you're ready. I trust you, Alanna. But I have noticed that you are not happy, and you've been trying to put on a good face. There's a reason you're a knight and not a Player, Alanna. What is bothering you?"

"I—I…just don't know that I am ready for this." Alanna waved her arm to encompass Jon, the carriage, and the palace outside the window.

"Alanna," Jon sighed, though he sounded suspiciously relieved, "I will be here, and no matter what happens, they can't hurt you."

Hurting, Alanna thought, doesn't always mean physical blows. It can mean, more often than not, blows dealt by words and looks.

"I know, Jon," she sighed, ready to be done this conversation.

"But you don't, or else I wouldn't need to remind you. Alanna, I love you."

Our kind of love, Alanna added in afterthought.

"Our kind of love," she whispered softly.

He grinned at her and she took his outstretched hand. He helped her out of the carriage, and they walked down the carpeted path towards the ball. Inside, they went their separate ways. Alanna was hustled off to the bridal chamber to change out of her wedding dress. Thayet helped her by unbuttoning the hundred buttons that ran down her back, while Eleni Cooper removed Alanna's simple coif and veil. While the women bustled about her, Alanna gazed down at the gold wedding band that glistened on her left hand. She'd have to wear this for the rest of her life. The rest of her life seemed like such a long time.

Thayet brought out her second gown, a silvery blue. Thayet had objected to her wearing black on her wedding day. Mourning for King Roald and Queen Lianne was temporarily suspended for this celebration. Eleni and Thayet pulled the material over Alanna, who only moved to step into the gown or to slide her arms into the sleeves. She caught her hand caught in the split sleeves and her legs tangled momentarily in the soft material of the dress. Thankfully, her shoes were soft, flat slippers that were the same color as her gown. Thayet combed down the curls she had painstakingly created in Alanna's hair only hours before. Now, it hung to her shoulders in loose waves. Eleni clasped a gold chain with a blue-green stone around her throat, and added earrings that matched. Alanna tucked her ember-stone on an extra-long chain down between her breasts, hidden from all prying eyes. She preferred to keep the gift from the Mother secret. She clutched it momentarily, sending a prayer to the Goddess that she had chosen the right path to help her keep her head held high. She wondered, briefly, why the Goddess had not spoken with her recently—she had seemed most interested in Alanna's overcoming her fear of love, and now her chosen was married. Touching the anti-pregnancy charm behind the ember, Alanna flinched thinking that soon someone was going to make her take it off.

Thayet chose to stay behind and put away the wedding gown, while Eleni guided a mute Alanna from the chamber, down the steps, to where Jon was waiting for her. He smiled at her. "You look beautiful, love."

She smiled weakly. "Thanks. You, uh, look beautiful too." Jon did look very handsome in his dark blue and gold hose and doublet. His black hair offset his golden crown and he looked every inch the king he was going to be soon.

He took her hand and kissed it softly. "Come, Lioness. Let us go dazzle the court with your beauty."

Alanna cocked one eyebrow at him. "I'm no beauty, and you know it."

Jon grinned at her but said nothing as they had reached the Great Hall, where everyone was gathered. They entered the room, and everyone clambered to their feet to show their respect for the prince and his bride. Jon guided Alanna to her seat, and they sat at the dais above everyone. Once they were seated, the entire court followed suit and the courses began. Dish after dish, delicacy after delicacy was served, and Alanna felt sorry for the poor pages and squires who must have been running ragged, abused by Master Oakbridge and the guests alike. When the last course had been served and the last booming toast to their good health and hope for many children, Jon nodded to the conductor who began waving his baton and music began. Alanna followed Jon to the dance floor as she must, dreading the moment. She had never been able to dance as a girl. She stepped on his toes several times and stumbled quite a lot.

"Tsk, tsk, you're clumsy, my princess."

Alanna stomped on his foot and then whirled away from him as the dance required. When she returned to him, he was still wincing. She laughed at that.

"Now, Jon, you're hogging the bride to yourself. That's not fair," cut in Gary, flanked by Raoul and Alex. "Let us try the Lioness. Goddess knows we would have danced with her a fair amount of times if we didn't think she was a boy."

"I wouldn't have danced with you oafs, even if I was a girl back then," Alanna said tartly.

"And she's got her claws out," laughed Raoul.

"Alanna, go on. I'll find someone else to dance with," Jon said. Alanna saw his gaze flick over to the left, where Thayet just happened to be standing alone. Alanna rolled her eyes.

"No, my feet hurt from your horrid dancing. I'll sit down now," she said, laying the sarcasm and malice on a little more thickly than she meant to.

Jon didn't catch on. "My horrid dancing? Your feet?" he asked, mock-appalled. Alanna didn't respond and made her way back to the dais where she was assigned to be seated. There she plopped down into her chair and put her head in her hands. Someone put a glass of wine in front of her and Alanna downed it all in one gulp and held her glass out to the pourer for another.

"Will I have to walk you to your chambers this evening?"

Alanna looked up and saw her step-father standing over her. Myles had a mug in his hand, but it did not appear that he had drunk from it yet. He sat down next to her in Jon's chair and a nearby footman started to protest, but Myles waved him away.

"My son-in-law will have to forgive me for sitting in his seat."

Alanna grinned. "Into your cups already, are you?"

Myles pretended to be offended. "Alanna of Trebond and Olau, don't judge me."

"I'm not judging—it's a bit late for me to judge," she replied smiling. But Myles was distracted.

"Alanna of Trebond and Olau…I suppose you are Alanna of Conté now?" Alanna stared at him. She hadn't thought about that. "I told you once that I drink so that I don't notice the goings-on of this court. It's hard not to want to down a whole keg when you're watching your daughter get caught up in it."

"What do you mean?"

"You're not happy about this, Alanna. And I let you do it, anyway."

"Myles—"

"No, Alanna. I watched you pretend for the past months, and I didn't intervene. I thought that this was what you wanted. I was so blind and I was so stupid. I have failed you as a father."

Alanna had no response. She couldn't blame Myles for any of this. She had known that she was not happy, but she had let herself be swept up along in the tide and not fight for herself. She had made it easy for everyone else, something she had sworn she would never do.

"Myles, that's not true."

"Dammit, Alanna! I know it's true! Don't try to make me feel better! Don't lie to me! I am your father, no matter how much of a foolish, wretched one I may be. This is—"

"No, no. You are right. I'm not happy. This is not what I wanted when I disguised myself as a boy. And this is not what I want now. But you cannot blame yourself. It's not your fault. It's mine. I was stupid and I can only wish someone had knocked some sense into my head. I tried to get myself heard, but I didn't try hard enough. But what could you have done? Ordered me to my room? First of all, it's Jon we're dealing with. Second, Jon's the prince. Third, I was of age when we made the blood oath—it's not like you were my legal guardian making my decisions for me. You cannot blame yourself, Myles. It's not your fault your daughter did something stupid. You're not a wretched father. You're the best one I've ever had."

Myles' eyes were moist. He pulled her roughly to him and kissed her head.

"Blegh. Eleni has some awful concoction in your hair, doesn't she? That woman," he grimaced. Alanna laughed weakly, not used to paternal gestures, but grateful he had changed the subject.

"Yeah," Alanna sighed. "She and Thayet insisted."

"Women," he chuckled again.

"Speaking of women…" Alanna began. Myles raised an eyebrow at her. "Well, what's going on between you and Mistress Cooper?" Myles blushed and looked down at his beverage.

"It's ridiculous. A man of my age…"

"A man of your age?" Alanna urged.

Myles glanced up at her quickly and ducked his head again. He sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. He talked quickly as if he were hoping that the faster he talked, the less would be understood. "It's ridiculous that a man of my age should fall in love. I never married, never thought I would, but Eleni makes my heart race as if I were twenty years old. And it's not as if she's some young, selfish, conniving court beauty, she's…more, she's better. I've never wanted anyone like this before. I just want to be around her, near her, talk to her. Even watching her makes me feel happier than…" he trailed off. "I feel so silly, confiding an old man's romance to his daughter…"

Who isn't getting the romance any father wants her to have, Alanna thought bitterly, though not permitting her thoughts to show on her face. "No, I want to hear this. It makes me happy that you are happy. What does she think of you?"

Myles blushed again, much like the schoolboy with a crush on the girl across the room. "I—I…" Alanna smiled at him, knowing that Eleni Cooper was just as besotted with her step-father as he was with her.

"Alanna," Myles said earnestly, looking her in the face, "I want to ask you something. Would—would you be alright with, perhaps, having a step-mother? If I were to ask Mistress Cooper to…to marry me?"

Alanna gazed at him thoughtfully. "Who'd have thought I'd be getting a mother at my age?"

Myles grinned, his eyes twinkling. He took a swig of ale. "Thank you!" He hugged her roughly around the neck, like she was a boy. "I wanted to ask you first…before I said…anything. But now…" he stood up. Alanna tugged him back down into the seat.

"I think you should wait to ask her until you are a little steadier on your feet." Myles chuckled. "Would you like me to walk you back to your room, if only for old times' sake?" she asked hopefully.

Myles' expression sobered. "My dear, there is nothing I would like better than to find a way for you to slip out of here. But I fear that it would hurt you in the long run. If I but could go back in time I would find a way to knock sense into you earlier. My dear, be brave. I will always be here for you." He kissed her forehead tenderly and ambled away, shaking his head. Alanna was left alone on the dais. Myles had found that romantic love she had all but convinced herself didn't exist. It was hard to reason herself through this sham of a marriage to Jon if all her arguments fell flat. Jon's words, so sweet and potent back then, had lost their power and their meaning.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, Jon appeared at her side. "Enjoying yourself, my wife?"

Alanna gritted her teeth. "You're going to have to stop calling me that."

"I do not; it's my right."

"And it's my right to make your life a living hell."

"Ah, but it can't be hell if you're there with me," Jon laughed. Alanna narrowed her eyes. Jon was talking in the empty-headed way he used when he was flirting with Delia. Jon shifted his eyes, trying to tell her something that she didn't understand. "Sweetheart—"

"Why are you—?" Alanna then saw, behind Jon, Lord What's-His-Name of That-Fief-Somewhere, who was always hovering over her. The lights were dimming, and she realized that it was nearing sun-down. Realizing she would have to perform in front of this old coot, she smiled at Jon, as sweetly as she could.

"Your Highnesses, now, would it please you to take the floor? It is nearing the time for the last dance of the evening."

Jon nodded at him. "We would be delighted." He held out his hand, palm up, for Alanna to take. Everyone was looking in their direction as the music softly began to play. Alanna recognized the tune—it told the tale of a young maid swept off her feet by a prince in disguise. The two become close friends and then the friendships turns into a passionate love, though the young maid is reluctant at first. It was a favorite love ballad, and Jon's parents had danced to it at their wedding and Jon had wanted this song because of that.

With his hand on her waist and her hand in his, they slowly moved around the room. It was a slow enough song and with no set movements, so she did not have to worry about making as much of a fool of herself. Jon drew her closer and closer as they revolved around and she rested her head on Jon's shoulder. The song lyrics made her want to cry. The words spoke to her—it was close enough to her first relationship with Jon, but it was scarily closer to her relationship with George. The scar on her heart in the shape of his name tugged very unpleasantly and she fought the almost-overwhelming urge to cry. She had lost George forever and there was nothing she could do about it. Jon, almost as if he knew, rubbed her back in comforting circles.

The music came to a close and Jon gently kissed her forehead. She did not look him in the eye, because who wants to look their husband in the eye when they spent their entire wedding song thinking of their former lover? Not Alanna.

Immediately the minstrels struck up a livelier tune and other couples swarmed together, beginning a spirited dance. However, Jon pulled her away from the other dancers and up the steps. Behind them, she heard clapping and roars and wolf-whistles. At the top of the staircase, Jon swiftly caught her up in his arms bridal-style, and the crowd's clamor increased.

But once they had rounded the corner, out of sight, Alanna wiggled and pulled herself out of his grasp.

"I was going to carry you to our chamber," Jon protested.

"I can walk."

Side by side, somewhat awkwardly, they walked to the chamber that had been prepared as the bridal chamber. There, Thayet and a maid met them, and they directed Jon into another room. Alanna did not miss the way Jon's eyes lingered on her friend, and her heart clenched. Not in jealousy, not in anger, but in pain, pure pain, knowing that she had made a mistake and that everyone was going to pay. Thayet undressed Alanna and slipped her into a white silk nightgown. Alanna poked at it, never having worn one before. She opened her mouth to ask a question, but Thayet shook her head and put her finger to her lips. Alanna obeyed.

You may not be allowed to speak, but I will. I have been vexed with you, but I have come to understand why you have done this.

Alanna regarded her cat, who had made himself scarce after learning the news of her engagement.

You are a foolish girl, but you mean well. You've ripped out your own heart to try to help another. And that is noble of you, and you've done your duty as a knight. But are you happy?

No, I'm not happy, and you know it, Alanna snapped in her mind. And I know it. But there's no way I can escape it now.

Faithful sighed as he dropped his angry glare. He surprised Alanna by rubbing against her leg and purring.

Well, I'd like you to know, I'm stuck with you until the end, so you'll always have me.

Alanna, touched by this, bent down and picked up her cat and cuddled him to her. "Thank you," she whispered, burying her face into his silky black fur as a few tears squeezed out.

That, however, does not mean this sort of treatment—I shall not be used as a handkerchief—Put me down!

Alanna grinned weakly as she loosened her grip to allow Faithful to leap to the floor.

Good luck.

Alanna turned and faced the doorway, knowing that through there Jon was waiting for her. And her heart sank, knowing that she did not want her husband…not now, not ever. But she could not turn and run as Thayet pushed her through the door. She froze in the doorway, thinking of her seventeenth birthday and how long ago it seemed. The first time she had made love, with this man. She could do it again.

"Alanna?"

"Jon. I'm—I'm scared." Alanna realized that these were the words she had spoken then, that first time, but then she was nervous and excited, tingling with desire for Jon. Now, there was nothing.

Jon's voice echoed the sentiment of that time too. "Me too. But at least we can be scared together."

He held out his hand and pulled her into him. Her hands hit his chest and he knotted his fingers through her hair and brought her lips to his. She allowed him to kiss her, because she could not find the strength to push him away. His tongue found its way into her mouth and she yielded as his hands began to explore her body. But as he began to raise the hem of her nightgown, she pulled away.

"What?" he asked, startled.

"No—no, we can't."

"We can't? Alanna, we're husband and wife. It's our wedding night!" Jon's voice was frustrated and grumpy. His eyes snapped angrily at her.

"I…mean, yes I know…that. But I…it's…it's my time of the month," she lied. Jon sat down on the bed and ran his fingers through his hair, looking genuinely sorry.

"I, um, didn't know. I didn't mean to seem like I was forcing you, but I just didn't know—"

"I didn't have time to tell anyone. It's not like I wanted that to be publicly announced. There are things about my personal life I like to keep to myself," she said lamely.

"I understand." Jon's voice was heavy and seemed to come from a great distance, like he was on the other side of a canyon and there was no way to bridge the gap. "Alanna…I am sorry. For putting you through this. It's taking a toll on you, and…well, I know that you don't feel that way for me. And I don't …feel that way either. But I just want you to know that I do love you."

"In our kind of love," Alanna said bitterly.

"Yes. That, our kind of love. We will get through this. You'll see. Everything will be right."

"Sure."

"Well, I guess, we'd better go to bed, then."

Carefully, they tucked themselves under covers that hadn't been expected to be used this way and curled up together, Jon's arm tucked around Alanna's waist. She allowed him to hold her, wishing with all her might it was another. Hot tears slowly trailed down her face, a contradiction to the cool of the white feather pillow. She drifted off slowly, praying to wake up from this dream.

The past day didn't feel real, she mused. It felt like a scene from another girl's life. It was like the way the story wasn't supposed to end. Alanna reckoned that she hadn't been miserable all day, but she hadn't been joyous either. And what made that worse was being forced to pretend all her dreams were coming true. She felt nothing at all, lying here in the royal bedroom of the king-to-be. She was so detached from everything. Nothing in her life felt real anymore—nothing felt like her life.

She had just gotten married to the prince of the realm and had the wedding of the century. She was going to become queen shortly. It was like the fairy-tale come true, like that song about the maid and her prince. Did that mean that tomorrow would bring her happily-ever-after? Or did it start now?

It certainly didn't feel like a happily-ever-after.