This is a short chapter filled with tiny hints about what's coming up next time. Predictions are always welcome, if you think you know what I'm after.
Lady Lioness: Interlude
After the excitement at the Dancing Dove, Alanna had been happy to spend the night at Eleni's home instead of making the journey back to the palace. Alanna was even happier to see Kara slipping out the door with a translucent veil over a bright smile, Marek laughing at her side. George called them his heirs apparent, as if he planned to retire any moment, and Alanna couldn't help but think that the two of them would do well. Kara had already learned enough healing to help with the various ailments of the ladies' court, and that was far more than anyone had expected from the Bazhir shaman.
Numair Cooper was doing similarly well, though he was far beyond Alanna's level in magic. He and Thom would be friends, Alanna was sure, if Roger were not between them. Numair was still happy to see Alanna, and accordingly spent half an hour explaining some nearly incomprehensible theory on the origins of magic. The insane boy was studying the various types of magic, specifically anything that wasn't the Gift, and he was thrilled beyond recognition to have found something called 'wild magic' in Stefan. Numair wanted to visit the palace to pester Stefan about his work with horses. It took Alanna, George, and Eleni five minutes to explain why that would be a terrible idea. George finally resolved the issue by telling Numair he would only be dispensed one miraculous life-saving, George had other people to look after, and Sarge had his own work to do in the stables. With that issue resolved, Alanna had gone to bed.
Alanna slept solidly throughout the night, and didn't wake until lunch was being served.
That morning, in the palace, Salma Aynnur had met with Lady Cythera's very shy maid. No one was truly supposed to know yet, of course, but Sir Gareth had made a private proposal and Lady Cythera had agreed. Salma promised to keep it quiet, but didn't promise not to tell anyone. It sounded like the kind of thing that Alanna might need to know.
In another part of the palace, Sir Raoul of Goldenlake and Mistress Tourakom of the K'miri Hau Ma clan welcomed a delegation of Bazhir ambassadors. Several of them knew Raoul personally, and the men exchanged hand-clasps and commented about the journey and the palace. Buri's eye was caught by their shaman, who stayed to the back and avoided eye contact with anyone, but was soon was drawn into conversation by the current Voice of the Bazhir, Ali Mukhtab, and his chosen successor, Amman Kemail.
Thayet had been taking a solitary early luncheon when someone knocked on her open door. Thom of Trebond had come to visit, and he had brought flowers to accompany a very sheepish expression. The distinct lack of Delia (who may as well have been glued to him the night before) said nearly all that Thayet needed to hear, but the rest of it was promising. An apology was more than she would have asked for, but all that she needed to wholeheartedly forgive the confusion and the hurt. Thom couldn't stay long, because he had a last lesson in magic before the ball that night, but he promised that he was going to try to deserve her.
Thayet tried to interrupt, wondering if Thom was yet another man that expected her to be overly selective because of her looks, but Thom wouldn't be swayed. He had something to do, and if it went badly, he hoped Thayet remembered him fondly.
Sir Myles left the palace for an early drink at the Dancing Dove, and to mention casually to his friends Scholar and Old Solom that the delegation from the Bazhir tribes had arrived four days earlier than expected.
Princess Josiane made a token attempt at concealing Delia, but was far more interested in the chance that Roger might ask for her hand in marriage at the ball that night. Delia quickly realized that her little story of being abandoned by Thom in favor of penniless royalty had a poor audience in Josiane, so she left to console herself by seducing two married nobles into kissing her before lunchtime.
Roger was waiting impatiently for his dazy-headed squire. Somehow, the boy had gone back to that nose-in-the-air princess and hadn't been at all interested in Delia. Roger had no time for youthful foibles based on something so unsteady as passion, especially when he had work to do. He had a proposal to arrange, a magical working to finish, and an assassination to supervise, and Thom was half an hour late.
Just before Alanna woke, Kyprioth appeared in her room, emitting no more power than the mortal man he appeared to be.
"Didn't mean to take that much of your perk, keep forgetting that non-raka mortals are frail little things," he grumbled to himself, peering closely at the sleeping woman. "Guess your patron did well enough by you, girl, but I want you to live so you can bear my future champion. You need more than justice and righteousness on your side.
"Everything has a price, love, but this will be the easiest one to pay before the end." Kyprioth edged several long strands of red hair aside, his hand pausing on the lock that Thom's spell had cut short. "All I ask in exchange is a kiss." She didn't respond, of course, but he took the lack of objection as her very sensible agreement.
"Knew there was a reason Cooper was so fond—here we are, then." Kyprioth bent to kiss her cheek, leaving behind an impression that would last the whole day through. Everything would be as it should, and those that deserved trouble would find it in multitudes. "There," he said with obvious satisfaction. "Trickster's own luck to you, Alanna of Trebond and Olau, and do remember to produce my little liberator with Cooper."
When Alanna woke, scarce seconds after she woke, she touched a hand to her cheek. She could have sworn… There was nothing to do for it, though, so she pulled on her most practical black dress and resolved to dream about George Cooper when she had the time for more than conspiracies and secrets.