Coram poured a glass of wine and placed an almond cake on a plate for the prince as he noticed him starting to stir from his place by the fire. Jonathan often had Coram in the room while he communed with the tribe. Sometimes Coram joined in the ritual, but more often, he waited by the door to send away any would-be distractions. Usually, Jonathan needed time to decompress after these sessions, so Coram would prepare refreshments and leave shortly afterward.
Jonathan stood and accepted the wine gratefully. After a long drink, he gave Coram a knowing look. "Want to guess what your lady has gotten herself into this time?" he asked.
"She's with the Bazhir?" Coram asked.
Jonathan nodded, "And she joined with me herself."
Coram's jaw fell slack. "Is she alright?"
"She's fine, but the woman she went to help gave her a map that's supposed to lead to the Dominion Jewel."
Jonathan felt a little bit guilty for how much he enjoyed Coram's escalating shock at each of these revelations.
"Well, of course," Coram said, throwing up his hands, "and I suppose she tamed a couple dragons and saved a princess or two along the way?"
Jonathan smirked. "She likely saved the sorceress's life. No dragons that I'm aware of."
Coram just shook his head.
"I need to consult with Myles on this immediately, but I'm afraid I have a party tonight that I must attend. Could you go to his house and ask him to come to me as soon as possible?"
A hint of amusement showed on Coram's face before he carefully schooled his features back to something more appropriate for a royal servant.
"Right away, Your Highness," he said with a bow and headed towards the door.
"You were headed there anyway, weren't you?" Jonathan asked.
"There's something unnerving about yer master knowin' all your secrets," Coram said, although his grin confirmed Jonathan's guess.
"Say 'hello' to Rispah for me," Jonathan said wickedly, "and I'll expect you to be in excellent spirits in the morning."
Jonathan chuckled to himself as Coram left the room. He gave himself the time it took to finish the wine and the pastry before he checked his hair and went off to the party.
Jonathan tried hard to pretend he hadn't noticed Josiane as he asked another young noblewoman to dance, but he knew his efforts were futile. He would have to face her sooner or later.
Much sooner, as it turned out. Josiane pushed forcefully in front of him after he finished the dance. "Might I have a moment of your time in private, Prince Jonathan?" she asked.
"Of course, Princess," Jonathan said in the most cheerful voice he could muster.
Alone on a balcony, she whirled to face him. "Are we playing a game, Jonathan? Are you trying to send me a message before making our engagement official? Or are you a coward who wants to break it off?"
Jonathan took a step back, shocked to see her drop her perfect court mask and speak bluntly. But he was relieved, too. If she wanted him to be honest, he would oblige.
"I don't see a future for us, Josiane. I don't want to shame you since I know you're slated to remain with us for another seven months, but I don't want to continue to lead you on either."
"Why?" Josiane demanded, her expression offering him no quarter.
Jonathan fought for the words to be both clear and tactful. "Our courts are very different places, and I believe we value different things. I don't believe we would rule well together."
"What nonsense!" Josiane spat. "All monarchs value the same thing: power, prosperity, and a secure throne. Tell me: on which of those things we differ?"
"Josiane, don't make this harder than it has to be."
She glared at him for a long time before finally saying, "You don't have a single better prospect, so I'm going to give you the chance to realize your stupidity and change your mind. But I won't wait forever."
With that, she stormed off.
A week later, Josiane sat in her bedroom, wiping away tears.
Melody had tried to console her and told her that Jonathan would change his mind, but Josiane knew she had to face the truth: his mind was made up.
She thought the Queen might have been an ally. The monarchs should be forcing their son to marry her; Goddess curse them! But no, both of Jonathan's parents seemed to be passively accepting their son's decision.
She had been sent to Tortall to convince the heir to marry her, and she had failed. It was time for a backup plan. The Carthaki heir would be an excellent prize, but he seemed unapproachable. Most other nations didn't have eligible sons that would be suitable. The one remaining exception was Tusaine.
Josiane paled as she thought about how she had treated Duke Hilam's son, the childless king's nephew. She had gotten overconfident and acted against her careful breeding. But now, she was desperate, so she would have to use all of her wiles to work on him, ideally before her family found out about her current situation in Tortall.
She took out some of her stationary and began to write.
"Hello, kitten."
An extremely muscular man with red hair rode up next to Alanna as their roads converged.
He looked up from Faithful, perched on his little cup on Moonlight's saddle, and nodded at George and Alanna.
"He hasn't been a kitten for a long time," Alanna said. "Don't let those innocent eyes fool you."
The man did a double-take when she spoke and studied her more closely. From a distance, the two riders looked like two Tortallan soldiers. Only on closer inspection did the man notice Alanna's tucked-in hair and feminine frame.
"Where are you headed, friend?" George asked.
"The Wandering Bard," the man said.
"As are we," George said. "Might as well stick together for safety."
"Who might I have the pleasure of traveling with?" the man asked.
"Forgive me if I don't quite believe that you are as your uniforms suggest."
"We're wearin' these with permission if it makes you feel better," George said. "We aren't soldiers, but it's safer to travel pretendin' we are. I'm George, and this is my wife, Alanna. We're on a fact-findin' mission for our Lord."
The man nodded. Clearly, he still found something off about them, but he didn't appear to be afraid. "I'm Liam, and I'm a bit of a wanderer by nature."
They talked little as they rode, and a few hours later, they arrived at their destination.
The stable boy rushed to attend Liam first. "It's good to see you again, Dragon!" the boy said.
George and Alanna shared a look but didn't know what to make of the moniker. The boy turned to them next, and they quickly forgot about their brief traveling companion.
The innkeeper greeted them enthusiastically and assured them that no service was too great for Myles's family. He agreed to send a note to the language scholar they sought right away. He also offered to have their dirty clothes cleaned, which they gratefully accepted. However, this left them with their only remaining clean clothes – a dress for Alanna and a fine pair of trousers and shirt for George. They had packed the clothes just in case their noble status could be helpful in rescuing Ara.
Thus, they received yet another double-take from Liam when they went downstairs for dinner looking like nobles, although he didn't give them any more than a friendly wave.
"Majesty!" a man called out when he caught sight of George. The man gave a half-hearted bow before asking, "What brings you here?"
That drew a look from everyone in earshot, including Liam.
"Fingers, you really should stop callin' me that," George bellowed with a laugh. More quietly, he said, "You know I've given that up."
"Old habits," Fingers said with a shrug. "I like you better than Marek anyway."
"Well, you might as well join us," Alanna said. "Give us the gossip."
It was Fingers' turn for a double-take. "Ella?" he asked finally.
"George decided to make me a noble along with him," Alanna said. "Don't tell."
Fingers winked at her and then proceeded to give them a wealth of Lower City gossip. Alanna's secret was clearly not safe with him, but at least it was only a half-truth.
The following day, Liam awoke early and went down to the inn's small courtyard to train, as was his daily habit. He was surprised to find that someone had beat him to it. Two people dressed in Bazhir-style clothing we're brandishing knives.
"You're still trying to use that knife like your sword," the taller person said to the shorter.
"I successfully disarmed you that way just last week!" the shorter person retorted.
"Yes, but it's also a good way to lose a few fingers to an erratic opponent. Now, let's try that again."
Liam stared openly. It was that same couple from the road. How many styles of clothing had they brought!? He had started to form a guess about who the man might be, but clearly, she was no ordinary woman either.
He watched as Alanna slid a knife quickly out of her ankle sheath and blocked as George came at her. She unsheathed a second knife from her belt and tried to use one to distract him while going in for the attack with the other. She was good. Not as good as George, but better than any woman outside his own order should be.
Suddenly, George put up a hand to stop her, and she just barely pulled back in time. "Hello again, friend," George said evenly.
"Don't stop on my account," Liam said.
"We were about to find breakfast anyway," George replied.
"Allow me to join you?" Liam asked.
"Why not?" George said.
"I don't believe I caught your full name," Liam said to George when they were seated.
"Lord George of Olau, at your service," George said amiably, though his eyes held a hint of warning.
Liam smirked, "then I didn't miss my guess. The king-of-thieves-turned-noble himself."
"I didn't realize I was quite so infamous beyond Tortall," George said, genuinely surprised.
"I make a point of keeping tabs on the people who shape the world. You were rumored to be one such before your adoption into the nobility. Have you gone soft now, or have you found a new way to make your mark?"
"I ask myself the same question on the regular," George replied. "I'll let you know when I find an answer."
Just then, the innkeeper appeared with a plate of rolls fresh from the oven. "For my three favorite customers," he said with a smile. He turned to George and Alanna and added, "I see it didn't take you long to befriend the Dragon!"
George and Alanna both studied Liam as the innkeeper bobbed away.
"You wouldn't be the Dragon of Shang, now would you?" George asked.
"That I am," Liam admitted. "So that just leaves you," he said, turning to Alanna. "Who were you before you married him?"
Alanna and George exchanged a look and a non-verbal conversation that went something like this:
He's a Shang warrior! I'm going to tell him because I want us to spar with him.
I'm not sure that's a good idea. We don't know if we can trust him.
We can trust a Shang warrior. Besides, when else would we get the opportunity?
Fine, but be careful.
"Alanna of Trebond," she finally said simply.
"Trebond," Liam said, rolling the word around in his mouth slowly. "You have two very impressive brothers then. Or had. I'm sorry for your loss."
"You really do pay attention," Alanna said.
"Your living brother is rumored to be among the most powerful in the world, and the other was instrumental in ending a war. Hearing of them wasn't difficult."
"I'm sure Thom will be glad to hear that," Alanna said.
"So, how did you come to be so good with a blade?" Liam asked boldly.
Alanna exchanged one more quick look with George before quirking a smile. "I trained as page and then a squire at the palace. And then I acquired a personal training master who also happened to be the king of thieves."
Liam leaned back to process this as Alanna continued, "Alan of Trebond wasn't taken out by a horseback riding accident. The King of Tortall - the real one, not the rogue - discovered he was a she and didn't want the embarrassment."
Liam's jaw dropped, but then his shock turned into hearty laughter. "You weren't honest with me, Lord George. Any man who chooses to be with such a woman is still clearly part of the forces shaping the world."
