Chapter Twelve: The Champion Returns (2)

[manniness]

And then the White Queen steps through the doors, pushing aside the gauzy curtains, and ushers a lion and a horse onto the terrace. At the sight of Tarrant and Leif, the queen freezes, her eyes widening. Tarrant barely notices, for following in her wake is Alice.

The sight of her soothes him in a way that is unique and absolute. He forgets about the queen, the visiting dignitaries, the shukm-lickering toadie...

“What is the meaning of this!” the lion at the queen’s side roars, his golden eyes glaring at Leif. He turns his back on the former Champion and addresses the queen: “You... Your Majesty, tell me you have not granted these... this traitor or his former liege amnesty!”

Looking very pale and quite upset, the queen turns to the ambassador and explains, “I’m afraid I have, Sir Avendon. Both Leif and the former Prince Avendale are here at my invitation.”

A moment of utter silence wraps the balcony and its occupants up in its suffocating embrace. And then:

“You claimed to be a friend of Shuchland, Mirana of Mamoreal...”

Alice steps closer to the queen, coming between the snarling lion and her queen.

Lifting her chin, the queen replies, “The Aven family have my full support.”

“If that were true, you would not be harboring two betrayers to their crown.”

“I would not punish them for remaining loyal to the spirit of our alliance, sir.”

Alice places a hand on the hilt of her broadsword and Tarrant tenses, leans toward her, calculates how long it might take him to reach that pompous creature before her, determines the angle and force necessary for utilizing the pair of embroidery scissors in his pocket as he had with Stayne...

The lion replies, his tone marinated in disgust, “It disturbs me to learn this, Queen Mirana.” He sends a single, searing, golden glare in Leif’s direction. “I’m afraid this changes things. Shuchland will not be able to assist you with your challenge against Causwick Callion after all.”

“Sir Avendon...”

The dignitary does not linger. Turning on his heel, he marches back into the castle, no doubt to collect his retainers and begin the long journey home. Tarrant watches as Mirana forces a sympathetic smile and turns toward the horse.

“Chief Minister Mogrimon...”

The creature sighs and shakes his mane. “I’m also sorry it has come to this, Your Majesty. As I mentioned earlier, Galandonland is only prepared to play a supportive role and then only in the event that you have guaranteed the assistance of Shuchland. I regret that Lord Hornsaver’s army will decline to stand beside your own on the battlefield.”

Looking truly anxious now, Mirana asks on a whisper of sound, “But, if things were to change and Shuchland chose to join us...?”

The horse tilts his large head to the side. “We would reconsider your proposal, of course.”

“Of course,” Mirana manages. Tarrant feels a moment of heart-freezing panic at the defeat in the queen’s expression. “You are welcome to stay the night, if you’d like...”

“Unfortunately, I will be following Sir Avendon’s example, Your Majesty. Were word to reach Shuchland that I had lingered here in spite of the... political difficulties...”

“I understand. Of course. Allow me to assist you in your preparations to leave, in that case,” Mirana manages on a wavering breath.

Tarrant watches the queen and the Galandonland diplomat retreat into the shadows of the castle. Alice, however, lingers.

“Champion Alice, I am so sorry... I had no idea Avendon would see me here,” Leif begins, his paws curled into great, hairy fists. “I’ve lost you the support of Shuchland and Galandonland! I—”

Alice takes one step further out onto the terrace and tells him quietly, “You are precisely where I asked you to be, at precisely the time I asked you to be here. The fault for this is entirely mine.”

“Alice,” Tarrant says, staring at her, his gaze moving over her, his mind cataloging all of the oddities about her: despite her bowed head, she does not look defeated; despite the quite tone, she does not seem disappointed; despite the events that have taken place, she does not even appear to be surprised by this latest turn of events.

He turns his chin slightly away from her, his eyes narrowing, as a suspicion occurs to him. However, he knows he must not speak it! For, if Alice wishes it to be spoken of, she will inform them of it... but she says nothing.

“Alice,” he says again now that her attention is focused on him. “The White Queen has issued a Champions’ Duel?”

“Yes,” she replies. Still standing against the stone sculpture, Leif stiffens. “She dispatched the message just after I returned. If it is accepted, we will be facing Prince Jaspien at the battlefield within three days.”

Three days!

“No,” Tarrant commands automatically, his suspicions momentarily forgotten, his vow to trust her disregarded. “You cannot fight! The poison... the promise... the—”

“I’m the Queen’s Champion,” she reminds him. “I’ve already renewed my vows.” Her expression softens. “And I’m fine. Truly.”

Knowing this is not the time, the place, or – most especially – the company in which to speak of all the reasons Alice should not duel in three days’ time, Tarrant is frozen in place. Only his hands move, his right twitching and his left opening and then recurling into a fist at erratic intervals.

Alice regards both of them for a moment and then announces, “I will fight Jaspien’s new Champion, whichever mercenary he manages to convince to do it. And, I would like it if I could count on both of you to stand with me.” Then, she pointedly glances between them, measuring the wide distance they’ve put between themselves. “If you can bear to stand side-by-side for the sake of a greater good, that is.”

The very thought of voluntarily and peaceably standing in close proximity to that... that... that makes Tarrant’s stomach heave.

“And if we can’t?” he hears himself ask, his tone dropping and darkening with just the smallest hint of brogue.

Alice replies evenly, “Then you won’t be going anywhere in three days’ time. Either of you.”

Leif gapes. “You can’t just leave us here like a couple of old widows to their knitting!”

Pulling her lips back into a very frightening smile, Alice informs that blasted lion, “I am the Queen’s Champion. I assure you, I can and if necessary I will make sure you’re left here with your knitting on the day of the duel.”

Tarrant knows better than to argue. Luckily, Leif doesn’t. He opens his great mouth but Alice cuts him off. “One more word of protest from you and I’ll restrict this offer to Tarrant only.”

Tarrant certainly wouldn’t mind! But, well, of course he’d still mind the bit about Alice fighting in a duel when her health is still precarious and her mind still broken and the trauma of the last week still so fresh...

“Alice,” he whispers, breaking the staring contest between his wife and the creature who covets her. “What can I do? Tell me what you need.”

She turns toward him again and the anger leaves her expression. He studies her lovingly – the softness of her eyes, the gentle smile curving her lips, the disappearance of the scowl lines from her brow... Yes, yes, this is how he will win her back! He will be the man she needs! After all, he’ll do anything, go anywhere, become anyone for Alice...

“If you wouldn’t mind,” she tells him and then glances at his right hand, “and if you think you can manage it, I’d like to meet you on the croquet pitch tomorrow after lunch.”

His eyes flash at the request. He doesn’t want to fight her, but...

Alice needs to prepare for battle, lad. Will you let that great, frumious beast do the honors?

No, no, of course he won’t.

Tarrant nods once, accepting the invitation.

“Bring your broadsword, please,” Alice adds.

“I... would also like to offer my services, Champion Alice, if you have need of them,” Leif interrupts.

Tarrant feels his face twist into a mute snarl when the animal’s offer takes Alice’s attention away from him.

“Yes, thank you, Leif. I’ll expect you on the croquet pitch tomorrow morning. We’ll use the scimitar.”

Leif nods.

“Thank you.” She looks from the lion to Tarrant. “Both of you.”

The next moment follows silently but Alice doesn’t turn around and leave. Tarrant resists glancing at the Shuchlander and struggles for something to say. True, he does not want to have a private discussion here with him watching, but if he says nothing what will Alice think of him?!

Tarrant clears his throat and speaks in a rush, before Leif can beat him to it: “I’m so very glad you’re back, Alice. Chessur wouldn’t tell anyone where you were, but he said you were... safe...”

“I was,” Alice answers quietly. “I was perfectly fine. Absolem, in his infinite, annoyingly smug wisdom, knew exactly where I needed to be last night.”

Swallowing around the rock that had magically grown – well, of course it had grown magically! How else would a rock come to be in such an odd place? – in his throat, Tarrant nods and attempts a smile.

Why did you leave Mamoreal? he wants to ask. What can I do to make all these mistakes right? Will you come home with me? Will you hold onto me, Alice? Forgive me? Choose me?

“Raven,” he says.

Alice’s expression softens. He holds his breath...

And then...

“Alice! There you are!”

Tarrant startles as a large, gray cat materializes beside Alice’s shoulder. Tarrant’s eyes narrow but he somehow manages to swallow the poisonous hiss rising up – burning, acidic – in his throat: Chessur...!

“Did everything go all right?” Alice asks him quietly.

“Of course. How can you doubt my powers of persuasion?”

She gives him a wry smile. “Despite the inconvenience it must have been, I’m sure. So, there were no objections to...?”

“None whatsoever.”

She sighs, relieved. “Thank you.”

Chessur grins. “The night’s still young and, if I’m not mistaken, you’re still in need of me...?”

Alice nods, her face tightening with determination. “Meet me—”

“In the usual place,” Chessur drawls. “Although I won’t wait long so you’d best finish up here.”

As Chessur evaporates, Leif is quick to ask, “Champion Alice? What is going on? What are you up to?”

“My job,” she replies evenly. And then a very interesting smirk forms on her lips.  Glancing between Leif and Tarrant, she says haltingly, as if consulting a distant memory, “Now, come, come. It’s time to forgive and forget... or forget and forgive, whichever comes first or is most convenient.”

Tarrant twitches as the words tug at his memory... the tea party on Gribling, when Alice had arrived and had awakened not only Tarrant, but the fire within him. Why, he’d never felt so giddy in all his life! Oh, how he’d rambled on and on and on and on and... Why, it had been a miracle she’d consented to riding on his hat at all!

“Yes, yes,” he lisps in answer, “We must commence with the slaying and such!”

Alice chuckles and, turning, bids them good night. Tarrant – and, out of the corner of his eye, he notices Leif as well – watches Alice as she trots down the terrace steps and makes her way across the croquet field and then disappears into the ever-blossoming cherry orchard.

Once she is out of sight, Leif stirs, reminding Tarrant of his unwanted companion. He slides a vicious glare in the cat’s direction.

“For Alice’s sake,” the creature rumbles. “I’m willing to forget... for now.”

Grinning too widely, Tarrant replies, “Aye, beast. Ye go on an’do tha’ – we’ll be continuin’ auwr discussion jus’as soon as tha’ trio o’lickspittle guddlers’ scut ha’been taken care of.”

The lion nods once and then heads back inside the castle. Tarrant watches him go and then returns to the view from the terrace. He studies the forest and listens, but despite the hours he waits, there is no sign of Alice nor of what she’s doing with Chessur somewhere out there on the grounds.

 

*~*~*~*

 

“Your Majesty?”

Mirana turns away from the view of the moonlit grounds and smiles. “Alice, Champion Alice! What do I have to do to get you to call me ‘Mirana’ once and for all?”

“Hmm...” Alice appears to give the inquiry serious consideration. “How about both of us get kidnapped and held hostage in a foreign land by greedy megalomaniacs?”

Mirana feels an incredulous smile pull at her lips.

“Oh, wait...” Alice muses. “We’ve already done that, haven’t we, Mirana?”

The queen laughs, delighted. “Yes, I do believe we have, Alice.”

Alice gently bumps the queen’s shoulder and laughs softly. Nodding to the spyglass mounted on the balcony, Alice says jokingly, “You weren’t using that thing to keep an eye on me, were you?”

“Darling,” Mirana sighs, “when a broadsword-wielding mad woman wanders off with a morally questionable cat with evaporating skills, it’s always prudent to keep an eye on things!”

Alice laughs. “I can always depend on you, Mirana.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Alice.”

After a moment of companionable silence, Alice muses, “What shall we attempt for our next adventure, you think?”

“Something more adventurous than a perfectly, wonderfully, utterly mad plan to remove said megalomaniacs from power for good?”

“Oh, yes. Somehow that had slipped my mind.”

Mirana waggles a finger at her. “Ah-ah-ah! No forgetting your own plan, Alice. It’s not. Allowed.”

“I’m sorry? I came up with a plan of some sort?”

This time Mirana bumps Alice’s shoulder. “What a perfectly disturbing sense of humor you have, dear. It’s enough to give a queen a stress-injury.”

“Whoops. My apologies.”

Again, they allow the quiet of the very, very late evening to settle between them.

“I trust Chessur was... accommodating?” the queen ventures after a moment.

Alice smiles. “Yes. Very.”

“So, should a man speak Outlandish or a beast let loose a laugh on the battlefield...?”

“I’ll be fine.”

The queen is very glad to hear it. And even more glad to have a resource like Chessur on their side. Truly, a shape-shifting cat is a very useful fellow to have on hand!

“How did it happen?” Alice asks, suddenly. “When did the Oraculum change?”

Mirana feels immeasurable gratitude for that evidence of Alice’s depthless trust in Mirana’s abilities and good sense. Not: Why weren’t you keeping an eye on things? But: When did things change? “I asked Absolem when I returned. He indicated it was sometime during the fifteenth day. I expect, by the time he learned of it, it was too late to act to prevent it from happening.”

Alice nods. “Do you think it was your betrothal that...?”

“I’ve considered it,” Mirana replies, her hand moving the leather thong around her neck. She will be eternally grateful that Fenruffle had insisted on returning to the inn to personally search the place from top to bottom in order to locate Dale’s first claw. Perhaps she’ll knight him for his efforts on her behalf...

“However,” the queen continues, “when a monarch deigns to leave her lands to visit a suitor, a betrothal is not... an unexpected occurrence.”

“So, something unexpected must have caused it...” Alice speculates. After a moment, her eyes narrow and she asks, “How long would it take word of my heart line to reach the other lands?”

Mirana blinks, startled. “Well, I...”

“We’re expecting word of both Shuchland and Galandonland’s withdrawal of aid to reach Jaspien by dawn, yes?” she continues.

“Alice, whatever is going on inside that Uplandian head of yours?” Despite asking, Mirana is not sure she wants to know.

“I think Jaspien, Valereth, and Oshtyer have been planning to take over all of Underland for a long time. I think they participated in the Wooing Rites to discover who you might choose and to see just how good your Champion was... I don’t know what their original plan may have been, but learning of my heart line would have been too good of an opportunity to let pass.”

Alice coughs out a humorless chuckle. “It’s not as if they could pay anyone enough to stand against both the White Queen’s Champion and King Aven’s. Mercenaries fight for money, true, but it takes a special kind of madness for someone to be a Champion, pick up a sword, fight an honorable battle to the death in the name of someone else, for the sake of someone else. Mercenaries don’t mind fighting, but dying... that’s something else altogether.”

Alice shakes her head. “And there I was, outside the protection of Mamoreal, a Champion with a heart line...” Alice’s brows lift in droll counterpoint to her musings.

Mirana sighs. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand, Alice...” Logic makes her head spin especially when she’s enjoying a view from a sixth story balcony!

“Oshtyer and the others didn’t look very surprised to see that I had one. And... I think they might have considered threatening Tarrant, that is, if they could torture his identity out of me and manage to kidnap him. If that had happened, I would have done anything they asked.  Or perhaps the ruse would have been much simpler: maybe they would have tried to hurt him through me.” Alice considers her heart line. “In all honesty, I know so very little about this. Still.”

Mirana lays a hand on Alice’s arm. “No one can hurt Tarrant physically through you... not in the way you’re thinking. But he would have felt every emotion that passed through your heart. Unless you’d thought to shield him from it.”

“I’m sorry?”

Mirana smiles. “I shall have to fetch my resource on Underlandian rites for you to read more thoroughly. Suffice it to say that you and Tarrant can communicate your feelings to each other.”

“Unintentionally?” Alice wonders after a long moment.

“Well, yes, I imagine so. If you were panicked or suddenly overjoyed or felt something equally overwhelming.” Mirana considers Alice’s expression. “Why do you ask?”

Her gaze continues to examine the heart line on her hand – which she turns this way and that in the moonlight. Alice reluctantly says, “Nearly every day we were gone, the same inexplicable panic gripped me, waking me in the morning. I couldn’t understand it. I didn’t have single bad dream the entire time we were gone, but... it felt as if I had.”

Mirana sighs and nods. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Tarrant holds the answer to that riddle.”

Alice nods. “I shall have to ask him... after all this is over.”

“Why the delay?” Mirana considers the coming duel. “If something were to happen to you, or him, wouldn’t it be better to be with him now?”

Alice closes her eyes. Her voice is husky when she says, “If I go down there now – go down to him – there’ll be no way I’ll be able to prepare for the duel.” Alice sighs. “And then there’s the fact that if I go to him without giving both of us time to really think about what has happened, it’s always going to be there. This question hanging in the air over us.”

“If it wouldn’t be too personal to ask, what question is that, Alice?”

Alice glances at Mirana. “Trust. It’s a question of trust. Can I trust him not to let me hurt him? Can he trust himself not to let me hurt myself with another promise?”

“Alice, you don’t seriously believe that one little promise could make you do the things you did?”

“No, I don’t.”

Mirana is relieved to hear complete certainty in Alice’s tone.

“But Tarrant believes it.”

“Oh, botheration.”

“Exactly.”

“I see what you mean about waiting.”

“Yes, neither of us will be able to concentrate if I... if we...” Alice sighs. “I never thought having too much to say would be such a confounding conundrum.”

Mirana lays an arm across Alice’s shoulders. “It’s always the unexpected troubles that are the most overwhelming.”

When Alice doesn’t say anything for a moment, Mirana dares to whisper, “I’m so sorry, Alice.”

“About what?”

The queen smiles sadly; it’s truly unbelievable how innocently surprised Alice is by her apology. “If it was... that is, if revealing you heart line truly caused Jaspien to act...”

“Mirana...”

“No, no, let me say this.” She draws a deep breath. “I should have listened to you, Alice. I’m so very sorry I insisted on us both wearing those silly dresses.”

“Stop, Mirana. Stop.”

Alice gathers the queen’s hands in her own and meets her uncertain gaze. “Look at us. Where are we? In Mamoreal. And we’re both well and alive. If I hadn’t revealed my heart line at the banquet, who knows what might have happened. Both Tarrant and I might have been captured at some other time. You might have had to elect a Champion to fight against me. I might have been killed; Tarrant might have been tortured; you might have been killed and Mamoreal might be in the hands of—”

“I see your point.”

Alice huffs. “Interrupting, again.”

“A queen’s prerogative, dearest Alice.”

They share a smile on the balcony, watch the clouds float across the moon, absorb teaspoon after teaspoon of moonlight through their skin...

On the balcony, two figures lean against each other’s shoulders against the backdrop of a midnight sky: a queen and her Champion.

Two women.

Two friends.

Two indomitable hearts.
 

Follow this link for Chapter 13.

Comments

[manniness.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much for the compliment on my writing!! This part (chapters 9~12) was actually really hard to coordinate and organize because, in Book 1, each problem came up and was solved right afterward (except the Thrice a-Vow), but in this book, the problems just keep getting piled on and on and on and so I had to figure out how they'd have to be resolved and in what order and... It was a Pain. So, you loving and hating me... Yeah, that's Gold, right there. (^__~)

[ingenious-spark.livejournal.com]

Yes, and then there's that moment where you realize that whoever it is who changed, or who you almost lost would nevereverever be the same person who almost died. And it's not fair, and it'll break your heart ito pieces too tiny to see, but you pick yourself up and put yourself back together. And then, after a while the pain just becomes ache and I'm probably going into too much detail, sorry. It still aches kind of fiercely, even after six years.

But you captured that entire emotional response beautifully, and I have nearly cried several times through this fic. It hits a little close to home, but it works, and is poignant and beautiful.

[manniness.livejournal.com]

Again, thank you for sharing your thoughts with me. I've read a fic or two that hit me pretty hard for one reason or another, so I know exactly what you mean.

But know that things will be OK... eventually, if you let them. And that's the plan I'm following with this story. So, there's hope. *huggles*

[ingenious-spark.livejournal.com]

Er... quite welcome, I spose, although I was mainly word-vomiting in reviews, which I promised myself I wouldn't do and then did anyways... yeah. Sorry.

And they will. They are. It's just that sometimes I forget and I slip back into that place where I'm still thirteen and wondering if daddy's ever going to wake up, and if he's ever going to be able to do little things with me again, like driving to choir practice.

And there I go again. xD Sorry.