"You can’t be serious," Alanna snorted, rubbing her temples in slow circles, elbows resting on the oak desk in her chambers. Her husband, eyes dancing, shrugged unceremoniously and slapped the message in front of her.
"It says what it says," George said softly, all too wary of her infamous temper. "And if it’s true, yer Jonathan may be in for another round of trouble jes’ like with the Duke o’ Conté."
"It can’t be true!" Alanna exploded, jumping from her chair, face-to-face with the sharp, rugged, very handsome face of the former King of Thieves. Somewhat mollified, she seated herself with a soft huff. George watched her, amused that she had convinced herself to settle down.
"What if it is true?" he asked quietly, knowing that force would only push Alanna in a direction that he didn’t want to go down. "What if, gods help us all, there is another Heir to the throne? What if this boy--" He nodded at the picture that lay crumpled on her desk. "What if this boy is the King’s son? What will ye do?"
Alanna sighed, and ran a finger down the crude sketch of a young boy with a long braid and a wide, silly smile on his face. "He has the same nose as Jon. His large eyes make him look a little like the King. He could be just another power hungry noble." Her tone said very clearly that she didn’t think that was the case.
"So?" he prompted.
"So we find him. And bring him here."
George nodded, and left quickly, presumably to find the messenger that had delivered the sketch and the note.
Alanna shook her head again, wincing as it only intensified her headache. "Who would have thought that a little piece of paper could cause so much trouble?" she asked aloud. But no one answered her.
Instead, she studied the drawing again. She had to admit, though she would *never* ever let George know or she'd never hear the end of it, this Duo Maxwell was attractive, with those long lashes, a regal, nose that was snobbish all by itself, and his heart-shaped face.
Well. She'd meet him soon enough, and then she could determine for herself if Duo was a fake or...
Or if they had potential civil war on their hands.
Duo paced back and forth anxiously, violet eyes narrowed as he mumbled to himself. Solo shook his head, cutting his thumb open even as he laughed at the boy's antics.
"See what you made me do," he teased, showing the tiny line of blood that graced his flesh. Duo snorted, and continued pacing.
"What is so important about meeting the King anyway?" he demanded, tossing his knife and the whetstone to the ground. Duo paused at the small window of the room where they were hiding out, at least until the messenger returned. "Duo..."
"I've been waiting my whole life for this, Solo," he insisted, twisting his braid in his hands. "Now that Roger's gone, we don't have to hide anymore. We don't..." He paled as there was a knock at the door. Seeing his friend's pale mien, Solo jumped to his feet, boots making a loud sound against the creaky wood, and gingerly opened the door. The messenger stood in the doorway, wringing his hands.
"Solo, I'm sorry--"
"For what?" he demanded, panic rising. There was a back entrance; they could all escape and then they could go into Tyra, where they should have gone in the beginning, instead of following this foolhardy dream of Duo's. But, then, it was *Duo's*, and he could never have denied the boy anything. Not after his childhood. Not after the part he played in that part of Duo's life--he would have blood on his hands forever...
"For this," a deeper voice replied, and stepped out from the side of the door. He had sharp eyes that missed nothing--a thief or a reformed one, Solo supposed, and a crooked grin that suggested he'd had a good time the night before with your momma *and* your sister. Yet there was steel beneath that friendly countenance; this was not someone you would want to meet in a dark alleyway...
"It's okay lad, we're not goin' ta hurt ye," he assured Solo. Then his eyes narrowed. "Not unless ye have a wish to make this harder than it has ta be."
Solo shook his head, feeling sweat slide down his chest, pooling in his navel. If he could just distract him for one moment, he could get to Duo. Then the fool boy stepped out into the light behind Solo, his clear voice cutting through the silence.
"Who are you?"
George's trained eyes were immediately on him, and he gasped. Merciful Mother! He looked just like Roald when he'd been younger, except his face was softer and instead of a pained frigid grimace of righteous justice he wore a soft smile. "Ye're Duo Maxwell?"
Duo nodded. "I am." He hesitated, then looked at Solo questioningly. The older man nodded, and Duo smiled. "You have some questions." It was not an inquiry.
He nodded. "That I do," he replied calmly, mind racing. All he could think of was a pair of violet eyes widening in shock when the boy was presented to her. Or rather, she was presented to the boy, since he would be an heir--! Gods, it was all so complicated. If Duo was really the son of Roald, then Jon would have a potential successor--and rival--for the throne.
George looked at the slowly descending sun and sighed. "We'd best get going if we're ta make it to Pirate's Swoop by sundown," he said, and gestured to his own horse and a pair of chestnut mares beside it, tied to the fence. "Can ye ride, Duo Maxwell?"
Duo's chin lifted in pride. "Of course I can," he replied coolly. "Let's go." George had to hide a smile.
Duo's heart was racing as they slowly ascended the stone steps. This was it. He was going to meet with the King's Champion, the infamous Sir Alanna of Trebond. She held absolute power over him.
He'd tried to gain audience with the King, but he was too busy. Why would the King bother to meet with common riffraff like himself? He could understand his position, or thought he did.
Instead, Duo had sent a messenger to Alanna, who was noted for her compassion as well as her hot-headedness, and prayed for the best.
It seemed his prayers had been answered.
"Go right in, lad," George laughed as Duo paused, unsure. He nodded and strode firmly through, flanked by George and Solo. He felt badly for him, yet there was nothing he could do. Alanna might be his wife, but she was the King's Champion, and had to protect him against any and all threats.
Even this young boy.
He shivered as a wave of premonition swept over him. "A word," he said calmly, drawing Solo back into the shadows. Duo glanced at them, confused, then continued forward towards Alanna, who was watching him wordlessly.
Alanna herself was in turmoil. Her King, her former lover, her brother, confidante and friend; his life could very well rest on her shoulders and what she did at this moment. Never had she so felt the responsibility that was placed on her shoulders.
"Sit down, Duo." He obeyed, plopping himself down into the wicker chair in front of her own larger wooden one. "Care to explain this?" She laid the letter across his lap, and watched as a battle of emotion played out over his features.
He smiled easily, although Alanna could tell that it was not a practiced smile. "Tomorrow is my eighteenth birthday," he said simply.
"Happy birthday," she replied dryly. He gave a small laugh.
"Thank you, Sir Alanna." He was visibly trembling, hands clutching the sides of the chair so tightly his knuckles were white.
"Let's cut to the chase. You call me Alanna; I'll call you Duo. Okay?" Duo assented, uncertain. Alanna sighed. This boy--this threat--was nothing more than a kittenish child, for all of his eighteen years. "You were saying?"
"My mother turned tricks on the streets of Corus. She says that the King used to slip out of the palace when he was younger to visit the city." Alanna nodded, a smile playing at her lips, remembering the nights that she and the other pages at the castle used to spend, rolling dice and escaping, if only for a few hours, at the Dancing Dove. "He--he--she got pregnant and had me. She died and Roger found me, living in the streets off what I could steal.
"He kept me in a house with no windows and a locked door; Solo was the only one around then. And then when he died, we escaped. And then we sent a messenger to you," Duo added. The red-haired lady's lips quirked skeptically.
"Roger? *Duke* Roger?"
"Dark-haired, good-looking man? Wizard's rod?" Alanna shivered, as if Roger had reached through the veil of life and death and breathed down her neck...
"Sounds like him." And it did. It would be just like him to track down the only known threat to the throne, beside himself, of course, and imprison so he wouldn't interfere with his plans. "How long were you in the house?"
"Thirteen years." A low whistle came from a darkened corner, and George stepped out, apparently done talking to Solo, who had paled considerably. Alanna agreed with her husband--it was a long time to be shut out from the rest of the world.
But there was still the issue of whether Duo was in fact telling the truth. And the only way Alanna knew to do that was with her Gift. Gods, she despised using her powers this way. The gods' gifts were to be used for healing, not for picking through a young boy's mind.
"I need to..." She leaned forward and placed her hands on his head, not necessary to what she was about to do, but conveying her intentions. Duo nodded, and his violet eyes slid shut.
And then Alanna was plunged into a sea of memory.
End Chapter One
Ariana
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