Disclaimer: If I was the author of CCD I would be concentrating on getting more of them written and published… where's Inda? The world and some characters and some general inspiration and basic plot are drawn from SS's CCD series! I claim no ownership of anything other than a compulsive need to write.

Author's Note from Erkith: First off, I'm SO SORRY! I've been really stuck on this chapter for a really long time and busy and it just wasn't getting done! SO SORRY! I made a nice LONG chappie for you! Smiles winningly. Prays: "Don't kill me!" Thank you all for the reviews, they really helped get me started (guilt is a powerful motivator). I solemnly swear that you will get at least one more chapter from this fic before I go on vacation in early August. I SWEAR!

And the last two sections of this chappie are added out of guilt (They were going to be part of the next chapter), so please do review!

Enjoy, as always!

Erkith

PS. I really am VERY sorry…

Betrothed

Chapter 7: Court Wonders

Athanarel – the king of mosaics of all kinds: ideas, personalities, politics and tiles. That was my first thought, as I dropped onto my bed to stare at the ceiling. I'd only been here for a couple candles, and I already had cause to remember that. Light protect me.

We'd arrived around midday, or at least the riders did. The carriage was accompanied by a great deal of fanfare – that we riders only escaped by a margin – and was somewhat delayed. I was infinitely glad that Nita had not succeeded in forcing me to reside within that vehicle of torture.

That argument had been brief – my father was present, so we had to pull our punches. My darling "mother" was testing the waters again, seeing just how much of my life she could control. Nita took the approach of it being unladylike and coarse to arrive in such a fashion. I pled motion sickness to my father and shot her down nicely. After all, what use was there in decorum if I were green upon alighting?

Papa may have little use for numbers and politics, but is soundly logical on numerous points… useless niceties being one of them. Now if only it extended to Nita… well, one can't win every battle.

But thanks to that victory I had avoided what I considered one of the worst parts of Athanarel – the crowds. I was congratulating myself on this when I was rudely reminded of other court shortcomings.

Cousin Tara met us at the gates. Gliding prettily over the grass, my cousin grasped my hands warmly within hers. "Shayla! How wonderful to have your beauty among us again!" I'm sure she was delighted. Having new meat, a future countess at that, amongst the throng of courtiers didn't bother her at all, did it? I trusted that about as far as I could throw a castle.

Court politics – blah. How good to be back.

I smiled ruefully. "Only another to be eclipsed by yours, cousin." I was tempted to reach for my fan.

Tara's laugh chimed beautifully. "You flatter me, Shayla. And you bring me handsome gifts as well." Her fan appearing as if by wish to cover her mouth and leave only her devastatingly attractive blue eyes to scan the men a step behind me. Her use of the me was not lost on me: Queen of Hearts she was. I fairly sighed; I was definitely back at court.

"Aren't I returning them?" I asked.

Her eyes gleamed with something I'd rather not identify. "Oh, noooo… these two have been on the run for months." I smiled at the term; though I found her voice rather predatory.

"Hardly on the run, Lady Tara. Simply called to duty elsewhere," a cool voice replied, with a lightness I admired. I wondered if he included our betrothal under that heading… the thought wasn't all that bothersome.

I heard Alec stifle a chuckle. They had, indeed, been on the run. Match-making was the post-Galdran court's favourite game. I had this vision of them scurrying for safety, coat tails between their legs – match-making was a scary thing.

"Well, then. May we assume that your presence here heralds a return to the warmth of pleasure rather than the chill of duty?"

It was an odd way to phrase it and aimed directly at him. I barely suppressed the frown.

"As you like." Eldenwood's tone was warm but fell curiously flat to my ears. I glanced at my cousin to see if she'd noticed, but I think perhaps that her mind was too filled with her conquests to notice the inflection.

"Oh, I like." Tara said slyly. "Come, Anders, see me back to my flock, would you? It seems they may finally have decided to return from petitioners' court." She was dismissing me. Interesting. I wasn't going to allow it, but it was interesting.

"I was not under the impression that Gustav and Palin attended the dreary diversions of court life. Your swains abandon you for such monotony, cousin?" I asked lightly. I watched her face. Nothing. "Or are they so delusional as not to fear the favour of my companions upon your grace?"

Her smile maintained its beauty, and her words retained their honey, but her intent had shifted. "I merely sought to be polite, cousin. No doubt, their exact whereabouts may be accounted for, but I never thought to request their presence. After all, we were hardly meeting royalty."

Ah yes, cousin, put me in my place. I am not royalty. Of two royal families, yes, but royalty I am not. How nice of her to point that out. "Of course not," I returned equably, "else wise I could never have escaped the wretched fanfare."

Tara eyed me, uncertain of when and where my reciprocate blow would fall. Let her wait.

I looked past her to where a group of young men gathered. Among them was my royal cousin, Alaraec, but he wouldn't be insulted if I postponed our reunion. In fact, he'd probably welcome my impolitic behaviour so long as it kept me from being close enough to rag him about courting my lovely, lovely cousin.

"Your flock has returned, Tara."

"So they have, indeed." She was not surprised. She had arranged this meeting. She curtseyed to the exact degree of propriety – and unlike my earlier display to the duke and duchess – the insult was tangible and deliberate. "Until our next meeting, Shayla."

She looped her arm through Eldenwood's and strolled away.

Alec and I both sighed. The whole exchange stunk of politics.

"I was under the impression that no one was to know about our engagement." I said tightly. As it was, I doubted my friends would believe the match.

"Darling, not that I object, but I wasn't aware I'd proposed." Alec quipped.

"Ha. Ha." I returned sourly. "Burn it! How does she know?"

Alec gave me a sharp glance. "Did you actually believe you could keep it quiet?"

"No," I snapped back, "But I had hoped the peace might last at least one day."

Alec snorted.

He received a glare. "What?"

"With Kitten, Lord Branaric, and the Wicked Witch as your family; how could that possibly work, Shay?"

I closed my eyes. He had a point. "One can dream."

"Not that vividly," Alec retorted.

"Shut up, Alec." I said half laughing and gave him a shove to keep walking.

We were still sparring when another court wonder reacquainted itself with me – in the form of Renata Caftenar of Turmont – the court matchmaker.

"Is that Shayla Astiar?" Her drawn out pronunciation of my name made me sound like some sort of circus attraction.

I winced. "It is."

The comparison was rather too accurate for comfort. If Turmont had her way, I would indeed be on display in all my dubious splendor.

My hands were swiftly taken and squeezed with familiarity. "Oh my dear, I thought never to see you again, so long the parting." I thought, if only, with only a tinge of guilt. "How've you been?"

"Splendid, really."

"Alec, darling, isn't that wondrous?"

The traitor grinned. "Yes, Aunt, it is most fortunate!" His enthusiasm encouraged her; as he'd known it would. Wicked, wicked Alec.

I smiled gamely at Lady Renata, already planning my escape.

"And you've been well, I trust?" I asked.

"Well naturally, dear. There's not a cold to be had here at court."

"I'm glad for it." She was a nice lady. She really was. It's just that I had to escape before…

"You don't travel outside of Tlanth often, do you?"

Oh. No. I smiled weakly. "I'm afraid," very afraid, I thought, "not much, no."

"I don't suppose there are many eligible men out in Tlanth."

That did it; I was sunk.

I tried to ignore Turmont's grinning nephew. "A few."

"No betrothal yet? And you, at your age, with your beauty." She tisked. "Used to be you'd not have lasted a season on the mart. The way things are run these days!" She looked properly offended. The sincerity in her voice stole my horror momentarily.

How dare they not swarm me, I mused, trying not to smile. "It is reprehensible."

"Really! You must convince your father to let you remain here in my care when he leaves. I'm sure we can find you an appropriate match."

Alec coughed suspiciously.

All urges to smile faded. "Undoubtedly." I said weakly, in face of her imploration.

She continued on, as if she hadn't heard me. "I rather think, Nadav, might have you…"

"NADAV?" Alec objected, abruptly finding the conversation not nearly so funny. "She wouldn't like him at all!"

Lady Renata patted his arm. "Of course, dear. Would you go fetch your Aunt Rena a lily for her chamber, Alec? It's been dreadful dull of late."

"Of course," he answered automatically – there was really no way to refuse. "But she's related to Nadav, Aunt Rena…"

Why, it was almost like he was trying to help me escape… Did he think it would save him from my wrath? I hope not. It'd never do for any friend of mine to be quite that delusional. This was not a case of better late than never. I was already doomed, but it helped that I wasn't the only one perturbed.

"Run along now, Alec, darling."

"Not Nadav, Aunt…"

"Of course not," she soothed, and I have to admit I was fairly admiring of her talent for smoothing ruffled male feathers. "Let me worry about this. You trust me, yes?"

"Yes, Aunt Rena."

"Good." She smiled beatifically.

"But…"

"Now, now, no more of that. Run along and fetch me a nice orange tiger lily, and do say hello to your mother for me…"

She ushered him away. We both watched as he shuffled down the corridor, muttering to himself. We shared an amused glance. We both so loved being the bane of that poor man's existence. And for a moment I was glad to have run into her… of course, then she spoke…

"There, off he goes. Alec is a dear, but he really knows nothing about this, does he? Now as I was saying… Nadav…"

"He truly is my cousin." I offered.

She lifted an eyebrow. "Ah, but the relation is distant, yes?"

She apparently did not require an answer, nor, apparently, any encouragement to proceed to list off a seemingly endless stream of potential prospects and plans to incur their proposals.

No, my input was necessary at all. All I had to do was listen. Lucky me.

It was the longest treck I have ever made to my rooms.

"You don't look rested at all." Kitten noted this when she walked into my room less than a candle later.

I rolled my head to look at her, keeping the rest of my body absolutely still. "Turmont," I muttered.

"Torment?" My sister asked, confused. "Who…?" Curls bounced as she frowned and shook her head in exasperation, "If this is about Anders..."

I waved that away. "For once I may say with uttermost honesty that your esteemed Lord Eldenwood has nothing to do with my state of profoundly miserable existence. Renata of Turmont and Tara were the ones tormenting me."

"Ohhh!"

"Yes, ohhh."

Kitten laughed. When she'd finally sobered enough to speak, she said, "You know, I almost feel sorry for you."

I lifted a brow. "Almost?" I asked.

She smiled, sweetly – never a good sign – and I saw the wicked look in her eyes that said I'd walked right into her verbal trap. Bully for me. "Well, you are my sister."

I gave her a soul-weary look that just made her smile grow larger. "To the best of my knowledge, though I have had cause to doubt it at times."

"So I figure you deserve it!" She finished rather cheerfully.

"Lovely." I muttered, returning my gaze to the ceiling.

"I thought so!" Kitten enthused.

Really, being that cheerful is obscene.

"You would."

"Oh, I absolutely do!" She burst into a fit of giggles. "Oh, if you could see your expression!"

I groaned loudly. "That settles it then."

Kit blinked. "Settles what?"

I looked at her with annoyance. "You must be my sister. No one else could possibly be as aggravating as you!"

"Anders?" She offered archly.

I threw her a glare. "I think you may exceed even his powers of irritation, but unfortunately I still have to love you."

"I know," she agreed gleefully, "it must be maddening."

I growled at her. Surely no one was meant to endure this… no court would convict me of soricide under these conditions... too many of them have siblings!

If she said another word, I would be forced to lop of those bouncing curls of hers.

But she was smart enough to enjoy her mirth in silence. Until…

"You know, for once, you're free of them both!"

The exclamation had no segway, and I was at a loss for the topic. "Who?"

"Tara and Turmont."

I sat up to blink at her in the purest of astonishments. What could she mean? "Pray tell."

"Well, Tara sees you as competition, but now you're off the market, and the merry marriage matrons can't play matchmaker when you've already got a match."

I stared at her. Sometimes she's smarter than I give her credit for. But wait… that meant… NO! "Eldenwood." I said faintly. "You cannot possibly be saying that the Coriander Toarvendar of Eldenwood is MY SOLUTION?"

"Yes!" She found it uproariously funny.

Eldenwood, who gives me nothing but grief was my savior?

I dropped back to the bed.

There was a terrible, terrible kind of irony there.

I woke up to the light tap at the tapestry and groaned. Who wanted to talk to me now? My friends knew better than to swarm me before night fell on the first night, and I didn't think even Eldenwood would be so bold, or actually I just didn't think he'd be that stupid. That left family. Lovely. There are definitely a couple of them I'd rather not see…

"Princess, you're not supposed to be this tired until after the ball."

I opened one eye to look at the man standing over my bed. Tall, blond, and innately royal – alright, I suppose I could talk to this one. I opened the other eye.

"Decided to talk, have you?"

I yawned. "I suppose I could spare you a moment, Uncle Danric."

His lips assumed a wry smile. "Thank you ever so much."

I grinned. "It your own fault if I'm irreverent. You're the one who keeps telling me you're tired of people worshipping the ground you've trodden."

"Surely you mistake me with Meliara."

"No, but her too! And that was your second mistake. According to Nita, you leave me in my Aunt's unsolicited company far too often."

"An oversight, I'm sure." His tone was demure, but his lovely grey eyes were laughing.

I laughed, and dragged myself up to meet his open arms of welcome. I hugged him tight. Kindred spirit that I've found in him, I'm always sorry to leave his company. I broke away reluctantly and invited him to take a seat on my bed; however, he relegated himself to the chair he pulled up to it.

"It's good to see you, Uncle Danric."

"Yes, well, I'm usually here, so you could come visit me more often, Princess."

"I'm not a princess… I'm not even a countess, yet everyone seems determined to call me that anyways."

"What? Princess?" He asked, narrowing his eyes. "Are you and Meliara plotting to overthrow me again?"

I laughed. "No, you're the only one feeding my delusions of grandeur. Everyone else far too concerned making sure I'm properly turned out lady." I lay a strong note of disgust on the last to amuse him. "And Aunt Mel would never do that, though I imagine she'd enjoy you being prisoner."

"She's been recruiting…" he muttered darkly.

I raised an eyebrow, and he laughed.

"So people are calling you Countess. You're heir to the title, Shayla Astiar, and taking care of the estate. Why does it matter if people call you Countess of Tlanth prematurely?"

I gave him a pointed look. "You do remember who holds the title currently…"

He grimaced.

My lips curved. "Found you already, has she?" Nita never wasted much time before toadying up to my aunt and uncle.

"Unfortunately…" Others might have apologized for speaking so of my family, but I had long suspected that the King and Queen had seen what Papa and Kit had missed. Confirmation of suspicions is always nice.

"She giving you trouble, Princess?"

I looked up into shrewd grey eyes, and lied through my teeth as I have been for years. "No, of course not."

He continued to search my face. I knew the moment he saw through the sleep-damaged make-up. His lips thinned. He reached as if to touch the slight shadow, in a strange parallel to Eldenwood, but I turned my head away and stood to go to the window. I looked out onto the rose gardens that bled colour and beauty through their bushes and concealed their thorns.

"You know that they've betrothed me."

Silence.

I dared not look back, but I suspect he debated whether to let me change the subject. I prayed silently that he would. Finally, he let out a long breath. "I did not, no."

He was angry. My unflappable Uncle Danric was well and truly angry. I was no longer sure I should offer him more ammo against my family.

"Why?"

It was a fair question. Situations such as mine were becoming a rarity. Still, the answer wasn't going to make him any happier.

"If our accounts become any redder, I'll be forced to accuse myself of bleeding on them."

"Lady Anita's doing, I presume." His voice was grim.

I shrugged. "I'm sure there's blame to spread around."

He was silent for a moment.

"You could have asked for help."

I turned to look at him. I could have, yes. I'd even considered it. "It would have gone the same way…"

"I would have helped," his voice was stormy.

"I know."

"You should have asked."

I looked at him squarely. I was a woman, not a child. "Would you have?"

He bit off a curse and dropped his head in his hands. I walked to him and sat opposite on the bed, as I had before. He looked up. His eyes said he was as tired of this as I was.

"I love Bran and your sister, but they are both blind and foolish."

"Unfortunately we still have to love them." I smiled, remembering my spat with Kit.

He muttered something under his breath.

I gave him a rueful smile. "Nothing really changes with this arrangement. Until I come into the title, I have little control over how much is spent by the family. I was coming to court anyway this summer to garner myself a fortune I could control. The betrothal solves that."

"To whom?"

"Eldenwood." I said with a grimace.

"Deric and Elenet's son?"

"Is there another?" I asked, rolling my eyes dramatically. "There can't possibly be another. The Light is not that cruel.

My attempt at humour brought forth a reluctant smile. "I take it you don't get along."

"You could say that."

"Could I indeed?"

"And have it be an understatement too." I quipped.

"Someone to annoy you as much as you annoy me, Princess?"

I glared. "Maybe."

"I like him already."

"You would." I muttered darkly.

He smiled. "I do. I've met him."

Lovely.

"You could do worse, than Lord Eldenwood."

I groaned. Not another one! "Do not sing his praises. I will puke on you, King or not."

He laughed.

"I have to get married…" I whined.

"It's not a form of death."

"Easy for you to say! You got to marry Aunt Mel! You didn't have to marry your arch enemy! The very bane of your existence!"

"No, Princess, I didn't," he said softly, grey eyes alight with laughter. "I married the woman who thought I was hers."

My mouth opened and hung there as I stared. I'm sure I looked like a stunned fish.

Oh, the things he could have said! But my uncle took pity for once and simply tapped my jaw shut with a finger and dropped a gentle kiss on the top of my head.

At the door he paused and said, "Don't forget about the ball," before dropping the tapestry behind him.

I stared after him. What was I supposed to say to that?

I turned and groaned into my pillow.

"Why does everyone like you?"

Eldenwood turned and raised a brow at my unexpected accusation. "Do repeat that."

I glared at him, choosing to ignore that, in his black and gold, he looked the picture of the dark, brooding hero my historical romances favoured. I had heard Kitten and Nita praising him on it as I'd turned the corner.

It wasn't difficult to do when he was being deliberately provoking.

Not that I was innocent… I did start the argument.

"You will admit that words were complimentary, even if the tone was not." He bowed a belated courtesy to me.

"On the contrary," I returned, with shallow curtsy, "it was phrased as a question, which implies my either my puzzlement or incredulity. Neither of which is particularly flattering to you."

"I'd prefer to think it the former, for then at least I may hope to coax you out of ignorance." He smirked.

Again, the ignorance barb. He does know me well.

I was about to respond when I felt claws digging into my right wrist. I winced, my captive arm jerking slightly in reaction.

"That's more than enough, Shayla." The Wicked Witch whispered for me alone. "Drive them off and your precious peasants will be paying through their noses." Her nails continuing their journey into my flesh as her grip increased. All the while that her nails bit into my arm she smiled at Eldenwood and his family who were chatting amiably with Papa and Kitten who were equally oblivious.

Only Eldenwood seemed to know that something was wrong, and that may have only been because I never responded to his last insult. As Nita cooed at the Duchies, I watched his golden eyes sweep over me to my step-mother, finally resting where our skirts bunched and concealed her cruelty.

His expression didn't change, but his golden gaze, when it slashed up to mine, was molten with fury. He knew.

I stared back, blinking to hold in the tears that threatened to spill onto my cheeks – tears I could not explain. I forced my focus onto Eldenwood, and the pain receded as I struggled to understand what was different about him.

And suddenly it was gone – that golden fire in his eyes – snuffed out in an instant. He walked to us with a small smile on his face. The pain returned in a wave that brought new tears to my eyes. I bit my lip against the instinctive cry of pain.

"Anita, might I have a word with your daughter?"

"I'm not sure that's entirely proper." She hedged, giving me a sharp glance to see if I had solicited his aid.

I merely stared straight ahead.

Eldenwood persisted. "I promise to remain well within sight. Even the most active tongues would not begrudge me a conversation with my Intended in full view of her chaperones."

She relinquished her hold on me abruptly, letting the long, flowing sleeves of our gowns slip into place before moving away to the others. I offered him my left arm as we walked a little ways in the opposite direction.

I exhaled tightly as the stinging pain in my wrist fluxed with my pulse. Her nails had definitely broken skin. The was a distinct trickle of blood. I was tempted to check anyway, but there were more pressing matters to deal with.

I glanced up at Eldenwood, noting that the anger had returned to his eyes.

"What would you speak of?" I asked, hoping that he'd take the hint.

He turned so that he blocked me from view, and took my right arm above the wrist angling it so that the sleeve fell back. My arm was a bloody mess. Five little crescents of pooling blood marred my arm. Rivulets of red had run down to my hand.

"How can I help you?" Eldenwood asked softly.

"What you've done is enough."

"No it's not."

"I'm fine."

He gave a short, disbelieving snort. "Right as rain if blood naturally precipitates from your arm."

I sighed. "It's not a mortal injury."

"Nor is it acceptable."

I shrugged.

"It's not, Shayla." He protested. "Tell me how to help you."

I was tired of fighting. So I told him.

As long as I was not alone with the Wicked Witch all night I would be fine. So we devised a plan.

As we returned to our companions to begin our descent as the guests of honour, I asked the question that had been teasing the edge of my mind. "Why are you doing this?"

Eldenwood studied me for a moment. He made no effort to answer until we were at the head of the grand staircase. "You have beautiful blue eyes, Lady. It hurts me to see them glazed with pain."

I stared at him a moment. Then our names were announced and we began to join the crowd beneath us.

I was halfway down when the dizziness gripped me; I swayed into Eldenwood's arm. He steadied me. Again uncharacteristically nice.

That I was wondering about that when there was clearly something wrong with me just shows my priorities were way off…

"What's wrong?" The urgency in Eldenwood's voice snapped me back.

I shook my head. I didn't know the answer. But he was right, something was definitely wrong…

A/N: I SWEAR I WILL UPDATE BEFORE MID AUGUST! Please help me guilt myself into this! I love to hear from reviewers it puts a GIANT smile on my face… like this... : D ... see?

THANKS TO REVIEWERS (ones I can't easily get in touch with…)

Sly, Anonymous, sara-lynn, FreakyDeaky, ILOVEDRACOMALFOY, Barat26, lightyearsaway, anynomous(sp?), Eve, Asha, impatient, Meg, Mary, Kestral, meerea, Cali, rane&#, Charm, jo, Gwendeleryn, Cinnamon, Sheyana, Felsong

Erkith