"What do you think you're doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"You will not prance around dressed like that! I forbid it! Go change."

"Excuse me? You forbid it? How dare you, you arrogant bastard!"

The servants cleaning the hallway outside of the bedchamber exchanged looks and rolled their eyes even as they grinned in amusement as they listened to their prince and his wife arguing heatedly over some rule of propriety.

They all found it inordinately diverting to listen to royalty argue, for it meant that their seemingly perfect and wonderful lives were not so perfect after all. To the servants, it humanized their prince. In their opinion, Princess Corana was the most controversial person to come to the Amaluri court, and a blessing.

Inside the anteroom of the royal bedchamber, the two in question, the royal prince and princess of Amalur, were glaring at each other in a very undignified manner as they circled each other around a table cluttered with papers and other miscellaneous things.

Arlan growled with impatience as he tugged at his dark hair. "Cora, you know I am very tolerant with many things you do, but I cannot allow you to walk out of this room like that!" He motioned to her men's breeches and shirt she wore beneath her cloak.

Cora was scowling as she noticed how his eyes appreciatively took in the sight of her long legs in the pants. She crossed her arms and jutted her chin out. "As I recall, some time ago in Sanjia, you did not mind at all," she said pointedly.

"That was in Sanjia, this is Amalur. Your people may be accustomed to you running around dressed so indecently, but not the Amaluri."

"You always do that!" she cried as she circled the table to face him. "You always turn it into a Sanjia versus Amalur thing and are always putting my country down!"

"But that's exactly what it is!" he fired back. "What else can it be about? You don't seem to realize that you now live in Amalur. This is now your home."

"I am perfectly aware that I am living in Amalur, as you remind me of the fact everyday! But in case you've forgotten, I am still Sanjian."

"You are a princess first and foremost, and a damned beautiful one!" Arlan let out a deep breath and closed his eyes momentarily. When he opened them, he smiled crookedly. "Gods, looking as enticing as you do, you make me forget why I even began yelling at you."

Cora was not about to easily be mollified as that. As he took a step towards her, she ran around the table, still glaring furiously at him. "You are such a hypocrite," she spat. "You tell me it's indecent and improper to dress like this, and then you think you can win me over so easily! You have no respect for me, for who I am as a person!"

Arlan was quickly beginning to tire of this. "Of course I respect you," he snapped.

"Then do not belittle me one moment, and the next, think you can win a kiss. It does not work like that."

"Then how does it work?"

"Well, an apology could be a start."

"For what?" he demanded incredulously. He was not accustomed to apologizing to anyone.

Cora glared at him, then strode into the bedchamber and slammed the door shut. It was followed by the resounding click of a key.

Arlan stared after her in disbelief, then threw his hands in the air, cursing as he strode out of the room.

Behind the closed doors, Cora was not dramatically pacing and cursing, but rather, she was escaping the room down a second set of stairs, her jaw set with determination, a hard glint in her eyes. Such a look would have had Lancia of Amalur weak with disapproval and shock. But then, most anything Cora did would put Arlan's mother in such a state. Real women of royalty and Amalur most certainly did not wear men's clothing, and neither did they look so independent and determined. Women were to look pretty, innocent, and subservient to men.

Amaluri women were not supposed to speak to a man not their husband without an escort or her husband present, unless the man was kin. A married woman was to only dance with her husband, immediate family, or immediate in-laws. And then, only other men whom her husband verbally permitted her to dance with.

Women were not permitted to inherit land unless the king approved it of. They were not even allowed an education unless permitted by her father. Cora was shocked to learn that many women of the court did not know how to read or write. Obviously not many fathers had seen the need for their daughters to be educated.

It was indecent for a wife to show any sort of affection towards her husband in public. A husband and wife were supposed to be consorts, companions in the eye of the public. But Arlan did not believe in this. And so it was difficult for Cora to adhere to this rule.

It was frowned upon for a man and his wife to sleep together more than once a week; one should not be overly involved with one's spouse. Lovemaking was to solely produce an heir, not for pleasure. According to the Amaluri's beliefs, all men and women were priests and priestesses of the gods with different functions, and people should devote themselves to the gods first and foremost. Arlan happened to not believe in this too strongly, either. He'd not wanted a lady's chamber set up for Cora, but Lancia had vehemently insisted upon that. So Arlan had shrugged and allowed it to be set up but to only collect dust.

Women of royalty were supposed to be accompanied at all times by their ladies in waiting, which could include four to twelve women. The idea horrified Cora, to be followed around and announce one's presence by the mere number of the group traveling around. Then there was the issue of the wimple and veil. Cora refused to wear such a confining and uncomfortable article of clothing as the wimple, which wrapped around a woman's head and neck. She had no argument against the veil, for many women in Sanjia wore them, as well.

Cora dryly wondered why society just did not openly put leashes on their women, for that was basically what their laws and rules did. She had been raised in a land where women were looked upon almost as equals. She was fully educated, speaking several languages, able to calculate figures in her head, knew her country's history, as well as the history of many of Sanjia's allies and enemies, and was well-versed in poetry and literature.

What she could not do was adhere to Amalur's silly rules. They went against everything she believed in and had ever known.

Arlan was a difficult man to understand, for though he protested certain rules of decorum and adamantly claimed he was nothing like the king and queen, his soul had still been forged in Amalur by those who firmly believed in their rules. Though he taunted his mother's coldness and his father's roving eye for women, he could not completely disobey or disrespect them. And so it was that Cora and Arlan often fought, or at least Arlan wanted a fight with someone since he could not fight his own inner turmoil.

The one thing Cora whole-heartedly agreed with and loved was Aramuth's royal stables. During the spring and summer months, he liked to take up residence at his racing castle, as many called it, for it was where he housed his hundreds of horses, from breeding mares and stallions, to yearlings and his young racers. He was a great lover of horse racing and scoured the world over for the best breeders and trainers. If he could only show such dedication towards his country and people as he did his horses, he would be a great king.

Cora had brought her own horse, Night's Devotion, or Nivo, with her to Amalur, and he did not seem to be missing his old home as the new grooms petted and pampered him and fed him only the best hay and oats. He had his own field so he would not fight or challenge the other stallions, and a tree to lie under for shade. Nivo had it better than Cora, the royal princess, did.

Many of the stalls were empty, for most horses were either out in the fields or were training. Small men, the jockeys, swept in and out, trading one horse for another with the many grooms. The grooms would then have the task of bathing the horses if they had worked up enough of a lather, towel dry them, walk them out in the sun for a few minutes, and then brush them until their coats shone and their manes and tails had not one knot in them.

Cora was either ignored or acknowledged briefly, which suited her fine. It was better than the judgmental glares and disapproving looks she received from the Amaluri court. Here, no one judged her for anything except for how she treated her horse. Since she fiercely loved Nivo and took great pride in him, the grooms and jockeys respected her. And so they ignored her out of respect rather than groveling at her feet and waiting on her hand and foot.

The first time she had come down here, when she had first arrived, a groom had rushed past her with Nivo's tack, began brushing the stallion before Cora had taken even two steps, and had saddled him by the time she reached the stall. She had given the groom an earful, politely, of course, and no one had ever offered to saddle her horse or offer her a leg up again.

She reached Nivo's stall at last. It was truly a maze to get to him since there were about a dozen aisles with twenty stalls to each aisle. And this was only the one barn. There were five in all. Nivo stuck his dark head out over the half-door and whinnied in greeting. He rubbed his face against her chest and she laughed.

"You know how to woo a lady, don't you?" she said affectionately as she withdrew a sugar cube from her pocket.

He lipped it up eagerly, then sniffed around her pockets, looking for more.

"No more, you're spoiled enough as it is," she said sternly as she opened the door to brush hum. He looked back at her over his shoulder, his eyes wide with innocence.

The stables were, to Cora, the most peaceful parts of the palace grounds. It was constantly busy and alive. It smelled of horses and hay and molasses. Men spoke freely and easily to one another while going about their business briskly. Everyone here worked for and earned their place in the hierarchy.

"I knew I'd find you here," a voice said from outside the stall.

Cora looked up and grinned. Arlan's younger sister, Milisia, was looking at her with the usual affectionate exasperation. The younger woman could not understand Cora's desire to always be in the dirty and dusty stables with the smelly horses, though to Cora's eyes, the Amaluri stables were the cleanest in the Jeweled Kingdoms.

"So you and Arlan had another fight," Milisia said.

"Did he go crying to you about it?" Cora said, scowling as she concentrated on brushing Nivo's black coat.

"No, he just stormed about and slammed doors and threw important papers around so the servants had to scurry around to try to catch them midair is all." Milisia giggled. "He never has to say anything. His face and actions always say it all. As do yours. I think Nivo is going to have a bald spot."

"What?" Cora glared at Milisia, who was staring pointedly at the spot Cora was brushing viciously. Nivo, the patient horse that he was, only shifted his weight a few times, one ear pricked back in concern. "Oh." Cora moved to a different part of the stallion to brush.

"What was it about this time?"

Cora's scowl had returned to her face, but she forced her hand to brush lightly. "Oh, the usual. Not respecting me, insulting me, being overbearing and rude and selfish and an arrogant bastard."

"I get the picture," Milisia said lightly, crossing her arms. "It's always the same, Cora. You two can't keep going around in circles like this. And he's never going to back down on some things. You're just going to have to live with that." Milisia saw Cora open her mouth to protest, but she raised a hand. "Hear me out. I know my brother better than anyone in the world does, and that's not because he overly confides in me. It's because I love him and watch him and learn. Yes, he's an arrogant bastard who hates to compromise, but name me one man who is not. And you are as arrogant and uncompromising as he is. You two have to meet in the middle, otherwise this will never work."

Cora hated to admit, even to herself, that the younger woman's words were true. And the fights over the past month had become tiresome and predictable. But if only Arlan would see her point of view and just stop being a rude, selfish prick, everything would be fine.

"Some things cannot be compromised," Cora said at last, shaking her head. "I have my principals and beliefs, and he was none."

Milisia sighed. "Well, enough about your problems. I came here to talk to you about mine," she said, an unusually somber expression on her face.

Cora came out of the stall, motioning for Milisia to follow her to the tack room. "What's wrong?"

Milisia bowed her golden head and cast her blue eyes to the side as she trailed behind. "I will turn seventeen in just a few months," she said slowly, her hands idly playing with the skirt of her dress. "And my mother and father are beginning to enter into marriage negotiations. "

"Have they already chosen someone?" Cora went into the tack room and grabbed Nivo's saddle, saddle pad, and bridle.

"No, not yet. But I know they are considering a few offers. One they especially are considering is the offer from Gija, our southern neighbor. Our alliance with them is tentative and frail, so tightly taught that it is ready to break at any moment. There are so many land disputes as to what belongs to us and what belongs to Gija."

Cora was nodding in understanding as they returned to Nivo's stall and she began to saddle him. The country, Gija, had often been the topic of discussion since her arrival a month ago. The Amaluri did not look with friendliness upon the Gijans. "So you think that your father will try to secure an alliance through you." It was not a question, was a statement.

Milisia nodded. "I've also heard that a Gijan embassy might be sent within the month," she whispered, tears coming to her eyes, "to come to possible terms about a betrothal. Cora, I could never become the wife of a Gijan! My people hate them so! And to become the wife of our enemy would be to subject myself to their hate as well!"

Cora finished cinching the last buckle of the girth, then put an arm around the girl. "Of course you wouldn't!" she said firmly and confidently. "I would not fear the hate of your people, but of the Gijans." There was knowing and truth in her voice. "Look at how the Amaluri feel towards me."

"That's not true," Milisia said vehemently. "They love you! A new generation is rising, replacing the old nobles in court. You need not worry for their opinion."

Cora eyed her doubtfully. "But your tradition and sense of propriety is still ingrained in all of you. You don't approve of me riding around the country in men's attire, do you?"

"Of course not!" But Milisia blushed slightly as her eyes flickered on Cora's attire.

"See what I mean? The things I do that the older generation of nobles frowns upon are also frowned upon by your 'new generation.' Even by you."

Milisia was frowning slightly. "I know you don't like to hear this Cora, but a line must be drawn," she said slowly. "It is one thing to rebel in court, speak your mind and such. But to dress as a man? Do things as men do? Do women in Sanjia often dress as men?"

Cora sighed, not willing to enter in another argument about Sanjia versus Amalur twice in one morning. "No, not all the time. But it is not the big scandal that it seems to be here. Sanjian women are sensible and know that life is easier in breeches and a shirt rather than dragging around skirts and delicate shoes."

Milisia was still not convinced. But she wisely changed the subject. "I am going into the city this afternoon. Should you like to come with me?"

"Of course!" Cora took any opportunity she could to leave the palace, away from everyone's watchful eyes. And she was never endingly amazed and impressed by Amalur's beautiful stone city. The Amaluri made up for their queer and stiffling customs by creating beautiful architecture. The cities were always full of life and activity, for though Amalur may look down upon others' customs, they were shrewd enough to know it would benefit them to do business with foreigners.

Milisia glanced again at Cora's breeches. "I hope you, ah, intend to change after your ride?"

Cora rolled her eyes. "Since you ask so much more nicely than your brother, I suppose I could."

Milisia rewarded her with a beautiful smile. "We will make a lady of you someday, Corana."

"I hope I never see that day," Cora muttered as she grabbed the reins and led Nivo out for their morning ride.