A Prologue to "Discovery":
Everything belongs to Tamora Pierce
In the dim light of his study, Jonathan of Conte sat and stared at the blank piece of parchment in front of him. He picked up a quill, only to put it down again. How many times had he gone though this? Sat down to write her, only to end up with nothing?
Hand shaking slightly, Jon took the quill up and, for the first time, inked it.
Alanna,
I hope this letter finds you well. It's been some time since you've sent word. I want --"You idiot," Jon chided himself, "It should be about her, not what you want." With a sigh, he pulled out a clean sheet of parchment:
Alanna:
You know I'm not good at this kind of thing, but I have to try. I can't explain my behavior. I wanted to come back, to apologies, but your mind seemed set. There was this look in your eyes, it was to close to relief---
Clenching his teeth, Jon scratched though the words roughly. He had to stop assuming he knew what she was thinking. That's what got him here in the first place. Besides, this was about an apology, not accusations.
Alanna:
Everywhere I look, no matter what I do, I find myself thinking of you--
Jon crushed the parchment and through it across the room with a growl of frustration. Pushing away from the desk, he paced the room restlessly.
Gods, how he missed her. There was a sense of emptiness inside him, and it only got worse as time went on. At times like this, it was overwhelming. He couldn't stop thinking about her, wondering where she was, what she was doing…..if she was still angry.
It bordered on the ridiculous. The more he tried to ignore her the more she invaded his thoughts. He wasn't eating. He couldn't' sleep – she was in his dreams. Nothing could placate him. Regret was his constant companion. And fear. Fear that he'd lost her, that his actions had pushed her way forever. Dread at the thought that, sooner or later, she would find out about his idiotic behavior after their fight.
It shouldn't be this hard, he thought. I'm making it to hard. I'll worry about all that when it happens. Tell her. Just tell her!
Jon turned back to the desk suddenly, the quill scratching hurriedly across the parchment:
Alanna:
I'm so sorry for the things I said, the way I acted. I was wrong, terribly wrong. And all the things I could have said - should have said - haunt me everyday.
I never meant to hold you back and I certainly didn't intend to make you turn away. Please, forgive me.
I can't justify my actions: I spent too much time thinking but never said what I meant.
All this time, I've been searching for the words apologize for my foolishness.
I never meant to break your heart, and I'd give my last breath to take my words back. I'm praying you can forgive me.
I never meant to cause you pain or hold you down. All I ever wanted was to stand beside you.
Please, I know we can find a way to put this behind us.
When all is said and done, I know we can put all this behind us.
Know that I love you and—
"Jon."
Startled, Jon looked up to see Gary standing in front of him.
"She's been seen in Port Caynn." Gary said, when his cousin just stared at him.
Jon laid the quill down slowly, heart thumping painfully. "When?"
"Almost two weeks."
"Has George returned from his business in Port Caynn?" Jon asked.
"No." Gary said, his voice strangely grave.
Jon smiled suddenly, relief flooding though him. "Then he'll know where she gone."
Gary looked away from his cousin, a deep frown marring his face. "Jon," he said slowly, "there is something else you should know--"
A door slammed suddenly, interrupted him. Looking up, Gary found that he was alone in the room.
