Disclaimer: I don't own Alanna or Jon or George or any of Tamora Pierce's other brilliant imaginings.
I'd been at court for about a month now, and it was getting hard to remember what had gone wrong between Jon and me.
We talked often—we had to; I was a knight and he was the king, so I reported to him—and, the longer we talked, the more I realized that the time I spent with him was lovely. George wasn't around—he was off on some quest or other, and I envied him and was rather annoyed that he had left me behind—and he and I weren't official, anyway, so I didn't feel bad about becoming closer to Jon again.
There had been so much that I had liked about Jon, so much that I had forgotten about until I'd returned to court. We'd been stiff at first, still angry about our fight in the desert, but that had passed quickly. It was hard not to be comfortable around him, really; he'd been the first to discover I was female, after all. We never would have been able to move past that experience if we weren't extraordinarily at ease around each other.
One evening, he asked to see me privately after dinner. I followed him out of the dining hall over to his section of the palace.
"Alanna, I've been thinking," Jon began. "Actually, I've been thinking a lot."
I feigned surprise. "Really? You've been thinking?"
Jon rolled his eyes and sighed somewhat wearily. "Alanna, this is serious."
With difficulty, I wiped the smile off my face. I enjoyed being around him. "What is it?"
"I . . . I thought we should talk about what happened, you know, in the desert, between us," Jon said hesitantly.
I didn't want to talk about it, but I said, "What about it?"
"I—I regret that it happened," he admitted.
"Well, good," I answered harshly. Jon had wanted me for all the wrong reasons, I reminded myself. I'd been an object to him—a status symbol. Not a person. Not an equal partner in life, free to make my own decisions. Just yet another thing he wanted, in order to complete his image as a likeable, competent, well-adjusted king.
But he was one of my best friends—had been for years and years now. He was fun and comfortable and knew me really well. We'd been pages together, fought gods together, trained together, grown up together. Our time in the desert hadn't been a high point for either of us; did I need to hold it against him?
"So, would you be willing to give us another try?"
What?
That was IT?
He didn't apologize, didn't try to take back anything he'd said, he just asked if I would be willing to get together with him again?
This was why I preferred George over Jon.
"Sorry, I'm taken," I said coldly. Then I turned on my heel and left. I enjoyed being around Jon, but he'd lost his chance with me long ago.
"Alanna—"
Jon could find himself another woman. I would not be his.
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