THREE
The sparks in your touch, I'm playing with fire
You're never too much that I am entirely in
"True Like Your Name" – Steve Moakler
The rest of the day, Alanna seemed incapable of thinking straight. Her mind kept drifting back to Raoul kissing her the night before. Why did all her friends have an urge to do that? First George, then Jon, now Raoul? She could hardly wrap her mind around it. She wasn't pretty – certainly not as pretty as Lady Delia, and definitely not as beautiful as Lady Cythera (though, perhaps that was why Gary never tried to kiss her, and her personality was certainly more appealing than Lady Delia's…), so what was it? George, she almost understood. She sometimes wondered if he wasn't a bit crazy. And she tried not to think about Jonathan, but it was just that one time, and they were at war. Clearly, the stress got to him. But Raoul?
"Ow!" she cried as a blade sliced her arm. She glared at Douglass. "What was that for?"
"I didn't mean to!" her year-mate insisted.
"Pay more attention!" she snapped.
"I think that's enough fencing for today." She turned her head at the sound of Jonathan's voice. He came over to look at her arm, frowning. "You're distracted today," he murmured as Douglass moved off.
"Am not," she insisted, snatching her arm back. "I can heal it myself. And I'm fine."
"You are not." He grabbed her other arm. "Come on. Let's get you somewhere less dangerous."
"I'm fine!" He rolled his blue eyes at her, clearly intent on ignoring her. She sighed, relenting. Sometimes it was easier to give in before he started giving orders she had to obey. But she kept up the appearance of being dragged, to show him he wasn't completely in charge. She had her pride after all.
Her knight-master shut the door to her room and sat her firmly on the bed. "Now. What has your head in the clouds?"
"Nothing." Alanna cleaned her cut and wrapped it. It would heal just fine on its own. "My head isn't in the clouds. I'm fine."
"So you've said." Jonathan folded his arms across his chest. "But you let Douglass cut your arm, and you've been making beginning mistakes all day. Not to mention tripping over yourself. You aren't normally so clumsy. Does this have something to do with your trip to the Dove last night?"
"No!" Alanna colored, trying to hide behind her too-short hair.
Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "George?"
"No!" And, even if it were George, she certainly wouldn't tell Jonathan!
"Alanna."
Her head snapped up at that, eyes wide in fear. "Don't say it so loud!" she hissed. "Someone might hear you."
Jonathan rolled his eyes again. She suppressed an urge to smack him. "Who's going to hear us in here? Only people listening at keyholes, and no one is stupid enough to do that." He sighed. "Who did you go with last night, Raoul? What did he do?"
"Nothing," Alanna insisted. "Really, Jon. There's no need to press. I'm fine, no one did anything."
"I don't believe you."
"I can tell." He locked his eyes on hers, willing her to give in and tell him what happened. She stared back, steeling herself against him. They engaged in such battles frequently – unless he started issuing orders, she tended to win.
This was so different. Jonathan gave in with a sigh. "You'll tell me eventually," he predicted.
"Of course I will," she answered sarcastically with a mocking smile. "Now can we get back to the practice courts? I'll never be a knight if I don't master my swordsmanship."
Jonathan snorted. "Of all the things it takes to be a knight, swordsmanship is the thing you need the least practice in."
"You don't stay the best if you don't practice," she reminded him.
Jonathan laughed. "Come on then, squire. Prove me wrong."
She grinned. "Gladly."
Jonathan noticed how his squire avoided Raoul at dinner, but neglected to comment upon it. He would corner her later to approach the subject. He suspected it had something to do with the previous evening, which might mean it had something to do with her secret. If that was to stay secret in the gossip filled palace, then dinner was not the proper place to discuss it. Thankfully, the typically perceptive Gary was lost in reverie about Lady Cythera of Elden, and not keeping track of his friends' moods.
Later that evening, after Jonathan had his ego stroked by Delia, he returned to his rooms. She asked him to stay the night, but he begged out, saying Alan was sick and he wanted to watch over the boy. All the way back, Jonathan silently cursed Alanna, for Delia looked so lovely pouting at him. He knocked on the connecting door. "Are you awake?"
"Come in." Was that a sigh he detected in her voice? He found his squire lying on her bed, reading a book. "Did you have a nice time with Delia?"
"That's none of your business."
She smiled knowingly. "So you did. Why'd you come back, then?"
"You." For a moment, she looked petrified, but quickly covered it up. "You and Raoul were acting strange at dinner. What happened last night?"
"That's none of your business," she mimicked, putting down her book.
"I think it is."
"You would be wrong."
"Alanna." Jonathan sat on the edge of her bed. "You rather pointedly ignored each other almost the whole time. You're lucky Gary didn't notice."
"Gary's head is filled with nothing but pretty blondes," Alanna told him. "And he's too well trained to say anything."
"So you admit there was something to notice."
"No. You're imagining things. Raoul and I weren't acting strange at all."
"Yes you were."
"No we weren't. Are we going to argue? Because I'm really not in the mood right now." She swung her legs over the side of the bed, facing the opposite wall.
"Did he find something out?" Jonathan asked quietly. "He turned pink every time you accidentally made eye contact." She didn't answer. Jon snapped up, shocked. "He did, didn't he? What happened? What does he know?"
"He's not going to tell," Alanna said, glancing up at him with unreadable violet eyes. "And it's a long story—"
"We have time."
She sighed, resting her head in her hands. "I'm not sure he'd want me to tell you. It's embarrassing."
"What did he do, kiss you?" He was joking, of course. Raoul would never kiss her – he thought she was Alan. But then he saw Alanna's reaction and nearly fell over. "He kissed you?"
"Say it louder," she hissed. "You want the whole palace to hear?" He lowered his voice and repeated himself. "If you tell anyone, I will…" She couldn't come up with a proper threat. He was the heir to the throne, after all. "Do something unpleasant."
"So he knows?"
"He knows." Jonathan whistled, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy in his stomach. He kissed Alanna during the Tusaine War, but hadn't done it again. He thought he wanted to do it again, but he just wasn't sure. It was hard to find the right time to kiss your girl-masquerading-as-a-boy squire. "It isn't a big deal."
"What isn't?" Jonathan asked, sitting back down. "That he knows or that he kissed you?" His eyes flashed.
"Both," she answered, bristling at the flash. Was he jealous? The prospect sent an involuntary shiver down her spine – or pleasure or of annoyance she didn't know. "He had a lot to drink."
"He's had a lot to drink before and never kissed anyone."
"So you think."
Alanna raised her eyebrows. "Something to share?"
"No! I'm just… saying, that's all." Jonathan avoided looking at her. He rubbed his temples. "What did he say when you told him?"
"He asked a lot of stupid questions. But he didn't seem upset by it."
"Of course not, if he's going around kissing you."
"Will you drop it already? It's embarrassing!"
"Why?" Jonathan's eyes danced. He slid closer to her. "You don't like being kissed?"
"No." She scooted away. "I don't want that romantic stuff. It's distracting."
"Is it?" He slid closer again.
"Stop it." She glanced at him momentarily, almost sitting on her pillow. He slid closer again, until his leg touched hers. She jumped a foot in the air. "I said stop it, Jon!" She moved away, hands folded across her chest. "I think I'm going to go to bed now. Can you leave?"
"I could…" He stood up, beginning to walk away. He turned around, finding she was right behind him. Before she could protest, he slid his hands under her hair and kissed her deeply. He broke the kiss slowly, smiling down at her. She hesitated a moment before hitting his shoulder.
"Ow!" he cried, rubbing the spot. "What was that for?"
"You idiot!" she said. "What would you have done if someone walked in?"
"No one's going to just walk in," he told her, shaking his head. "You're just mad because you liked it."
"Get out." She shoved him.
"I'm going." He left, shutting the door behind him. "Good night, Alan."
"Good night, Jon." She locked her doors, gently touching her fingertips to her tingling lips. It sure hadn't felt like that when Raoul kissed her.
The hardest part of writing this chapter was finding lyrics for the beginning. I have to get some AJ into this story! This is one of my favorite chapters that I've written in a long time. Hope you enjoyed!
