A/N – Hello…!
Yes, I'm back from a long, long holiday. Which did greatly rock, however, so…uh…yay! ^_^
But back with a new chapter for this, which is both my longest and – I feel – my best to date. So that's good, right? Alright, so it's bad that it took quite as long as it did to get it up…but hey, at least it's finally here. Better late than never, right? *laughs nervously*
Heh. Anyway, for those of you who read Divergence as well, don't worry. Instead of my 'normal' routine of doing two chapters of Dreaming for every one of Divergence, I'm going to do the next chapter of that as soon as I can, since I just want to get it out of the way as quickly as possible. Not that I'm looking forward to finishing it – as I *know* I'm going to have to do a sequel for it (as I know that there'll be a sequel for this one. At least this one was always intended to be a two-parter. Divergence is just annoying because I had always intended for it to wrap itself up! But it became too long and involved! ^_^ Damn me!). So it shouldn't be too long…touch wood!
Anyway, enjoy and review. Please. Because reviews are like a Drug.
Seriously.
But don't do drugs.
Do review – but don't do drugs. M'kay? Awesome -_^
***
George, not being privy to her innermost thoughts, continued, "I would imagine that your brother has more to do with your arrival here than he may have let on."
Alanna stared at him, stared at the man who had been so many things to her in her life – friend, confidante, lover and so much more. Her mind, the part of her that still tried to tell her that this world was not right for her, that Her George was the light of her life in the real world, tried to tell her to believe him. It was George! George wouldn't lie to you! But at the same time…
Well, this George wasn't her George, was he? He'd demonstrated that before, his voice was George's in tone and timbre, but…it wasn't words that he would speak. She knew this – she felt it. Thom wasn't against her, Thom wasn't the one who brought her to this place; it seemed to be so obvious, George was lying.
So she did the only thing she could, really – she laughed at him. A full-throated chuckle, she really laughed. "Oh that's nice," she said through the peals of laughter coming from her, "Of course! It makes so much sense now – So thanks to your supposed 'friend' who I've never met, who may not even exist let alone be correct in what he told you, I now know that Thom is evil? Or is he just misguided or something? Please, George, tell me how bad Thom really is!"
George narrowed his eyes at her in response, "So you don't believe me."
"Oh, of course I believe you," she replied, a sarcastic grin on her face, "But then again, I'm known for being gullible."
"I'm telling the truth, lass."
She snorted at that, "Please, George. Give me a little credit – Thom told me that the two of you don't get on; it's obvious that you're just saying this because you want me to turn against him. While we've been here Thom's done nothing that suggests what you've claimed about him – in fact the opposite, as I said to you. He's helped us despite his heavy workload, gone out of his way to help us. On the other hand, we have you – you who yells at me, you who we've been warned against, you who has sent letters to us claimed our lives were in danger," It was strange, but it was only then she realised that the term 'we' was being used a lot. She wasn't really sure why that was – but she knew that it didn't feel as strange as she'd have once imagined. George and Alanna were 'we', not Jon and Alanna. Was it good or bad that it felt…normal…for Jon and Alanna to be 'we'? She wasn't yet sure. "…well, you'll forgive me if I'm being slightly skeptical of your intentions, George."
"I told you," he hissed in reply, putting his hand on her shoulder and maintaining an intense look into her eyes, "those letters' were not threats, they were trying to save you – from Thom's attentions!"
"Don't touch me."
Seeing her narrowed eyes, perhaps seeing her clenched fists, George lowered his gaze in acceptance, pulling away from her with a sigh. "I told you," he repeated, "They were not threatening. I don't see why you wouldn't be more inclined to believe me because of them, not less."
"How do I know that this threat was genuine?" she replied. "What if you just made it up – wrote letter's to get us paranoid or something?"
"What about the guards who have been killed? I bet they thought the threat was genuine."
She narrowed her eyes again, "They could have been killed by anyone. They could have been killed by you, you could have set up this whole charade so that you could gain my trust. Or perhaps something else of mine."
"What's that supposed to mean?" George queried, confusion playing across his eyes. "Something else of yours?"
Tilting her chin up, she coolly looked at him, "I've seen the way you looked at me." She said softly, "I know that you still feel something for me – for this Alanna. Maybe you were trying to get her again."
"'Get' her? I wasn't trying to 'Get' anything!" He shook his head, "No wait, that's a lie. I was trying to 'Get' you not killed! I was trying to 'Get' you safe!"
"From all I've seen," Alanna responded calmly, keeping her teeth clenched, "You're the only one who I need to be kept safe from."
George stared at her, an incredulous look on his face. "Are you-?" he shook his head in disbelief before seeming to come to a decision, nodding to himself. "You're insane, you know that? You just- I don't understand how you can think what you do – I had hoped that since you hadn't been around Thom for as long as you had, uh, as long as the other Alanna, that perhaps you'd see reason and be able to see Thom for what he is. But he must have gotten to you already, you're just as devoted to him as the other Alanna. Just as blind to his crimes."
That piqued her interest, which was surprising, since she had been quite able to block out most of what he was saying beforehand – she knew they were lies, there was no point listening to lies, was there? "What crimes?" she asked, softly, after a beat.
"What crimes?" George repeated, "What, apart from conspiring against you and Jon? That's treason, isn't it? Well, apart from that obvious one-" Alanna pressed her lips together in annoyance, a firm glare settling on her face, but she let him carry on, "-I know for a fact that he's sent men against me, sent Guardsmen, ordered to kill rather than capture."
"How?" she interjected, "How do you know this?"
George shrugged his shoulders in a way that seemed to say it's complicated. "I know because I asked the man who lead the kill-team. The man who got his orders from Thom himself."
"So what, he just told you? You're basing this whole accusation thing on the fact that some random guard told you that someone else had told him something?"
"He wasn't lying," George responded. "I-"
"How could you possibly know if he was telling the truth?!" Alanna all but shrieked, a result of the cocktail of despair, anger and frustration which George's visit had visited upon her. "He could have been sent by someone else completely! He could have been lying through his teeth!"
"I know because no-one could lie when they were like that!" George responded in a similar yell, his eyes widening as he realised what he had just said.
"What does that mean?" She asked, genuinely confused – although a horrible feeling had crept over her. "What was he like?"
"It's not important."
"Yes it is, it's very important!" she shot back, "You obviously thought it was important enough to mention, so it obviously is important!"
"It's not." George repeated.
"Just tell me! Tell me what you saw, what you…" she trailed off, a picture forming in her mind. He couldn't…But she knew he could – her George hadn't been like that since she had met him, hadn't propagated the same methods that his forbearers had when he 'took the mantle' of the King of the Rogue…but she knew that he had done so in the past. "You tortured him, didn't you?" she whispered, the realization coming so violently and quietly at the same time that she knew it for the truth. As she also knew – and, she guessed, as George must know – that it all but destroyed any chance of her believing his words. "Didn't you?"
George never lowered his gaze as he sucked in a breath, "Yes."
Her only reply was to shake her head, whether in denial, loathing or bitter disappointment she didn't know. But she knew that she couldn't believe him now. "Get out." She said, simply. There was no point to his staying here any longer, she knew that too.
"Alanna," George began, attempting to, in a sense, woo her. "I'm not proud of it, but it confirmed my suspicions! Thom is set against you, don't you see? You have to see it! You're in danger here!"
She waited for him to finish, hot tears forming behind her eyes. She knew that she could never look at this George again, not in the same way as she had done so. His actions were unconscionable to her – though it wasn't quite this that made the tears form. Could she ever look at her own George in the same way again? He could have become this man, this…degenerate…if it were not for her choice. She couldn't have changed him that much, could she? Did he still have this inside him? Was he just hiding who he was from her? She didn't know. "Get out." She stated again, words like iron. At least she knew that – she didn't want him near her anymore.
But this George differed from her's in more ways than simply – simply! - torturing people. Where her George knew to defer to her when she was in this mood, this George stood his ground, back stiffening. "I won't leave," he replied, "Because if I leave, I know that I'll never see you again."
"Fine with me." Alanna interjected, scoffing at him.
"-And if I never see you again," George continued, ignoring her harsh words, "Then I fear that you'll be dead within a month."
"By your hand?"
George, to his credit, seemed able to rise above her baiting – "No." he replied simply, "Not by my hand. By the monster that I've been warning you against all night."
"Ahh, so instead of the torturing scumbag who likes to remain in the shadows, sending ambiguous messages and spreading lies around being the threat to our lives," there it was again – Jon and Her, 'Our lives' "-it's my brother, who loves me and who wants to help me. The brother who stands right in the open, trusted by all."
George swallowed, "Yes."
"Ah, right. You'll forgive me if I don't see it that way." She turned from him, moving back towards the main living quarters. "Now, since you don't appear to be leaving any time soon, I'll just go and get some Guards, alright? I'm sure you're probably well known to them – having tortured one of them."
But George's voice called out behind her, stopping her in her tracks with its weighted urgency. He sounded…older all of a sudden, as if he'd grown ten years in the past ten years. "I haven't lied to you this night, Alanna. If I am the liar you make me out to be, why did I tell you something that I knew would push you away from me? Why did I tell you what I did to the leader of the Guardsmen?"
She blinked; why had he told her that? "Because…" she bit her lip; he was right, it didn't fit, did it? "Because you wanted to do this, to throw in some doubts."
It looked like George almost rolled his eyes, so exasperated did he sound. "Now you're grasping for something," he told her softly. "You're not thinking clearly, and I fear that you haven't been all night."
That got her hackles up again, and she spun around on her heel to glare at him, eyes fiery, "What is that supposed to mean?!"
Hands raised in warding, George took a step back. "No! I didn't mean-!" he sighed heavily, "Look, I just think that you shouldn't dismiss what I said out of hand. Please, Alanna. If for nothing else than…than the friendship we once shared, can you please take care around Thom? Just…don't believe him without question. Consider his words."
She wasn't sure why, but she felt that she should agree to this, to what George was saying. But she couldn't just say that, could she? She still didn't believe George entirely, didn't trust him really. Not in the slightest. But…could it hurt? What he was asking? What if he's right? A small part of her cried, what then? Well…no, George wasn't right, was he? "I-" she stopped, she couldn't tell him yes, she knew that. But…could she say no? If only for the friendship we once shared, he had said to her. To be honest, she wasn't sure if even that was worthy of her respecting this…well, it wasn't quite an agreement was it? This George was too different for her to accept those 'terms', but…he was still George. Sure, he was far more tarnished, far more violent and aggressive. She didn't love him, didn't even feel like she could love him, but he was still George. Did she owe it to her George to – perhaps – respect this George's wishes? "I'm not sure."
"Don't answer," George replied, moving as he did so to the window which, to her sudden amazement, she realised was open. "Don't give me an answer, just…think about it."
Alanna shook her head, she had to give him an answer. If not for him, then for her – if she said no now, then it would stop. George wouldn't return, wouldn't try to contact her. George always respects my wishes…her gaze fell to her feet; of course, this wasn't her George, but she felt that he would do the same.
But if she said yes…Where would that lead? Would George return? Would he try something – try moving against Thom, whatever that might entail? "Yes." She said softly, "I'll consider his words."
When she looked up, he was gone. Out of the window, out of the room, out of earshot. Had he heard her? She wasn't sure.
***
"Alanna!"
She turned, still in the large antechamber, surprised by Jon's cry from the room behind her.
"Alanna, are you in here!?"
"Here." She called out in response, mind still trying to digest what she had been told and whether George had heard her. "I'm here." Jon rushed in, a wild smile of relief on his face as he did so, and caught her up in a crushing hug. Her exclamation of surprise was cut off by his lips pressing hard against her own; again the feeling of relief flowing form him was palpable. She enjoyed the kiss, as she did all of Jon's affections of late, but she eventually pushed him away from her. "Wh-?" she shook her head, clearing it of what had just transpired – both her doubts and fears arising from George's visit and the fire that raced through her at Jon's touch. "What was that all about?"
A chuckle/sigh escaped Jon's lips, and his smile widened as he continued to hold onto her. He seemed amused by her confusion, as if it was the least of his troubles. "You're here, you're safe."
"Of course I am," she replied, "Why wouldn't I?"
The smile slipped slightly, and Jon turned to the doorway for a moment, "I was still down in the dining hall, still trying to clear up some of the issues our Scanran friends had with things, when a Guard told me that raised voices had been heard here, a man's and your own." He chuckled, "Apparently they hadn't come in to check on their own because once they did so without our knowledge, only finding the two of us…uh…on the bed. Together."
Her face flashed bright red, that certainly would have been embarrassing. Something niggled at her, however – why did it seem…strange as well? "So you came running, hmm?" she banished the errant worry to the back of her mind, she had more important things to worry about than the past sex-capades of herself and Jon.
Jon nodded, "That's right. I got here as fast as I could, and found you here by yourself." He frowned, the smile completely gone now. "But…were the Guards wrong?"
Biting her lip, Alanna wondered whether she should tell him. She should, she decided – As they had discovered, the two of them needed to stick together while here, the two of them needed to share information and go over it together. She had, of course, found it a lot easier to 'stick' with Jon than she had originally considered, which was both a blessing and a curse. "No, they were right." She replied, "George was here."
"George? What was he doing here?"
Her eyebrows raised, Jon sounded…no, he couldn't, could he? She smirked slightly, "Why, my Lord. We're not Jealous, are we?"
She knew the instant that she said it that it was a bad idea. What kind of answer could he give, and how could such an answer be in any way good? "Uhh…" Jon fumbled for an answer, and she knew that he recognised the awkwardness of it as well. The situation was awkward. After all, if he answered 'yes', then it would appear that Jon didn't believe George should be alone with her. If he answered 'no', then it may appear that he was 'withdrawing' his claim to her, as it were. Not that she would allow herself to be so claimed, of course – just that he wouldn't want to give the wrong signal to her. "This- This is confusing." Jon finally responded, sounding as perplexed as she was.
"I know," she replied, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."
Jon waved the apology away, "That's alright. We knew that…doing what we've been doing…would be confusing. I suppose that this is just the first time that we've admitted it to each other."
She nodded to that. "Confusing is the word, oh yes."
Smile firmly reattached, Jon took her hand in his own, and led her over to the bedroom. Sitting on the bed, he pulled her down beside him and turned to face her. "Now, what did George have to say?"
Shrugging, she began to recount what George had said to her. She told how he had surprised her in the darkness, his claims about Thom, and his revelations about the letters and the Guardsman that he had tortured. She told him of his advice to her – to not accept everything Thom had said to them without question. She finished by stating simply that she was confused, more by her own thoughts than by anything in particular George had said. "I didn't believe him at first," she told her perhaps-more-than-friend, "and to be honest I still don't. But…he made a good point at the end, and I could tell that at the very least, he believed in everything that he told me. He didn't lie to me, although whether or not what he knows as the truth is the truth, well. That's another matter."
"So what do you think we should do?" Jon asked.
She smiled – it seemed that Jon too was suddenly struck with a desire to encapsulate the two of them into a 'we'. It was nice, but at the same time it created a sense of uneasiness in her that she knew was related to the 'other we'; of her and George. "I think that we should keep our eyes and ears open," she told him, "to keep a watch out for each other more than anything."
Jon nodded, and she could almost see the wheels spinning in his mind, "We've got to be careful, though." He said, "Careful that we don't isolate ourselves from everyone else."
Frowning, she began to stroke the back of his hand, "Do you believe what George said?"
She noticed him shoot a glance at their entwined hands, a faint smile flashing across his lips. But then he looked away from her, eyes downcast as he answered her. "I don't know," he replied noncommittally, "But I think that we should follow his advice; maybe it's nothing, but…something is up."
"What do you mean?"
He shrugged, "I don't know. Just- I don't know what it is, but something feels…very familiar."
Her frown deepened, "Familiar how?"
"Roger-familiar." His voice was low, "It's the same feeling that I had when Roger returned from the dead. The same kind of obvious and imminent, yet directionless danger."
"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked, a twinge of hurt in her voice. She withdrew her hand from his, "Do you think Thom's like…like Roger? Is that what you're saying?" She couldn't believe this – both of them! They both thought Thom was wicked, thought that he wanted to harm her!
"No! No I don't think that!" Jon exclaimed while trying to reassure her, taking her hand back into his own and clasping it tightly. "Nothing like that, nothing so- well, nothing like that, no."
"But…?" she proffered, knowing that he had more to say.
He winced, before continuing in a slow and deliberate voice. He was obviously choosing his words very, very carefully. "But I do agree with George that there's more to Thom than we may have first considered."
"I can't believe this." She whispered to herself, "I can't- I can't handle this." She stood, pulling out of his grip as she did so. No! her mind screeched, Thom was her brother! He was alive here, and he was whole! She loved him, and he loved her.
"Alanna!" Jon rose beside her, placing his hands on her shoulders as she did so. "Please, don't go. Please listen to what I have to say. Just…give me a chance to work something out."
"Work what out?" She questioned, still shocked by this…what felt like a rejection. "What do you plan to do?"
"I think we should see this friend of George's, this one you said had felt the magic."
"Arram?" she said, wondering why Jon was taking this tack. "Why do you want to talk to him?"
"Because I think it would be better to talk to…" he stopped, brows furrowing suddenly, "Did you say his name was Arram?"
She nodded, "Yes, I think so. A refugee from Carthak, George said. Why?"
Jon shook his head in disbelief, another short chuckle leaving his lips. "I can't believe this."
"What? Do you know him?"
It was Jon's turn to nod, "Of course I do. And so do you." He smiled as she frowned at him, "Arram Draper was the name Numair Saliman was born with."
***
"I can't believe you talked me into this," Alanna grumbled as she pulled the hood of her cloak tighter around her. "And why did you have to make me look so…so ridiculous!"
She couldn't see Jon's face, not from where she stood at the moment – not pressed so tightly against his chest as she was, but she just knew that he was smirking. "You agreed so easily because deep down you know it's a good idea," Jon replied, and she could hear the amusement in his voice. "Numair will be able to tell us things that might be important." He cracked the whips again, calling out to the horses on the front of the old wagon to get a move along.
"But we don't know that what he will be telling us is the truth!" Alanna fumed as the wooden wagon rocked and jolted her. She pressed herself tighter against him, though for her safety of course – not for any other reason, "He could be lying very, very easily! And you didn't answer my other question."
"He'll tell us the truth," Jon replied, a confidence that came with knowing one was right underscoring his words, "Numair couldn't lie to me – I know he couldn't."
She rolled her eyes at that, she still didn't believe that Jon was thinking all that clearly on this one. He had suggested that the go to see this Arram that night, to find out what he had actually sensed that night, to work out if – at least – George wasn't lying about that. But he had not, as far as she was concerned, considered that Numair – Arram – might lie to them. Plus, she thought angrily, the illusion spell he cast on me isn't particularly flattering, is it?
Jon had insisted on doing it himself, and while she thought she could replicate what Thom had done to her a few days ago, she wasn't totally sure. And so she had let him do it, though she wasn't quite as pleased with the result as he was. "And…?" she grumbled, knowing that he'd get the message.
"And you look very nice." Jon replied softly, though more because he would have burst out laughing if he spoke any louder than the presence any real sentiment behind the words. "It looks good on you."
"'It'?!" she repeated, "Why don't you call it by it's proper name!"
Jon shrugged, "I don't know what to call it."
"It's called two scarves!" she whispered harshly, mouth pressed right up to his ear. "You made me look like a hussy!"
"Maybe so, but as I said – it looks very good on you."
She glared at him; his illusion was far less revealing, just a slightly different look to his face and some rougher clothing. "When we get back to the palace," she whispered in a far-too-pleasant-tone, "I'm going to make your life such a hell that you'll regret you ever did this."
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You'll do no such thing." He told her.
"And what makes you think that?"
"Because if you do," he replied, tilting his head down so he could look at her. "I'll make the illusion last all week." He tapped her nose and winked at her. He winked at her.
"Don't wink at me." She growled, frustrated that her attempt at intimidation failed so completely.
"All part of the act, my dear." He said to her, and she rolled her eyes. The 'act', or so he called it, was that she was a rather promiscuous serving girl that he – a (rather well paid) member of the cooking staff would be 'enjoying' for the evening. They'd had to leave the palace because a) He had a list of items which needed to be purchased for tomorrows meals and b) since this excuse wasn't accepted (on the – quite correct - grounds that it was too late for shopping), that they needed to get into the city to 'enjoy' themselves, since they couldn't well do it at the palace. The Guards had taken a long look at her, eyes hot and heavy (she felt like hitting them, but settled for hitting Jon instead), eventually letting them through with throaty laughs and knowing glances. "Now cuddle up closer and give me a kiss."
"You're enjoying this far too much," she said to him, although she obliged in part of his request, pressing herself closer to him. She was so close now that she, quite honestly, couldn't feel where she ended and he began. Her head rested on his shoulder, and his arm was pressed tightly around her shoulders. Her hands rested on his thigh, and she was – if she would admit it to herself – quite content. "I should probably warn you that I'll certainly be exacting my vengeance in time."
"But of course. I wasn't expecting any less. And of course I'm enjoying myself, I always enjoy myself around you."
She blushed at that, "Well then, it's a good thing that we're stuck here together – because I've enjoyed myself around you as well. Of late, anyway." Feeling him smile, she looked up at him. His illusion was strange, she felt. It didn't look like Jon, but then again…his nose was similar, and the cheekbones looked the same. His hair was brown, but his eyes were still that icy blue which always managed to stoke a fire in her rather than freeze. She leant up, placing a hand against his cheek, tracing the skin which was familiar. After all, it was all an illusion.
"That's good to hear." Jon whispered softly. He looked over his shoulder all of a sudden, peering around in the gloom. "I think that's far enough." He said, before mumbling some words under his breath. She couldn't feel anything, but she could see his own illusion shatter – and she knew that he had dispelled their disguise. His own, very familiar, visage smiled down at her, and he tightened his grip around her shoulders. It was strange, but she couldn't remember feeling like this – like the way she felt now, for a very long time. It wasn't just joy, or happiness. She'd felt both of those with George and her children often enough, but this…this was sheer contentment. Bliss was a strong word, she knew, but it wasn't far wrong. A wide smile crept across her face, and she pulled down on the hand that still traced Jon's cheeks, dragging his head down so it was close enough. Lifting her own head, she brought her lips onto his; with the hunger she felt inside when they made contact scaring her, if she was honest with herself. She wanted him so badly…
They kissed for a long while, Jon's hands beginning to roam around under her cloak, tracing her body through her – thankfully now present - clothes. She moaned into his throat as he began to caress her breasts, her hands massaging the back of his neck as he pulled her onto him. The part of her mind still aware to the outside world worried that they might fall off the wagon, but thankfully they managed to stay onboard. Of course, the vast majority of her focus was given over to experiencing the pleasure and desire which flooded through her, aware of Jon's hands and shifting body in a way that she'd never been aware of anything else in her life. "Jon…"
He pulled away from her, taking deep breath's as his lidded eyes stared into her own – the desire she saw within their blue depths she knew was mirrored in her own. "Alanna," he whispered, "I love you."
"I-" The words died on her lips, though her mind completed the startling revelation – -love you too. She loved him; she was in love with Jon. It all seemed to crystallise in her mind; it seemed so obvious that she was amazed she hadn't realised it sooner. She hadn't loved him while she was still with George, of course. It had been a recent development, one which had arrived when they had arrived here together – seeing him next to her in the bed that morning had stirred something else in her besides confusion, it must have done. She hadn't loved him then, either, but she most certainly did now. She loved him, painfully and completely. It felt so comfortable as well; familiar and new at the same time – the same desire and heat that they had felt while they were still Knight and Squire, the burning need for each other, but there was something else, something new. A maturity which accompanied it, a rationality and…rightness to it all.
But could she tell him? She wanted to, she desperately wanted to; wanted him to know how much he meant to her, and had always meant to her. A friend before, a supporting shoulder and a listening ear, and now so much more. Granted, they hadn't done anything more than a little groping – but she knew that this was true. Realising that had opened something within her, turned a faucet inside which let loose this…rampaging desire. But no, she couldn't tell him. While it felt right, and she knew that it was 'true', she also knew that they wouldn't be staying here forever – that they'd return to their own world one day soon, and that she'd have to return to George. Did she still love George? Could you be in love with two people at once? She didn't know; but it was a little difficult to gauge her feelings for a man who didn't exist where she currently was. She would have to determine that when she returned.
She would also have to determine what she would do about Jon. She loved him, she knew that. He loved her, she knew this too. They wanted each other almost more than words could say, but they couldn't give into this temptation.
Or could they? As Jon had told her once, and as she had repeated – no-one besides themselves would ever have to know. No-one besides themselves ever could know what happened between the two of them; of things said, of things done. They'd already kissed, they'd already shared more than she thought possible – what more was…that on top? Negligible, no?
She wasn't sure. What she was sure about, and this was that passionate part of her being that pushed the thought forward – was that she had to tell him that she loved him. Something more may come of it, perhaps something bad, but she owed it to him to tell him.
"Jon," she whispered to him, tracing his face with her fingertips as she did so, "I just realised something. Something important."
He was still looking at her, arms still wrapped around her. "Hmm?" his smile was infectious, and she felt her lips spread wide too. She was happy, happier than she'd been in a long time. This place can't be that bad if I feel like this, she thought. I was happy back in our world too, but this was so different. Alanna was a warrior, a fighter, but she still needed to muster her courage for the next part. I've fought in wars that made hardened warriors balk, fought battles against impossible odds, but my hearts as fragile as anyone's…
"I almost couldn't believe it myself, but…something just hit me. Something amazing, insight."
Jon continued to look at her, a loving smile on his face. It was at this moment that the old draft horse whinnied, and moved to the side violently, making the wagon creak in protest and shake uncontrollably. Suddenly ashen – the sensation was far too much like sea travel for Alanna's taste – she swallowed her words and grabbed hold of the side of the wagon.
"Mithros!" she heard Jon curse as he let go of her, bringing his hands back onto the reigns. Obviously the horse, all of a sudden untroubled by the incessant tugging on the reigns, had decided to wander off onto far less maintained roads. Just as she thought it, she knew she was right – as one of the wagon wheels suddenly went over (and into) a fairly large hole in the middle of the road. "Hold onto something, Alanna!" Jon cried as the wagon shuddered to a halt, before pushing out of the hole with a violent rock, throwing her forward. Her grip on the side of the wagon faltered slightly, and her body careened off the bench and onto the ground.
She landed with a thud, her cloak twisting in her legs and around her waist. Thankfully, she had landed on a patch of muddy grass, and hadn't been injured to greatly. Not that Jon knew that, of course, as he flew down from his perch on the wagon bench, crying her name. He reached her, and she felt his arms lifting her to a sitting position. "Are you alright?" she heard him worriedly exclaimed.
She tried to answer, but realised with a start that she had been winded, instead needing to suck in a large breath of air. Jon held onto her shoulders, trying to make her more comfortable. Unfortunately, he wasn't doing all that good of a job, but it was the effort that counted. "I'm fine," she eventually managed to croak out. "How're you?"
His only response was to smile in relief, and throw his arms around her. "Thank the Goddess," she heard him, "Thank Mithros."
She knew then that it was now or never, "Jon," she began, "I need to tell you something." She pried his arms away from her for a minute, and seeing his confused face let out a soft laugh. "Nothing bad, don't worry." She told him, pressing her lips lightly to his own. It was then that she realised just how difficult it was to articulate what she wanted to say, "I just felt like…uhh, I mean, that is to say that I wanted you to know that," she swallowed.
"That what?" Jon offered as she let a long silence stretch out.
She swallowed once more for good measure, "That I love you. That I'm in love with you."
His shocked look was all the answer she would get for some time, as she brought her muddied hands up to his face and dragged his mouth down to her own for some time. The same muddied hands eventually worked their way under his shirt, cold fingers pulling buttons loose and dragging material over skin. Her own shirt was also soon discarded, Jon's wet hands moving over her soft skin, leaving trails of contrasting cold and heat; her mind retreated, and her focus shrank to the two of them – to their bodies and to their hands, grasping and clutching, working and stroking, and soon she hardly noticed the cold or the wet at all. Instead, all she noticed was Jon's blazing mouth on her own, and his body moving over hers...
***
They hadn't ended up getting to the Dove; Jon had wanted to talk to George and find out where Arram lived. Instead – after their lovemaking in the muddied grass by the side of a road – they had sheepishly (it was, after all, quite an open place to do such a thing) dressed themselves, soft giggles escaping their lips as they looked at each other and realised just how muddy they were, and hopped back onto the wagon. It wasn't broken, thankfully, after it's mishap, and they managed to get the horse moving back towards the Palace.
Talking to George or Arram simply didn't feel all that important any more.
They had held onto each other in silence, cold bodies pressed against each other for warmth, wet hands entwined with each other. At any other time, Alanna knew that she would have felt miserable – cold, wet and with mud everywhere. But she didn't feel anything of the sort, an internal warmth had grown within her; perhaps an afterimage of the incredible fire the two of them had invoked within each other. She didn't know about that, it seemed a shade too poetic for her liking, but she knew that she could hardly feel the chill at all. They didn't say anything as the horse trotted in front of them, their shared intimacy seemingly leaving them without need for words.
For the time being, at least. Jon had mumbled the illusion incantation once more when they got close to the Palace gates once more, and – obviously judging by their wide smiles – the Guards assumed that they had 'done their buisness' and were returning. Which isn't all that far from the truth, Alanna thought. The Guards began to chuckle again, some whistling and cat-calling the two of them as they moved back into the palace grounds, but she paid no attention. Her focus was on Jon, as it had been all night.
The wagon was returned to where Jon had 'borrowed' it from, and after a quick look at her, mumbled some more words. "Modified the illusion," he said softly to her, the first words they had shared since rising from the muddy ground. She nodded, having already noticed the subtle changes that had been worked into his visage; he was Jon again, but clean. The mud was still there, she could feel it, but judging from what she could see of Jon, obviously no-one would be able to see it. She gave him a smile, thanking him silently, and offered him her hand. He took it quickly, squeezing it slightly as he did so, and the two of them set off for their rooms.
When they reached them, she asked a passing maid to fill their water-tub with hot water, a rather ridiculous request for this hour, but the maid scampered away with nothing more than a slight furrow of her brow. She followed Jon into their room, a small gasp of surprise escaping her as she was immediately taken up in his arms and thoroughly kissed. She returned its' passion with fire of her own, and the two of them reveled in their love in such a fashion for a long moment. Eventually they broke apart when a knock came from the door, the maid having returned with two of her fellows with a number of steaming buckets, which – after assent was given – were taken into a small bathroom and used to fill their tub.
The maids finished in short order, and left hurriedly. Perhaps they had seen the look in their Majesty's eyes, and knew what would be occurring. Perhaps not, Alanna did not particularly care. Almost as soon as the last woman had left, Jon dropped the illusion and their muddied selves came back into sight. Still wide smiles attached to their faces, they began to kiss once more, this time slowly removing the other's clothing. They soon stood together, the mud their only covering, before they made their way into the bathroom and lowering themselves into the water.
Cleaning was not the only thing that was done afterwards, and the two of them eventually made their way back into their bedroom – falling onto the bed together, exhausted and content, entwined and in love.
***
The next day, Alanna awoke to see Jon's blue eyes staring into her own. She tried to smile in greeting, but her mouth wouldn't stop, and instead she let out a large yawn. Her lover's grin widened, and she could see the amusement dancing in his eyes.
"What?" she asked in a rough voice, trying to force herself awake as she did so. "What's so funny?"
"Did you know that you snore?" Jon whispered as he brought a hand up to push some hair behind her ear.
She was slightly more awake now, shock spreading through her system, "I do not!" she exclaimed, amazed that he'd ever suggest such a thing.
He nodded, something she found quite amazing given his currently horizontal position. "You do. But don't worry, it's cute snoring."
"Is that supposed to be some kind of consolation?"
This time he shrugged, instead bringing his lips down onto hers and kissing her awake.
He didn't play fair, did he? She couldn't keep the smile off her face, the love she felt for him suddenly overpowering her ability to control her own body. But she tried her very best to frown at him; she wasn't going to let him get away with this. "I don't snore."
He laughed, "Sorry I mentioned it. But I thought it was interesting."
"Interesting?" She repeated in a disbelieving tone, "My false snoring is interesting?"
"Yep."
"And why is that?"
"Because you look beautiful when you sleep," he told her softly, "And even your snoring doesn't detract from that." She blushed – which was strange, considering how 'close' they had become once again the previous night, she never thought that she would blush again. She saw Jon's smile take on a wicked quality, and she raised an eyebrow in question, "Well, you still look beautiful at least. The pig-like nature of the noises coming from you does detract a little, I suppose."
"Pig-like?!" she shrieked, "That's it, you're a gonner, mister."
Jon laughed as she launched herself at him, as she delivered small punches to his chest. He tried to fight her off, but she squirmed down under their sheets, pinching his chest and legs. He reached under the covers, grabbing her, and gently pulled her towards him. She rested on his chest, and they stared into each other's eyes; after a beat, she leant down and brought their lips together forcefully. His hands tangled in her hair, and she soon wished all mornings could begin like this.
***
Unfortunately, the two of them eventually had to rise. Gary had apparently heard 'noises' coming from within their room when he had arrived earlier, and had wisely decided that he should give them a little more time.
Apparently he had come past another two times, and it was only on the third time that he felt that his walking into the room could possibly result in his escaping with a firmly attached head. Whether it was Alanna or Jon he was more worried about, he didn't say, although the way he had continually glanced at Alanna as she sat smirking on the bed (dressed and bathed by this time), she had a suspicion that it was her. Which caused her no end of amusement, that Gary would worry that she'd take his head off if he walked in on her and Jon making love…well…she supposed it wasn't all that far-fetched, actually.
Still, he'd managed to 'escape' with head still attached, and had informed the two of them that Jon was required for a state lunch in less than an hour. As often seemed to be the case, Alanna wasn't required to attend. This time, however, she actually did want to attend this one, if only to be close to Jon for a little longer. Jon, however, had claimed that perhaps – since they had not done so last night (his actual words had been "since certain…distractions arose", which made her giggle for a minute. Which itself caused more giggling – after all, the Lioness shouldn't giggle.), she should 'investigate' George's claims. His words had dampened the mood for a short while, causing her to remember something about the previous night which was slightly less…happy, but she had soon seen the wisdom of his words.
"Alright," she had told him, "I'll go talk to Thom."
Jon had frowned, "Are you sure that-? Do you think that's a good idea?"
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing, no – I don't know." Jon had sighed, taking a seat on a chair as he pulled on a boot. "I don't think you should talk to Thom alone anymore. We should watch out for each other."
"I'll be fine, Jon." She had assured him, "He's my brother. Besides, if there is something up with him – which I don't think there is, not really – then it would be more suspicious if I stopped coming to see him, wouldn't it?"
Jon couldn't argue with that, and had merely pressed her to 'be careful' a few hundred times before making his way down to meet with Gary. He'd kissed her as he left, and she couldn't shake the feeling that it had been a parting kiss. She didn't want to believe that, however, because it would mean that Jon believed more of what George was saying than she had been led to believe. But no, she knew that it wasn't what Jon was thinking – if he really thought you were in danger, her mind said sensibly, then he wouldn't have allowed you to go alone. He knows you're skilled and capable of protecting yourself, but he's never been accepting of you rushing into danger without him to stand by your side.
And wasn't that the truth.
George isn't like that…No, no he wasn't. George accepted the fact that she'd do dangerous things, and that she'd be able to protect herself. George respected h- No, she couldn't say that. Jon respected her and her abilities too, she knew this. He had often sent her out into the field when she was his Champion; she couldn't say that he didn't respect her abilities. So why was he so…anxious now?
Was it because of what they had done recently? Was he more worried about her because of what had happened between the two of them? Was he going to treat her differently simply because she reciprocated his love for her? She wasn't sure, although she was sure that she'd rather he didn't treat her any differently. She loved him for how he had been in the past and how he had acted to her here – she didn't want him to start acting differently, as it could…
She stopped – as it could cause problems in the future. Future? She and Jon had a future now? She frowned; she shouldn't think like that. Jon and she wouldn't be together when they returned to their own world, she knew this had to be. They both had spouses, and they both had children. She loved George (or at least, she amended, she thought she still loved him), and she especially loved her children. Following her heart to Jon would simply tear their families apart; she couldn't deal with that, she couldn't handle the guilt.
What guilt she could handle, however, was that accompanied by what the two of them had done while they were here. And, she thought with a small smile, what they would hopefully continue to do. It would be hard to stay away from Jon when they returned, but she could do it. She would have to.
But she didn't have to stay away from him while she was here…
With a smile on her lips as she remembered the night they had shared, consummating their love, she made her way to the Western Wing and towards Thom's chambers.
***
The door was on fire again today, which irked her.
"Thom!" she yelled, "Thom it's me! Can I come in?" There was no immediate response, so she waited. And waited, and waited a little more. After a while, she tried again. "Thom! Are you in there? It's me!"
Again, no response. Frowning, Alanna thought about her options. She could wait for Thom outside, go back to her rooms or to see Jon again, or have a quick look around Thom's rooms. She thought that he wouldn't be very long away; no-one had mentioned anything of the sort, but the simple fact that Thom very rarely seemed to be out of his rooms implied that he felt more comfortable there than anywhere else. Thus, he'd try and keep his trips outside as short as possible. Could she go in? She could, of course – perhaps the question was should she go in. That was a trickier decision.
But you're not expecting to find anything, are you? So why should you worry if Thom comes back early – he's not done anything wrong, and he's not the man George claims he is. She nodded at the thought, Quite right. The flames irritated her, but she knew they were harmless. An illusion, like that Jon had utilised the previous night to hide them from the Guards. Sucking in a deep breath, and keeping her eyes firmly closed, she placed her hand on the door. She knew from her memory of the door that her hand was now directly where the flames were; they should be lapping at her wrist.
But nothing – indeed, they were all illusory.
She cracked an eye open, and seeing that her hands were fine, let her mouth split into a grin as she pushed the door open slowly and walked in. Thom obviously that the flames were protection enough from people sneaking around his rooms – he hadn't even locked the door behind him. Closing it softly behind her, Alanna took a quick look around the chambers that she could see.
Thom wasn't a particularly neat person, or so it appeared, as papers and scroll-cases lay strewn around the room with no apparent pattern. Experiments of one sort or another cluttered on the desktops and any other flat surface; she really couldn't see a single piece of wooden surface, given how much junk was crammed onto them. Small vials bubbled away in jars while a large vat of brown liquid sat in one corner, fermenting slowly. Lifting an eyebrow, Alanna realised just how disgusting this room was – messy to the extreme, she knew that she'd never find anything in here. Not easily, at least.
Did she even want to try? Maybe she should just sit down on the couch, sweep off the papers and sit down. Maybe she should head out the door as quickly as she should, wait for her brother to return and talk to him then. Maybe she should get out of the room and then find her way downstairs, find Jon and keep him company. She liked that idea, but she also knew that she couldn't do it – she needed to find something to prove to Jon and George that Thom wasn't the man they thought he was. No – she couldn't leave, but that didn't mean she should snoop around.
But a little snooping couldn't hurt, right? Oh, sure, she wasn't going to touch any of Thom's experiments, or speak out loud any incantations or whatever, but she could read some of the papers, try and discern what Thom was doing with said experiments, and so forth. Yes, that would work – she wasn't doing anything really intrusive, was she?
No, of course not. Happy with her decision, she made her way over to the largest desk in the room, the one Thom had been sitting at the last time she came to visit him yesterday afternoon. It was a huge piece of furniture, heavy mahogany finish making it quite…depressing would be the word she'd use. It had drawers, obviously someplace that Thom would put more 'vital' pieces of information, but she didn't think that she could justify rifling through Thom's drawers' to herself. So she settled for shuffling through the papers, having a look at them and attempting to work out quite what Thom was doing. And by that, she meant the small vial of clear liquid which sat bubbling away on the top of the table. Thom had cleared a space around it, which clearly indicated to her that it was either highly important, or that it was highly dangerous. Either way, she didn't want to touch it.
After a few moments of squinting, turning the paper around and generally attempting to decipher the meaning of what it was she was holding, she decided that she wasn't going to have much chance of working it out; the formulae were too complicated, the terminology too convoluted – she just couldn't comprehend what it was that Thom was doing on this particular experiment. With a shrug of the shoulders, she went over to one of the smaller desks, and attempted to find out anything about this experiment as well. This one was given slightly less room than the other, it being a simple ball of black stone which sat on a metal frame. She hadn't the slightest idea of what it was supposed to be, or do, but she wasn't quite willing to touch this one, either. Suddenly, She thought she heard a slight breeze behind her, but when she turned around she saw that the door was still closed. Frowning as what sounded like soft flowing wind continued to assault her ears, she shrugged her shoulders and turned back to the papers on the desk. Again, these proved far too complex for her to understand, although at least this time she was able to work out what the experiment (or at least, she thought it was referring to the experiment) was called; the phrase Mnemonic Specularum cropping up a number of times.
"Mnemonic Specularum," she repeated softly to herself, "I wonder what that does."
"It sifts' through things," came Thom's voice from behind her, "A talisman of sorts that disassembles information based upon what the user wants."
Alanna spun around, shocked, and dropped the piece of paper she was holding as she clutched at herself in shock. "Thom!" she panted, taking in deep breath's to steady her nerves, "You're back! When did that happen? I didn't even hear you come in."
Thom didn't reply, staring seriously at her for a moment. He soon broke their gaze, moving over to his large desk and placing a brown parcel beside the elixir of clear fluid. It was only then, with his back turned to her, that he replied. "Just this moment," he said softly, "Although at first I thought you were a burglar of sorts."
"Burglar?" she queried, "What kind of thief would attempt to steal from someone of your power and standing?"
It might have been her imagination, but she felt sure that – for a brief moment – Thom had chuckled at that. "Why, Alanna. It is for those very reason's that thieves attempt to steal from me. Particularly," he stressed, turning around to face her with a grim expression on his face, "When the thief is another user of magic."
She supposed it made sense, although she'd never really considered that wizard's had rivals or anything of the sort. That was probably a naïve viewpoint, come to think of it. She had once thought that Knights were too noble to have petty competitions among each other, but she had since realised that such a view was very, very wrong. Wizards' were human too, of course. "Does that happen often?" she asked, "Do you have to…ward against burglars?"
Thom nodded, "The door is warded. Anytime someone crosses the threshold I am aware of it. I knew that someone – not that it was specifically you – had entered here. I came rushing back, expecting to see someone else." He smiled at her, "Thankfully I don't have to worry about that now, not about the possibility that He had gotten through again. Thankfully it was just you."
She hadn't missed his stressing of that 'Him', and – despite their current positions (and despite the fact that she still didn't know if Thom was alright with her simply entering his chambers uninvited), she decided to ask him. "Who?" she queried, "You said that you didn't have to worry about the possibility of it being Him? Whose this 'him'?"
Thom waved his hand, "No-one of importance. Just a thief who has managed to evade capture so far and who has broken in here a few times."
She pressed her lips together, George. It has to be George.
"It's not George."
Alanna blinked. "Did you-? Did you just read my mind?"
Thom shook his head, "I'm powerful, but not that powerful. But I know you, Alanna. I know how you think. And trust me when I tell you that it's not George."
"Oh." She replied – was that good or bad? "Well, that's…uhh…anyway. So if you know it's not George, do you know who it is?"
He shrugged, "Not really. I have a suspicion, but it's not proven yet. But it will be soon, and then the Guards' will have him. Of course, I would have liked to have gotten my hands on him myself – which is why I came rushing back here, but the Guards will ensure that justice will be done."
"Who do you think it is?" she didn't know why she continued to probe him, but she had a feeling that it was important.
"You wouldn't recognise the name," Thom sighed, quietly moving past the table and taking a seat in a chair, crushing papers beneath him as he did so, "But I suppose no harm comes in your knowing. Like I said, he's a wizard like I am. From Carthak, or so I believe. A master there, apparently, although their system is woefully inferior to our own, so I don't think he'd even measure up to one of our Initiates. Now, what was his name…" Thom tapped his lips in thought, a glint in his eye. An action which, prior to last night, she would have considered nothing more than a strange tic on his part. But now…George's words had caused a worm of doubt to enter her mind, she was sure of that now. Just as she was sure that this man, the one Thom was describing, was awfully familiar. "I'm sure it was A-something. Aaron or something, I'm not sure."
Alanna felt her mouth go dry, and she quietly worked to get moisture back into it. She couldn't believe it – she had believed (well, not really. But she had…accepted parts of it at least) the word of this man? His word told through George? "Was it Arram Draper?" she asked, softly.
"Ah yes," Thom replied, nodding. "That was it. Shifty kind of person, from what I know of him. Something about how he killed a few people to escape Carthak and how he displeased the Emperor Orzone prior to his fleeing the country." He cocked his had, intense amethyst eyes locked on hers. "How did you know of him?"
Think carefully, Alanna. As much as this Numair may be a villain, best leave things alone here. "Someone by that name had a similar story back in our world. I just remembered that, that's all." Thom smiled, nodding softly as he sank back into his seat. She cleared her throat, deciding to steer the conversation away from this potentially dangerous topic. "Sorry about coming in here without asking you, it's just that I didn't want to wait out in the hallway."
Her brother smiled, and waved a hand. "Don't worry about it."
Alanna let out a soft sigh of relief, Thom didn't care that she'd been in here – that was good. As it was also good to learn that Numair's word couldn't be trusted, that he was a scoundrel and a murderer. She knew Thom couldn't be the things George had said he was. Speaking of which…"Speaking of thieves," she began, wanting to tell Thom about George's visit. She wasn't quite sure why she wanted to tell him, but she just knew that she did. Of course, I just want to place my trust back in him, her mind whispered. I feel like I betrayed him when I accepted parts of what George told me – now I want to make it up to Thom. I owe it to him. "George Cooper came to me last night."
Thom continued to laze back into his seat, "Oh yes?" he asked, absentmindedly. "What did he have to say?"
Did she want to tell him? She could palm him off, couldn't she? Well, she could, but she owed it to him to tell him the truth. "Basically? He spent his whole time lying. Stories that tried to discredit yourself, and to try and drive a wedge between me and Jon." Was it? She'd thought that once while George was talking to her; perhaps it was what George had wanted all along. Yes, of course.
"George and I have never gotten along well," Thom said to her in an offhand fashion, "I've told you that before."
She nodded, "I know, and I know that what he was telling me were lies." She chuckled softly, "And to think, he even claimed that you were the one behind bringing us here."
Thom frowned at her, "What a weird thing to say. Why would he believe that?"
She shrugged, "I don't know! He said something about how large amounts of magic were sensed here that night, but – even if it was the truth! – it doesn't mean anything. He's lying outright and twisting the truth so that they fit his motives, I know this now."
"How would he have sensed the magic?" Thom asked softly, his tone of voice reassuring. "Cooper's Gift is too weak to sense things like that."
"Oh no, George couldn't feel it. His friend Arram told him abou-…" her eyes widened as she realised what she had said, and she closed her mouth with an audible snap. Why had she said that? Had Thom noticed? It didn't seem to be so, as Thom continued to lean back in his seat with a content smile on his face.
"Well," Thom said as the silence began to stretch out. "It's disheartening to think that Cooper's still got a chip on his shoulder against us – against You, Jon and myself – after all these years. I had hoped that he could move on, but he's obviously still trying to tear you away from Jon and I."
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Why had she said it? She had purposefully not said anything beforehand – how could she just let it slip out like that?! She just didn't know.
The silence continued to stretch, and Alanna became increasingly uncomfortable. Her eyes settled on the package that Thom had brought with him, and she frowned slightly. It was a particularly odd shape, very bumpy and surprisingly small. "What's in there?" she asked softly, biting off her words just in case her tongue got away from her.
"What?" Thom responded – obviously he hadn't been paying much attention. "Oh, in the package. Just something I got this morning for a spell I'm working on."
"Can I see?" Alanna asked, genuinely curious all of a sudden. She wanted to see what was in the package – what was so important that Thom had left the sanctuary of his room to collect it. It just had to be something exotic, didn't it? Something amazing that she'd never even dreamed of beforehand.
Thom frowned at that, "I'm not sure if it's wise…" he cautioned, trailing off.
"Please?" Alanna put on her best pouting face, hoping that it would still work on Thom as well as it had when they were younger. "Please?" she batted her eyelashes at him, causing her brother to chuckle.
"Alright, fine!" she continued to pout, and his chuckles became full laughs. "I said alright!" he managed to repeat through the laughter, "Please stop with the look!"
"Thanks, brother." She replied with a smile, leaning over his shoulder to peer down as Thom worked at the packages strings.
"Anytime, sister." Thom said with a sardonic tone, obviously exasperated by her actions. Still, he was taking them in good humour, able to laugh at her behaviour. He attacked the package after that, eventually getting frustrated at the strings and cutting the rest of them off with a small slice of magic. The wrapping fell away, and where Alanna expected to see…well, she wasn't quite sure of what she was going to see. Perhaps…the sap of a tropical tree, or the wings of a dragonfly, or some other kind of wizardly-arcana, she saw two simple gems. "That's it?" she wondered aloud.
"What do you mean 'that's it'?" Thom said, confusion lacing his tone. "They're marvelous!"
"They're just stones."
Thom gaped at her, "Yes, but what stones they are! Amazing craftsmanship – the finest amethyst and sapphire that you will find in the entirety of Tortal!"
Something clicked in Alanna's mind at hearing that, but she couldn't tell quite what. Something…something about those particular gems, and the…No. She didn't know, something was irking her however. With a final frown at the gems – which Thom scoffed at, obviously thinking it a look of disdain rather than one of confusion, she bid her brother goodbye. "Bye, Thom." She said softly, just catching his reply before she made her way out into the hallway.
Almost as soon as she did so – as soon as she took a step over the threshold, two things happened. One, a headache began clawing it's way into the forefront of her mind, and two – she realised what had made her wonder at the gems in the room. An amethyst and an emerald, the 'gems' that Thom had wanted to get from a man called Blayce, a name which rang a bell in her mind – a name which just would not come to her. She did, however, feel a great sense of fear and loathing at the name, as if it's wearer was such a man that even though she couldn't remember exactly who he was, she could still feel that he was a despicable sort. His impact was so telling, as it were, that she didn't even need to remember him to know his evil.
So why was her brother associating with him? Two more questions entered her mind – why had she talked more freely than she had intended in front of him, and why was she now suffering from a headache?
A sudden, horrific thought entered her mind, and she immediately changed direction, heading down towards the Gardens and to where – she hoped – Jon was. One thought was racing in her mind – We have to talk to Arram Draper as soon as we possibly can…