A/N – I just thought I'd start this chapter off with a little self-aggrandisement. Erm…y'know…talking myself up ^_^

As (I think?) I mentioned in a previous chapter, I recently bought the Song of the Lioness series, reading it through for the first time in a *long* while. And I just realised how easily the stuff I've already written fits into it, to be honest (minus one or two problems, of course, that people have already thankfully pointed out to me.)

For example, there's indeed a Shang Falcon already mentioned in the books…but he's a young lad, and by inserting a single line in to my story I can easily get around it (In chapter 3 I mentioned that Alanna killed a fellow Shang Initiate during training; hey presto – that 'dead initiate' is now known as Joesh, the man who in SotL became the Shang Falcon!). There's also reference to the fact that a Shang Warrior, in particular the Shang Wolf, came to Corus soon after Alanna had left after her Ordeal. In my story, the Shang Wolf, Arune, comes to Corus roughly the same time! (Technically a few months beforehand – Alanna's about 17 and ten months in this story.)

I know, I know – not particularly awe inspiring, but it's really neat when you realise that what you thought was probably so totally against what was written in the books actually lines up quite well…! ^.^

Anyway, two more things to mention. Firstly; I want to ask a favour of anyone out there willing to help. I need a new summary of this thing, since the previous one is so pathetic! Any ideas? (Incidentally, I'm a little worried about how this looks to other people. I'm thinking of perhaps asking for a beta-reader or something. Anyone want to volunteer? Or is it ok?). Secondly; hope everyone likes it, as per usual! Reviews are, of course, welcome!

***

Thom.

Was it really him? It was difficult to tell – it was a mans' voice, after all. She'd never spoken to him since their parting over seven years ago, so…?

No. It was him. She could just feel it. Fingering her pendant, pulling at the amethyst held within the brazen claws, she tried to think. Her brother's voice in her dreams; dreams which, she realised with sudden clarity, had recently been shown to be somewhat realistic, if not downright prophetic. Did this mean that Thom was alive? Dared she hope it?

She shivered, lying back down on her mattress. It was a hot night, a very hot night, and she was sweating. She felt the first stirring's of a splitting headache in the back of her head, too; a sure sign of the previous nights activities. For the moment, however, she did not care one whit about either. She had to think, and think hard.

"Was it him?" she whispered to herself. "How could it be?"

"Who?" asked a woman's voice from beside her, and Alanna almost jumped out of the bed covers.

"Great Mithros!" she exclaimed in shock, almost loud enough to be a shout. She turned her head to look towards the voice, wincing as her head throbbed with the effort, and barely managed to make out a white-clad form sitting beside her bed. It was very dark in the room, the white of the woman's clothes being the only feature she could make out.

"Close," the female voice answered, "but I consider myself to be somewhat less concerned with balance."

Squinting in the darkness, Alanna was able to make out who it was. It was her, the woman she'd met in Shang all those months ago – the Goddess, or so she claimed. "Oh," she whispered harshly. She was quite annoyed with this woman, "It's you again. How lovely."

"Don't be snide, Alanna." Alanna grumbled her displeasure. "Honestly, girl, I would have thought you'd grown up by now." The woman rose from her chair, looming over the prone Shang. The Goddess crossed her arms underneath her breasts, and put on a reproachful look. "I thought you might have gained some manners after you came here; obviously I was mistaken."

"Huh?" Maybe it was just the late hour and the effects of the previous nights drinking, but Alanna was thoroughly confused. "Why would coming here grant me more manners?"

The other woman sighed heavily, "Because you should have gone to the palace, and had at least a small amount of decorum instilled in you. Or I thought you would travel there, anyway."

Alanna groaned. "Not this 'Your true destiny' hogwash again, because I still don't believe you about that."

"Believe what you will, Noble Shang." The woman's tone chilled, and she moved over to the end of Alanna's bed, sitting herself near its occupant's feet. "Whatever delusion you create to comfort yourself with does not concern me."

Alanna gaped; "I…!"

"What does concern me," the woman continued, running over Alanna's furious objection, "Is how you're faring in what you set out here to do."

She opened her mouth to fire off a scathing retort, her still somewhat put off by the woman's own heated manner – Even if she is the Goddess, it cares to be courteous. A sudden thought struck her, and Alanna almost grimaced as she realised the woman was probably giving a fairly accurate imitation of her own behaviour. She could at least try and be helpful, she supposed. Not that she'd go out of her way, or anything…"What do you want to know?"

The woman, regal as she was, shrugged. "Do you know anything that will help me?"

Alanna sighed. "Not really. From what George told me it seems that whatever Thom was doing before his-" she swallowed, "-before his death attracted the wrong kinds of attention. I'd also guess that it was a noble who played a part in matters. But that's just a gut feeling, really." She added, sighing.

The woman nodded softly. "A noble, yes that would be appropriate. Though why would they be paying such close attention to your brother?" Alanna didn't know, so she didn't bother answering. The woman continued looking straight ahead, "Best you find that out, Alanna. It could give us more details on Her activities."

"Give you." Alanna corrected, "I don't care a whit about the Queen of Chaos, or whoever you're talking about."

"You should, girl, it affects everyone."

Alanna rolled her eyes. "I don't care." She repeated, narrowing her eyes. "I don't even fully trust what you're saying, anyway."

"Why?" the woman retorted; "When have I ever given you a reason to doubt what I say? Or is this just you being incredibly obstinate."

"I don't know," Alanna sighed. She was suddenly just so very tired, wanting nothing more than to just rest her aching head again. "I just- Why me? Why are you doing this with me? I didn't ask for this; I just wanted to come and find out what happened to my brother, and hopefully find something that makes my life worth living."

"What do you mean?" The Goddess asked, a sympathetic tone in her voice. "Just tell me, Alanna. I can help you."

"Can you?" Alanna whispered. "I'm just so tired of being who I am – all of it. You want to help me? Just tell me why no-one seems able to accept me for who I am. Tell me why I seem to have to hide all the time, hide parts of myself. My nobility, my past, all of it."

"Your Gift." The woman added.

"Not that I particularly care about that." She replied, scrunching up her face in disgust. "But yes, perhaps even so. Though I'd be happiest if it would just disappear."

"Why?"

"Because I don't need it!" Alanna cried, "And it's yet another thing which people will hold against me."

"How can you expect people to accept the entirety of who you are when even you yourself do not?" The Goddess quietly queried after a moment. "It would appear that you're punishing those who care for you for their inability to do what even you cannot." She sighed, before pointing a finger at Alanna, "You don't even meet your standards, Alanna. How do you expect anyone else to be able to?"

"I-" Alanna gaped; was the woman right? Was she being too hard on those that cared for her? "No! That makes no sense!" It did, but Alanna didn't want to admit it. Not to this woman.. "Anyway, what are you talking about this for? I thought you wanted to catch this proxy, or whoever it is you're focused on."

The woman just gave a heavy sigh, "I do worry about you, Alanna. As I said the last time we met, you should have been my chosen; that enamours you to me, at least."

"I don't want to be your chosen, nor do I want to be," she grimaced, "so 'enamoured' to you. I've told you what I know, so why don't you just leave now. Let me continue with what I was doing. Let me just do what I wanted to do." She was getting very frustrated with the woman now, and her headache was flaring up again. "Just leave me be. Please?" the last was a whisper.

"Very well," the Goddess answered, "But remember what I have asked of you. Finding Her pawn is important to all of us – however you may feel about helping me, just remember that you're helping everyone." She gave a sad smile, "And isn't that what you wanted to do when you were younger? Be a true hero? Alanna, find your Brother's killer, and you will be a hero." And with that, she disappeared in a haze of silver sparks.

Quirking her lips, Alanna toyed with her pendant. "Funny, I can't think of anything worse at the moment." She mumbled. "I'm doing this for you and me, Thom. That's it." She added in a whisper. Looking down at the pendant, she realised that she was still dressed in the clothes she had worn the day before, and forced herself out of bed to change them. Sliding her breeches and shirt off and putting on her sleep shirt, she wondered why exactly the Goddess had come to her in the first place. Surely it couldn't be simply because of who she was supposed to have been. Why was the Goddess taking such an interest in her? She tried to continue on this train of though before her headache made thinking difficult, and she slipped into a restless sleep.

***

"'Lanna? 'Lanna? Wake up, 'Lanna."

She awoke some time later, surprisingly late it appeared. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, splashing across her bed and illuminating George's face above her. She frowned slightly, why hadn't she woken up earlier? She'd kept Shang hours for the past seven years – she had woken slightly before dawn every morning for the past few years. Was she really that out of it?

"You awake now, lass?" George asked her after he noticed her stirring.

She groaned as she attempted to push herself up; her head was swimming. "George," she moaned, "never let me drink again."

He chuckled in response. "Aye lass. But I could o' told you t'lay off what you were drinkin' yesterday. You two'd got through a lot 'fore I noticed you." He grinned at that, and she shot him a glare from under her unruly hair. After a moment, the grin slid off his face, and he swallowed thickly. "You wouldn't, ar…" he scratched his head, "What I mean is, you dun remember much o' what 'appened last night, do you lass?"

She groaned again as she swung out of her bed. Her sleep shirt had ridden up, exposing a fairly large amount of leg. George blushed and turned quickly around. "I don't know, George." She replied, not really noticing what she'd done. "Well, I remember you helping me here, but nothing much after that. Though-" she cut off; she had been about to mention her talk with the Goddess last night. Might be best to gloss over that – "No. Just fell asleep, I take it?"

George shrugged awkwardly; back still to her. "'Ow would I know, lass?" he replied.

She groggily rose to her feet, frowning as she saw him. "What are you-" she yawned, "What are you doing, George?" she asked as she fumbled for her breeches. She'd have liked a bath, but it seemed she'd overslept. She might have to just take a quick dip in after she'd had something to eat. Missing a training exercise for one day could hurt, certainly, but she'd risk it.

"What? Ar, nothin'." George replied, "Just, arr, wanted t'give you some privacy."

"Oh, right. Thanks." Alanna said stupidly while pulling on her breeches. Of course that's what he was doing. She glanced back at him, making sure his back was turned, before quickly pulling her shirt over her head and replacing it with a clean one. Running a hand through her hair afterwards, thankful that her headache seemed to be clearing somewhat, she turned back to him. "You can turn around now."

"Aye." The rogue turned, a strange look coming over his face. Alanna would have termed it – wistful? "You look beautiful, lass."

"I just woke up George," she replied, hotly. A blush was creeping over her face. "I hardly think-"

"You do."

"Oh." She was suddenly very uncomfortable; hadn't George made it clear that he understood what she had said? He also made it clear that he'd keep trying; a rebellious part of her mind put in. "Thanks." He nodded. "Thanks for waking me up, also." She added after a while, "I might have slept through the day at this rate, and I have things to do."

"Aye?" George asked, in a querying tone. "That's not t'only reason I woke you, though. There's someone I'd like you t'meet downstairs."

She frowned, "Who?"

He smiled. "My noble friend I've been tellin' you 'bout. Johnny."

"Oh." She stammered, butterflies the size of dogs running through her stomach. He was here? This morning? When she- she glanced in the mirror –well, she didn't look that bad, to be honest. Not for someone who'd just woken up after a night of heavy drinking, anyway; despite what George had said she didn't look particularly beautiful, she didn't think. "Well then." Why was he here? "Goody."

"You dun sound too keen, lass. Sure you're alright?" George asked, concerned.

She waved him away, "Yeah, I'm fine. Well, fine for someone who drank as much as I did last night, anyway."

"It wasn't all that much," George chuckled. "I dun think I'd even be tipsy on that much. O' course, I'm a tad bigger than you."

"Fine," she glared, "Make fun of me! When I've just woken up! See if I care!" she threw her hands into the air; "Now get out! I still have things to do, and I'll meet you downstairs." George looked like he wanted to apologise, or something, but she hurried him out. "Go!" She really should have a bath, shouldn't she? She didn't want to smell, after all. Maybe just a quick one? She bit her lip – no time. It would take many minutes just to get enough water on hand, let alone if she wanted a hot bath! She could get by with a cold one, but again there wasn't enough time. She glanced in the mirror again, her hair wasn't too mussed up, which was a lucky break, but she should still run a comb through it.

She looked down, and saw her old breeches and tunic. "By the Goddess," she moaned. "What am I going to wear?" She toyed with the idea of pulling on the dress in her closet for a moment, but dismissed the idea. She didn't want him to think that she thought that he was something special. She frowned as she ran that last thought through her mind again. "Did that even make any sense?" Shaking her head, she grabbed her leather shoes and slid them on – no time for hose and boots, these would have to do. Running the comb through her hair, she thought back to him again. What was he doing here? When he hadn't even stopped to watch the end of her fight with Alex yesterday? George had said that Johnny had come to the Dove the night before, she remembered, so perhaps he was just trying to catch up to her again. Sighing, she realised she had no time to change her clothes now – she'd just have to go as she was.

Grimacing slightly as she noticed the bags under her eyes, and then grimacing again as she realised how self-conscious she was being, she opened the door and went down to meet this 'Johnny'.

***

He was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, with George on his side. The two of them were casually chatting, but she didn't really notice. Thankfully, neither did they notice her; it would have been highly embarrassing had they done so, as she was peering around the corner staring at him. He was almost painfully handsome, she thought to herself. His coal black hair being a little more unruly than it had been yesterday, presumably as a part of his 'Johnny' disguise. His piercing eyes, however, were as exquisite as they were yesterday, and she could see them dancing with mirth at whatever he was discussing with George. It certainly looked as if they were good friends, they both seemed remarkably at ease with each other. Something, she noted, that George rarely seemed to be, even when he was holding court at the Dove. Alanna quirked a lip at that – why was George more at ease with 'Johnny' than he was with than the other thieves? He'd told her the other day that he didn't particularly like nobles, why was he so chummy with this one?

She was brought out of her thoughts as she noticed one of the serving girls sidling up to the two men. She gave George a wide grin, and then stood – Alanna thought – far too close to 'Johnny', holding a mug out to him. Her eyes widened, and she almost yelled out; what exactly she would have yelled was still somewhat beyond her, but she certainly felt the need to express…something. Still, she thankfully bit her tongue, instead merely descending the steps. She was very pleased to note that both of their – George's and Jonathan's – attention fixed onto her, pleasant smiles spreading across their faces. She also noticed that the serving woman was looking between the two of them, mouth hanging slightly open, before her eyes followed where they were looking. Falling upon Alanna, the girl gave a small sniff, stamped her foot, and sidled back to the kitchen; George and Jonathan not even giving her a second glance. Priceless.

"Ar," George softly said, "So she emerges."

"I had things to do, George." She replied.

"Like?"

"Never you mind, George Cooper." She haughtily said. "Never you mind. Anyway, aren't you going to introduce me to 'Johnny'?" she added, eyes shifting to the individual in question.

"Aye. Alanna, this is Johnny." He swept a quick glance around them, making sure no-one was nearby, before lowering his voice. "Johnny's t'noble I was tellin' you 'about. And," turning to 'Johnny', "'Lanna's the woman who wanted t'get in touch wit' you."

Jonathan smiled, "Nice to meet you, Alanna." He said, in a mischievous tone.

"And yourself, Johnny." She replied.

"I noticed that you weren't particularly surprised when you saw me," he told her quietly, "I don't suppose certain friends of mine have been gossiping behind my back with you?"

She shrugged, "I worked it out on my own yesterday; your friends just confirmed my suspicions."

George was frowning somewhat. "'Ang on, you two already know each other?"

"Yeah," she told him. "I met 'Johnny' yesterday, at the Palace."

"You were at the palace yesterday?" George continued, "'Ow come I dun know o'that?"

She turned to him, then, tearing her eyes away from Jonathan. She was surprised to see that George looked somewhat angry at this turn of events, "Sorry, George." She said sincerely, "But you weren't here before I left, and by the time I'd gotten back, I was, ahh…" she blushed, "Indisposed."

He smiled at that, "Aye, s'alright. Just threw me." She nodded.

"It's good to see you again," Jonathan said, and she turned back to him. "I mean, I didn't get to say goodbye to you yesterday."

"That's alright," she told him, smiling. "Gary said that you probably had a- what did he say? A meeting or something." He nodded, as if agreeing with what his cousin had told her. "Although, in truth, I didn't quite understand what he meant by that."

George frowned, "You mean you dun-"

"Alanna," Jonathan cut in, "Ahh, I was actually wondering if you'd like to, uhh…" he was mumbling now, "That is to say, would you like to walk with me for a moment? Just I know a nice little shop around the corner that sells some nice pastries, and was wondering if you'd like to join me for breakfast."

"I think I'd like that," she told him, making a point to ask either of them what she apparently 'didn't know'. "I've got one or two things to ask you, too."

"Well then, should we go now?" he asked, to which she nodded. He smiled, and the two of them made their way towards the door. Neither of them noticed George's face falling as he watched them go.

***

"I am sorry for missing you last night, " Jonathan was telling her as they walked along, "But I had something to do which couldn't be put off."

"That's fine," she replied. She shot a glance towards him as they walked side by side, now that he was in the sunlight. It was strange, she'd never considered that putting on a different pair of clothes and dirtying oneself up could make a difference, but he looked so different then he had yesterday. He just looked…happier. She couldn't really describe it, "I mean, it wasn't all that good of a fight anyway. And you did come to the Dove last night, George said, so I should be apologizing to you as well."

He glanced at her this time, giving her a slight smile. "Nonsense. I was coming down here anyway. Needed to chat to George." He explained, "And not a very good fight? Raoul and Gary were talking about it all night! At least I got to see most of it." He shook his head in disbelief. "You're amazing, you know that. The way you move, it's just…" he trailed off, probably because he noticed her turning bright red.

She smiled at him, and the two of them continued walking in silence for a little while. She enjoyed this, just walking beside him – he made her so energetic, it seemed. Like when she'd jumped into an icy cold river in autumn back when she was at Trebond. Tingling even. Thinking of Trebond reminded her of Thom, however, and the smile shrinking slightly.

"Are you ok?" he asked, seeing her face falling. "I mean, if you want to go back to the Dove or something-"

"No!" she almost yelled, "No. I'm alright. I was just thinking of a bad memory, really." Her tone was moderated a little, and it seemed to placate Jonathan. Well, somewhat; he was still frowning slightly. "Jonathan, I'm fine, really."

"Johnny," he mumbled, "Just call me Johnny out here, in the city."

She frowned at that, "Why?"

"Ah, just," He swallowed heavily. "Alanna, are you, uh, are you going to be free for most of the day?"

"I'm fairly sure-" she remembered her meeting with Gary, Raoul and Alex, "Ah, no. I was to meet with your friends at the Dove at midday."

"My friends?" he repeated, "Raoul, Gary and Alex? They never mentioned that."

"They wanted to know how I know George, I think. They got a bit uptight when I asked if they knew him."

"Oh, right." He nodded. "Yes, I can see why they'd probably not mention that to me. Not that I didn't already know how you knew him," he continued, smiling slightly. "George told me about you a few day's after you got here."

"I take it you two are close friends, then?" She hesitantly asked, somewhat unsure of what she wanted the answer to be. If it was a 'No', she'd be somewhat disappointed, as she thought the two of them would have made quite a good combination; from what she knew of Jonathan, anyway. But if it was a 'Yes'…she winced. If it wasn't bad enough already that she had rejected George, breaking his heart, only to start making moon-eyes at his close friend. Maybe-?

"Oh yes," Jonathan's voice broke into her thoughts. "George has been like an older brother to me, really. I mean, I've always had friends like Alex, Gary and Raoul, but-" he cut off suddenly, laughing nervously. "But George has always been different to them, treating me like I wanted to be treated than how I should have been treated." She frowned, there it was again. Something that didn't quite make sense to her. Pieces were starting to come together, though – they just needed a few more pieces. Maybe she should just ask him what he meant? She didn't get the chance, however, as Jonathan continued talking about George. "Yeah, he taught me some of the tricks of thieving, and such. Things we didn't learn at the Palace; knives, stealth, y'know. He helps in some of the, uh, decisions I've had to make, too. But that's not to say I use him, or whatever." He hastily added; he obviously knew what George's normal aversion to Nobles was, she realised. "No, George has just been a very close friend of mine since I first saw him in the city a few years ago."

"How'd you meet?"

He shrugged. "It was really weird, I was riding past and I saw him skulking around in an alley. He was-" he waved his arms, "Y'know, staring at me. He was there the next time I went out into the city, too; and I eventually managed to grab a hold of him one day, asked him why he was so interested in me. He told me that his Gift had told him to keep an eye on me," he laughed – "He even said that maybe the God's themselves asked him to watch me. Something about, well. I can't actually remember what he said about that. Anyway, so I was intrigued, of course."

"Naturally." She added, smiling.

"Naturally," he repeated, sharing the same smile with her. "I followed him one day, well. Thought I was following him, anyway. Hindsight tells me that I don't think I was quite as stealthy as I thought at the time. I found him at the Dancing Dove, and we've been friends ever since. He helps me learn new things, helps me with certain problems here and there, and I help him with information."

"Information?"

He waved her question away. "Let's just say I have some influence with the palace spy rings. I know how they're trawling the lower city for thieves and the like. But," he shrugged, "Neither George nor myself keeps' tally's of how we've helped each other, or anything."

"Good." She muttered, "Good. That's good that you're such close friends."

He smiled at her. "And as I said, when I came into the city to talk to him a month or so ago, who do I learn is staying with, hmm?"

"As I have learnt with you," she teased, "I notice that some people tend to exaggerate things." She smiled mischievously as he blushed, "What did he tell you about me?"

"Oh, just that 'She's t'fastest thing you ever seen, Johnny'," he replied, putting on an accent that sounded much like George's. "Plus a lot about you, generally."

"Like?"

"I dare not repeat them, Mistress Shang," he told her. "I'd be in fear for my life."

She glared at him. "Not more about my eyes, or whatever. Because Gary told me that-"

"Gary say's a lot of things," Jonathan replied quickly, colouring again. "I wouldn't believe everything he tells you. But no, nothing about your eyes that I remember. Just about what you're like, y'know. He liked how strong you were, I think. Mentally." His smile which he'd shown on his face for the last few minutes seemed to wavering slightly, now. As if he'd just been reminded of something he'd have rather forgotten.

"Oh."

He pursed his lips then, stiffening a little. He walked like this for a while, before whispering to her. "He seems quite taken with you."

She grimaced, internally. Was this going to be a problem? "He does, doesn't he." She replied, softly, making sure to keep her eyes on his face.

He seemed to be steeling himself, opening and closing his mouth a few times. "Do you-? I mean, ahh, are you…taken with him?" he finally squeaked out, all but whispering at the end.

"I-" she sighed, answering this question was a little tougher than she'd expected. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" he asked her.

"No." she replied, "Not really. I do like him, though."

"Oh."

"But I don't think we'd, y'know…" she fumbled for the answer. "Work."

"Oh." He sounded choked up. "Oh, that's, well." He trailed off.

She smiled at that. "I know." She told him. "It's very confusing, isn't it?"

Chuckling nervously, he simply replied "Oh yeah." She realised then that they'd reached wherever he had been leading them, pulling into a small dingy shop that smelt wonderful. "Hi, Tornil." Jonathan almost shouted to a small pudgy man who was facing away from them, wearing a smeared apron.

"Ey?" the man queried, "Is someone there?"

"Tornil!" this time he did shout.

"Oh, 'eck!" the man turned, eyes widening as he caught sight of Jonathan. "Aye, look! It's Johnny! Could'a spoken up a touch, lad." Jonathan shot Alanna a smirk at that. "And who's this, eh? Johnny, eh?" the man was pointing a finger at her.

"This is Alanna!"

"Ah, I knew a Norna once, too. She with you, Johnny?"

"Alanna!"

"Eh? I asked if she was wit' you, not what 'er name was. What's wrong with you boy, mind all fuzzed up because o' a pretty face?"

"Never mind," Alanna whispered to Jonathan, blushing. She had noticed the racks of pastries behind Tornil, and wanted to know what they were. Pointing to one of them, she too shouted at the man. "What's that one!"

"That one, eh Norna?" he shuffled over to have a closer look, "This is an apricot slice. One for a silver."

"Apricot?" A whole silver? Why on earth was it so expensive?

"Eh?"

"Apricot!" she shouted back, "What's that?"

"Carthaki fruit," the man replied. "Very nice, sweet. Also expensive to import." He turned from her, rummaging around in a crate. With an "Aha!" he produced what she supposed was one of these 'apricots'. It was…furry. Did she want to eat something that was furry? Tornil was still offering it to her, and with a tremulous smile she took it, biting a chunk of it off.

"Mmm!" It was very nice, she decided. "This is great!" she yelled back to the baker, who simply nodded. She offered a portion of it to Jonathan, who took it from her. He too fancied it, and with a grab into his pouch, procured two silvers, paying for two of them. "Oh, Jonathan- I don't want you paying for them. I mean, I probably have-" she fumbled about her body, realizing with a blush that she hadn't even brought her purse with her. "Ah…I'll pay you back-"

He was smiling, shaking his head. "Never mind, Alanna." He told her. "It's alright; my gift."

Tornil handed two of the pastries to Jonathan, who passed one along to Alanna. "You never answered my question, lad," The baker noted as they were leaving; "She wit' you?"

Jonathan looked intently at her for a short moment, before turning towards Tornil. "I don't know yet." He said simply, and followed her out. She wasn't sure what to say, so instead she just jammed a piece of the – what had Tornil called it? Apricot slice – into her mouth. It was even more tasty in a pasty, it seemed. Jonathan walked alongside her again. "I was actually going to ask you that," he asked, after a while. "I mean, you said that you didn't know if it would…work…between you and George."

"Yeah." She nodded. She supposed she could say a little more on it, but she herself still didn't quite understand her feelings, settling instead for another "Yeah."

He nodded, and seemed to be steeling himself again. He placed a hand at the small of her back after a moment, and directed her to a small alcove in a side wall. Putting her back to the wall, she looked up at him. He was peering down at her intently. "Do you," he began, before swallowing again. "Do you think it could work, uh, between us?"

"I don't know, Jonathan." She said his name softly, "I don't even know you, yet." Well, she thought, not counting the dreams. She still hadn't worked out whether or not he was the same man as the one in the dreams – whether they acted the same. She had been noticing small discrepancies; it seemed that the real Jonathan was slightly…less formal, it seemed. Less controlling, or something.

"Would you like to get to know me?" he whispered, face inches from her own now.

It was her turn to swallow; "I think I'd like that." She replied.

"Alanna, would it be alright if I kissed you?" she didn't trust her ability to speak then, and merely nodded. He brought his face down to hers, and gently – oh so gently – touched his lips to hers. There were no fireworks, of course; no electrical sparks or magical energies, but it felt so good. It was certainly a tentative kiss, though; nothing like George's; which telegraphed his passion for her. Jonathan's were…nervous, yet they still seemed to convey his feelings. Of course, if he felt anything like she did at that moment, being nervous was the strongest feeling present. They broke apart after a while, and Alanna almost moaned in annoyance. A small satisfied smile did settle on her face, however, and that seemed to fill him with confidence. His eyes seemed to be asking permission again, and her smile widened. She brought her hands up and pulled his head to hers; the gentle kiss turning far more passionate, yet still somewhat tender. He wrapped her in his arms, pulling her flush against him, and she seemed to lose the ability to think for a moment.

When perception flooded back into her, she realised her hands were tangled in his hair, and she was making soft whimpering sounds into his mouth. That was probably a tad too forward, she thought, and slowly pulled away from him. She hoped, seeing him, that she didn't look quite as…eager as he did. There were a few scatterings of people about the place by now, and a few of them were looking at the two of them. She blushed, and Jonathan chuckled softly. "I've wanted to do that since I saw you," he quietly told her. "Crowd be damned."

She chewed on her lip slightly, before she looked up at him again. He had a wild grin on his face, as if he'd been given a hundred Gold coins. She realised a similar smile was probably playing across her lips. "I think I'm going to enjoy getting to know you, Johnny."

"Call me Jon," he quietly told her, taking her hand in his. "It's what my closest friends call me."

She almost sniggered; And I certainly want to be close to you…

"So," he told her after a while. They were making their way back to the Dove, having finished their apricot pastries. Well, finished what they could, she corrected with a grin. They'd dropped the bags when they were kissing, and muddy apricot didn't taste quite as nice as the fresh version. "Are you doing anything tonight?" he asked.

"Tonight? I don't think so, why?"

He gave her a soft smile. "I have some things to tell you." He said, softly. "Things that I probably should have told you beforehand."

"What do you mean?" she queried, frowning.

"Just," he began, "I want to get to know you. You want to get to know me." Shrugging, he continued. "I haven't been very revealing so far, some things you should probably know before…well."

She blushed. Before indeed. "Okay," she replied. "Probably one or two things you should know about me, too." She hadn't even mentioned Thom to him yet; tonight would be a perfect time to do so. "Meet me at the Dove?"

"I guess so; just after last light." He agreed. "There's this place I want to show you tonight. A park."

"Do they have parks in the lower city?" she asked, confused.

"Not really," He grinned. "It's in the palace grounds, technically."

"Technically?"

"I'm not revealing anything more, Alanna." He taunted, "You'll just have to wait and see." She poked her tongue out at that, and he affected a shocked expression. "Well I never!" With a laugh of glee, she sprinted away from him, and he rushed after her with a laugh. They sprinted down the streets back to the Dove, dodging early morning – well, late morning by now – shoppers and tradesmen. She was faster than him, and her endurance was better, but she let him almost catch up now and again, laughing at him as she sprinted off again, just as he thought he'd caught up.

She slowed down to a jog as she reached the outside of the Dove, pulling into the mouth of the alley where she normally trained. He pulled in just behind her, a lot more out of breath than she, and she didn't waste time in telling him so. "Kind of unfit, aren't we Sir Jon?" she whispered into his ear after he had caught her about the waist, pulling her to him.

"Are we?" he replied breathily, "I think we're just fine for the purpose at hand." And he kissed her again, long and hard. By the time he broke away from her, they were both breathing a little harder than normal. "I'll see you tonight, then?" he asked, and she nodded. With a last squeeze of her fingers, they parted. With a last wave over his shoulder, he headed out of the alley and into the growing mass of people.

She touched her fingers to her lips, a happy grin spreading across her face. Was she moving too fast with this? She wasn't particularly sure, but she wasn't particularly sure she cared, either. It felt good, and it felt right.

***

Cracking open the door to the Dove, she made her way into the main room of the inn. At this time of day it was almost abandoned, but she hoped- there! Sure enough, Riven was still sitting at the table in the corner. She grinned, and made her way over to him, greeting him cheerfully as she sat. He turned bloodshot eyes up at her, and gave her an expression that would have killed.

"Why are you so perky?" he whispered harshly. "And dun speak so loud!"

She grinned. "Sorry, Riven."

"Hurgh." He grunted back. "Why are you so perky?" he asked again; "I mean, I drank more than you, but surely you feel slightly bad?" he sounded almost as if he was hoping she felt bad.

"I did," she agreed. Remembering what had just happened this morning, she added; "But I'm fine now. Better than fine, even!" and the smile spread even wider.

"That's just-" Riven shook his head, grimacing at the pain it caused. He threw his hands up, as if appealing to the heavens. "That's just so…unfair! Not only can she beat me up, she doesn't even feel t'aftereffects o' a night o' drink?"

"Sorry, Riven."

"Stop apologizing, 'Lanna." He moaned, "S'your fault I'm like this anyway."

"What!?"

"Not so loud!" he whispered, putting his hands on his ears. "Y'know, you coming in 'ere so late; eating and drinkin'. I wouldn't even 'ave started if you ain't 'ave been 'ere. So, yeah, s'all your fault."

She rolled her eyes, but she knew he was only saying this because of his aching head. "Sorry, Riven." She repeated. "Next time I'll make sure not to tempt you."

"Damn right!"

She grinned, and stood up. "Want a drink of water?" she asked him, to which he slowly nodded. Making her way over to kitchen, she noticed that George was sitting alone at one of the tables. "Mind if I join you?" she asked softly. He jumped at her voice, almost as if she'd startled him. That was odd, she thought, George was never startled by anyone.

"Oh, Lass. Just you." He murmured, "Sure, sure. Take a seat."

As she did so, she glanced across the table; he had a small mug of what appeared to be mead sitting in front of him. She frowned, finally loosing the grin she had been wearing since meeting Jon. "Are you drinking, George?" she asked, concerned.

He shrugged. "Yeah."

"Why?" she queried, "Why so early?"

Shrugging again, he merely grunted out a "Because." If she didn't know any better, she'd have thought he was sulking.

"Are you ok, George?"

He looked like he was about to nod, shifting his head slightly down, before he froze. He turned to her then, eyes intense on her own. "You like 'im, dun you?" he asked, softly.

"Who? Jon?" he almost winced when she said 'Jon', as if he knew what that probably meant. "Of course I like him, George."

Shaking his head, George qualified. "I mean you like 'im," he swallowed, "You like 'im like I like you." He finished on a whisper.

She looked down then. "I'm not sure," she told him truthfully. Of course, she knew she liked him – but she also knew George loved her. Did she love Jon? How could she, she didn't even know him. "But I do feel something for him, yes."

George obviously thought the same thing; "You dun even know 'im, lass!" he whispered harshly to her. "You dun even know just who 'e is!" he had obviously been thinking about this all morning, and he had been getting very worked up about it. His face was darkening with anger, it appeared.

"I know he's got a secret," she replied softly, a slow temper also burning in her. George was lecturing her? "And I know that he's going to tell me that tonight."

"Aye? Really? Will that be before or after you lie with 'im?" he spat. She gasped in shock, eyes wide. He too seemed to realise just what he'd said, and he looked down, ashamed. "I'm sorry, lass. That dun come out right; I dun mean it like that. I'm just worried that 'e might be…"

"Using me?" she offered, still upset with him. George nodded slightly, and she sighed. "Don't worry, George. I can protect myself."

"Aye, I know. I just dun want you t' 'ave to."

"Don't worry, George."

"But I do!" he replied, bringing his head up again. "I do, lass! That's why I can't stand this!"

"What?"

"You an' 'im." He bit off, "It's just…"

"Confusing?" she offered. "I know; we both felt it too."
"Aye?"

"Yeah." She sighed, "Look, George, I know you didn't mean what you just said, and I'll forgive you for it. Eventually-" she added, eyes on his. "It hurt, I'll tell you that. But I know your feelings, and you know mine."

"Aye."

"I do care for you George, and that makes things much more complicated." He nodded at that, though she realised she could probably have chosen better words. "I'm sorry for what my words or actions may have done to you-"

"Dun worry 'bout it, lass."

"-but you'll be the first to know when I sort my feelings out, ok?"

"Aye lass," he replied, "And I 'ppreciate it. Just…dun get 'urt, ok? I'm afraid o' your reaction t'what 'e tells you tonight. I'll stay at the Dove tonight, if you want to chat, aye?"

She wasn't sure if that was him being noble or not, but she decided to let it slide. George was acting very differently than what he had been before, and she was feeling uncomfortable with him. "Well, thank you George." She told him, and began to stand.

"Wait," he stated, laying a hand on her arm. "I just-" he sighed, shaking his head. "Look, 'Lanna. I'm sorry for what I said just then. All o' it. I know I'm actin' like a jealous sort, but," he chuckled, "Well, I am, I am jealous. But I shouldun 'ave taken it out on you."

She grinned, that was the real George. "Apology accepted, George." She gave his hand a squeeze, before she made her way back towards the kitchen. Procuring a mug of water, she took it back to Riven, who – of course – yelled at her for being so late, and then yelled at her for making him yell at her. She wasn't sure exactly what had made her headache disappear; whether it was Shang training or something else, but she didn't care. If Riven was a normal example of how she'd have been acting with a full hangover, then she'll take her current state of happiness any day, regardless of how it came to be.

***

Raoul, Gary and Alex arrived at around midday, all dressed in dirty shirts and torn breeches. She frowned; Jon's attire hadn't been quite as tattered as this.

"His disguise is the son of a wealthy merchant." Raoul explained to her when she asked, "We're just supposed to be labourer's."

"You have specific disguises?" she asked in disbelief. Wasn't that just a little over the top?

"Oh yeah," Gary nodded, sagely. "Of course. We have to have specific roles when we come out here. Raoul's a woodcutter, and I'm working for a baker."

"Why?" she asked, almost giggling.

Raoul and Gary blinked. "Well, err…" Gary stuttered.

"Don't confuse them, Alanna." Alex commented, giving her a wide –somewhat smarmy- grin, "It's not nice." She laughed; doing so even harder when she noticed Raoul and Gary's confused looks.

"Keep it down!" Riven hissed from the table next to them. "I can't even hear myself think!"

"Like you ever could, Riven." Gary scoffed. Obviously familiar with the regulars then, Alanna thought.

Riven glared back; "Quiet, idiot." Gary laughed at the youth's feeble attempt at wordplay, and was about to open his mouth in reply when Alanna grabbed his arm.

"Go easy on him," she told Gary. "He's got a hangover."

Gary and Raoul chuckled, but didn't say anything. "Poor Riven," Alex commiserated, "You know you shouldn't drink more than a thimbleful!" This sent Gary into a full belly laugh again.

Riven just glared at them, "Shut up, Alex." He said, "Or I'll set 'Lanna on you again." The smirk dropped off Alex's face, and this time it was Riven who laughed.

Alanna smiled slightly at their antics, but decided things were probably getting a tad too heated.  "All right, you two." She stated, "That's enough. Don't worry Riven, we'll try and keep it down." He shrugged his appreciation, going back to studying his mug of water. She turned her attention back to the knights. "Now, you wanted to know how I knew George, right?"

Raoul nodded, "Yeah, though we're not trying to pry or anything."

Shrugging slightly, Alanna grinned. "No need to worry, Raoul." She told them. Of course, she wasn't going to divulge exactly how she knew George, not yet anyway. She was going to see how Jon reacted to Thom and all that before she let her other Knight friends in on the picture. "My former Shang Master, Liam Ironarm-"

"The Dragon?" Alex asked, interested.

She frowned, "How did you know that?"

"Arune told us." Raoul pointed out quietly, and she nodded.

"Ah, of course. Anyway, Liam had known of George when he passed through here a few years ago-" She wasn't actually sure how long ago Liam had passed through here. She imagined, however, that it wouldn't have been all that long ago. George was still fairly young, being in his mid-to-late twenties, she assumed; "-and when I left Shang almost two months ago now, he told me to seek him out if ever I came to Corus."

"And why did you come here?" Alex sharply asked.

She almost frowned. He was quick, both mentally and physically. It wasn't a cunning like George had, but it was certainly a bright intelligence that burned between Alex's ears. "I used to have family here," she lied, smoothly. "When I arrived however, I found that they'd died long ago."

"Wouldn't you have heard if they had?" he asked again. "I mean, surely you wouldn't have come here on such a whim."

"Alex," Raoul said slowly, "Alanna hadn't been out of Shang for seven years." He too was frowning slightly. Obviously he was a bit curious over Alex's behaviour also.

Alex obviously caught Raoul's curious expression, and smiled warmly. "Of course," he told her. "I apologise. I was just curious."

She shrugged. "No problems. I'd be curious too; especially given how much trouble I could have gotten you all in yesterday." She was still somewhat annoyed by that, it was such an obvious mistake she had made. "But George is a friend of mine, I'd never do anything to hurt him or one of his friends." She added, even if that doesn't necessarily extend to heartache.

Gary nodded. "Ah, of course. We never really expected otherwise, Alanna." He smiled at her. "As you yourself said yesterday, we probably trust you more being a friend of George's than we would if you weren't!" They all laughed at that, and a call was made for drink. Winking serving girls came out – the knights were obviously favourites – trays' laden with food and drink, and they set about enjoying themselves.

Eventually, the shadows began to lengthen, and the general revelry began to slow. She'd made sure to moderate her drink, and wasn't feeling particularly tipsy, thankfully. Raoul and Gary had drunk a lot, but the larger man was obviously able to handle his liquor well, looking none the worse for wear. Gary, on the other hand…

She grimaced again as he launched into another song, and decided to move away before he took hold of her again. He wanted her to sing with him, apparently, but it was something she certainly did not want to get involved in. In the end he settled for Riven who, obviously ignoring what he had felt like this morning, had set about drinking himself unconscious along with them. Alex had, like Alanna herself, carefully made sure he was only drinking in moderation. Seeing Gary and Riven trying to stand up on the table, she grabbed Raoul's elbow and dragged him to another table.

"So," she almost had to shout to be heard above the two drunks, "did you end up sending the poem and flowers?" She didn't know why, but she was getting very excited with this. Maybe it was her newly awakened femininity – and that reminded her, she'd need to see Eleni tomorrow about her hair; but the burly knight's courting of Lady Yves was something she wanted to know all about.

Raoul nodded, "Yes, I did." He was looking stony faced for some reason, and she was suddenly worried that Yves had rejected him.

"And?" she asked after a while, unable to stomach not knowing the result.

"And what?"

"What was her response?"

"Oh," he looked down, somewhat guiltily, "I don't know yet. I only sent it off an hour before I left to come here."

Alanna winced. "Why didn't you send it last night?"

He blushed. "I was, ah, worried that she'd reject it. So I decided to send it when I wasn't at the palace."

"Raoul," she sighed good-naturedly, "You're going to go back there anyway."

"I know," he smiled slightly. "It just felt…safer." She laughed at that, elbowing him in the ribs as she did so. Eventually she stopped laughing, and noticed that he was peering at her rather intently. She shot him a questioning glance, and he smiled slightly. "I also noticed that you talked about Jon being here earlier." He pointed out, emphasizing the 'Jon'. "What happened, Mistress Shang? Is this related to the so-called 'Secret Desire' you so expressly denied feeling for him yesterday?"

"You know very well I never denied it," she told him, smiling. "But yes, he visited the Dove this morning."

"And?"

"And we talked. That's all." She furiously tried to keep from blushing.

Raoul stared at her for a moment, watching the barest hint of colour spreading into her ears. "Liar." He softly said, "I bet that wasn't all at all." He smiled slightly, probably because she turned away in embarrassment, but she heard a slightly strange note in his voice.

"What's wrong?" she asked, confused.

He waved her question away. "Never mind." He softly said, "Never mind, it's nothing."

Now who's the liar? She thought to herself. It most certainly was not nothing, that much she could tell. Things were getting decidedly odd – why was everyone so concerned about her and Jon? First George – which, she rationalized, could probably be explained in part, and now Raoul. Unlike George, she noted – ashamed that she could be so calm in thinking so - Raoul probably wasn't jealous of Jon, so why was he worried? She was incredibly anxious to talk to Jon tonight, just to get to the bottom of things.

***

The three Knights had left soon afterwards, Alex and Raoul helping Gary along between the two of them. They made arrangements to catch up at the palace in a few days; for them to 'train together', Alex had said. She was a bit wary of Alex at the moment; his behavious in the Dove had been somewhat peculiar, and his comment yesterday about still wanting to beat her couldn't really be boding well for their friendship. Could it? Friendly rivalry could work, after all – it was very prominent in Shang. But, she remembered, she'd not really had any close friends in Shang; she didn't particularly like that element of competition in her friendships.

Still, there was plenty of time to think about that, and not much time to think about tonight. She waved goodbye to Raoul and Alex, gave Gary a disapproving glare, helped Nelly get Riven back upstairs to his own bedroom (Nelly telling her almost unconscious son that he was going to be in so much trouble; something, Alanna noted with a grin, didn't really seem to change with Riven), before finally making her way into her room. She'd called out to Nelly to run a bath, and so she'd at least be clean.

Again looking somewhat wistfully at the dress hanging in her closet, she decided – once more, against wearing it. Besides, she thought with a smirk, it probably wasn't the best thing to wear if they were going to a park. Setting the clean pair of breeches, a shirt and hose on her bed, she quietly made her way down to the baths. These were situated on the other side of the hall from her, and she was always nervous about anyone, as George would have put it, 'copping an eyeful' when she would duck back across the hallway. At least she was bathing quite early this evening, and there weren't many people about yet.

Relaxing in the bath after locking the door, she thought some more on what was to come. This morning had been so amazing, and Jon…she blushed at the memory. Which, she realised, was a bit strange, considering the extent some of the dreams had gone; before they turned violent, of course. She made a mental note to take the herbal tea Eleni had recommended tonight. She didn't want such a perfect day to be upset by the dreams.

She frowned; she shouldn't presume that something bad wouldn't happen tonight, she reminded herself. Shang were taught to be constantly vigilant; it wouldn't do for her to be caught off guard because she was making moon eyes with Jon, or doing something else. She wondered whether or not she should wet her hair; it would be nice to do so, but it might make even more of the colour run. She didn't want to look like a court fool with multi-coloured hair when she met Jon. Deciding against it, and finishing her soaping, she stepped out of the bath. She grabbed her dirty clothes, wrapped a towel about herself, and creeped to the doorway. Cracking it open, she snuck a peek in both directions, and leapt across the hall.

Slamming the door behind her closed, she threw on her clean clothes, and brushed her hair quickly. She had caught a glimpse of the common room as she was heading towards the bath, and the number of its occupants suggested that it was getting late. Sliding on her boots, making sure her shirt sat properly on her shoulders and her breeches sat snugly on her hips, she decided she was looking quite nice. She threaded her pendant into the front of her shirt, and took a last look into the mirror.

She stepped out of her room then, and made her way downstairs. Jon had said that he'd meet her after last light, which was fairly soon, and she wanted to save him the effort of having to reach her in her rooms. She knew the evening crowds here at the Dove, and they were raucous, energetic, and a lot like a very smelly wall if you were attempting to move from one side of the room to the other. She spotted a table fairly close to the door, and made her way over to it. A number of men along the way whistled at her, or tried to touch her, but a well directed glare (and a few breakings of fingers, Shang skills were useful in social situations too) dissuaded the rest of the assembled crowd to approach her. She sat, awaiting the arrival of Jon.

***

He'd come fairly soon after that, almost walking past her until she'd tugged on his shoulder. A wide smile had broken out on his face as he'd seen her, and she reciprocated. Hugging her tightly, he brushed a kiss onto her cheek, and began to lead her outside again. It seemed he too knew that there was no point attempting to converse in such a dense crowd. A few of said crowd groaned as she left with Jon, while a few of the woman glared at her. She didn't particularly care.

Once they'd gotten outside, he turned almost immediately towards her. "You look beautiful, Alanna." He whispered, taking her hands in his and pressing a quick kiss to her lips. She grinned, and taking him in from head to toe, decided that he too looked amazing. She realised that the fairly gritty shirt and breeches he was wearing were to prevent anyone thinking him a noble, thus preventing him from getting into trouble, but they didn't detract away from the whole. His blue eyes seemed even more beautiful in the dark, and his hair looked as if a part of the night sky had settled onto his head. Which, she realised with a start, sounded rather silly.

He took her hand then, and they began to slowly make their way through the darkened streets. She was slightly worried about facing some footpads or thieves out, though it wasn't all that late, but she felt Jon could probably handle himself if the going got tough. She knew she could, of course, but she didn't want to worry for him when he was out here as well. She sighed, best not to mull over that at the moment, anyway. If it happened, it happened. Concentrate on the happy experience for now.

They walked in a comfortable silence for a distance, what seemed to be a mile or two to Alanna, until they reached a small house a few paces away from the castle wall. Jon opened the door with a key he took from his pocket, and ushered her in.

"What is this place?" she asked, somewhat…disappointed. She had been expecting a park, this was, well, a hovel. And hovel was probably her being nice.

Jon grinned, as if he knew what she was thinking. Which, given the expression on her face, was probably not that difficult to discern. "This, my dear," she knew he was only joking, but she smiled at that. "Is something so secret only a handful of people in the city know what it is."

She looked at him expectantly, "And?"

"My, aren't we impatient?" she glared, and smacked him on the arm. "Ow! Alright, this is the cover for a passage that leads into the castle walls."

"Right into the castle?"

"Not right in, no." he qualified. "What it does do is get us into the castle grounds without having to stop by the Guards."

"Oh." She softly said; why didn't Jon want to go past the guards? He was a noble, wasn't he?

"You're not impressed?" Jon asked, a mischievous tone to his voice. "And it's all downhill from here, too…"

"Ha, ha." She dryly said. "But I am impressed, yes. I just-" grimacing, she whispered "But do we have to do something so, illegal?"

"It's completely safe, Alanna." Jon tried to convince her, "Only myself, George, and maybe one or two other people know about it."

"It's the 'maybe' that worries me." She murmured, "But anyway. So this will take us into the castle grounds?"

Jon nodded eagerly. "Yes, and then I've set up some food for us not too far away from where the exit is."

"Wouldn't someone have found the food?" she asked, becoming more and more worried.

"No way!" he laughed, "No-one ever comes around to that part of the garden, and even if they did, I've hidden it." He smiled at her, but she still looked apprehensive. "Look, trust me Alanna." He softly said, "Please. We'll be fine, I swear it."

She gulped. It was about trust, wasn't it? If she didn't agree to this, would he think she didn't trust him? Did she trust him? "Alright, I trust you." She told him after a moment's deliberation. "Let's do it."

Smiling, he took her hand, and led the two of them over to a one of the walls. It was covered with a disgustingly woven throw rug that, for some reason, was hung up on the wall. She frowned, opening her mouth to question his sanity, when Jon quietly spoke a few words. She froze, realizing that he was Gifted, and that he was using magic. Of course, she wasn't quite as afraid of the Gift as some other of the Shang were, but she still was highly uncomfortable with it. Stiffening, she realised Jon had finished whatever he had been saying – spelling? – and looking at her intently. "Are you ok?"

"I just-" she swallowed thickly. "I just get somewhat anxious around people using the Gift."

"Oh." He said quietly, obviously saddened by this. "Are you, uh, afraid of it?"

She shook her head. "No, it's just- I would have preferred that you told me you were going to use it. I can stand it, but it just caught me off guard."

Nodding, he smiled slightly. "I'll bear it in mind." She grinned back, and gestured towards the wall. "Oh, yeah. So, this is what's known as an alternating illusion; it's either a solid wall or an illusionary wall..."

"I don't need the theory, Jon."

"Ah, yes. Sorry." He gave her hand a squeeze, and began to explain it's operation. "Now, what we have to do is just walk through its location, and we'll emerge on the other side. The tunnel."

"Walk through its location?" she queried. "You mean walk through the wall? Gee, and you wonder why no-one else knows about it."

"But the wall isn't there, Alanna." Jon told her, "Look?" he took his other arm and slowly pushed it into the hanging rug. To her immense shock, the hand disappeared; it looked as if Jon's arm simply ended at the wall. She turned pale, she was most certainly not expecting this. "Alanna, please. Look at me." She did so, wide amethyst eyes staring into piercing blue ones. "Do you trust me?"

"Y-yes." She stuttered, after a while.

"You can do this, Alanna. We can do this." She mustered her courage, and nodded. He gave her hand a squeeze. "Right, now on the count of five we- Alanna!" Jon cried out as he was pulled along; Alanna, wanting to get it over and done with as soon as she could, charged headlong into the rug. To her immense relief, the spell still seemed to be working, and she passed through the wall and into a dimly lit – with, she noted, bright blue glowing torches, tunnel. Jon almost ran into the back of her as she stood, panting. "Are you alright?" he asked her, after a while, taking her into his arms.

"Sorry." She mumbled into his chest. "I shouldn't have done that."

"No, you shouldn't have." he agreed. "I was worried that something might have happened had I gone first, and was just about to tell you that."

"But you didn't go first." She pointed out.

"Yes, but you just rushed off like that!" he whispered. "It could have happened quite differently!"

"But it didn't." she said, getting her breathing under control. "It didn't, and let's just let it rest."

He sighed, and nodded. "Yeah, alright. It did work out for the best, but Alanna-" she looked up at him, "Please be careful. I care for you."

She blushed – that was the closest thing he had said yet about being interested in her. Of course, she knew he wanted her, his kisses were certainly telegraphing that, but this was the first indication she had that his feelings went deeper. "Thank you, Jon." She whispered. He took her hand again, and they began walking down the tunnel. Eventually, they reached a dead end. Or what at first appeared to be a dead end. Jon mumbled a few words, and the wall began to grow hazier, until it eventually had disappeared completely. Looking out, she noticed that they were now deep in the castle grounds.

Jon was poking his head around, glancing this way and that, and seemed to eventually decide the coast was clear. "Come on," he told her, pulling her alongside him. He made particularly sure that she went out first, following her closely. "There we go, out now." He grinned at her.

"Where's the food?" she whispered, hearing her stomach crying out to be fed. She hadn't managed to eat much at lunch, as Gary had stepped on her plate during one of his table-top-romps.

He chuckled quietly, and led her to the right, towards the castle walls. The tree's around here were very tall, and very large. She noticed, as she had the previous day, that the noble gardens seemed so much more lush than what they like in the city proper, but at the moment she didn't care. They couldn't have hid anywhere near as well as they did if the tree's had no leaves. Jon eventually reached a small clearing, almost completely surrounded by dense bushland. Jon walked over to a bush, and mumbling words to a spell again, procured a fairly large amount of small boxes. With the moon illuminating the clearing quite well, they decided that light wasn't a necessity, and began to open the boxes. Food, drink and cutlery filled them all, it seemed, although Jon also dragged out a rug for them to sit on.

They sat, and began to feed each other the food. It was a most wonderful hour or so, Alanna thought, as she and Jon got closer and closer. By the time they'd finished the small creamy pastries Jon had brought, they were lying in each other's arms, looking up at the moon together. He was stroking her arm, and she was curled up against him. She knew that she had to tell him certain things, and she knew that he had to tell her certain things too, but for the moment she was content. Perhaps more content than she could ever remember being.

Still, she shouldn't put things off. She drew herself up, slightly, and kissed him. He pulled an arm up, running his hand through her hair. She pulled away after a while, and shifted across from him slightly. "We have to talk." She told him.

He nodded, gravely. "We do."

"I'll go first." She whispered, almost fearfully. He nodded, and she began to talk. She told him of who she was, of Alanna of Trebond, of Alanna the Shang, and of Alanna the woman. She told him of Thom, of the Goddess' visits, of her Gift – she told him everything. Everything, she realised, but the dreams; she could admit to herself that she was afraid of what his reaction would have been if he had known that. He sat there, watching her, and never broke in once. She sometimes wished he would, because she didn't have the faintest idea of how he felt about her, about the real her.

"So you're a noble?" he asked softly, his mouth quirking into a smile. She nodded, slightly. "Wow."

"I sometimes wish I weren't." she said, "George couldn't accept that about me, for one."

He nodded himself. "I think it's wonderful," he told her softly. "And Thom's sister, too! I can't believe I didn't recognise your eyes."

"George said you knew Thom." She asked, tentatively.

"Yes, I did." He replied, just as softly. "He came to the palace about two years ago, out of the blue, and asked for residence there. What could I do to refuse? He was a Master Sorcerer."

"A Master?" she wondered, "But he would have been only about sixteen!"

Jon nodded, "Indeed he was. The youngest master ever, apparently. He was powerful, too, very powerful. Roger suggested that I shouldn't let him stay, that I should simply tell him to leave and walk away. But," he grinned, "Roger was just jealous. He's a sorcerer too, and was worried that he'd loose face at court if Thom stuck around. But Thom was also a noble, and he had the right to remain there. So, I let him stay."

"Roger?" Alanna queried.

"My Cousin. Other cousin," he added, after Alanna frowned. "Gary's from my father's side, Roger's from my mothers. Anyway, I wanted Thom to stay for a reason, too."

"Your mother." She proffered, remembering what George had told her about a month ago. "You wanted him to heal your mother."

Jon nodded. "She had been very sick for years, never recovered from the Sweating Sickness." Seeing Alanna's look at that, he filled her in on the details. "A magical illness that affected the capital for a while, taking almost one in three men and women. It affected both Mother and myself, and father spent all the money he owned on making sure that we survived it. Of course," he smiled grimly, "All the money in the world would have been for naught had Roger not turned up. He swept in one day, demanding to see me and mother, and over the next few day's healed us. Well, appeared to heal us."

"You don't think he did?"

"Well, Thom later told me that Roger was one of the few men in the world who would have been able to make such an illness. Add into this the fact that for saving mother and I from it's clutches, and all the influence he gained with father, and let's just say I have my suspicions."

"But he's your cousin," she pointed out. "Surely he'd not attempt to kill you."

Jon grimaced. "I once thought like that, but now. Well, I'll stick to the story. Roger arrived, saving mother and I, and father couldn't bend over backwards enough to aid Roger in return. He granted him another Duchy, and made him a senior minister alongside Uncle Gareth." Alanna would have asked who that was, but the pieces of the puzzle were beginning to click together, and a decidedly queasy feeling was stirring in her stomach. "From then on, Father consulted with Roger on everything, and mother grew weaker and weaker. Father weakened with her, it appeared, and he began to withdraw from public life more and more. Roger and Uncle Gareth were left to make most of the decisions, father was just left to approve of them. At least Gareth tried to involve him, though!" he whispered harshly, "Roger just asked for his signature all the time! I didn't notice at the time, nor did anyone else, because mother and father were growing weaker and weaker. Thom arrived two years ago, and so I asked him if there was anything he could do to help them. He-" he paused, putting his head in his hands.

"It's ok, Jon." She said quietly, attempting to comfort him.

He raised his head then, his eyes suddenly even brighter as unshed tears pushed against his face. "When I was a page," he said, flatly, "I remember that my constant worry wasn't about the staff exercises, or not knowing an answer in Arithmetic, but wondering whether or not my mother would live through the year. It just, I don't know, Alanna. I was just always so frightened after she fell ill; after the Sweating Sickness, I was still so young." He sighed. "Thom was my last chance to save her, to save them. I knew that if he couldn't do anything, the youngest Master Sorcerer alive, then no-one could. He just opened the door to her room, and just…looked at her. He didn't even move towards her, and he turned to me and said "Jon, there's nothing I can do." Of course," Jon continued, the same emotionless voice making his words sound even more horrible. "I didn't believe him. I grabbed him by the collar and shook him up against a wall, yelling at him, cursing him. I mean, he possessed the most powerful Gift in the world, or so he claimed, how could he not do anything? It seemed to make no sense. He didn't do anything in return, just let me shake him, softly telling me that he was sorry. Eventually I let him go, and lay next to my mother." He looked at her then, a tear rolling down his cheek. "When I woke up in the morning, she was dead. Father followed soon after, too."

"Oh, Jon."

"So," he continued, "I was forced into the role that I'd been born to do, as my father had so often said. Oh, after the funeral's of course. Roger and Gareth helped me to do so, of course, but that was to be expected. I didn't care by that point, I wanted no part in it, and I told them so numerous times. Gareth would calmly tell me that I had no choice, of course, but Roger-" he shook his head, "Roger would fly into a rage, telling me that I was disgracing the Conte name by not taking on the responsibility. I told him I didn't care, but he would just call me a weak boy. Of course, I was only eighteen; I still was a boy. I got the distinct impression, however, that Roger was pushing me – trying to make me snap, to run away from it all. I still do, when he advises me. He gives me good advice, I guess, but that's as much to save his own hide as it is mine. But he doesn't care for me, however much concern he layers onto me – I see through it. George has given me a good sense for lies; and Roger lies to me every time he talks to me. But what can I do? Father had lain a decree stating that Roger and Gareth were to advise me until my twenty-fifth birthday, and there's no way I can rip that decree up. Thom suspected him too, of more than just the Sweating Sickness. He was always trying to pry into Roger's business, always trying to figure out what he was into next."

"Do you think-?"

"That Roger killed him? I don't doubt it, Alanna. But there's no proof, none to speak of, believe me I've searched for it. The decree doesn't stand if Roger or Gareth is found guilty of any offence; I can get rid of him, legally at least, if I can find this proof."

"And I want to find it to avenge my brother." Alanna whispered harshly. "We'll find it, Jon. I know we will."

Jon looked at her for a while, taking in her determined look. "I don't doubt that we can do so, the two of us." He quietly said. "I don't think even Roger of Conte can stand up to the Noble Falcon of Shang and Trebond."

"Don't call me that."

"Sorry," a small grin crept onto his face, the first in many minutes. It had obviously been a painful recollection of memories for him; and she knew the feeling well. "And I suppose you've worked out the other thing?"

She nodded. "You're the King of Tortall." She stated, softly.

Jon smiled softly. "Not that I asked for it, of course." Alanna could sympathise with that. "Do you-?" he grimaced. "Do you think you still want to get to know me?"

She took a moment for this. Did she? He was the King! Getting involved with him would mean scandal, being exposed to everyone and probably the outing of a lot of her personal history; something she wasn't particularly sure she wanted to do. But he had poured his heart open to her, as she had done to him, and she knew that he was also just a human. A human, she realised with a small start, that she wanted to comfort and help. One she wanted to love. "Yes," she told him. "I do."

He smiled then, one that seemed to split his face. "And I want to know you, My Lady Shang." He took her in his arms then, and the two kissed for many minutes. Hands roving all over each other's bodies, their now shared pasts seemingly making their connection stronger, the desire more urgent. After a while, in which many laces had been undone – not fully, of course, but the intention was clearly there, Jon opened his mouth once more. "I have one more thing to tell you, Alanna."

"You know it won't affect my decision, Jon." She told him, "I want to be close to you no matter what."

He gave a wan grin at that. "I'll prefix it with a simple statement," he began. "I love you. I have since the moment I saw you, I believe. I'd say it was like a vision, but I don't think you'd believe that any more than I do. You were fighting in a cloud of dust with Arune, your hair was messed up, and I think your lip was bleeding. But I knew that you were something beautiful – someone that I wanted to know. When I met you, then, and began to get to know you, I knew that what I had felt was…" he trailed off. Obviously he'd thought of the beginning of this speech, but not the end.

Fortunately, Alanna knew just what he meant. "You felt something in the other person that you knew was just right."

"Yes, I think." He laughed. "I've never been a good poet; and Gary can attest to that. I don't think I can really express it, but I knew that I loved you."

Alanna didn't reply to that, she knew she should tell him that she wanted to love him – though she felt she knew him, she still wanted a little more time to work through her feelings. "And the thing you wanted to tell me?"

"Ah, yes." He mumbled. "Well, I can tell you in one word; Delia."

"Delia?" she frowned, "What's that?"

"Who's that," Jon corrected, "And she is many things. She is mean, petty, empty-headed, influential, rich, attractive, was well liked by my mother, and;" he stopped, as if the next words were impossibly hard to say, "She is my betrothed."

A/N – Hmm, not sure how that last scene played out. Any comments?