CHAPTER 23: Jonathan of Conté

Later that evening, Jon took Alanna back to her rooms. He leaned on the closed door, watching as she first washed her face and then sat to apply a touch of face paint before dinner. She tried to ignore him, finding his unwavering gaze disconcerting, but it was hard not to notice when he came up behind her and stared at her reflection in the mirror.

"You look lovely," he told her solemnly.

She smiled weakly. "I'll thank you for saying so, but that's hardly true. I don't hold a candle to half the court ladies."

He smiled and brushed her neck with his fingertips. Alanna stiffened. She had never been so aware of how cool Jon's fingers were, or how it was possible for her heart to beat so fast. She was quite sure she had never been this close to any of her noble guy-friends before. In fact, she had never been this close to any of her guy friends at all except for George, and that was only when he—

Jon leaned down and kissed her neck. She gasped and pulled away. "Jon!"

"What?" he murmured, following her retreat.

"Jon, you're—we can't do this!" Her stomach was pounding—or was it her heart? She couldn't tell the difference anymore.

"Sure we can. We are, right now." He pulled her to her feet, turned her so they faced one another, and slid his arms around her waist. His lips returned to her neck.

"Oh gods, Jon, please—" she gasped, but even she heard how her voice had weakened. A part of her mind was already telling her that this wasn't so bad—it was quite wonderful, actually—

He moved to her ear, then her eyelid, and then trailed down to just outside the corner of her mouth. Alanna had never felt so light and fluttery, so weak, before. She clung to Jon's shoulders just to keep standing. She couldn't stand this, their faces so close together, their noses touching, his mouth right there, her mouth right there—

He turned his face slightly, and she met his kiss full force.

And then the dinner bell rang. Jon pulled away and swore.

Sudden reality dawned on Alanna. Here she was, her body pressed to the Crown Prince's, his arms around her waist, her lips still tingling mercilessly from a beautiful, terrible kiss! She covered her face in her hands and pulled deliberately from his arms, shaking her head defiantly. She was not doing this; this did not just happen; would her heart shut up?

"Alanna?" Jon asked tentatively, reaching up to remove her hands from her face.

Alanna jerked back, trembling incontrollably, both outside and in. "I—I'll be late for dinner," she replied breathlessly and lamely. She moved for the door, but Jon caught her hand. "Jon—stop."

He stared at her, baffled. "Why?"

"Because—because I said so, and because… I don't want to."

"No? Are you sure?" His voice gave away his amused disbelief.

"Yes, perfectly sure." A white lie never hurt anyone.

He sighed. "I really missed you, Alanna."

"I missed you too, Jon, but—don't."

"Don't what?" he demanded irritably. "Don't talk about how I love you?" When she didn't say anthing, he gave her a last, sorrowful glance and left, shutting the door behind him.

You really know how to make a wreck out of things, don't you?

Alanna jumped and spun to find Faithful stretched out comfortably on her bed, watching her with a bored expression. She stared at him. "You just saw all of that?"

I shut my eyes when I thought you were going to tear his tunic off, but, otherwise, yes, I saw all of that. It's quite amusing, watching you melt all over him.

"'Tear his tunic—'?" Alanna echoed breathlessly. Had she really almost done that? Had they been that close to actually sleeping together? The thought horrified her. Especially when it included Jon. She shuddered and strode quickly to her jewelry box. There, buried on the bottom, lay an arcane gold symbol on a chain that Eleni had given to her. Apparently it warded off pregnancy. She had no intentions of sleeping with anyone any time soon—especially Jon—but, then again, she had had no intentions of kissing anyone this evening, either—especially Jon.

---

"They're done!" Jarinth shrieked, bursting into Alanna's room one evening a week later. "They're done; they're done; they're done; they're done!"

Alanna grinned. The news was no surprise—Jarinth had been eagerly counting down the days until the magical repairs were finished and had included her student in on the fun. "That's great, Jarinth."

"Great? Great? Alanna, this is terrific! And guess what? That leaves us all winter to plan our trip to Carthak. We'll leave as soon as possible this spring."

Alanna started, taken aback. "What?"

"Oh, come on, Alanna! You don't think we'd stay here much longer after I'd finished, do you? No way! I told you years ago that I had plans to go to Carthak, and now we can actually go! We would leave sooner, but the ocean is going to be incredibly bad pretty soon, so close to winter and all. Come on, Alanna, be excited! We're going to Carthak!"

At first Alanna could only stare, but, slowly, the startling news sank in. They were going to Carthak.

---

Jon turned twenty ten days later. During the evening celebrations, Alanna found herself chatting with Alex and Raoul, who both felt overwhelmed by the festivities after their summer of bloodshed. Gary, though still slightly uncomfortable, had met Cythera of Elden earlier that day and seemed smitten with her; Jon, on the other hand, had easily converted back to the old ways and was, once again, dancing with the lovely Delia of Eldorne. Alanna made sure to keep her back to them; somehow seeing them together infuriated her.

"Well, it's good to be back, at any rate," Raoul sighed, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. "Gary seems to be doing relatively well."

Alanna glanced at her dancing friends and laughed. She couldn't tell which one of them was having the most fun. Suddenly, however, a flash of mesmerizing blue cloth caught her eye, and she accidentally found herself staring at Delia. Her stomach knotted, and she meant to look away, but something about the other girl caught her attention. Delia looked irritated, for some reason. Wondering if Jon noticed, Alanna glanced at him and found the problem immediately. He was watching her.

Alanna excused herself to Alex and Raoul and fled to the terrace, then down a staircase to the vast gardens. She needed as much space as possible between herself and that Prince.

It seemed to have worked. She was alone, relaxing, alone, breathing in the delicious scent of moonflowers, alone. She couldn't remember ever feeling so very refreshed.

"This can't be right. If I didn't know you to be the strongest, bravest girl I have ever met, I would say you ran away from me in there," a man teased from behind her.

Alanna jumped and spun, and found herself standing just a yard from none other than Jon. "Where did you come from?" she demanded.

He chuckled. "It's amazing what you miss when it's dark out, isn't it?"

She didn't answer, but watched as he took a step closer.

He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "I have to admit, you confuse me, Alanna. How is it that you can face merciless beings like the Ysandir and egotistical bullies like Dain of Melor, but you run when a truth as simple as love is made clear to you?"

"I'm not running away," she protested without thinking.

"No?" he asked, moving closer, reaching up to touch her cheek. "And you don't want to?"

"Jon—" Alanna trembled under his cool fingers.

Jon kissed her, softly. His lips lingered over hers for a moment, and then pulled back an inch. Through a bizarre movement that Alanna had absolutely no control over, she followed him and pressed their mouths together again.

Then it occurred to her that this wasn't a bad thing. This was good. This warm feeling in her stomach and mouth—this was good. Jon holding her, his arms around her waist—this was very good. She relaxed, and slipped her arms up onto his as he held her tighter, and all reasonable thought abandoned her mind.

It didn't come back until she realized Jon was fiddling with the laces of her dress. She pulled away with a terrified gasp. "Jon, no, don't. Kissing's alright, I suppose, but not—not—" She groped for the words, gave up, and shuddered. "Jon, I have to go." And she ran.

"Damn!" she cried, slamming her bedroom door behind her. "Damn, damn, damn, damn!" She couldn't do this—she couldn't. She could not begin to imagine herself undressed in front of Jon, the Prince, her friend, a man. She paused, picturing the two of them in bed together, and gave a distressed cry.

"Is everything alright, Alanna?" Jarinth asked from the doorway ajoining their rooms.

Alanna jumped, startled, and then stared at Jarinth. Did she dare say anything? Her mouth answered for her as it gasped, "I was this close—" she showed her thumb and index finger a centimeter apart "—from sleeping with Jon. This close."

Jarinth paused and then grinned. "Congrats! How long have you two been going on?"

"We're not 'going on'!" Alanna squawked. "We're—we're—we only kissed," she said helplessly. "And only a little bit!"

She's really bad at handling herself around him. You'd think sex is some great sin, the way she goes on, Faithful commented cruelly from Alanna's bed. Alanna's face burned.

Jarinth glowered at him and snapped, "Cats don't talk!" Then she turned back to Alanna and hugged her. "It's not all that bad, you know. I think you two would be a sweet couple—you'd keep his pride from getting the better of him and he'd… well, he'd make your life interesting."

Alanna sniffed and giggled. "But he's my friend."

"And if he's any good of a friend, he'll remain your friend. Personally, I think you'd be better off with George, but Jon's a fine start."

Alanna started. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, don't deny it. I heard it from Eleni, who got a confession from George himself. He's smitten with you. And the way he looks at you? You'd think you two were engaged already. But, hey, like I said, Jon's a fine start." She paused and chuckled. "You are good, with both ends of the hierarchy falling for you. The Crown Prince and the King of the Thieves. Wow. You must be the definition of royal material."

Alanna laughed outright at this. "That's rich. I'm marrying a diplomat, remember? Remember Carthak?"

"Alanna, you can marry whomever you want and there's no one left that gives a damn, now that your father's gone. You could marry Jon."

The very thought made Alanna reel. Girls at the convent joked about marrying Jon, and here she found herself kissing him in the gardens on his birthday. She shook her head. How had she gotten herself into this? More importantly, how was she going to get out again?

She bit her lip. "Do you think I should sleep with Jon?"

"By all means, please do."

Alanna frowned. "Really?"

"Go on to Jon, now, Alanna. And have fun," Jarinth urged gently.

Jon had also returned to his rooms after their meeting in the gardens, and answered the door when she knocked. He paused only for a moment before pulling her in, locking the door, and kissing her fiercely.