Author's Note: As always, Tamora Pierce holds the copyrights to the world of Tortall. Oh, and the title of this chapter came to me from the song of the same name from Fiddler on the Roof.

Chapter 4: Do You Love Me?

Alanna hid in her chambers for the next few days, her only companion was Faithful. And the cat was irritated with her, too.

What made you accept Jon in the first place? Since when do you do things to please others?

"I don't know. It's too different here," she snapped. "You're supposed to be the one consoling me, and telling me how to fix this."

That's what your female friends are for. I am a cat. Cats don't console.

"You could pretend some sympathy."

Oh, no. This is just awful. Poor you, Faithful said, rolling his purple eyes. Alanna refused to dignify his sarcasm with a response and turned over. She was lying across her bed, staring at the ceiling. She had already run through all of her sword and staff positions, and had done all her exercises, plus the ones Liam had taught her, four times. She should take a bath, she mused. Baths helped calm her down when she was upset.

She left her room and found a servant, who drew her hot water. After the footman, who had made the mistake of calling her 'princess', had taken his escape, Alanna pulled off her sweaty clothing and sank into the warm water. She sank down into the tub and just let her mind drift off. Maybe it was the relaxation of soaking, but Alanna was able to think about the whole situation without wanting to beat Jon over the skull...much. She had overreacted, and she owed it to Jon to explain to him what was bothering her. He didn't know what was going on in her head or on her side of the story. She hadagreed to marry him, and had figured out that she did not want to. It just had been a bad turn of fate that George had shown up. She would talk to Jon, and then when they cleared things up, she would talk to George.

Feeling much better and confident, she washed her hair and body diligently. She was calm enough and in such good spirits that when Faithful made a comment about how her fingers looked like raisins, she did not snap, only splashed water at him. She got out of the tub and donned some clean clothing. Whistling, she strapped Lightening to her side and made her way out of her chambers.

There she found the same servant who had called her 'princess.' The poor boy near collapsed when he saw her.

"Err—um, yer ladyship, no, lady—sir knight? Um…"

Alanna smiled as gently she could. "Don't worry yourself, lad. Just Lady Knight will do fine."

"Err—thank you, Lady Knight." He sounded relieved. "The prince requests your presence in his receiving room and he says that there are no excuses this time."

Alanna sighed. "I know; tell him I was on my way when you intercepted me."

The boy bowed hastily and scampered off towards Jon's chambers ahead of her. Alanna made herself walk slowly, knowing that if she ran, she'd just work herself up again. And Jon did not need a roaring lioness any time soon. He had quite enough on his plate.

Much more quickly that she would have liked, she found herself outside the receiving chamber. She took a deep breath and, steeling herself, opened the door. Jon sat at one table, head bent over stacks of parchment, scribbling furiously. Next to him stood Roger. Alanna's stomach clenched and her eyes narrowed. She hadn't had the misfortune to run into Roger since their interview on the wall, and she had been quite glad of that. Roger looked up at her entrance and leered at her. At least she knew where she stood with this royal, she thought darkly. The bastard hates me, and I hate him. I just wish he'd stay dead.

"Cousin, your lady is here."

Alanna did not miss the inflection Roger insinuated in his words. "You have such a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that I'm female, Roger. Pity. You've had time. Being stuck between this realm and the Black God's, you must have had some time to do things besides twiddle your thumbs."

"Ah, my Lady Tongue," Roger spat. "At least that part didn't change—your cheek is still the same as it was when you were Squire Alan. Pity, it might have been Knight Alan that would have learned to keep his manners. "

"Knight Alan was the one that killed you," Alanna reminded him.

"Ah, yes. I'd quite forgotten that. But you were only Knight Alan for a day, before I exposed you."

"And Knight Alan still managed to expose you for what you were, a traitor and an attempted murderer. Before Knight Alan was Knight Alanna," Alanna spat.

"Murderer? Use that word carefully, my dear," Roger smirked.

"And you watch what you say carefully," she growled. "I've a mind to use Lightening and be a murderer again." Her hand was on the hilt of her sword, and she was trembling with rage. She hated thinking of what she'd done—killing—but it was her job. And probably the only reason the royal family was still standing.

"Peace." Jon had been watching the battle with tired eyes. "Both of you, enough. Roger, go. Go back to Thom or whatever you do."

"As you wish, cousin." Roger's face dropped into an emotionless expression. He turned and left the room without another word. Alanna glared at his back, watching him go. She did not like the unsettled feeling she got after talking to him. He was hiding something and she was sure of it. What he was hiding, that was what she was unsure of. Her fist still on the hilt of Lightening, she considered chasing after the Duke and slicing his head off. Maybe he'd stay dead this time, she mused.

"Alanna." Jon turned her attention back to him. "You're going to have to learn to live with him. "

"Live with him, I won't. Occasionally snap at him, fine. Live with him, no."

"He'll be your cousin after this wedding."

"I shall treat him as an in-law. An unwanted and highly disliked in-law. He'll be just like family," Alanna snapped. She was beginning to feel rather cross again. However, Jonathan seemed to think that she was being funny and roared with laughter. He got up from his desk and hugged her, his body still shaking from laughter.

"Thank the gods for you, Alanna of Trebond and Olau. Without you, I'd have forgotten how to laugh." He kissed her forehead tenderly and then kissed her mouth. Alanna quickly pulled away. "Jon—" she said warningly.

"What? I am allowed to kiss my betrothed," he argued, trying for another kiss. Alanna pushed him off.

"Jon, I'm being serious."

He sighed. "Well, if we're going to be serious, I could ask you why you've been avoiding me. I haven't seen you since we told George our happy news. In fact, he seemed happier about it than you."

"That's because you were so focused on rubbing it in his face that you didn't notice that I didn't want to talk about it in front of him!" Alanna yelled, her temper having gotten to the point where she was about to explode.

"What in the name of all the gods is wrong with you, woman?" Jon asked, grabbing her and shaking her.

Alanna, with a twist she learned from Liam, freed herself and dumped Jon unceremoniously on the ground. Jon, stunned, just sat there for a second and looked up at her. She could see herself reflected in his eyes. She stood above him, panting, red as a tomato, angry, and he didn't understand. She sighed and offered him a hand to help him up. He eyed it suspiciously.

"I'm not going to dump you on your ass again, Jon. I'm sorry I lost my temper."

Warily, he accepted her hand and allowed her to pull him to his feet. "Apology accepted. But I don't—"

Alanna held up her hand, weariness coming over her. I need another hot bath. "We're not on the same page, Jon, and we need to get there. Right now, I'm not sure we're even in the same book at this point. We really need to talk."

Jon leaned back against his desk. "I guess you're right. I just got so caught up with running the kingdom, and you, and everything. I'm sorry."

"Thank you," Alanna said.

"We're going to need to figure out a way so that we can talk to each other and stay on the same page when we're married," Jon continued. "We can't have fights like this in the courtyard or the throne room. It just isn't done. And there'll be enough pressure on both of us to keep up appearances that it will be very difficult not to just explode at each other. I know that there will be fights; we don't always see eye-to-eye, but at least we need to know that we have a way to resolve these fights. If we don't have that, we won't have a good marriage."

Alanna sighed heavily. "That's actually what we need to talk about."

"I know! We can't just have days without speaking to each—"

"—No, Jon," Alanna interrupted. "Well, yes, but there's something more important first. I'm not sure we'll make a good marriage."

"What?" Jon stared at her, uncomprehending. "Alanna, we've already discussed this."

"No, not really. You made some valid points as to why it would be good for me to be queen and ways it would be good for the kingdom. But we never talked about whether or not it would be good for us. Yes, I know you better than most, and yes, I help you keep your head on straight, but that sounds more like a good advisor or a good friend. Not a good wife."

"I told you that I love you—"

Alanna fished in her pocket and drew out a folded piece of paper. Carefully, she unfolded it and smoothed it out on the desk. It was Jon's sketch of Thayet.

Alanna watched as his face turned a dull red. He looked at the floor and then at her, beseechingly, as he opened his mouth to argue. Alanna held up her hand. "Look, Jon. Don't say anything. I know that you drew this, because I know your dismal drawing skills. I had to examine every portrait you drew of that cow Delia, remember? And this was in your stack of papers in the council room. So don't deny it. Goddess knows, you draw pictures of the woman you fall in love with. I found the few you made of me—and there's a reason they are missing. I burned them. Jon, you only draw pictures of girls you are in love with. If you were in love with me, I would be the one you are drawing. It's logical."

Jon looked down, shame-faced. She knew that he knew that she knew. He looked as if he was bracing himself for her wrath. But she had none. Jon wasn't the man she was in love with; she did not see Thayet as a rival.

"Alanna…I am so sorry. I—"

Alanna laughed, surprising Jon. "You are expecting me to fly at you in a passion, aren't you?"

"Well…yes," owned Jon, who was eyeing her suspiciously.

"Jon, I don't care."

"You don't?" he asked incredulously.

"Jon, you don't love me like that anymore. And I'm pretty sure I don't love you, either. Why are we trying to pretend we are? You're in love with Thayet." Watching the softness Thayet's name brought to her friend's features, Alanna knew she was right. "Why are you playing this game, asking me to marry you?"

"She—she doesn't want me," Jon sighed, sinking into the chair next to the desk. "Every time I'd talk to her, all she ever wanted to talk about was you and I. She thinks that we're perfect together. There was never an opportunity to suggest the idea of her and me. The only times we strayed from that topic of the Lioness was when we talked about the kingdom. Goddess, she's an intelligent woman. Stubborn, but she could easily hand Gary defeat in a battle of wits."

"She's one of the smartest people I know," Alanna agreed. "And she doesn't use her beauty to entrap people, either."

"You're thinking of Delia."

"And some of the other ladies floating around this court."

"Princess Josiane?"

Alanna shrugged. "I've only been introduced to her. I know naught of her. But she doesn't give me the warm fuzzies."

"Me neither."

"So, why do we bother with them?" Alanna asked, pulling herself to sit on the desk.

"Because we must. Because they're my subjects. And the people you've sworn to protect."

"Mithros, I knew there was a catch to all this knight business," Alanna joked. Jon joined her in laughter, but it didn't last long.

"So…about this betrothal thing—" Alanna started.

Jon sighed and looked up at his Champion. He stood and cupped her face gently. "Alanna, what you said about Thayet is true. I am…infatuated with her. But…" he cast about for the words he wanted.

"I don't like 'buts,'" Alanna warned.

"—But I still have my feelings for you. You're the only one I've ever said that I loved and really meant it. I still do mean it. Maybe it's not the same way as before. But love has to have more than just passion. There has to be friendship and there has to be respect. I know that I have that for you and you have that for me. I know you, Alanna."

Alanna could not tear her eyes away from his. She could hear the truth ringing through every syllable. A lump rose in her throat as he leaned down and softly kissed her. She closed her eyes and let him kiss her while she soaked in his words. A warm feeling in the pit of her stomach rose as she leaned into him.

Gently, Jon pulled back and put his hands on her shoulders. "Alanna, love isn't all passion and sex. There are so many different kinds of love. It's a shame we've only got one word for it. There's the love that we used to have and then there's a deeper understanding of each other and knowledge of one another and mutual respect. That, too, is love." Alanna couldn't breathe. His words were powerful and they were making her think. Jon wrapped his arms around her. "Maybe our love isn't that perfect love, the love that all the minstrels sing of, where we want each other forever and we never fight and we never misunderstand each other and never find a way of mending each other. But that kind of love I don't think that exists anymore. But we have is real. And it's a love, just a different kind of love." Alanna looked up into her prince's face. He was crying. She reached up and wiped away his tears. "Mother and Father were besotted with each other, everyone knew. I used to dream of finding someone just like that. Maybe not Mother, exactly. But a woman who would have the same effect on me that she had on Father. But I don't think I want that anymore, Alanna. Would I kill myself and leave behind my child, just because I couldn't live without my wife? I don't want a love like that. What I want is someone familiar and someone I can cherish. Someone who I know would not want me to take my life if I were left behind and she had moved into the next life. I need you, Alanna."

He was hurting badly, Alanna knew. He was bleeding from the inside—his parents' deaths took more of a toll than he ever let anyone see. Alanna's heart constricted for her friend. She hugged him hard as she could as he sobbed into her shoulder. Slowly, Jon regained control of himself and pulled himself from her embrace. His beautiful blue eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot as he looked at her. She looked back at him, her own eyes wet.

"Alanna," Jon asked softly, clutching her hand to his chest, "do you love me?"

Alanna's tears poured over. Jon was not asking for her romantic love this time, not the cliché love. He was asking, again, for her hand—for her hand to hold him steady, for her hand to hug him, for her hand to wipe away his tears. He wasn't asking her to have that blissful happy-ever-after passion love.

"Yes, Jon," she said softly. "I love you."

I suppose I should feel bad for Jon, shouldn't I?