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Ever wonder how Jon found out about Alanna and George?
I've added the rest of the story so you don't have to go find it.
(Yes, that was my pen name before that whole *upgrade* thing messed me up)
Everything belongs to Tamora Pierce
A tall, dark figure slipped over the railing of House Azik’s balcony with ease. Keeping to the shadows of the night, the intruder knelt in front of the large glass doors. With a soft click, one of the doors swung open silently. The man only had time to flash a quick smile before he was slammed backward onto the pavement, a knife at his throat.
"Now, I know for a fact," George Cooper drawled softly, "that yer mama taught ye better then to be breakin' into folks homes."
The figure lay still, breathing heavily. "How did you know it was me?" Jonathan Conte asked with a lopsided grin.
"Only those I've trained could slip past my guards unnoticed." George replied gruffly, hazel eyes serious.
"Actually, I'm surprised that I got so far." Jonathan glanced at the knife still held at his throat. "Can I get up now?"
George studied the young man for a long moment. Jonathan, hair tangled and unkempt, his plain clothes covered in dust, had clearly done some hard and fast traveling. "Why are you here, Jonathan?" George asked slowly.
"Well, I heard--" The dark night didn’t mask the flush the crept up Jon's neck. "I heard--" he cleared his throat uncomfortably, "that Alanna had been here."
Something dark and dangerous filled George’s hazel eyes. Jon felt his friend become very still over him. Neither of them moved for several heart beats.
Jon broke eye contact first. “You’re angry with me, too.” he sighed.
George did not rely. He continued to watch the Prince closely, a struggle of some sort clearly raging in his eyes. “George?”
“No.” George shook off his thoughts. Easing away from Jon, George stood and sheathed his dagger. He closed the glass door softly before going to the balconies railing.
“It’s a marvelous view.” Jon noted, joining his friend at the railing.
“What is it that ye want, Jon?” George asked roughly.
“I thought you weren’t mad.” Jon relied, voice accusingly.
Again, George shook his head. “I’m not angry with you, lad. She’s the one who’s broken hearted.”
Jon looked away with another blush. “I know.” he replied. “I know.”
They were silent for a long time, looking over the city.
“Does she hate me?” Jon finally asked.
George snorted. “Do you really believe that she could ever truly hate you?”
Silence fell again, long and tense. George said he wasn’t mad at Jon, but he was definitely overset about something. In the months since his fight with Alanna, Jon had done many things that he wasn’t proud of. He’d let his pride get the best of him but it had taken weeks for him to see it. When he finally had realized his mistake, he couldn’t find Alanna. She had not told the Bazhir her destination. Jon hadn’t hesitated when he found out that she had been spotted in Port Caynn, just saddled his horse and rode out. Perhaps Jon’s intrusion was what George was angry about. Jon almost turned to go, to ashamed at his behavior to ask George anymore questions.
“Do you think she could ever…”
“Ever what, lad?” George demanded when Jon did not go on.
Jon looked at his friend, blue eyes pleading. “Forgive me?”
Some of the George’s anger seemed to slip away. “She’s a forgiving lass, Jon. You know that.”
Jon scrubbed his face with his hands, relief flooding though him. “I’ve been stupid.” Jon sighed. The words, which he could never say to anyone else, were rough with emotion. George was the only one Jon could talk to about his misgiving and his mistakes with out worrying about politics. He could say things to George that he wouldn’t dare say to anyone else, even Gary, because George saw him as Jon, not the Prince. Being the King of Thieves gave George a grasp on many of the things that Jon did not understand. “I’ve been acting crazy.” he finished lamely.
“She has that effect on people.” George chuckled softly.
Jon laughed with him, relieved that his friend was no longer angry.
The silence returned, each man lost in his own thoughts. “I suppose she told you what happened, then.” Jon said after a time.
“No.” George replied. “She’d not tell me. Her pride’s that fierce, you know,” George smiled fondly. “But I gathered enough to figure it out.”
A frown marred Jon’s brow. He gripped the railing tight enough to turn his hands white. “I don’t know what happened, George.” he said. “I’ve gone over it in my head a thousand times and I just can’t figure out how it went so wrong.”
“Shouldn’t you be tellin’ her this?” George asked sharply.
Jon shrugged. “That’s why I’m here. I don’t know where she’s gone. I got a report that she was spotted here two weeks ago. I was hoping that you could tell me where she’s gone.”
“She won’t see you, Jon.”
Jon opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He wasn’t surprised. There were times he couldn’t look at his own reflection in the mirror. “It doesn’t matter.” he said suddenly. “I have to try. I have to tell how wrong I was.”
Jon ran his hands through his hair roughly. “You wouldn’t believe the things I said. I turned into the very kind of man that she hates the most - arrogant, condescending, conceded. More than anyone, I know how she hates to be hemmed in. I treated her like she was some ordinary simpering girl.” Jon laughed bitterly, blue eyes sad. “When did I forget she’s anything but ordinary?”
“Yer askin’ the wrong man.” George rasped harshly, hazel eyes angry.
Jon turned to face him, confused. “George-”
“Stop talkin’ Jon.” George interrupted, “Before one of us says something’ regrettable.”
Jon took a step back, mind whirling. George had never spoken so harshly to him. Strained silence fell between them again as the moon, full and bright, cleared the cloudy night sky and flood the night with its glow.
“George, I don’t understand. You said you weren’t angry…” Jon’s voice trailed off as he gazed over George’s shoulder into the chamber beyond, “…with me.” he finished in a whisper.
George’s room - and bed - were fully visible in the moons soft light. For Jon, the world seemed to slow down to a crawl. There was no mistaking the tousled red hair that spilled over one of the pillows in that bed. Alanna lay in sleeping peacefully in George’ bed , lips slightly parted, one arm stretched out. At first Jon couldn’t process what he saw. His mind just couldn’t accept it. He almost dismissed it. After all, there were many times that Jon, to tired to return to the palace, had used the thief’s quarters. The fact that Alanna was sleeping in George’s room didn’t bother Jon overly much. It was the realization that she wasn’t dressed that was killing him.
Jon stumbled back, hitting the railing painfully. Unable to take his eyes off of the sleeping woman, Jon found that he couldn’t breath properly. His lungs refused to pull in any air. The roar of pounding blood in his earls was deafening. Pain slammed through Jon’s chest, hot and excruciating. Stars swam in his eyes blurring his vision, but nothing would burn the memory of her red hair from his mind. His anguish was overwhelming. For one horrifying moment, Jon thought he was going to pass out.
Time snapped back to its normal pace. Someone was gasping heavily. Distantly, Jon realized that he was hearing his own ragged breaths. Slowly, Jon turned his wide sapphire eyes back to his friend. George stood in the pale light, tense, his dagger visible at his side. Jon opened his mouth to speak but all that emerged was a strained a whisper.
Rage burst thought him, hot and swift. Anger at himself and their betrayal. Irrational fury at the man who called himself Jon’s friend. The man who had taken her from him.
“Nay, lad. This wasn’t my doing.” George told him.
Jon finally found his voice, but the words came out strangled. “You could have stopped her-”
“She’s her own lady.” George replied.
The scalding pain in Jon’s chest was being replaced by cold numbness. *I did this*. The thoughts raged though Jon’s mind like wild fire. The irony was not lost on him. Jon had known how George felt about Alanna. There was no questioning the way George looked at Alanna when she didn’t know he was watching. He knew that Alanna cared for George, but THIS. Jon had never even entertained the idea. The thought that he didn’t know either of them as well as he thought made Jon sick to his stomach. I pushed her to him. Even with that in mind, the thought was to hard to stomach. “I can’t believe that she’d-”
“Don’t expect me to salve yer wounded pride.” George replied. “I’ll not justify our actions to you, Jon.”
“Don’t call me that!” he hissed coldly, the numbness sliding over him completely. “My friends call me Jon.”
“I am your friend.” George replied softly.
Jon had to restrain the insane urge to laugh. He had the feeling that if he started laughing, he would never stop. “No,” he hissed, “you’re not.”
“George?” Alanna murmured sleepily.
Their eyes met and held, Jon’s angry and hurt, George’s unreadable. Jon fought the intense urge to call out to her. To demand answers from her. To bring her home with him. Surely if he told her how he felt about her….
Making the hardest decision of his life, Jon swung a leg over the balcony, his heart shattering into a million pieces. “Watch over my Lady.” the order was a ragged whisper.
“That I will,“ George replied. “As much as she’ll let me.”
“See that you do.” With a final hard look at the King of Thieves, Prince Jonathan Conte slipped into the dark night. He made it to the edge of the city before his tears started to fall.
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