AN: To all following my other story The Fate of Commoners- I am working on a new chapter, but I'm stuck at the moment so I've also got a few oneshots in the works. And this just needed to be written. There might be more to this at some point in the future, but fluff is sort of beyond me at the moment.

Also, I am in no way shape or form Tamora Pierce. But I try to remain as faithful to her characters as possible.

Kel was breathless. That was the only way she knew of to describe it. It was quite a different sensation from being out of breath- that she had experienced time and time again. Running up the hill to the palace during her page training, jousting with Lord Raoul, fighting Stenmun Kinslayer…

But, no two ways about it, this was entirely unlike any of those things, she thought as she was whirled around the dance floor. She could feel his arm as it brushed against her as she twirled, his one hand steady on her waist, the other clasped with hers. Part of her imagined she could even feel his gaze as she looked up into his eyes. In the space of a second her mouth went dry, her cheeks flamed and her knees went weak. She had to look away- the feeling was just too intense. Some inner part of her knew exactly what the feeling was, though she had never felt it so strongly before.

It was desire.

She had had no idea Dom was such a good dancer. In fact, her more sensible self thought, had she known this fact beforehand or guessed what effect it might have on her, she would have refused to dance with him entirely. But it was clearly entirely too late for that.

Sure, she'd liked him from afar. They'd flirted, joked, fought alongside each other. But that all seemed so… theoretical compared to this. She wished… gods, she barely knew what she wished for, just that she wished… why couldn't she think straight? Perhaps this was why court ladies were so silly, she thought. How ironic that she, so clearheaded on a battlefield would go completely to pieces on the dance floor.

Part of her willed the music to stop, soon, before the other, treacherous part of her brain could think any more dangerous thoughts, like whether he would dance with her again, how to find a secluded spot in the gardens, where his rooms were in relation to hers…

No. She could not, would not do this. She had to be strong, emotionless, a calm, glassy lake- but somehow even the Yamanis were failing her now.

She was so wrapped up in her inner battles that she barely noticed that he was leading her off the dance floor until he ushered her to a chair on the room's periphery.

"Are you alright?" he asked, concern in his voice. She shivered as his hand touched her shoulder.

"Of course." She scowled inwardly at the slightly high pitch to her voice, but at least it didn't tremble. "Its, um, its just hot. I- could you get me something to drink? I need to sit."

Gods, now she sounded exactly like an empty-headed court lady, she groaned to herself as he walked away. What in the name of Mithros was wrong with her?

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, taking inventory. Was she in love with him, was that it? She had thought it was just a crush, albeit a prolonged one. A crush was relatively harmless, something pleasant to daydream about during long rides and boring meetings. But no crush could make her feel like this, even Cleon hadn't-

The thought of her last romance, and its ending less than a year before, made her sober. Despite the fact that it had ended well, she knew that she and Cleon would never have the same close friendship again. And anyway, Dom probably didn't feel anything more for her than he did towards any of the numerous ladies he danced with. She needed to get a hold of herself and fast, before she got hurt.


Dom suppressed the urge to drown himself in the ice-filled punchbowl. Or run out of the room and hide in a linen closet. Or bang his head against a wall. Repeatedly.

He was an idiot.

Why had he even asked her to dance? He had danced with ladies so often that it hadn't occurred to him that this one would be so… educational. Somehow the dance had transformed a friendship, a flirtation, an idly considered possibility into something entirely different. He had had to fight the urge to pull her closer than was at all proper, to touch her face, to smell her hair, all things that would probably cause him to be hunted down by Lady Alanna or his cousin and her knight and squire friends. At one point the look in her eyes had given him hope, hope that made warmth spread through his body and his heart jump into his throat.

There were no two ways about it, he was completely enthralled with the woman enclosed in the circle of his arms. And he had no idea what to do.

His joy and hope had vanished when she looked away. Mithros. His interest had shown, Kel had realized something he had barely noticed himself, and she wasn't happy. She didn't feel the same- probably she thought him frivolous, a flirt, or even a cad. She was right, after all. He came nowhere close to deserving, well, anything from her.

Although the song was only half over, he led her off of the floor, ending the dance that had obviously caused her so much awkwardness and discomfort. She made an excuse and he had fled, heart dropping further with each step away from her.

He should have stuck with court ladies, he thought bitterly. They were pretty, vapid, shallow beings and one was enough like the other that they were easy to dismiss and move on. Unlike Kel, a girl with so much heart it led her to put herself in harm's way for the sake of others, so talented that it often made him jealous, so strong that she faced insult after insult, injustice after injustice with a smile. She was his friend and his comrade in a way that no court lady ever could be. He really didn't want to ruin all that with romance.

But the dance had taught him that there was no help for it. He couldn't just be her comrade. He wanted her, needed her. Gods, he might just be in love with her.

It really was ironic. Of all the times and places to find out. He had ridden patrols with her, eaten meals, done chores with her even traveled behind enemy lines to aid her. And in the space of just one dance his hopes had been realized and then dashed.

He filled a cup with punch, willing his hands to be steady and his mind to stop racing as he walked back towards Kel. Damage control, that was what the situation called for. He needed to shrug this off, try to salvage some chance of continuing their friendship as normal. He smiled, handed her a cup and made a joke, trying his best to act as if nothing had changed between them. As much as it hurt, she was far too good for a rakehell like him anyway.