Daine loved Master Salmalín. It was that simple, repeated over and over in a möbius strip of emotion and words, filling every crevasse of the empty room. She reread his letter to the Lioness, the one in which he established that he would be teaching her privately over spring break. The one in which he referred to her as intelligent and mature, the one she probably shouldn't have kept even after Alanna gave it to her to clarify the nature of the lessons.

She was to take an additional course each of Mathematics, Biology, and Advanced Healing, the latter being a class specifically designed for her by Numair himself. Less than two months ago, Daine reflected, she and all the other mages and warriors in Tortall had been fighting for their lives and their country. Now she was most concerned with passing a class taught by the legendarily severe Master. She glanced at the letter in her hands, and those words stood out to her. Intelligent, and mature. Though she had to admit the evaluation pleased her, it just didn't seem like the sort of thing grown man in love would write. Recently, she didn't feel as if she knew Numair at all, and herself even less. Ever since his recovery from the battle with Inar Hadensra (and the proposal that followed), he had become distant. Actually, she blamed it more on herself than anything. At first, of course, he had been just as attentive as ever. But as various duties around the capital captured her attention, she began to spend less one-on-one time with her former companion. Soon whenever she saw him, a tightness would strike through her chest, and she would look away quickly. Without being in constant contact with him, she began to distrust even her own deepest feelings, or the fact that he had not just made his declarations in the heat of the moment. Eventually, Numaire learned to avoid meeting her eyes in public, and she made certain they were never alone together.

Tomorrow, however, her classes would begin in earnest and she would be forced to sit through hours of lessons, alone with those deep, coffee-colored eyes. A prospect which would have once thrilled her now served only to terrify.

Daine spent a good 25 minutes that just puzzling over what to wear, as well as extra time scrubbing her entire body, teeth, and hair. Eventually, dripping and pink, she pulled on a pair of soft, tight breeches, thigh-length riding boots, and a standard pale blue tunic. This, of course, she accompanied with the badger claw. A pair of mourning doves watched from the windowsill, obviously amused at her "preening."

"Oh, leave me alone!" They fluttered off, and she immediately regretted taking out her anxiety on them. She reached out for the pair through her wildmagic, and apologized, promising to place some additional bread crumbs outside for them the next morning.

At 7:15, Daine knocked gently on the door of Numair's study.

"You know you don't have to knock, Magelet!" That made her smile, but she tugged on her tunic again nervously before turning the knob. She only got a glance at the back of a precariously tilted chair before its occupant sprung to his feet and moved to hug her. As she was engulfed in the strong warmth of his chest, she began to relax her guard for the first time in weeks. When he moved to release her, she clung to his tunic.

"Daine, I..." her forehead rubbed the coarse hairs protruding from his low collar. She inhaled his warmth, and suddenly, impulsively, brought her lips to the strong hollow of his collarbone. She felt him tense, then tighten his grip on her shoulders. His forearms wrapped around her to bring their bodies closer, and then his big hands began to creep down her back. How could she ever have doubted their unique relationship? It was only now that thoughts began to flee her mind, and she released herself entirely to the man who held her heart in the palm of his hand.

Now she kissed his tanned neck, and she heard him moan gently. His hand began to move up her sides, creating a warm friction. As she brought her own hands up to rub his jawbone, his thigh pressed against her pelvis and she felt heat spread through her body. This was Numair, and he would always be more than merely a teacher, he would always be the one she wanted to share everything with, to share eternity with.

His next move took her by surprise, as he bent swiftly and brought his arms below her buttocks to carry her hastily across the study to the bed in the other room. She was slammed onto the soft mattress as her lips met his for the first time in too long. Warm and soft, a wisp of his dark hair mingled with one of her own brown curls. She grew warmer as they kissed more desperately, and brought a knee upwards to press against his crotch. Numair moaned again and quickly rolled them over so Daine knelt across his thighs. It was only now, in a brief moment of thought not clouded by desire, that she could fully take in the state of the room. The bed was unmade, not surprising, but it was littered with clothing and his traveling pack.

"Numair, where are you going?"

"Carthak, didn't Onua tell you?" His swarthy cheeks were flushed, his voice slightly higher than usual with surprise. Daine scrambled off him, a fear she thought she had quelled beginning to rise in her.

"No, she didn't! When where you planning on telling me?" Lovely, now she sounded like a nagging wife. And it didn't help that she felt a new heat behind her eyes. Numair must have noticed, because he immediately sat up on the bed.

"What's wrong, sweet? I've been planning this trip for at least a week,"

"Was that before, or after, you planned on instructing me in healing?" Now realization dawned, as he remembered belatedly the agreed-upon lessons.

"Oh, Daine, I'm so sorry." She could tell he was truly guilty, but that only made things worse.

"So I'm just your, what, your lover? Not an actual person to be taught or notified of changes in plans." Now tears came, unrationally she knew, but they began to leak from the corners of her eyes against all efforts to conceal them. Daine jumped to her feet, the passion of a moment before forgotten. Numair remained where he sat, bewildered and saddened by the recent changes in his young student. She rushed from the room before he saw her break down in earnest, and had slammed the door before he could raise himself from the bed. Numair Salmalín lay back, and closed his eyes. He would go after her and deal with this, of course, because he loved her. But for now he just wanted to remember her touch on his body, her kisses, her warmth...