I've had this in my head for a week or so now, and it was just too much fun not to write. I do love a bit of Numair-baiting. This is set round about March during RotG.

Numair, Daine, Cloud, Spots, Kitten and Tkaa are, as ever, the creation of Tamora Pierce.

Trick of the Light

Firelight flickered merrily over their clearing, contrasting sharply with the tired moods of both man and girl. Its warm amber glow reached into the dark hollows of the forest, chasing away the night and the cold spring air. Their weeks of constant work racing around the country to fight already taking their toll, Numair and Daine were both asleep on their feet; Cloud and Spots quite literally were, and Kitten and Tkaa had already turned in for the night, leaving only Numair and his former student awake.

He watched her surreptitiously as she went about her nightly rituals wearily; unrolling their bed rolls, raking through her pack for spare seed, telling all of the animals in the vicinity that if they were to share her bed, they needed to come in before Numair set wards about their camp, and they were not to hurt one another, or they'd have her to answer to. Numair smiled softly at this last; it was a formidable threat, as far as he was concerned.

Finally she slipped off, disappearing into the darkness for long moments to splash in the nearby stream. Though he was certain she would be safe, Numair couldn't help but keep half an ear out for her as he contemplated moving to carry out his own nighttime preparations; he couldn't quite find the energy for it just yet. Eventually emerging from the gloom, her cheeks rosy with cold and loose strands of damp hair stuck to her skin, she smiled when she caught sight of him.

"Nice?" he asked her mildly, beginning to untie his hair and run his fingers through it.

"Lovely," she replied wryly. "If you like washing your face in glacial temperatures, that is." Digging in a pack, she produced a comb and tossed it to him. "Kit was playing with it earlier on," she told him by way of apology. "She's been trying to play it like you showed her the other week."

The mage grunted, pulling the comb through his hair. As he worked, he became increasingly aware that Daine was watching him, and worse, that a blush was creeping up his neck and face that he could blame neither on the cold nor on his close vicinity to the fire pit.

"What?" he asked cautiously after a while, raising his eyes to meet hers. Daine's intent gaze was fixed on his face, and despite himself, something stirred in him. She stood slowly, crossing over and sitting beside him, suddenly oh-so-close, her skin and hair tinged gold in the firelight.

"What is it?" he asked again, trying to hide his nerves. She was, beyond all belief, leaning closer to him.

"Just – hold still," she murmured. One hand rose to hold his jaw, cool fingers on hot skin, the other to tremulously stroke through his hair. Numair swallowed heavily, trying valiantly to ensure he stayed in control. She couldn't be – surely she wasn't about to –

Her head tilted curiously, and Numair wondered if she had seen it in him, if his eyes had given him away; for her part, her gaze was piercing and steadfast in the flickering glow of the fire. He was sure he could see something there, sure he could see what he had hoped for for the past months, sure that it wasn't just a reflection of what he was certain was in his own eyes, sure that it wasn't just the firelight and the late night and the exhaustion.

"Daine," he managed to rasp out, his throat tight.

Her thumb idly stroked his neck as fingers threaded through his hair. Through a combination of fear and utter disbelief, Numair held his body rigid, focusing solely on her, the fact that she was there, so close, touching him so intimately, her warm breath washing over his face. She bit her lip in concentration, and the mage stopped breathing, his eyes fluttering between hers and her mouth. For a long moment, she held his gaze; heated desire swept through him before she blinked, her eyes drifting to his hairline. At the same moment, he registered a sudden stinging pain on his scalp.

Daine sat back with a satisfied smile, holding something silvery between her fingers.

"Here," she told him with a wicked grin, holding her prize up for him to see. "Your first grey hair."

Ice-cold water crashed through his veins, a sickening combination of regret, relief and guilt following shortly and settling to mingle in his stomach. Swallowing heavily, Numair took a moment to compose himself, breathing deeply. Only when he was certain he could trust his voice did he speak. "Thank you," he told her coolly, accepting the length from her. Eyeing the strand with distaste for a moment, he shook it off and let it fall, feeling a disproportionate amount of comfort when it vanished from the amber glow of the firelight, lost in the mixture of foliage and dead matter that covered the ground.

Of all the ways for his body to remind him of their age difference…

She was grinning at him, her mouth twisted in amusement. He braced himself for the flood of teasing that he knew would be coming his way. "Maybe you should keep some of that money you send your ma for hair dye for yourself," she told him, struggling to contain her gleeful laughter.

"Thank you Daine," he said again dryly. "I will bear that in mind the next time I write home." Weariness briefly banished, he stood, deciding that a walk – distance from her, really – was what he needed at that moment. And perhaps a cold dip of my own. "If you could refrain from causing me any more, I would be most grateful."

P.S. Psst! Concealed updates are coming soon, I swear!

P.P.S. Reviews are love. :)