"Numair?" Daine knocked lightly at his door. The Inn hallway was chilly and she shifted from foot to foot in an effort to warm herself. She knocked again when she got no answer. She was as anxious to be out of the cold as she was to tell Numair of the latest news from Jon—official approval for them to finally head home. She had put Galla behind her once before and would be more than happy to do so again.

"Numair, are you in there?" She rapped again. Still not receiving an answer she cast a quick glance around and, finding no one else in the hall, opened the door and slipped into his room. Careless mage, leaving it unsecured. She found no one when she entered the room and called out, eager to tease him for his sloppiness.

"Leaving your room unlocked, Master Mage? Are you inviting trouble?" She heard a splash from the adjoining room followed by a moment of silence.

"Daine?"

"No Tristan the Tree exacting my leaf-y revenge." She grinned, chuckling at her own joke.

"Har har, Daine. Can I ask to what I owe this visit? I'm indisposed that the moment, in case you couldn't tell."

"It's not my fault that you ignored a knock and left your rooms un-warded. What if I had been an enemy?" She kicked a pile of clothes on the floor out of her way and moved in front of the fire, feeling the warmth creep into her palms. "Death in the bathtub really isn't the most dignified way to go but at least your hair would be clean."

"Your wit today is unparalleled." He replied dryly, "What if I had been further indisposed? Barging into other people's rooms is not a dignified pursuit, Magelet. Especially the rooms of older men."

"More indisposed? Than in the bath? You do know you are here on business and not pleasure, right?" She grinned again, knowing that this conversation would embarrass him far more than herself. "Or was your door unlocked because you were waiting on someone?" She said wickedly and was sure she heard a soft sigh of resignation from the other room.

"Daine," There was a warning in his voice, but not one that concerned her. "If you've had quite enough fun teasing this old man would you mind telling me to what I owe this pleasure?"

"You're thirty-two, Numair. The only thing aging you is your own opinion," she rolled her eyes, "Jon wrote us and we can go home as soon as we are ready to leave."

"That is welcome news! I'll be happy to leave this drafty snow heap of a country." He paused, realizing his words, "No offense, of course." His tone was sheepish but she laughed.

"Agreed wholeheartedly. I was going to go down to the tavern to get a hot meal. Care to join me?"

"Just a few moments. I'll dress and be out in a moment." She heard splashing and saw the door, which had been open partially, swing all the way shut.

"Take your time!" She shouted through the closed door. "I'm still thawing out." She flexed her hands again, finally having regained full feeling in her fingers. A weary sigh escaped her. They had been gone longer than was expected. She missed Kit, her friends and her home. There had been a swain but she doubted that would be an option when she returned. She had not received a letter since their first month gone though, to be fair, she had not sent any either. If she were honest with herself she had to admit that she was really not that disappointed. While she might like the idea of a little romance amidst running amok across half the realm, none of her suitors had excited her. Not the way she thought they were supposed to anyway. Perhaps she was expecting too much. She shook her head, pushing the thoughts from her mind for a later day.

She could hear the soft sounds of movement from the other room and smiled when the sound of Numair's humming joined it. Her friend couldn't carry a tune to save his life but she found his light tenor voice pleasant nonetheless. She felt her stomach growl and realized how hungry she was. Unfortunately, she also knew how long Numair would take with his hair and that she had best settle in.

She perused a small pile of books on the table to the side of the plushy armchair. The pile was modest for Numair, but still far more than anyone in their right mind would bring on a long journey. She smiled as she remembered the last time they travelled with Onua. As usual she had conducted a 'random' search for any contraband in the trainee group—alcohol, drugs, and in Numair's case books. Numairs attempts at hiding them had been creative to say the least and more than a few had made their way all the way to the Swoop.

She frowned slightly at the selection. Unfortunately she had never developed the enthusiasm for Old Thak that Numair possessed so most of the tomes were lost on her. She moved to the table on the other side of the chair, spotting a red leather-bound volume she thought she recognized as a book on Carthaki reptiles she was fond of. A small pile of familiar trinkets lay on top of the book: an amber ear drop, and a black opal pendant, among other things. She gently moved each piece to the side taking care not to drop any of them. The last piece she did not recognize.

A gold locket on a short matching chain lay upon the crimson cover. She looked at it thoughtfully and picked it up tentatively. She had never seen this piece before which was strange. He generally only brought pieces with him on a journey that he wore on a daily basis but surely she would have seen this if he had been wearing it all this time. She turned it over in her hand. From the length of the chain it appeared to be a bracelet so definitely a piece that would have been noticeable.

She thought that perhaps it may might be newly purchased but a link on the chain that looked recently repaired and a number of small scratches said otherwise. This was a trinket that had seen some wear and tear. Her thumb moved over the engraving in the gold. Curiosity tugged at her but she knew she should put it down. A locket screamed 'lover's token' and that was something that deserved privacy. She glanced at the door, and was relieved to see that it was still closed. She knew of various dalliances Numair had been involved in at court but assumed they were just that—dalliances. The thought that Numair may be in love with another woman made her feel like the wind had been knocked out of her. She blushed when she realized she had thought of 'another' woman as though the matter had had any relation to her.

The fact that he might be in love, potentially for quite a long time based on the condition of the locket, irked her even more. Irked wasn't quite the right word though. It was a mix of hurt and anger. Neither of which she had the right to feel, she admonished herself. He was a grown man with his own affairs and she should respect that as he respected her. Although she was not sure she would say his past treatment of her suitors would necessarily be considered respectful.

She glanced at the door once more. He was only midway through his rendition of Longshanks Trial so he was probably still shaving—plenty of time. Daine bit her lip and felt her heart flutter. She would just take a quick peek and he would never have to know. Throwing one final glance at the privy door she flicked the clasp of the locket open with her thumb. Her eyes fell onto the image inside and she felt the breath knocked out of her.

She sat down shakily into the chair and clasped the open locket between both of her trembling hands. Staring back at her was her own face, painted in minute detail down to the color of her curls. She stroked her thumb over a lock of hair tucked into the other side. She had enough knowledge of magic and had spent enough time with mages to know that this was most likely a focus—a powerful bit of magic that could lend the user control over the subject. She should be upset that he had one without her knowledge—and had she found anyone else with one in their possession she would be—but the only thought she could focus on was her earlier assumption: a lover's token.

"Daine, my clothes are in the room you are in. Could you step out?" Numair called out but Daine didn't register it. She was transfixed on the image in her hand and struggling as to how to react. "Daine—" Numair poked his head out of the privy and froze. Daine's head snapped up and met his horrified gaze. She looked to the locket once more and then back at him, lost for words. Numair stepped out into the room slowly, towel wrapped around his waist, and ran a hand through his hair.

He opened his mouth to speak but closed it quickly and swallowed. She had never seen such anguish in his eyes.

"Oh, Numair," she sighed and closed a hand around the locket, head falling to the side as she watched him falter. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Daine, I—" He faltered and looked away. All these years, all these battles and she had never seen him look so afraid or vulnerable. She stood up and approached him, trying to catch his gaze. He flinched when she reached out but she placed a hand on his forearm despite this.

"How long?" She was direct. There was no use pretending they didn't both know what they were speaking of.

"A while," he muttered, eyes focused out the window.

"Numair," the warning was gentle but clear. "How long?" He met her eyes briefly before shifting his gaze to the ceiling and swallowing heavily.

"A few years." He sensed her rebuttal before it was issued and sighed, "Three, nearly four now." He looked as though he wished Mithros would strike him down where he stood

"Odds' Bob, Numair! You're fair daft, you know that?" She rolled her eyes.

"Excuse me?" He tensed and moved past her, leaning on the arm of the chair. "Daft? For protecting you? Doing the right thing?" He gestured in a manner that may be taken by someone less acquainted as angry but Daine recognized as frustration.

"Protecting me?" She countered, unimpressed. "And doing the right thing? The right thing would have been to tell me."

"Daine, you don't know what you're saying." He met her eyes now and his gaze was stern. "I am so much older than you. You are such a capable woman but in the ways of men and women…," he shook his head. "I couldn't put you in the position to be lured into my bed. It's wouldn't be fair or right and you deserve better than that."

"No, I deserve to be allowed to make my own choices." She matched his gaze, challenging. "I would have you know that you wouldn't be the first man of experience to lay out a proposition, and if I say so myself I am fair capable of preventing myself from being lured. Do you think so little of me?"

"Of course not!" He buried his face in his hands, running them through his already tousled hair. "You're so innocent—"

"I may not be near as innocent as you think, Numair." She raised an eyebrow in response to his questioning look. "Do you think I spend all my time that I'm not with you at a convent?" He blushed and looked away.

"That's neither here nor there, Daine. Your personal relationships are your prerogative." He ran a finger along his long nose.

"Exactly." She stepped towards him and held out the locket. Numairs eyes fell upon it but he made no move to take it from her hand. She held it out further, "This is not the keepsake of a man who just wants to lift skirts and turn heel." She said matter-of-factly and his head snapped up, indignant.

"Daine, of course not. I—" his face went pale and he closed his mouth, swallowing hard. His knuckles were white where they gripped the chair beneath him. She moved closer until her thighs were pressed against his legs. He didn't move away but she felt his body tense. He was staring into the fire now and flinched when her hands touched his wrist.

"I know, Numair." She said softly and slipped the locket around his wrist, clasping it. She brought a hand to his face, slightly shorter than her own in this position—a rarity for them she noted idly. Nudging his chin softly with her fingers and turned his head. The heat that coursed through her when their eyes met was overwhelming. Desire like none nothing she had ever felt consumed her. This is what she had been missing. Everything fell into place and any doubts she may have had were washed away in a wave of conviction.

Her right thumb drew small circles on the inside of his wrist. She could feel his pulse pumping rapidly under his skin. Her other hand fell from his face and her fingers brushed lightly down his bare ribs and the side of his stomach until they rested lightly at his waist. She felt the shiver that moved through him and Numair took a ragged breath. Tentatively she pressed herself closer to him and dipped her head. She could feel her own heart beating rapidly now.

"Daine," he whispered but any further words were lost as her lips landed on his. She had meant to be gentle and calm but the sensations that coursed through her were none of these things. Heat coiled in the pit of her stomach as she felt him respond. Her hand at his waist gripped harder as she crushed her entire body, from breasts to thighs, against him. If there had been any hesitance on his part it was soon forgotten and his arms wrapped around her, one grasping at her waist and the other threading through her hair. She broke away, needing breath, but he whispered something and pulled her back to him. He was gentler, long drawn out kisses that made her feel as though she were going to melt, but no less wanting.

Her hand at his waist slid further down until it met the edge of the towel, still precariously perched around his hips. Her need may not have been as evident as his, but it was no less consuming. She wanted more of him. She tugged at the towel, gently, and felt it give way but before she could remove it further his hand left her waist and stopped her. He pulled away from her mouth with a ragged laugh and she knew she was pouting at the lack of contact. Numair pulled her into a hug, hand still buried in her hair and pressed his lips against her forehead.

"Oh, Magelet," he whispered into her curls, and sighed. She squirmed and pulled away, expecting him to further protest but the look on his face was no longer one of despair. He met her eyes and smiled, exhaling another ragged breath. She could feel him trembling in all the places their bodies still touched. He smoothed his hand over her hand and cupped her cheek. "We need to slow down."

"Do we?" She placed her hands on his chest, fingers sliding through the smattering of hair and leaned in. Her lips eased over his but he drew away.

"Daine," he admonished, though weakly, and she pulled away.

"You don't want to?" She dropped her gazed and ran her fingers over his chest, enjoying his responding shudder.

"Mithros, you have no idea how badly I want to."

"Oh, I think I do," she whispered and she could tell he was surprised by the heat in her gaze.

"I just don't want to rush things." She opened her mouth to protest but he silenced her with a look. "This has nothing to do with me not believing that you aren't capable of taking care of yourself. I know that to be the furthest thing from the truth." His hands were on her shoulders now, rubbing small circles on her back. Even that small touch made it hard for her to think straight.

"Then what?" She sighed, knowing she would back down despite the want that still persisted within her.

"If we are going to do this," he gave her a warning look when she opened her mouth to protest, "Since we are going to do this, is that better?" She nodded and he chuckled. "We have a lot to learn and discover about each other in these new roles," his eyes roamed over her body and she felt herself flush with a new wave of desire, "and I would very much like to take our time," one of his hands swept from her shoulder, across her collar bone, up her neck and he dragged his thumb across her bottom lip, "and savor every," he kissed her neck, "last," then her jaw, "thing," and finally eased his mouth over hers until she was limp in his arms.

"I could be agreeable to that," she replied shakily, when she had the mind to muster up a reply. She straightened up, missing the warmth of his body immediately, and sighed. "No more foolishness of 'taking advantage' of me?" He raised an eyebrow and a grin spread across his features.

"How could I?" He placed a hand on his chest in mock dismay. "When you were the one who so clearly took advantage of me?" She shoved lightly against his shoulder but laughed despite herself. "Barging into my rooms while I was indisposed and snaring me with your wiles." He sighed dramatically and she rolled her eyes.

"Are you quite done?"

"Not at all, I plan to use this for years to come." He grinned widely and she laughed again, kissing him lightly before stepping back.

"Did you still want dinner?" She wanted nothing more than to be as physically close to him as she could, but the temptation of the moment had not yet passed and she knew respecting his wishes was the right choice for both of them.

"Yes, I will meet you down there in just a few moments if you would like to go ahead and order us both a drink." He pulled the towel tighter around his waist and stood, suddenly towering over her. She realized that she may shortly be in danger of developing some neck problems.

"I can wait," she peered up at him and was pleased to see a blush stain his swarthy skin.

"I need a moment, Daine," he stammered, and kissed her lightly again. "I will be down very shortly, I promise." She pulled him back for one more lingering kiss before breaking away and walking to the door before her resolve broke. She grasped the handle before turning back to him.

"I know we're eager to head home, but what do you think about staying here for just a couple more days before we head out? I'm sure we can find an excuse." She grinned at him impishly and he smiled back at her.

"I would love that, Magelet."