Chapter Two

The clouds overhead were drifting by in their usual, lazy fashion. Huge, white mounds that floated past heralding the continuation of the nice weather throughout the upcoming week, for which Domitan of Masbolle was grateful. It meant that Kel would make it at least as far as Mindelan before she would have to worry about it raining on her expedition. He knew as well as she did that nothing could make traveling miserable as quickly as a sudden rainstorm.

With a sigh he slumped down onto the castle wall, off-duty for once. The past month had been rife with unexpected engagements, trips without forewarning and miserable late night guard duties. Happy though he was about some well-deserved time to himself, he wished that it could have coincided with Kel's departure. He hadn't seen her properly in weeks and had not even had the opportunity to send her a note of some sort, hadn't even really realized that she was leaving until it was too late.

Looking around himself for a moment, he burst into a sudden, explosive peal of laughter. Here he was, sitting about forlornly when this was their lives. He was a sergeant in the King's Own and she a lady knight, both being professions that meant riding off somewhere without a moment's notice. If he expected his relationship with Kel to go anywhere, he was going to have to accept that and hope that she did, too.

Swinging his legs over the wall, he let them hang, enjoying the view of both the sheer vertical drop and the landscape around him. Days as warm as this at only the start of the summer were rare. Already his shirt was becoming uncomfortably hot, though he had rolled up the sleeves.

"Pining away, cousin?" The drawl was only slightly accented, but it was pierced with an air of irony that only this particular speaker could have achieved.

"Why, Meathead!" Dom looked up at his cousin, grinning. "What brings the likes of you out on so fine a day? Surely not the poetic view? I would have thought you'd have your nose buried in a book of some sort." He clapped a hand down on Neal's shoulder in a brotherly fashion and slid off of the wall onto the main walkway. "What does bring you out here?"

"The sun, the clouds. The all-around feeling of happiness lingering in the air, what else?" He rolled his eyes, shrugging, "And you?"

"I think you had it right the first time," Dom scrunched up his face in an attempt to imitate his cousin, "I'm 'pining away', was it?"

Neal shot him a pointed look, "I see."

"Well then, I shall let you enjoy your sun and your clouds, but I'll be heading inside, thank you." He grinned, but the statement did a poor job of covering his ulterior motive of escaping the accusingly sharp wit of his cousin, "Before the sun ruins my complexion."

"Yes, I think I'll join you," Neal simpered in reply, always the appearance of good-natured as he followed him towards one of the wall's many spiralling stairwells. "Our family does burn so easily."

Domitan froze in place, one foot on the step below, clearly being rid of Neal's invasive presence wasn't going to be as easy as he thought. "What do you want, Neal?"

He didn't answer immediately and Dom wondered if this was a good thing or a bad. "Do I need a reason to visit family?"

Dom heaved a sigh, relieved. If that was the best thing Neal could come up with in reply, he scarcely needed to worry. "No, but you usually have one. This is about Keladry, isn't it?"

Neal assumed a wounded expression, but there wasn't enough Player in his blood for Dom to be fooled by it. "Of course not. But now that you bring it up – "

"Go. Away." Dom resumed his course down the stairs.

Undeterred, Neal followed him. "They should be halfway to Mindelan by now, don't you think?"

"Neal."

"She seemed a little upset that you never went to say goodbye, I could see it in her eyes as I spoke to her. You know, for someone so renowned for expressing no emotions, Kel is surprisingly –"

"Neal," Dom spoke through gritted teeth hoping beyond hope that he would be quiet or better yet go and leave him alone. He didn't need Neal adding additional guilt to his already heavy conscience.

"Of course –"

"Neal!" He shouted, face contorting in anger.

For once in his life, Nealen of Queenscove shut up.


Numair had been certain that once Daine left he would be perfectly capable of finding something with which to occupy his time. There was an untold number of books on the shelves that he had yet to read, theories to be written down and lesson plans to be prepared, but all he could manage was sitting at his desk and staring at a blank page. He had tried on numerous occasions to put words down and the scribbled out, crumpled balls of parchment strewn around him in every which way was evidence of his failed attempts. This was foolish, he knew, a grown man rendered so utterly despondent by the temporary absence of his lover.

It wasn't as if Daine had never gone off without him before, but his uncombed hair hanging loosely about his face and his wrinkled wardrobe revealed that foolish or not, Numair had ceased to function.

He sighed and let his head fall into his hands. These first few days were guaranteed to be the toughest. These were the days he still expected to wake up with her in his arms, to find her in their shared rooms when he returned from teaching the pages. In a week he'd be fine, and if he wasn't, well, he'd give himself a week to mope and then he'd return to life.

Besides, once Daine returned and found out what he'd been doing, he'd be fully embarrassed.

He had been toying with the idea of scrying on her ever since she had left, but each time the thought nagged at him he brushed it aside. She wouldn't want him to spy.

A soft chirp from nearby indicated that Kitten was hungry, and Numair grimaced at the realization that he'd been a somewhat neglectful parent to the dragon, who must be missing Daine as much as he was. He let her clamber up into his lap and stroked her head.

Kitten alerted him to an approaching visitor even before the knock on the door indicated their presence. Without any particular speed – in fact, he moved with the slow trudge that matched his desolation – Numair moved towards the door, giving no heed to his visitor's patience.

Or lack thereof.

"Numair Salmalín – I know you're in there – now tidy up whatever it is you're doing and answer the bloody door before I knock it in myself."

With a small smile, Numair undid the magical locks. "Sorry, Jon," he apologized as the king pushed his way past the mage and into the room.

"I've got an assignment for you."

Numair quirked an eyebrow, "A – what?"

"An assignment. Mission. Whatever you prefer to call it, something for you to do other than mope around court, spreading your misery and woe to everyone else."

"I wasn't aware that I was spreading any misery or woe," Numair pointed out, gaily. Once there was someone else in the room, it was much easier to forget Daine's absence. "I'll certainly have to keep that in check. What did you have in mind?"

Throwing out an arm, Jon brushed aside a number of papers, most of which were crumpled flubs from failed enterprise, off of Numair's work table. Placing down the rolled up parchment he'd brought with him, he spread it across the surface, jabbing a thumb at Blue Harbor. "There's been sightings of water demons thereabouts. Reports are coming in to the Own that a number of merchants have lost their children to it."

The news brought a pang to Numair's heart. Not only were children at risk to whatever this creature was, but Daine was headed straight for the same place.

"I could simply send out a convoy of the Own," Jon continued, "But as the creature is likely to be magical in nature, and you seem to need something to focus your energies on, I figure –"

He didn't need to say an additional word. "I'll be ready to go in an hour," Numair was already moving about the room in a hurry, digging through papers and pushing aside books to gather the things he would need. "Kitten will have to come too," he called over his shoulder as he stuffed his belongings into a bag. "She shouldn't stay here by herself."

Jonathan glanced at the dragonet, smiling. "I can find someone to take care of her for you."

Before Numair could reply, Kitten trilled her response in the negative. Evidently she'd rather go with the mage.

"You'll be taking a squad of the Own with you. Originally I was going to send Riders, but they're all occupied at the moment. A group from the Third Company, led by Sergeant Domitan of Masbolle will accompany you."

Numair took all of this in stride. "When do we leave?"

End Chapter Two

Closing Comments: A big part of me wishes I could get away with a couple thousand word one-shot of just Neal and Domitan verbally sparring with each other, but I doubt have the wit myself to carry it off. Anyway, they'd most likely just go around in circles for the duration of the fic, though it would be a lot of fun to write.