Notes: Today's birthday dedication is to Madame Star - I said I'd try my best! This is setting a rather worrying precedent, though... please understand that much as I would love to, I can't possibly update on everyone's birthday! The first part of this chapter is pure silliness; yep, you guessed it, it was another late-night last-minute rewrite. I really must stop doing that. The rest of it is the annoying transition I warned you about, but it's necessary. It's not as long as I'd like, but I'm saving the next scene for the next chapter.


The meeting had broken up shortly after that; the conclusion had been that there was nothing they could really do until Alanna's conscience pricked her into returning, except try and make sure Jon didn't lose his temper and hope that there wasn't an emergency. Numair had been collared as soon as they left by Harailt, and Daine took Kitten and headed down to the stables with Onua, deciding that she was better off working than daydreaming.

"Did you think Numair was acting strangely today?" the K'mir asked thoughtfully. "More so than usual, I mean?"

Daine shrugged and smiled. "I don't know, Onua. He's been acting fair strangely since – well, since Carthak, really. He seems more like himself now, actually."

"You might have a point there. He hasn't mentioned anything to you, then?"

"He doesn't tell me everything, you know," she said wryly.

"Don't be so sure, Daine. Numair talks to you far more than he does anyone else. I don't know if you've ever realised, but the way he behaved around you when you first met is unheard of for him; he's never made friends with anyone so fast." Onua shrugged and smiled in turn. "Well, anyway, he seems a lot more cheerful these days; I just wondered if you knew why."

"He hasn't said anything specific," Daine said truthfully. She was a far better liar these days than she had been at thirteen – although she still couldn't fool Numair for long – but she didn't want to chance it; besides, she'd never liked not being honest with her friends. She grinned. "This is Numair; he's always daydreaming about something. He's easier to be around now he's not depressed, that's all I know."

"Good point. Well, I'm for the Riders' stables; Sarge wants me to look at some of the spare mounts. Want to help?"

Daine shook her head. "Maybe later. I need to see to Cloud first."

"All right. I'll see you later, then." Waving, the K'mir left, much to Daine's relief; Onua was her oldest human friend, but she could be really annoying if she was determined to learn something. Then again, it was hardly surprising that she was suspicious, given how Numair had been acting this morning; suppressing a smile with some difficulty, Daine shook her head and ducked into the stables.

There you are at last,– the pony greeted her wickedly. –We wondered if you'd ever surface. Did you have fun?

The realisation that in all likelihood, every single one of the People inside her full fifteen-mile range probably knew what had happened last night was extremely unwelcome. Her face flaming, Daine wondered frantically if there was any way she could stop Numair finding out; she doubted he would be happy either.

Not all the People,– Spots said kindly. The gelding hung his head over the door of his stall, managing to look far more amused than any horse should be able to manage. –Only the ones closest to you. You didn't shout it to the world.

Not with magic, anyway,– Cloud added; had she been human, she would have been sniggering.

Shut up!– Daine snapped, still fighting to stop blushing as she entered the pony's stall and automatically began to groom her. The barb had struck home; she suspected she should be very grateful for the wards around Numair's rooms.

Oh, don't sulk,– the mare sniffed. –You act as if you are the only one who has ever mated. Even for you, it's normal.

Spots leaned over the partition between their stalls and nipped her rump. –Don't tease,– he ordered, before turning curious eyes to Daine as she left the stall. –Why are you embarrassed?– he asked.

It was a good question, she reflected as she thought about it. –I don't know,– she replied finally. –I s'pose because it's so new. I'm not used to it yet.– She could feel their incomprehension; this was the problem with trying to talk to the People about personal matters. Horses didn't attach importance to the same things. –It's a two-legger thing.

Foolishness,– Cloud said dismissively. –Mating isn't that important.

"How would you know?" Daine said tartly. "You've never mated, and Spots was gelded when he was a colt, so I don't see why I should listen to anything the pair of you have to say about it."

A familiar deep laugh was all the warning she had before a pair of strong arms snaked around her waist. "Is this a bad time?" Numair murmured in her ear, his breath warm on her skin.

"Gods, don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Sorry," he replied insincerely. "I thought you'd heard me. You usually do. Unless you were too busy with what sounded like a very interesting argument?" He chuckled softly and kissed her neck. "I believe we've talked before about why you shouldn't speak aloud."

"Oh, hush," she grumbled, leaning back against the solid warmth of his body. "I've had about all the teasing I can take this morning."

"I don't want to know, do I?"

"Absolutely not."

"Then I won't ask."

"Not that I'm complaining, but aren't you supposed to be working?"

"Yes," he agreed mildly. "Weather scrying, to be exact, which I hate. Not only is it extremely dull, but whatever I see, I won't be able to do anything about it. It's also remarkably imprecise."

"So you thought you'd scare me half to death instead?"

He laughed softly. "Not at all; I was working like the good obedient mage I occasionally am. But for some strange reason I couldn't concentrate enough to achieve anything," he informed her sardonically, before chuckling again and nuzzling her neck. "Veralidaine Sarrasri, what have you done to me?" he asked rhetorically, his lips moving against her skin. "I can't focus on anything. I've been grinning like a fool all day. I deliberately provoked the Lioness earlier; even by my standards, that was incredibly poor judgement on my part. I'm starting to annoy myself now, never mind everyone else."

"That's hardly my fault," she protested half-heartedly, turning her head to look up at him and trying not to smile; it felt absurdly wonderful to realise that she really was responsible for his almost giddy mood. And, truthfully, her own concentration was absolutely non-existent this morning.

Numair raised an eyebrow. "Well, it certainly wasn't anyone else."

"You don't need anyone else's help to act silly," she pointed out, and he grinned at her.

"True, but this is different." Turning his head, he glanced at the horses. "Enjoying the view, you two?" he asked sarcastically.

Bah. We see two-leggers frolicking in the stables all the time,– Cloud snorted. Smothering laughter, Daine relayed this comment to Numair, who shook his head and grinned.

"Fair enough. What does she really think, though?"

Daine asked, and waited for the wisecracks to stop long enough to get a serious answer from her pony. "You don't want to know everything she said," she replied finally, smiling, "but she doesn't disapprove – that's a direct quote. I think you can translate that as approval, or at least she's not going to bite you."

"I'm honoured," he responded dryly, pulling away from Daine and fishing an apple out of his pocket, twisting it neatly into two halves and offering one to the mare. He held the other out to Spots. "What about you, sir?" he asked the gelding.

What do you think?– Daine asked the piebald in turn. –Will we work out?

Do you really have to ask?– Spots asked mildly, crunching the proffered apple. –He's never been this happy since I've known him.– Finishing the fruit, the gelding regarded his master for a moment before shoving his nose against Numair's chest. –This is as it should be. You've both been alone too long.

Smiling, she translated for the mage's benefit. "He approves. Don't worry, you're not going to be kicked out of the herd."

He snorted. "What a relief. What about Kitten – actually, where is Kitten?"

"Playing with Tahoi, last I saw her. It's hard to tell, but I don't think it really makes much difference to her. You've been her da for years, after all." His answering smile was almost embarrassed, but he was obviously pleased, before his expression changed.

"Hello, Onua," he called.

The K'mir gave him a reproachful look from the doorway. "Stop distracting my workforce, Salmalín."

"But I was bored."

"Then go and find something else to do. I think a messenger brought a letter for you earlier."

Numair suddenly looked worried. "Oh. All right."

"Expecting bad news?" the Horsemistress asked, giving him a concerned look.

"I hope not," he muttered, before smoothing his expression. "I'm sure it's fine, but I'd better go and see. I'll see you later, magelet?" he added, glancing at Daine; she knew what he was really asking and nodded, wondering uneasily whether the letter was the one he obviously thought it was and what it would say. He smiled at her, nodded to Onua and left.


What with one thing and another, Daine didn't manage to see him again until that night. As she let herself in to his rooms, she reflected absently that sooner or later she was probably going to get caught doing this; the other option, not doing so, wasn't even worth considering, though. Numair was stretched out comfortably in front of the fire, apparently engrossed in a book, but as soon as she came in he looked up and smiled. "Hello."

"Hello, yourself." She flopped down next to him and sighed, moving to lean against him, and he put his book down to slide an arm around her shoulders.

"Long day?"

"You could say that," she agreed wearily, smiling wryly at him. "Some of us actually did the work we were supposed to."

He grinned, completely unashamed. "More fool you, then."

"You seem cheerful."

"Don't you start," he protested playfully. "Everyone's been acting like it's a sin for me to actually be happy. It's starting to get on my nerves."

"You'll survive, but I didn't mean that. You looked worried earlier; what was in the letter?"

"Oh, that." He shifted and settled more comfortably. "As you probably guessed, it was the reply from my mother. And my father, and my grandmother, and... most of my relatives, actually, which I really wasn't expecting. But it was much more positive than I thought it would be, which is a relief." He smiled. "I definitely made them all very curious; they want to know all about you, magelet."

She studied his face, frowning slightly; something about his voice seemed off, somehow. "Have you... Numair, have you been crying?" she asked, blinking. He avoided her eyes.

"No." After a moment he shifted again, fidgeting a little. "Well, maybe, a little." He looked back at her and smiled sheepishly. "Pathetic, isn't it? I don't know, I just... I'd convinced myself they wouldn't want anything more to do with me, after so long. I wasn't really expecting their reaction."

"That's not pathetic." Truthfully, she thought it was sweet, but she suspected Numair wouldn't appreciate that observation. "It's nice they all wanted to talk to you. You shouldn't lose touch with them, especially not over this."

"It makes me wish I'd tried to make things right years ago, really," he commented absently, relaxing again. "Ah well, hindsight is a wonderful thing."


A week later, George sent word from the Swoop; Alanna had given in, or got over her fit of temper, or allowed herself to be persuaded. Whatever had happened, she was coming home. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that she was still angry with Jon, but as long as she was keeping it private, everyone could heave sighs of relief and let themselves relax.

Life was moving on, as the kingdom began to settle down into its old routines once more. There was plenty of work for Numair and Daine to do close to home, which they were both quite happy with; neither of them were eager to return to riding all over the country for weeks on end. They were significantly less happy to learn that the proposed celebratory ball that Jon had been talking about was going ahead and that they were both required to be there, and immediately appealed to Jon to be allowed to miss it.

Unfortunately, the king had a secret weapon, and remained impassive under the combined weight of Daine's wide-eyed pleading and Numair's legendary eloquence; when the two mages finally ran out of arguments, Jon simply shrugged and told them, "Thayet wants you both there." The two exchanged glances, knowing when they were beaten, and grudgingly surrendered.

"You said we'd be able to get out of it," Daine complained as they left.

"I can't be right all the time. Anyway, if you want to go and argue with Her Majesty in the middle of organising a party, go ahead, but I quite like my skin intact."

"Coward."

"Absolutely."

She sighed. "I really don't want to go."

"Nor do I," he agreed softly, "but it's only one evening. And maybe we can try and get away early."

"Now that sounds like a much better idea," she replied, smiling up at him. Since that first time, they had spent every night together; it was surely only a matter of time until they got caught, but neither of them considered stopping. If nothing else, it had allowed them to get used to the situation; Numair still had a tendency to grin at odd moments, but he had managed to stop openly daydreaming and they were both able to behave more circumspectly now.


So it was that Numair found himself a few nights later getting ready for a celebration he had no interest in attending. He was in a fairly dark mood as he scowled at his reflection; he had no wish to have to endure the sight of his Daine dancing with anyone else, knowing he wasn't allowed to step in, or trying to avoid the eyes of any other woman who might want to dance with him when he had no desire to do so. He'd had more than enough of that last Midwinter. It wasn't precisely jealousy, he reflected as he did up his shirt, not any more, because at least now he knew she was his, but that didn't make it any easier to live with.

It's only for a few hours, he told himself yet again. Surely he could put up with it and maintain his distance for a few hours, especially knowing that she would be returning here to his rooms, to his bed afterwards. Even so, it didn't sit easily with him; he didn't like the thought of the coming pretence. Restless, he finished dressing, reluctantly donning the black robe once more and wondering idly if he could persuade Kitten to 'accidentally' get her claws caught in the fabric.

"This is stupid," he muttered aloud to the empty room, realising that he'd started pacing. "I'll kill someone if I go down like this." Turning, he returned to the bedroom and settled cross legged on the bed, closing his eyes and slowing his breathing as he fell into the familiar rhythms of meditation; really, this wasn't a big deal. He'd cope with it, as he had before, and there would be a much happier outcome at the end of the night. Instead of drinking alone, or just moping around wanting to drink alone, he'd be here with the woman he loved.

Numair felt much calmer when he opened his eyes. Standing, he stretched and smoothed the stupid robe, absently checking his reflection a final time before heading to the door. Pausing for a moment in the hallway outside, he considered for a moment, then smiled grimly and shut the door behind him as he came to a decision.


Have I mentioned before just how much I love writing the horses? They're so much fun, and sometimes it does my muse good to switch to a nonhuman perspective for a while. We're drawing near to the end of the story now. I've got one more chapter planned after the next one, and there might be one more after that, but that will be it.

The next chapter is going to be a lot of fun, I hope. It's completely written already, but it needs polishing before I upload it, and I've got a few things on this week so I'm not sure when it will be. Hopefully Friday, but if I don't manage it, then almost certainly at the weekend. Patience; I promise you're going to like it. What has Numair decided, I wonder?

Loten.