There is a saying which people use when their friends are angry which goes: don't fly out of the window!
For most people it means they should calm down, or that they are overreacting. They say it in teasing voices, or in frustrated voices, but never with the cold command which Numair Salmalin used on that cold, sleet-drenched evening.
His wife planted her calloused hands on her hips and glared at him. Her chin was set in a stubborn line, and even her normally full lips were tight and furious. Daine looked about three seconds away from throwing the shutters open and leaping into the empty air.
She had done it before, and she would do it again. The soaring air calmed her down, and often what started the furious rows between her and her husband was the close air of their cluttered home. They usually couldn't even work out what they were fighting about, just that they were angry. One of them, already irritated by some small thing, would stub their toe on a half-repaired saddle or stumble over the wickerwork of an abandoned spell, and that would be that.
This time even Kitten had run for cover. If their rooms weren't habitually warded against all the bizarre magic which lurked in the air then the palace guards would probably have come running at the sound of their raised voices. Kitten's upset mutterings usually brought Daine to her senses, at least enough to leave the room. When she was angry, she walked to the stables. When she was furious, she flew to the forest.
Daine, Numair knew on that night, was livid.
He saw her take a step towards the window and his angry voice grew cold, the kind of order he never even gave to servants. "Don't fly out of the window."
"Oh, why not?" She retorted, not stopping her path. "Do you still need someone to yell stupid things at? Use one of your damn simulay… things, Numair, because I'm not talking to you."
"You're pretending to be stupid just to annoy me."
"You use stupid words!" She yelled back. "I'm not…"
"Why would I care about a word? I don't care! I care that you always fly out of the window. THAT is stupid!"
"Some of us can control our shapeshifting magic." She said snidely, and opened the window. "Flying makes me feel better, and it's good practice, oh teacher, and it gets me away from you!"
"I won't let you fly in a sleet storm when you're already tired and angry." Numair snapped. He waved a hand and the shutter was ripped from her hands. It slammed shut so violently that she cried out and took a step back, feeling the icy water which leapt onto her face trickling down her neck.
"You won't let me?" She turned on him and actually clenched her fists. "I didn't ask for your blessed permission! How dare you use magic on me?"
"I didn't. If I used magic on you, you'd know it." His voice was thunderous, and something of his own self-control had cracked enough to make the air feel heavy. It was as if magic were being dragged from the air – something he had done consciously in the dragon lands, but something which he did unconsciously when he was truly, truly upset. Even with their wards the people outside of the room would be able to feel it. Daine glared back at him, and for a few heartbeats the tension was so thick time seemed to slow. Every creature in the castle held its breath without knowing why. Something, anything, had to give way.
Kitten shrieked out a note, and Daine flinched. Quick as a heartbeat, she shrank down to almost nothing and a tiny field mouse sped straight under the bed.
The sleet crackled loudly against the window shutter. After a long time, still breathing unevenly, Numair walked over to it and slowly pressed his palm against the wood. The shutter was broken; a long crack blistered all the way across it right between the hinges. When he took his palm away the sleet grew louder as the broken wood rattled in the frame.
The man stared at the spoiled carpentry for a while.
"Daine," he said, knowing that she was still there, listening. "Don't put yourself in danger to punish me. You know I worry, and how much I hate not knowing where you are. You know that it's because I love you. Using that as a way to punish me isn't just stupid, it's… it's beneath you."
He traced the crack on the shutter with one long finger and then turned away.