The companions knew that the calm would not last, but nevertheless, they felt they deserved one night at least to take it easy. With the trial and appeal by combat behind them, they were happy to obey Lord Nasher's orders to relax, and gathered at the Flagon to celebrate.

After lounging in the bathing room longer than any of the rest, Raewyn finally padded down the stairs to join her friends. She had chosen a full skirt and a simple bodice in deep green over a white shift. She had threaded a green ribbon through her hair, and instead of her customary boots, her feet were clad in soft slippers. She had nothing on Neeshka for stealth, but her slippered feet, together with the music and laughter from the common room meant she had a chance to watch her companions for a bit before they spied her.

Most of them had left their armor and weapons in their rooms. Elanee and Shandra both wore simple dresses not unlike her own, and even Casavir had put aside his plate armor for once, opting for a midnight blue tunic that set off his dark hair and blue eyes most flatteringly. He and Khelgar were sharing stories of battles fought, won, and lost. Naturally, Bishop still wore his hunting leathers, and his bow was not far from his hand. 'I'll bet he even hangs on to it when relieving himself!' Raewyn thought to herself, and giggled at the thought.

Shandra heard her, and moved closer to talk. "What's so funny, you?"

Raewyn lifted her chin to gesture to the ranger, who was sitting in the corner in what could only be described as a grand sulk, bow propped on the table beside him.

"Do you suppose the takes that thing into the bushes with him?" Shandra asked, shaking her head.

Raewyn laughed aloud to hear her friend echo her own thoughts. "I bet he does, and everywhere else, too!" They both giggled helplessly as they thought of other outrageous circumstances in which the dour Bishop would no doubt retain his bow.

Casavir, who seemed to have some sixth sense for where she was at all times, 'except, apparently, when I am bathing,' he thought ruefully, had spied her as she stood in the doorway, and watched her with something like awe in his face. At the sound of her laugh, Khelgar turned to see what Casavir was staring at, and chuckled.

"Close yer mouth, tin-can, yer lettin' the flies in." The jibe was delivered with good humor; he and Casavir had become friends, and privately Khelgar was pleased see the growing affection between the paladin and his leader. He found he truly cared for the girl, and he knew the 'tin can' would never fail to protect her. And if he kept the oily ranger away from her, as he seemed determined to do, so much the better.

"I am only relieved to see her looking hale and well." came the stiff reply. "The battle today was a difficult one…."

"And had ye healed her any more, she'd be once more a babe in blankets. She's fine, man."

"Yes, she is." It was spoken softly enough the dwarf could ignore it, and he chose to do so, though he shook his head in amusement.

By now, Raewyn had moved into the room, and was talking and laughing with several of the others. Even the normally reserved Elanee was laughing lightly as Grobnar stomped around on one of the tables, mimicking the antics of Raewyn's fallen opponent.

Khelgar left the table he'd been sharing with Casavir and approached the rest of the group, raising his tankard. "To Raewyn Thorne, our leader, our friend, and one hell of a fighter!" he shouted, and the rest happily joined in and drank. "Let's just be glad you're on our side, lass!"

Laughter greeted his jest. Raewyn looked around the room, savoring the warmth of the company. She met Casavir's stare as she did so. His face wore the usual mask of passivity, but his gaze bore an intensity that made her shiver. Tilting her hear to the side quizzically, she held his eyes for a long moment, until a laughing Shandra grabbed her arm leading her to an area hastily cleared for dancing.

As she joined her friends, the penny whistle and the fiddle sent out the bright opening skirl of a lively reel. Soon the women and several of the townsfolk were dancing in a twisting line over and under the clasped hands of the other dancers. Around and around they went, giggling as they became entangled. The rest of the crowd whistled and clapped in time with the music. As she danced, Raewyn felt Casavir's eyes upon her, and glanced his way whenever she came around to face him.

With a final flourish, the tune ended, and Khelgar called for a dwarven folk-tune. He bowed before Raewyn and asked her to join him. She didn't know any Ironfist dances, but she had heard Khelgar belting out various songs (mostly drinking songs), on their travels, so she thought it could be nothing too complicated. She took his hand with a flourished curtsey.

Soon she was in the center of a bewildering storm of stomping, whirling dwarf. Laughing, she glanced at Casavir, who now met her gaze with a raised eyebrow and a twinkle in his blue eyes, seeming to enjoy her predicament. She grinned back at him, rolling her eyes and shrugging dramatically. In response, a smile, a genuine smile lit his face, softening his features.

Her heart leapt in her breast. It occurred to her that she had never really seen him smile, and she realized on the spot it was a beautiful sight; one that she wanted to see more often. She flashed him coquettish grin in return. She also realized she was flirting with him, and added the notion that 'flirting with Casavir was fun' to her list of the night's discoveries. And if it would result in more smiles from him, she decided, she would most certainly keep doing it.

With the tune ending, she begged off the dance floor, and leaned against a table, catching her breath. She made it a point to steal smiling glances in the paladin's direction, his unwavering gaze making her warmer than even the press of the dance. A young couple from among the townsfolk came up to her, and she talked with them a while. When they had gone, she glanced away to see Khelgar speaking to the musicians again, and groaned a little. Another round of mysterious Ironfist of hopping and stomping was beyond her. Hoping for a respite, she looked around, unable to spot either Casavir or Shandra.

She turned toward the counter, to see Casavir heading her way with a glass of wine in each hand. Intercepting him, Khelgar neatly relieved him of the glasses, and gave him a hard shove in Raewyn's direction.

"What…?" the startled paladin began, just before he fetched up against Raewyn, Khelgar's well-placed shove forcing them both onto the now empty dance floor. Raewyn's bewilderment mirrored Casavir's, until the first stately measures of a Neverwinter court dance similar to a pavanne filled the room. So that's what the dwarf had been up to!

Left little alternative, both of them already in position on the dance floor, Casavir gallantly offered her his arm.

"Will you honor me, my lady?"

"The honor is mine." she accepted, then glaring over her shoulder at the gleefully unrepentant Ironfist. She resolved to scold the meddlesome dwarf later. Or perhaps to thank him.

None of the other townsfolk and likely none of her companions except Sand would know this dance, so it appeared they would be dancing alone, and the room grew hushed. She stood opposite Casavir, suddenly nervous. She swallowed hard against the butterflies in her stomach as the dance began. They stepped together, he placing one hand on her hip, she resting her palm on his shoulder. Despite the warmth of the room, and the warmth of him through the thin wool of his tunic, she shivered to feel the sculpted muscle beneath her touch. He clasped her other hand in his large, calloused one with a tenderness that belied his power with a sword. They stepped in the pattern of the dance, their eyes locked. Raewyn felt like she was floating, drowning in pools of purest blue, aware only of the nearness of the man before her.

The cadence changed, and they faced opposite directions, right arms touching, palm to elbow, and circled each other slowly. It reminded Raewyn of the way they seemed to dance around each other, in slow measured steps, the distance between them never changing. She wondered if, as in the dance, they would ever circle closer? Or would they simply march this cadence around each other until whatever music drove them stopped?

As they circled, eyes locked, Casavir felt energy humming between them, almost crackling where they touched. His eyes never left hers, seeing in their emerald depths the same sense of breathless discovery he was feeling. How was it that this woman could affect him so, despite all he had been through, all he had left behind, never to be felt again?

They faced each other once more, and Casavir took her hand and spun her away from him only to spin her back again until she stood directly in front of him, her back against his chest. His breath hitched with her nearness, and he felt a desire he had not known he was still capable of feeling sear through him, fierce and white-hot.

Raewyn was certain her dizziness was not wholly due to the spinning pattern of their dance. When he spun her back to him, his arms surrounding her from behind, she had felt every contour of his powerful chest and the strength of his legs. The sight of him at the lake flashed unbidden in her mind. The feel of his body and the memory of his skin in the sunlight left her breathless. But she was also stunned to feel the evidence of his desire for her, and felt an answering flame sweep through her.

He spun her out and back again, this time bringing her to face him. She stumbled just slightly, leaning into him. She looked up at him, breathing hard, and he could feel the supple curves of her body pressed against him.

The desire that coursed through him pooled around his groin. 'Merciful Tyr, let me get through this dance without humiliating myself' he prayed. A few more circles around, and then with a final spin he brought her body flush against him, their legs entwined. Letting go her hand, he bent her over in a full dip, supporting her waist and head, his body curved over hers, his mouth inches from her own.

Raewyn's arms stole around his neck, letting out a startled squeak at the momentary sensation of falling. "Don't let go!" she whispered.

"I never will" he replied softly. Relaxing, secure in his arms, she pressed herself closer to him, her eyes falling from his stormy gaze to his sensuous mouth, so close to her own. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and his own gaze followed the motion. The room, their companions, even the music, all vanished, and only she and Casavir existed. She was certain he would kiss her, and she let her eyes drift shut, straining up towards him, her whole being focused on him…..

A sudden shout intruded on the moment, and they looked up. Casavir hastily set her upright and stepped back. She staggered a little, cold at the sudden loss of his heat.

"Thank you for the dance, my lady." he said stiffly, as though the intimacy of the last moment had never happened. He stalked off into the crowd.

"Of course." she said automatically. She was baffled. One moment the heat between them crackled and seared, and the next Casavir retreated as though he was ashamed of being close to her. 'Will I ever understand him?' she wondered, frustrated. She turned to face one of the young boys who had promised to help her in return for lodging under Duncan's roof. 'Clearly not this night.' She sighed.

"Are you Raewyn Thorne?" the boy asked.

"Yes, I am. What do you want with me?"