I'm so, so sorry it's taken me so long to update. It was far, far longer than I meant it to be, but for various reasons, it's really not been possible for me to update. (Starting with the mind-numbing back problem, quickly followed by the even more mind-numbing (and melting) painkillers. And not being able to sit down for more than 20 mins at a time as a result...) And then yesterday, just as I was giving it my final read through, my laptop kind of, sort of went on fire... Thank God for backups!!! And if I've missed typos etc in this chap, I place the blame fully on the nasty painkillers which zapped my head today, and le Gingernut can corroborate.

Because it's been so long, I want to say an extra special thank you to all of my reviewers, especially those of you who've been reading this since the very start. I hope you enjoy this too!

As always, I disclaim, apart from Abi, Lachann and the lovely Ùisdean

Chapter 20

Something had been tickling at the back of Daine's mind for near an hour; immortals. Three of them, hovering on the edge of the Royal Forest. She would have been more concerned, but they were familiar presences: Rikash, Barzha and Hebakh. The presence of one of King Jonathan's horses, accompanied by Thayet's favoured pony, and the mounts of the Prime Minister, Raoul of Goldenlake and the second in command of the Riders made her suspect that the proposed treaty with the Stormwings was the reason for the odd gathering.

Numair merely raised an eyebrow when she told him of the meeting, although she could tell he was intrigued. While she speculated on what they could be talking about, Numair murmured his responses to her. Allegedly, he was searching for methods of preventing Ozorne using her to carry out his will, although Daine could see the ink had dried long ago on the nib of his quill and parchment, and his eyes barely seemed to be reading the text before him, merely scanning over the same page again and again. She was about to ask him what was bothering him when she sensed movement at the Palace.

"Rikash is leaving the others," she observed. She tilted her head to one side, wondering briefly if she could be mistaken, but knowing that she wasn't. "He's coming towards us."

At the same time as Numair sat up with interest, Ùisdean chapped on the door of Numair's room and let himself in. "Tormos has just had communication from the King himself. There's a Stormwing Lord coming. He said it had something to do with treaty negotiations." The captain shook his head, shrugging. "Why his majesty didn't just contact you in the first place, I don't know."

Daine exchanged glances with her teacher, and Numair sighed heavily as he got to his feet. "I have a fair idea. Probably so he wouldn't have to put up with Numair's demands for our release," she told the captain. "Rikash is almost here. He'll need to be able to see us to know where to land."

"These 'treaty negotiations'," Ùisdean began as Numair started to remove the shield over the courtyard, creating a space that would be large enough for Rikash.

"I'll talk to him," she volunteered.

"Daine, this is important," Ùisdean started, but Numair interrupted him.

"She's right. Daine will be able to get more out of him than I or you could. They have a strange sort of friendship, though they seem to spend more time than anything antagonising each other." He smiled infuriatingly at Daine's mild scowl whilst he sealed the spell, and she rolled her eyes in return. "Rikash cares for her in his own way though. He wouldn't hold back information that would harm her." His work done, he turned around to face her again, hesitating before fixing her with a stern look. "Call us if you need us, Daine. I know we have nothing to fear from him, but we'll be here if necessary. I want to have a word with him too, so don't let him go haring off before I've spoken to him."

She issued him with one of the looks that assured him she was more than capable of handling the matter and didn't appreciate him questioning her abilities. She could see the glint in Numair's eye that meant he was concealing a smile.

"Are you sure she has the skills for this?" Ùisdean murmured to the mage as he watched Daine walk into the courtyard, her head upturned towards the sky.

Numair smiled. "This isn't any old diplomatic meeting," he assured the Captain. "This is Daine talking to a Stormwing. Rikash is one of the few she doesn't feel the need to talk to through the medium of her bow. She can handle him fine."

"Rikash?" Daine called as she looked around the courtyard. His invisible shield vanished and the immortal drifted neatly through the shield, alighting on the roof of the stable momentarily then dropping down to the ground, and grinned at her. If she hadn't of suddenly been forcefully reminded of the stench that accompanied him, she almost would have hugged him, she was so relieved to see what was to all intents and purposes, anyway, a friendly face. She stopped short though, smiling widely at him. "What are you doing here?"

"Your monarch allowed me to come here today. It's meant to be a gesture of trust and thanks towards Stone Tree Nation." Rikash said it with such disdain that Daine almost giggled. "Only one of us though. Queen Barzha felt it would be a more cordial meeting if I were the one to be sent." He shook his head with mock sadness. "How little she knows us."

"Indeed," Daine agreed, smiling.

"For example, manners would dictate that I ask how you and your mage are, but fortunately I do not have to lower myself to following them."

"And if you did ask, I'd have to respond that we're both doing much better than the last time that you saw us, but we're sick of being stuck in here and want to get out there and do something to help for once."

"Luckily," Rikash retorted, "I don't need to know any of that." He looked over her shoulder expectantly. "Isn't that annoying mage coming to check that you're safe? You never know," he said, leaning towards her, "I might be corrupting you with my evil Stormwing ways."

Daine bristled to Numair's defence. "I'll have you know, if it wasn't for him, I'd've shot you in Dunlath."

"Oh, well, beg my pardon, I stand corrected," the immortal retorted. "Apparently I owe my life to him. Then again, it could be argued – by me, mostly – that I've helped in saving his life too, and therefore I can irritate both you and him with the desecration of his name any time I want to." Daine sighed with annoyance. "Where is he anyway?"

She glanced back towards the house, shrugging. "He's of a mind with your Queen. He thinks I'll find out more if we're left to it. He does want a word with you though. He says I'm not to go chasing you off."

He laughed scornfully. "It would take more than a little mortal like you to scare me off," he pointed out. "Even if you are a Stormwing-killer. I suppose you want to know about the battle?" Rikash asked tauntingly. "It was a lovely fight. Lots of fear for us to feast on, plenty of bodies for afterwards."

Daine felt her face pale, wrinkling her nose at the Stormwing's habits. "Why did you come?" she asked the immortal curiously, partly in attempt to distract herself from the thoughts.

Rikash grinned, baring silver teeth in a ghastly smile. "I thought you'd be there to protect me."

Daine made a face. "Very funny. Really, why?"

The Stormwing shrugged, metal feathers clinking softly. "You feel as friendly towards Ozorne as we do. We might as well be united in enmity for him. Perhaps between all of us, we can tear him limb from limb. That's what we hope to do, anyway. Cheer up," he told her, smiling unpleasantly at her grim expression. "You've survived the first battle of the war."

Daine scowled, resting her hands on her hips. "I didn't even get to take part," she reminded him pointedly.

"Do you have a blood lust that I didn't know about, sweetheart?"

Her scowl deepened, making the Stormwing cackle. "Not exactly, no."

"I'm sure your Stork-man will be glad to hear it." Daine, about to retort, closed her mouth abruptly. He must have been talking to Cloud. Before she could stop herself, she felt her cheeks blush at the thought of what else her pony could have shared with the immortal. Rikash grinned leeringly, and Daine crossed her arms before her, lifting her head and jutting out her chin defensively.

"Why did you come?" she repeated, ignoring the amused expression he wore.

"Your king isn't the only one to have his spies," Rikash responded after a moment. "We 'overheard' the arrangements being made for the battle by certain rulers, and felt that, in the spirit of alliance and all, perhaps it would be best to share the information with you. Queen Jachull leads those allied with Ozorne," he said when her expression asked more. "There are a few who follow her, and their nations them, but their agreement with Ozorne may be tenuous." He smiled suddenly. "Their agreement amongst themselves may be tenuous too. Stormwings aren't known for their ability to agree with each other. Almost like humans, really. And how long they'll cooperate with Ozorne, we don't know." His smile grew to bare his teeth. "There were several – disagreements – at the conferences to organise that attack, and not all of them were manufactured by us."

"Do you think, perhaps, that there's any way you could treat with some of the other Stormwings and bring them to our side? Or any of the other immortals? We know that we'll have some ogres on our side, and there's a chance that some centaurs will join us too, but if we could –"

Rikash cackled rudely. "Do you think that your king may have already asked us that?"

She rolled her eyes. "You're nothing but rude, has anybody told you that?"

"I'd be a poor Stormwing if I wasn't," Rikash pointed out. His shifted awkwardly, his face becoming slightly more serious. "As I said, we have contacts in certain nations. Some Stormwings may tire of Ozorne's demands, or remember their honour as Stormwings." Daine quickly suppressed the expression of disbelief she felt touch her face. "Just like your king though," Rikash leaned towards her, almost confidentially, his stale odour prickling at her nostrils, "we choose when to share our information, and when to keep it to ourselves." He sat back with a satisfied smirk on his face, clearly enjoying Daine's obvious irritation.

"Oh look," he commented, with an innocence in his tone that made her instantly suspicious. "Here comes your mage now."

"He's not my anything," she hissed back, glancing over her shoulder to make sure that Numair was still too far away to hear Rikash's chosen conversation topic.

"Why so red then? Your Stork-man must have some hidden appeal to mortal women."

"He does not! I am not!" she stuttered urgently, willing the Stormwing to shut up. "He's not mine," she repeated again.

"That's not what your pony says."

"What does Cloud say?" Numair's voice enquired behind her.

That blessed pony! she thought angrily as she searched for a reply before Rikash could respond.

Too late. "Just that your care for your student is stronger now than it was when she last saw you both."

Numair's lips pursed tightly, and his paled face, a result of months indoors, coloured slightly.

"She's said no such thing to me," Daine retorted, at the same time as Numair replied.

"Considering that in the time that has transpired since Cloud last saw us both together, I have almost died, we have helped each other escape the imprisonment of a tyrant, and lived in this small house for months on end, I would be surprised if it had not," he said calmly. Daine could hear the taught defensiveness in his voice, although she barely had time to wonder at it before he continued. "My greetings to you, Lord Rikash. I hope you bring us news?"

His sudden change in conversation and his stiff disposition did not go unnoticed. Rikash grinned, apparently pleased with himself. "This and that. Alliances and deals. What will you give me to hear it?"

"Not even a copper bit."

The immortal chuckled, and proceeded to tell him rapidly all that he had shared with her. Finally, Rikash's face took on a grave expression. "You know that they know where you are?"

"What?" Daine gasped, but Numair only nodded.

"I've suspected so, ever since Hadensra at Midwinter. Ozorne has too many spies and sources for him not to, I expect. May I ask if you know how?"

The Stormwing shook his head, a waft of his scent drifting over Daine. "Jachull didn't mention explicitly – I'm not sure she herself knows – but several times she mentioned that Ozorne had a source well placed to watch over the two of you. It's that fact that led many to ally with her – you're infamous amongst immortals for your ability to kill Stormwings, the both of you." He flashed Daine a gruesome smile. "I'd almost be proud, if it weren't my kind you were killing. Listen," he said, his tone becoming serious again. "If they know where you are – if their well placed someone is in a strong enough position – they could act at any time. In here you're trapped like fish in a barrel."

"I have made the King more than aware of my concerns, including exactly that. If you would be so kind as to enlighten him of it as well though, we would much appreciate it. Jonathan feels that we're somewhat safer where we are."

Rikash scoffed, raising his head to check the position of the sun. "I must leave soon," he said, glancing back down at them and ruffling his feathers in a series of clicks. "We ourselves are in hiding, and it is better if I travel with my Queen than alone. Her conference with their royal majesties will be ending soon." Neither of them missed the scathing tone in his voice. "Listen, watch those who surround you carefully. If it is not someone here now, then it is one of the others who knows your location and is here regularly enough to be able to report your actions in here – with detail. Be careful with who you place your trust in, and watch each other closest of all. It may be a new recruit, or one who joined your army not long ago."

Numair gave an exasperated sigh. "Rikash, the Own is on a war footing. There are new recruits in every regiment, and more of the young gentry are queuing through the Palace gates just to sign up and get their chance to be slashed by a hurrok in the name of Tortall. There are new faces here every week now."

"Then it is all the more prudent that you are discerning in those you put your trust in. For all that I may try, I cannot pretend to – dislike – you both." He checked the sky again. "I must go. Mage, isn't there something you should be doing for me?"

Numair snorted without any real venom. "It has been as much of a pleasure as usual, Lord Rikash." With that, he disappeared inside to attend to the shield.

"Heed my warnings, Daine. I would hate to have to explain to Lady Maura that I warned you but you didn't take me seriously when you've killed yourself."

Daine grinned. "And you heed them yourself. You're in much the same position as us, it seems to me. I wouldn't like to explain it to Maura either."

"It's done!" Numair shouted from inside.

She stood back as the Stormwing stretched his wings and beat them rapidly, slowly rising from the ground. "Take care of yourself, Stormwing-killer. We'll see each other again, no doubt, when this war is over and done. And may the best man, woman or immortal reach Ozorne first!"

With that, he lifted off and had gone before Daine had the chance to respond.

Rikash's words had given Daine much to think about, not least his warnings over their safety in Golden Wood. That was far from her mind, however, when Lachann discovered her giving Cloud a stern mind-speech whilst grooming her inside the stable.

It was Cloud's sneeze that alerted her first to his presence. Soundlessly, the soldier had crept up on her as she worked and positioned himself in the doorway of the building. He still smells funny, Cloud muttered. Anyone would think he lived under the sun all year long.

Hush, she told her pony. He does. He's from the south, remember.

"An interesting visitor you had earlier," he commented casually, leaning against the doorframe.

He doesn't live there now though, Cloud muttered mutinously.

Daine fixed her with a glare, still annoyed at the pony for her loose mouth, and responded instead to Lachann.

"I can't say we were expecting him," she replied honestly.

"I wasn't aware you were on such close speaking terms with Stormwings."

Daine wrinkled her face. "Only those that are on our side," she corrected. "Besides, Rikash and I – we've known each other a few years. Numair partly owes his life to him."

"Then we must all be grateful," Lachann replied drily. There was something in his tone that Daine didn't like, and she was just about to question him on it when he spoke again. "Have they formed an alliance then? With their majesties?"

"It sounds that way. They've certainly been able to provide us with useful information, and they've helped us in the past too. They fought at the Palace for us."

"So they've brought their support into the open?"

Daine frowned. "Since when were you so interested in Stormwing politics?"

Lachann folded his arms, fixing her with an impatient eye. "I prefer to know who I'm fighting with and against when I go into battle. Who can be trusted."

"Rikash can," she bristled indignantly at his tone. "And if you must know, no, their support isn't openly known yet. Most of the enemy Stormwings were captured or killed at the battle, and many of the Stone Tree Nation died too, fighting on our behalf, if that's evidence enough for you?"

He smiled softly at her. "Sweetling, you're like the Lioness on the defensive. I'm only enquiring – if I hadn't done it first, another of the Own would have done. We've fought too many battles against them just to accept them as allies so easily." Reaching out an arm, he slid it around her waist, pulling her in closely to him. Daine didn't resist, though she held her body stiff. Lachann chuckled, bringing a hand up to stroke her hair. "If you tell me you trust them, then that's good enough for me, and I'll see to it that it's good enough for the rest of the Own too." His head had bent down, his breath stirring the hair around her ear as he spoke. "Stormwings though. Thought you had better taste, Daine. Or at least," he murmured, dropping a kiss on her cheek as she relaxed against him, "a better sense of smell."

Numair had never been a proponent of eavesdropping, and had in fact lectured his student many times of the virtues of not prying into others' conversations. He had to admit, though, that it was a good way to discover information.

The particular information that Numair had uncovered was not pleasant for him though. It made his stomach lurch at the very thought, and sense of nausea settle somewhere in his gut. For Daine's benefit, he wouldn't go marching in and pull them apart right there and then. He tried to tell himself it was this that stopped him, and not the fear of gaining the image of whatever Lachann was doing in there with her to haunt his mind later. He couldn't see anything, but on the other hand, he didn't need to either. He knew perfectly well what young men that age were capable of doing and thinking, especially when the female concerned was one they had recently insulted in some manner or other.

He had to physically push himself away from the building, feeling suddenly weak and deflated. The door to the kitchen could not come soon enough, and when he reached it, he stumbled inside, gripping a chair for a moment before forcing himself to stand straight again.

"Are you all right, Numair?" Abigail asked him with concern.

"Fine," he murmured, though he could barely hear her. He cleared his throat and shook his head, attempting to explain his behaviour. "I'm afraid that Daine may have been more accurate than I allowed her to believe when she diagnosed that the after effects of my magic would still be afflicting me. Something that Lord Rikash mentioned earlier has preoccupied me somewhat though."

"And you need to be with your books," she finished for him.

He gave her a grateful smile. "Exactly that," he agreed, although really, it was the last thing on his mind.

It did not take him long to discover that research, though, did very little to help distract him.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Hm?" Abigail drew him out of his reverie, catching his hand with her cold one.

"What have you got on your mind? I know that look, Numair. Your fingers play with your nose, and your lips move, although you barely make a sound. And don't say 'nothing', either. You haven't said a word in the last candle mark. I want the truth from you, Master Salmalín."

Convinced that he wasn't well, Abigail had insisted on keeping him company in his research, and nothing he could say would dissuade her. He had barely read a word though, and the ink had firmly dried on the quill in his hand. He sighed softly, using his belt knife to whet it.

"Numair, I want an answer."

There was no way he could avoid replying any longer. Iron control in his voice, he said calmly, "Before the King and George came, what did you mean when you asked me if Daine had spoken to me about Lachann yet?"

She shrugged, her face clearing of expression.

"Abigail?" he prompted, not sure he wanted to know the answer anyway.

Slowly, she said, "Daine and he are sweet on each other. Nothing more," she affirmed.

"You knew about this?" he exclaimed. "When did you find out?"

The woman watched him carefully. "Roughly the same time as I saw them kissing in her doorway."

"Ki - when?"

"Midwinter, though I hardly see how it matters, Numair."

Midwinter. Of all the days - the irony was not lost on Numair, to say the least.

He struggled to compose himself before he spoke again. "Why didn't she tell me?" he said, attempting to keep the mixture of disappointment, dismay and – somewhat irrationally – betrayal, from showing in his voice.

"For some reason, she thought that you might over-react."

Numair made an attempt at scoffing at Daine's irrationality, before the disbelieving expression on Abigail's face made him fall silent.

He knew it was stupid, but Numair didn't want Daine anywhere near her apparent suitor. Until he could speak with Lachann, he could think of one way which was guaranteed to keep the young soldier apart from his student. She wasn't paying nearly as much attention to his lesson as he would have liked though.

Finally he sighed, eyeing her suspiciously. "What are you thinking magelet?"

She fidgeted. "All this talk of Stormwings has made me remember something. Queen Barzha - she said something to me when we were in Carthak."

The mage shifted in his chair so he faced her, giving her his full attention. "Go on," he prompted, eyebrow raised.

"A suggestion for a lesson. She asked if I could talk to her as we flew. When I said I couldn't, she told me to tell you to teach me, and that it was fair important."

Numair thought for a moment. Here, finally, was a challenge for them to try. A welcome distraction. "She may have a point," he conceded eventually, trying to keep the eagerness from his voice. "Well, there could be several methods we could use to achieve this." He ran a long finger down the hard bone of his nose, letting it hover on the tip for just a second before his hand dropped into his lap. "We could design a spell so that you could communicate with humans without the assistance of Tkaa or through sign language, and find some way to attach it to your claw. Perhaps a charm to wear on the same chain so that it remains when you change. Or," he added, already stretching across the table for a fresh sheet of parchment, "we could attempt partial shape-shifting."

He whetted the tip of his quill with his small knife, before dipping it in the inkwell. "Instead of taking on the shape of the entire animal, you could select which aspects to take on." He began to scrawl notes to himself on the paper. He'd been insistent since they had discovered her shapeshifting skill that she learn how to change single aspects of her human body, focusing on improving her sight and hearing. That lesson had climaxed when Daine had, rather rashly, sprouted a tail just to see if it could be done. Apparently it could. "You can already use your magic to change small parts of your body. Your eyes to a hawk's or a cat's, or, for your more unsavoury habits," he grinned, "your ears to bat's."

Defensively, she interrupted, "It's a useful trick."

"I don't doubt it magelet. There's a reason why George wants to enlist you. And I know of a certain high-officed knight who is very jealous of your aptitude for eavesdropping. Anyway," he carried on, "say you took on entirely animal form, but comprised of different species. A predator. If you were to create the most powerful hunter, which aspects would you take?"

Daine's face twisted. "Animals aren't made that way."

"You can make yourself that way, Daine. Now, say, a wolf's sense of smell. A hawk's vision?"

She sat forward, more eager to participate. "A hyena's jaw, for strength." Numair smiled to himself. His student seemed to have taken a strong liking to the animals since her introduction to them in Carthak.

"For hearing?" he prompted.

"A bat's," she replied without hesitation. "And for speed, a cheetah."

"Good," Numair told her. "Now imagine you want to make yourself into that. How would you do it?"

"I could change a single aspect at a time, and then secure that change, and work on the next."

Numair nodded. "You could start with one base animal form. For this one," he glanced at his notes, "a cheetah, for its body."

"So I become a cheetah, and then change certain parts of me?"

"Exactly."

"But how will that help me communicate with others?"

Numair grimaced. "I suppose it's learning to work the skill in reverse, like changing back, but only parts of you. Your mouth, your vocal chords. That's all you'd need." He sighed. "We'll work on that when you've mastered this though."

An hour later, they could be found shifting through pages of animal anatomy and trying to decide the best way to merge different forms.

"Would George really want me as a spy?"

Her voice jolted him out of his thoughts. He looked up at her, his face startled. "He's been after training you for years now."

Daine looked doubtful. "He's never mentioned it."

"That's because I never let him."

"Why?"

Numair breathed in, considering his words. "Learning codes is one thing, but actual spying is different." He shivered, thinking of his own dalliances with the job, remembering with sudden ferocity his time in Lord Sinthya's dungeons. The only good thing that had come out of his spying, he decided, was that he'd met Daine, who he'd have met through Onua eventually anyway, had he not accepted that particular mission. "It's no life for you, Daine. You wouldn't like it."

She looked slightly offended. "How? How can you be so sure?"

"Because, by necessity, a spy spends much of his – or her – time hidden or staying in one place for so long that they are as trusted as the next. You aren't suited to that." He gestured at her, thinking of the wings she could unfurl at the slightest notice. "Your very nature, your very magic, doesn't conform to that. You suit freedom. A spy lives their life in concealment, hidden or trapped. And if you're caught - caged."

She shuddered. "But why wouldn't you let him ask me?"

Numair paused. He knew now, very well, why he would never let George recruit her, but she couldn't hear that answer. "Because," he finally settled on, "training your magic is your priority, and as your teacher, it is my duty to ensure that you aren't distracted from it. Anyway," he added, stretching his arms in front of him, "your education would suffer considerably if you were held captive."

She stared down at the book before her as she mumbled, "It's little better here than in any cage, I'd fancy."

The silent concern he harboured must have been mirrored in his eyes, and he could feel his brow knot together. She glanced up at him. "At least I'm not captive alone," she said finally.

"No," he echoed faintly. "At least you're not alone."

Abigail muttered a soft prayer to the Goddess in hope that the girl would understand, before tapping on the Prince's door. The female voice inside stopped at the interruption, and Kaddar appeared in the doorway.

She smiled hesitantly. "Sorry to interrupt, Your Highness, but I need a word with Daine in private."

Kaddar gestured to her with an arm as she got to her feet. "I'm no Prince here, Abigail. Feel free."

She nodded at him gratefully as she stepped aside to let Daine past. Great mages were one thing, but living with royalty under the same roof was slightly daunting. "I think your room would be best."

Daine looked perplexed but agreed anyway. "What is it?" she asked when they were safely inside her chamber.

"Numair knows about you and Lachann."

She dropped onto her bed without speaking. After a moment, she sighed. "How?"

Now it was Abigail's turn to hesitate. "He asked me. I thought he knew already when I mentioned it to him. I thought you'd have spoken to him about it by now." She sighed. "I'm really sorry, Daine. Truly, it was an accident."

Daine was silent for a moment, and Abigail knew she was assessing her. Finally she nodded. "It's not your fault. He can be quite determined when he wants to know something. I suppose he had to find out sometime." She shook her head, a slight smile touching her lips. "I thought he was acting strangely earlier. Did he have a fit?"

Now it was Abigail's turn to smile. "Almost," she admitted. "'Kissing?'" she mimicked, her voice deepening. "'When?'"

Daine groaned. "And I'd so hoped he wouldn't try and scare poor Lachann off. He did it with Kaddar once before," she explained. "In the presence of the Carthaki court and entire Tortallan peace delegation, too. It was mortifying." A faint colour came to the girl's cheeks. "He told Kaddar he was leading me on, and then threatened him with the displeasure of their Majesties, Alanna, and himself if they thought he had done anything amiss."

Abigail laughed despite herself. "I can try my best to see that he doesn't do it again."

Daine smiled genuinely at her. "I'd be grateful."

"It's the least I can do, seeing as I'm the one who told him. Perhaps we'd be best to face him together. There's not many a man brave enough to battle with an alliance of women."

Daine grinned wickedly at her, and Abigail returned the smile, feeling like she'd finally won this young woman around. "I daresay you're right."

Numair Salmalín had proved on many occasions that he was no fool. He felt that this was particularly pertinent, however, where young men were concerned, seeing as he himself had been one not so many years before.

"I'm glad I've caught you on your own, for once."

For a moment, the figure froze, pausing in the act of tying his boot laces. Lachann stood up slowly, meeting Numair's gaze squarely, only a few inches below him. "Oh yes? How may I help you?"

"I wanted to have a chat with you. Nothing of momentous significance to most," he said, gesturing for the soldier to take his seat again, "although it is important to me."

Understanding showed itself in the flare of his green eyes. "I'm at your service," Lachann said, although Numair could hear the steely undertone in his voice.

Undaunted by this, the mage slipped his hands into his breeches pockets. "You'll understand, of course, that Daine and I have grown close over the years that I have been her teacher, and that I take very great interest in her wellbeing."

"You seem to argue with her a lot for someone who says they have such a great care."

Numair shrugged, forcing himself to keep his tone light. "Friends quarrel. The Lioness and I bicker almost constantly, although she's one of my dearest friends. Daine's too," he added smoothly.

Lachann cocked an eyebrow, clearly not missing Numair's intended meaning, but didn't say anything.

"I've noticed recently that you've been spending more time with her."

"As has Prince Kaddar," Lachann pointed out.

"True, but Prince Kaddar hasn't been kissing her in doorways and leading her on," Numair retorted, abandoning all pretence of friendliness.

Lachann jumped to his feet again, his hands settling automatically on his belt, not far from his weapons' hilts. "I wouldn't lead Daine anywhere unintentionally, and if she doesn't return my affections, then she just has to say." Spitefully, he added, "She didn't seem like she wasn't enjoyin' my attentions yesterday though. Or earlier today."

Numair flinched, trying to disguise the movement by crossing his arms, although he noticed the barest of smirks crossing the younger man's face.

"Be careful with her," he warned, his voice harsh. "You don't want to underestimate the consequences of hurting her."

The soldier's hand closed around his dagger hilt. "I don' take kindly to threats, Master Salmalín, veiled or no."

"That's all well and good, but I don't appreciate men taking advantage of my student."

The younger man shifted his stance, setting his jaw determinedly. "Master Salmalín, it's against the law to put a spell on an unwilling subject."

"Who said anything about magic?" Numair asked mildly. "I'm talking about your family's position at Court. You wouldn't want to endanger that, would you?"

The man sneered, about to speak, but Numair interrupted. "You forget who her friends are, who she works for. Lady Alanna. Her husband, and her father, Sir Myles of Olau. The King and Queen. The Riders. In fact, hearing what Lord Raoul said to you when you upset Daine last time, I wouldn't fancy your chances crossing him either. So many powerful people in the Realm, and I'm not even including the mages." He glared at the young man, narrowing his eyes to ensure his message was received. "None of them would take it lightly if they felt that a man – any man – was doing wrong by her. Nor would I. Do you understand me?"

The soldier crossed his arms defiantly. "Perfectly," he gritted out.

Numair let his magic glow around him, and smiled when the man paled slightly. "Good." He turned on his heel and stalked out.

Gods, Daine was going to kill him.

Daine wasn't sure if she'd forgotten how rash Numair could be, but when she'd told Abigail that she'd hoped to spare Lachann Numair trying to scare him off, she hadn't realised that at exactly the same time, Numair would be doing just that.

"What do you think you've been doing?" Daine demanded. She recognised the look of determination on Numair's face, and before he could attempt to palm her off with some answer, added, "I know you've spoken to Lachann."

Any trace of feigned innocence vanished from his face, and the determination only increased. "I only did it with you in mind."

That was obviously as much of an apology as Daine was destined to get. "Like you did Kaddar, when he had done nothing wrong?"

Numair's voice dropped to a hushed, angry whisper. "I was concerned that he was leading you on when there was no future in it for you."

Daine rolled her eyes. "I'll thank you to let me worry about that for myself," she retorted. "Not that there's been much future in any of your romantic relations in the past."

The mage looked awkwardly towards Abigail, and for a second, Daine felt regret that she'd dragged this up in front of her. "That is entirely different."

Her eyebrows raised. "Is it?"

"Yes, Daine, because I am mature enough to know what I'm becoming involved with!"

She crossed her arms. "So you're concerned that I'm not mature enough to realise what Lachann is doing? Or that there's no future for us?" She didn't intend there to be any 'future' anyway – she knew plenty Rider women, and court ladies too, who had many swains and no intentions of marrying any of them.

"The Own can't marry," he pointed out.

She gasped in exasperation. "I'm only sixteen! I don't want to marry anyone!"

"And that is precisely what I told him."

Daine raised an eyebrow sceptically. "If that was all you said, then I'm a Stormwing."

"I merely warned him that if he manipulated you in any way, there would be serious consequences."

Daine groaned, covering her face with her hands and shaking her head.

Abigail came to stand behind her, resting a hand on the girl's shoulder. "That was uncalled for. I told you earlier not to overreact, and here you go, putting your nose in where it shouldn't be."

The mage's mouth hung open for a moment before he recovered. Clearly, he hadn't been expecting Abigail to take Daine's side on the matter. "It is my business. She's my student! If I think that she'll be distracted by him, or hurt – well, surely I should do my best to help prevent that."

"Numair, she's old enough to make her own mistakes and learn her own lessons."

"As she kindly reminded us, she's sixteen!" Numair exploded. "She's still a girl!"

"And I can speak for myself," Daine reminded them sharply. Numair's burning glare transferred from Abigail to her instantly, although Daine stood firmly under it. She'd seen him in a temper too many times to be intimidated by it anymore. "Abigail's right, Numair, I'm old enough and smart enough to make my own decisions. You've said I'm mature enough before – what's different about this?" she demanded

"Everything!" Numair snapped. He swallowed heavily, clearly trying to bring his anger under control. "He's – Daine, you don't understand. Men like him – they want something more."

Daine rolled her eyes. "Sex, you mean."

The mage's cheeks flushed slightly. "To be frank, yes. I've seen him with you, flattering you and trying to charm you into liking him."

"Like you do, you mean."

Numair's cheeks turned a brilliant red. "I don't – not with –"

"I've seen you with court women. And you do it with Abigail too."

"I have never attempted to take advantage of any woman by being polite to them, Daine," he said sternly, his stammering of seconds ago gone completely. "And that's exactly what he's trying to do!"

"How can you be so sure?" Abigail asked shrewdly. "He's always seemed charming and polite to me. I haven't heard a bad word said about him either, and I'd have found out by now from my friends in the Palace if he was like that with the court ladies."

"Numair, I'm not my mother. I'm not about to bed the first man that smiles at me just because I'm sixteen."

"I never said –"

"And I'm smart enough to know when I'm being seduced too. I'm not about to let anyone take advantage of me. What about Kaddar? Do you think that by my being friends with him now, he's planning to do the same?"

"For all I know magelet, he may well be."

She laughed disbelievingly. "Numair, you can't seriously mean that. Or are you going to go and remind him too about 'consequences'?"

"Daine, all I'm saying is that you need to be careful around him. He will be very aware of the games that go on, and how to play them." He paused as she looked at him in disbelief. "And Lachann is already playing them, and you can't see."

"Numair, any 'games' that he's been playing are ones that I've taken part in willingly, and even initiated! He's not seducing me, and I'm not falling in to some trap that you're apparently convinced he's set!"

"If I'm not very much mistaken, you're halfway in love with him already. You certainly act like a lovesick girl, whether he's here or not!" he finished, his breath coming in short, angry pants.

"And who do you suppose I'm lovesick for, then?" she snapped. "Because believe me, Numair, it's not who you're expecting!" Suddenly she froze, realising the truth of the words she'd held back, feeling her face pale.

"What's that meant to mean?" he snapped, but Daine clamped her mouth shut, refusing to say any more. Her silence only seemed to rile him more. "It's not Lachann, then? Kaddar, maybe?"

"Don't be so ridiculous," she hissed. All of a sudden, she was desperate to get out of the room and away from him.

"Daine – magelet," he attempted, his voice becoming softer. "This isn't about you being able to take care of yourself. I know you can. It's different to leaving you with a group of male trainees who think they can ride rings round you just because you're a pretty girl, or flirting with you to try and escape grooming their mounts properly. There are all sorts of ways a man can fool a woman into loving him, or thinking that he loves her, all sorts, and you're too young to know them when you see them. You might've seen some of the games that go on at court, and think they're easy to spot, but it'll be harder once it's you being charmed and given gifts and sweet-talked."

"You forget, Numair," Daine returned slowly, coldly. "Not every man is like you."

She didn't stay in the room long enough to see the hurt bloom in his eyes. "Daine," Abigail called behind her. "Daine, wait! Now see what you've done," she hissed to Numair angrily. "I told you not to go telling her what she can and can't do – don't you see she has enough of that already, being confined here?" They both flinched as they heard the crash of the kitchen door swinging shut behind Daine.

Numair's face had turned deathly pale. "I – I had no idea she thought of me like that," he managed in a whisper. Abigail could hear the tightness in his voice, the upset he was feeling. He staggered slowly backwards, falling into a seat heavily. He looked almost lost, bereft of something. It seemed too much, for a master who had had an argument with his student, even as close as Numair and Daine were, but she had seen over the past few months how Numair's emotions seemed to swing from one to another rapidly, and could often seem overstated.

She tutted impatiently, shaking her head. "She doesn't, you fool man. She's angry and upset – she thinks you think of her as a child. She thinks you feel she's not capable of looking after herself."

He sounded bewildered. "I don't."

"You just said as much." Abigail sighed after a long moment, taking pity on him. "You're right, partly. She probably doesn't know when a man's attempting to seduce her, or playing all the games that men and women play with each other. On the other hand," she said quickly, "she needs to learn them for herself, and Daine is more than able to get herself out of any situation she doesn't want to be in. I've heard from George and Alanna what she can do. I don't doubt that her hand-to-hand is as good as George says it is. And nor should you," she added.

"I've seen her in a fight," Numair murmured, nodding. "She – Gods, Abigail, what do I do?"

Abigail realised then what it was she was facing. She could see it in his eyes and in the desperate pleading in his voice, and now that she recognised it, remembered seeing it there countless times before. She wondered, for a moment, if he had even recognised it in himself yet, and if he had, whether he was trying to deny it, or force it to go away. Didn't he realise it didn't work like that?

"Fool," she murmured, more to herself this time than to him. Why were men always so contrary?

"Leave her until she's – until you've both calmed down. Apologise," she said eventually. "And then you wait."