A/N: Thanx for appreciating my appropriate grammar. I pride myself on it.

Shoot Me. No, really.

Kel was walking down the corridor, her tense features illuminated by the sparse sconces on the walls. She was late for a payment to one of the local mills, and there were no pages or runners in sight. Calling down to the servants quarters would have taken too long, so Kel had decided to take matters into her own hands, trying to calculate costs as quickly as she could as she walked.

Muttering numbers, she practically flew down 3 flights of stairs and raced through the Hall of Mirrors into the courtyard. It was 7:30 and the summer sun was still bright. If she took the short-cut through the Own practice yards, then she would make it to the miller's in half the time.

Leaping over a stone bench, she was careful not to trip on any protruding roots as she cut through the gardens. As she broke free of the foliage she found herself in the middle of an all-out between two King's Own corporals. Sergeant Dom was standing on the sidelines, collecting bets from his fellows in a wide brimmed old hat.

When the Own were at the palace long enough to get comfortable, they held tournaments, distinguishing the best archer, swordsman, knife thrower, staff fighter, and rider. There were reigning Champions that won the individual categories, who were matched by Challengers at the next opportunity for tournaments. In the rare event that one man emerged Champion in all categories, he was crowned King of the King's Own. Of course, the King's Own hadn't had a King since Baldus of Benning Hills, a corporal. But, he had sabotaged all of his opponents with laxatives in the ale, so, as the Own argued, he didn't count. After he was discovered, Baldus had been hastled by the rest of the men, and, eventually, tied naked to the ceiling of the Hall of Mirrors. No one else had even tried for King since. This was often a point of speculation with Dom. Kel didn't know if he was being sarcastic or thick.

Frowning, she strode around the circle of Own soldiers, careful to give the ring a wide berth. She knew quite well that all-outs could get wild and out of control. Luckily she went unnoticed, for if someone had seen her, she would have been inevitably dragged into the bet.

Once she jumped the fence, Kel trotted out of the gates and into Corus. She dodged carts and trolleys trundling through the streets, still holding her parchment. It was only a little farther.

She reached the miller just in time. He was outside the door, ready to lock up for the day. Thanks to her training, she was only a little winded, and still composed enough to make a good impression for the Crown. The miller accepted her payment with a scowl and impatiently waved her on her way. Apparently, it would have been better for him if she had come late. Then he would have had something to complain about to his cronies.

After the her hasty trip, Kel kept a leisurely pace on her way back to the palace. She hadn't expected a thanks from the miller, but he could have been more polite about it. Frustrated at having done all that work and not even getting a thank you, she pushed it from her mind and resolved to think of other things.

Unfortunately, the next thing that came to mind was even more daunting. Bright blue eyes and a ready smile danced through her head. She tried to push Dom from her mind with the miller, but he was a stubborn stick-in-the-mud and stayed where he was. Kel sighed and let him conquer. If it wasn't one thing, it was another.

As the Sergeant performed a cute little jig inside her head she had once seen him do around the campfire one night, Kel unknowingly made her way over to the fence of the Own practice yards and climbed over. Then a sharp cry of anger sliced through these happy thoughts and Kel realised where she was. The sun was just setting, but it was still light enough for her to see the men still crowded around the practice ring. It was two new men who were fighting now, Wolset and someone else, perhaps Feirly. She remembered that she hadn't thought much of him. Dom had his hat, collecting the next round of bets. Spotting her, he waved her over.

"Taking a short-cut?" Dom asked cheerfully. Kel glanced at his bulging pockets and guessed that his wagers had brought him luck today.

"I passed here earlier. I was late for a payment at the millers."

"Why didn't you just send a page?" inquired one of the men.

"I couldn't find one."

The man shrugged and turned his attention back to the fight,

Kel looked at Dom again. He still had that cheerful smile on his face. "Who'd you bet on?"

"Feirly," he admitted sheepishly, "but don't tell Wolset. If he knew, I don't think it would be safe to walk out in open ground any time soon."

"Then why didn't you just bet on Wolset, if he would be so mad?"

Dom looked surprised. "Listen, Kel. I value my safety and all, but a man has his priorities!"

A cry from the ring interrupted their conversation. Feirly had Wolset on the ground, sword at his throat. Kel looked to Dom for a further explanation but he had scurried quietly off, collecting his bets. It was all very discreet and hush-hush. Kel smiled crookedly. Obviously, Dom had done this before.

After the crowd had thinned, he stood on top of a crate and held his hands in the air, signalling for silence. He looked like an emperor addressing his subjects.

In his most imperial voice, Dom appealed to his audience. "I declare Feirly, our beloved brother in arms (this remark was sarcastic, as far as sarcasm goes) and very close friend, the reigning Champion!" A roar rose from the crowd. Kel rolled her eyes, an action that did not go unnoticed by the Imperious Dom, who sniffed (imperiously) and looked down his long-bridged nose at her. "Until my next Challenger kicks his ass, which will be all too soon," he added. An even louder cheer sounded through the practice yard. Feirly sneered and gave Dom a rude gesture.

"Who's your Challenger?" he growled.

Dom grinned. "Highly skilled in the deadly arts, savage, relentless, the terror of Tortall, let me introduce to you................... Lady Kel!!!"

There was a mix of laughter and cheering at this newest statement. The men turned to look at Kel with mirth on their faces, clapping enthusiastically. Everyone knew the Lady knew how to use a sword, but she was hardly 'savage'. She stood rooted to the spot, horrified.

Feirly was sceptical. "She isn't part of the Own."

"She was for long enough," cried a voice from the crowd. "Let her have a go at him!"

Another hearty roar of agreement. Kel's forehead creased in exasperation. She'd so been looking forward to a long soak in the tub. Now, with the Own on her case, she'd never escape.

Dom made his way down through the throng of people to drag a protesting Lady Knight back up to his crate. The situation could have been unlucky if the box had not held their combined weight, but, the situation was not unlucky, and, luckily, it held.

Dom pulled Kel's arm from where it stuck to her side and raised it in the air. "I declare Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan my Challenger! Let the games begin!" More cheering from the dirty, sweaty, crowd. No wonder they all slept so late.

There was about an hour spent drinking and merry making as the last rays of the sun faded, and then lanterns were brought out and set all around the yard. In the dim light over by the fence, Kel hid from the rowdy soldiers, declining any alcohol. She couldn't quite believe that Dom had dragged her into this. He should expect unpleasant things hidden in his gear very soon; she wasn't going to let him get off scot free.

The men had built a bonfire and were dancing around it, Dom included. Somewhere in the course of the night they had gotten their grubby little hands on face paint, and some of them had obscene things written on their foreheads. Getting a closer look at Dom, she realised with a little relief that he was not being rude. He'd stuck to silly war names, happy faces, and one little 'meathead' along his jaw. She assumed this was in Neal's honour.

As she shifted her gaze, she noticed Feirly was sitting alone, collecting himself after his fight. He was staring at her across the fire. Probably trying to guess my abilities, Kel decided. He had features that brought to mind a sort of rodent, and he made it look more so by squinting and pinching up his face. He looked quite a sour fellow. And he was. Knowing Feirly, who was famous for being a male chauvinist, he probably thought she was a push-over.

She looked back to Dom. He had evidently had too much to drink and after a final twirl, his profile silhouetted by the light of the fire, he toppled over. The sergeant was out cold. Serves him right, thought Kel. The men were jumping over his body in their mad dance. Soon, this became popular, and they flung Dom out of the way and replaced him with wooden crates to see who could leap the highest. Unfortunately, drunken men do not jump very well, and the only thing that resulted was a whole lot of smashed crates and even more painful splinters in inconvenient places.

By 9:30, most of the drunks were asleep or trying to get the splinters out with tweezers, and the rest of the mostly sober men remembered the reason for their merriment. The ring was reset and Feirly and Kel were pushed into it. Someone pressed a sword into Kel's hands. She hefted it and determined it was of reasonable length. They started at opposite sides and waited for the signal.

Wolset, who glared at Feirly, held his sword up in the air. "Gentlemen!" he called in battlefield voice. Then he looked apologetically at Kel. "And gentle....woman." Kel held back a smile. "Swords up!" They raised their swords. "Salute!" They saluted, Feirly with an unnecessary flourish. "Annnddd............. have at it lads! ....... and...... lass!"

At once, Kel could tell that fighting Feirly was not going to be easy. He was quick and deadly, favouring the attack. This signalled to Kel that he was either very aggressive or he thought she would be a quick fight, but she did not intend to give in so easily. As it was an all-out, he took every opportunity to ram her with his elbows, knees, shoulders, and head, she was careful to keep her balance. Frustration began to show on his angular features. He had not expected her to last this long. Kel was outraged. It hadn't been five minutes and he thought she would be keeling over? Distracted, she hardly noticed that Feirly had seized the opening and scored a hit just at the bottom of her rib cage. The slicing pain alerted her and she was able to jump back just as he curved his blade up toward her side for a killing thrust. Blocking his sword, she forced him back a couple steps.

They fought for a long time, the upper hand changing constantly; Kel and Feirly were evenly matched. But Kel still had her Yamani training, keeping her cool and calm, and Feirly was becoming more angry every time their swords clashed. The anger of being matched by a woman blinded him and he began to get a little sloppy. At last, he made a final desperate swing at her neck, and Kel dodged it. He overstepped, the weight of his attack carrying him through, and she tripped him up easily. Lying on his back with Kel's sword at his throat, he had no choice but to yield.

Kel stood back and watched as money was exchanged between the hands of the men. Feirly managed to get up and deliberately rammed her shoulder as he stormed off, sweat dripping off his nose. Good riddance, she thought. She'd proved to one more person that it was unwise to underestimate the skills of a woman, especially a Lady Knight.

Accepting congratulations from the men the Own, she left the merry band and made her way to the courtyard. She was tired and didn't want to take the shortcut through the garden again, so she took the long way round, past the Own barracks.

Kel spotted a lone figure leaning against the wall of the barracks. She knew at once who it was. Though she couldn't see his face, his handsome profile was perfectly clear. Dom took a step toward her.

Oh no, she thought.

It was odd how Dom could walk so jauntily even when he was drunk. Every step was full of the confidence she knew him for, not in the least unusual. But his face gave everything away. His face paint was smudged from his fall by the bonfire, and little specks of dust still clung to his eyebrows. His teeth flashed in a broad grin, his hair mussed. His eyes had an odd glint in them that made Kel wonder how conscious Dom was of what he was doing. It was impossible to tell.

She should have walked away, run even. She should have tried to direct him back to his bunk in the barracks, tell him that he'd feel very different in the morning. She should have done something. But she didn't. Kel was shocked, and it didn't occur to her to react. She'd never seen Dom like this before. That is why it was so easy for Dom to grab her.

He jumped at her, gripping her shoulders and grinning. He threw his head back and laughed. "Caught you!" he cried, his words slurring a little. "Thought you were going to get away, did you? No one can escape me!" He spun her around a bit, Kel tried her best to keep from tripping in Dom's mad dance. At last he stopped. "I'm getting dizzy!" he giggled, and fell to the ground, pulling Kel with him.

Kel stumbled and landed hard on her side next to him, her arms still in his grasp. Dom was giggling to himself and didn't seem to have any consideration for her comfort. It was time for Kel to take control of the situation. "Dom," she said as calm as she could, "you know, I think it would be better for you if you went into your barracks now and lay down for a bit on your bunk."

He looked at her. "All right," Dom said. "But not without a goodnight kiss." He wrapped his arms around her waist, and, before Kel could react, pulled her toward him. As their lips met Dom's arms tightened convulsively and he moaned passionately into her mouth. Kel's eyes went wide, then fell closed as the feel of his lips overwhelmed her. She relaxed in his arms, allowing him to push her onto her back. Tentatively, she began to kiss him back. He moaned again and reached up to run his fingers through her hair.

Abruptly, he broke the kiss and smiled lopsidedly at her. "Mwuah!" he said, then collapsed onto his back.

Kel lay where she was for a few seconds, listening to Dom's soft snores and trying to comprehend what had just happened. A drunken Dom had kissed her. A lot. She'd kissed him back. Would he remember, come morning? Kel prayed to the gods that he had been really, really, drunk. How could she possibly look him in the face ever again?