Mental Chaos
By Winged Archer Hermia
AN: Yay! Thank you to those who reviewed, sorry about my screw-up (for those of you who don't know, all 3 of my reviewers have informed me that Numair is 31 when Daine is 17. I'm a little too lazy to correct it right now but I will soon). Thanks guys! And here we have….
Chapter 2…Something About You
The horses were grumpy. They kept snorting and stomping angrily, and the Lioness had no clue why. They kicked, bit, and struggled when Alanna tried to fasten harnesses on them; stranger still was that one of them was her own Darkmoon, faithful but aging.
"You shouldn't be so lively," she scolded him. "You're too old."
"As I am getting, waiting for you?" came a voice, and she spun to face Numair. "This has taken at least an hour, Lioness," he said, slightly amused. "You could have called for help."
Alanna thought about the situation. Here she was, stuck in a stable, horse muck dirtying her boots, straw in her hair, and her hands restraining a half-saddled horse. She could see why she should have asked him to come.
"I guess—I'm just—too—stubborn," she said, her voice strained. She was attempting to right the horse's saddle, but Darkmoon landed a sharp stomp on her boot.
"OW!" she yelped, and hopped on one foot. "Numair, why are they acting like this?" She turned to look at him. He was laughing, his shirt still clean, his hair slick. She felt a pang somewhere in her chest. What is that? she thought irritably. NO, she told herself sharply. I'm married. Maybe I'm just sick…
"Here." Numair lifted the reins out of her hand and righted the bit, which had been at an awkward angle in the horses mouth. "He's done; now I'll tack up Spots. You get this one out of here." Alanna nodded, unable to speak.
As she walked, Alanna sighed to herself. She hadn't been feeling sick. She knew this feeling well enough. She'd experienced it twice before, after all; with Jon and with George. Liam had been a fluke. She'd liked him well enough, but it hadn't been love. Now that she thought of it, George was starting to feel like a friend more than a lover. She dragged Darkmoon along slowly, and shook her head.
***
"Oh, Kit," Daine said woefully. The dragon had scared away a bird perched on her windowsill, and was sulking on the bed. Her scales were a dull gray. "It's all right. He just hasn't got to know you yet." Kitten hid her face in the pillows and whistled.
"That's what I feel like doing, too," she remarked softly. Then louder she said, "But don't stop there. I'm sure he'll like you. Try to talk to him."
Daine sent out with her mind. She reached the sparrow that had been frightened, named Tailwing, and asked it to come back. It tried to say no, but she firmly reminded him that it was a young dragon, and wouldn't hurt him.
Kitten stood up to the window and offered a small grape to the bird, which fluttered nervously around her head.
Daine smiled a little, then remembered... She had seen it in Numair, something odd. He wasn't drained of his magic; she would know. And he didn't just get sick—he would tell her. Something weird was going on: something in his eye that made her suddenly shy. And it wasn't love, because she would burst if she held any more. Something between him and Alanna was happening, and she didn't like it. Not one bit.
***
Numair came to join her, Spots saddled, and now he too had horse droppings on him. She smiled at that, and she was about to mount Darkmoon, but he interrupted.
"Wait."
"Yes?" Alanna asked. "It's almost noon, you know. We'll have to camp now for sure. The places around Ratha just aren't safe."
"Alanna. Why don't we go for a walk in the garden for a moment?" he asked, and his expression was unreadable. "We can tie up the horses."
"All right," she said suspiciously, and wrapped Darkmoon's reins around a stake. "But make it quick."
Walking among the roses, Alanna felt dizzy. The scent was overpowering and each statue she saw seemed more beautiful than the last—though she had walked in the Royal Gardens many times before.
Numair stopped her when they saw a fountain. An angel cast water from her wings. They sat on a bench, and he grabbed her hands.
"Look, Alanna," he said. "I needed to talk to you, because… it's that…
"What?" she heard herself say sharply.
"Well…There's something about you. And I think… I think I love you."
AN: Yay! Longest chapter ever. Hoped you like it—please help me reach my goal of 5 reviews because you love me soooooo much (just kidding). No, but really, it brightens my day to get a review, be it good or bad. Preferably good, of course.