Disclaimer: All characters and settings - I think! - belong to Tamora Pierce. I'll give them back like a good girl!



Sorry that it's such a /long/ time since I've posted! I've been busy. And this chapter was a particular so-and-so to write...



Chapter Seventeen



"/Dignity/! Mithros, Mynoss and Shakith! Me, have dignity as a married lady when you've just said what you have? You hypocrite - you /idiot/! Do you have no brain at all? I knew I shouldn't have told you! I knew you couldn't keep a secret if I paid you! Couldn't you see that I didn't want you to tell anyone? Least of all the entire Realm at a stroke -"

"Daine, calm /down/!" whispered Numair, putting his hand over hers."Think of your reputation!"

"/Reputation/!" screamed Daine, shaking his hand away and smashing her fist onto the table. "Thanks to you, I /have/ no gods-cursed reputation! Haven't you been cursed /listening/? Mithros! Do you /want/ your wife known as a gods-cursed /whore/?" Daine fell silent, as angry as she had ever been. Some calm part of her noticed that the entire banqueting hall was silent, watching and listening to the drama at the first table with total concentration, but the Wildmage simply couldn't care less.

"Daine, if it wasn't for your condition this would be inexcusable..."

"/My condition/! You weren't so coy a few minutes ago when you told the world about it, were you?"

"Daine! /Listen/ to me!" Numair's voice was quiet, but it hit her with a physical force as if he'd slapped her face. She tried to open her mouth, but found that she couldn't. Curse her a thousand times for being such a fool as to marry a mage!

"Daine. You are showing me up. The kindest explanation I can suggest is that you are tired and overwrought. If you object, I'll say you're being deliberately naughty and childish. Now be quiet and behave yourself or go to bed." He lifted his hand and she could speak.

"Go and boil yourself," she suggested pleasantly, "I'm your wife, not your twelve-year-old pupil any more. I could use my magic on you just as easily and effectively as you use yours on me. But, unlike you, I don't think it's very nice or appropriate to score off my husband with powers he doesn't have. Now tell me what you think I've done wrong."

"As if you didn't know! You've only been married a day, and I blush to think what you've been doing."

He wasn't blushing, and she considered saying so. His dark face was pale, his lips white and thinned. She was red, she knew; she'd lost her temper some time ago and, like Numair, was heading out the other side.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your shameless flirting with the Dean -"

"Excuse me? I was trying to stop you from saying anything else you'd regret later. Distract people from what you said earlier. Which I was trying very hard not to argue with you about. But I suppose that was mean and futile, since you clearly want a row! Might I suggest that the first table at the State Midwinter banquet is hardly the place for one?"

Numair didn't reply. Instead, he turned pointedly to the beef, served such a long time ago, that had started all this. His manner was hardly less cold. Daine clenched her teeth and smiled dazzlingly at Harailt.

Master Upton Oakbridge usually thrived on disasters, they giving him the rare treat of a chance to fuss about restoring order. This, though, seemed a disaster of too great a magnitude for enjoyment of setting right, possibly even of too great a magnitude to set right at all; for which reason he was half mad with annoyance.

"Oh, I could kill them! Both of them!" he moaned, glancing every so often during his ignored tirade through the door and wincing at each fresh exchange. "It's utterly indecent... the conjugal row is /so/ embarrassing for the onlooker! Absolutely ruined my banquet, and it was going so well... what in the name of all the realms can we do now? Mithros, help me!"

He looked out of the door again and turned back, shuddering. It was a welcome respite for the pages, most of whom were watching or at least listening closely, vastly entertained. Neal, though, was close to tears.

"Oh, Neal. She's married! Surely it's different now, especially now that you know she's..." Kel was about to say 'going to have a baby' but, with a rare flash of tact, substituted, " got a temper worse than the Lioness's!"

Neal shook his head. "How could he love her if he speaks to her like that? I could never shout at Daine, or cast spells on her. He was so cruel! If she'd let it go, she wouldn't have been Daine. She answered him so well! I wish -"

"Quiet!" cried the master of ceremonies. "Quiet! Serve the next course immediately!"

Sighing, the pages did as bid, collecting plates and jugs and filing despondently out of the kitchens. The silence that greeted them was far worse than the quarrel had been.

Several courses later, after the cheese plate had been put in front of them, Numair shut his eyes for a second, took a deep breath and turned to look at his wife - who was regarding him with something in her gaze that disturbed him and made him nervous even as it quickened his pulse.

"Daine...", he said, and paused, "I love you. And... I'm sorry."

She went on looking at him for a second, still more cooly, and he felt his cheeks burn. Then she smiled.

"Accepted, my love. But don't do it again!"

He relaxed and leaned forward, putting his arms around her. She tenderly kissed his cheek and then looked into his eyes, seeing a wealth of sorrow and love to match hers. Their lips came softly together, first briefly then, it seemed, permanently.

At the kitchen door, Upton Oakbridge shut his eyes,