The two stayed nestled together for nearly two hours. George accidentally strode up the tower once, on a mission to stuff at least a roll or two down Numair's throat, and had stumbled across the heartstring-playing scene. Leaping down the stairs, he forcefully kept the Healer and his chicken's-roost of helpers from bothering the pair, promising curses to their ancestors and sharp cuts to their payroll if they dared disrupt the reunion.

"No, I don't understand what brought the lass back, but Mithros help me if I let you go a-questionin' her about it! Give 'em time; time we have plenty of. Noone's losin' any strength 'round here no more!" he barked to a particularly nosy maid, slamming the wooden tower door with more force than would be necessary to topple the whole thing over.

Upstairs, Daine lifted her face from Numair's, studying him while simultaneously trying to put his mess of hair to rights. He laughed and shook out her painstaking work, and Daine stuck out her tongue impishly, leaping to her feet.

"I was only trying to make you presentable, Master Salmalin. The court gossips will talk if you look like you've been rolling around on the floor with the dogs." She fell back on the bed, crossing her arms and protruding her chin like the stubborn girl she was.

" Dogs isn't what I'd like to hear. A pretty child of the gods.. perhaps.." Numair shakily lifted himself from the chair and hit the bed belly-up, his face on the same level as his student's. Daine rolled her impetuous eyes and shoved him with a shoulder.

"I apologize, Your Greatness. Can I be of a nobler service to you?"

His tone is wicked, Daine noted, as he rolled over, one hand bracing his body just six inches on top of hers. But, oh bless it, wicked is.. amazing. If their breathing aligned right, his chest would touch hers.. they were infinitely close, melted together in the warmth of the bedsheets and the cool of the air. Every curve of her soft body fell in perfectly with the angles of his own. Inches of air separated them-- only inches. Daine's breath caught in her nearly-bare chest, her fire-lit eyes speaking volumes about both hesitance and desire-- two very different and very dangerous things. Numair saw—and felt—the thinness of her nightdress and cursed the maids for putting on such a wretchedly skimpy thing.

She's tentative, the mage realized, mind drawn away from feminine topography. His dark eyes softened, the intensity of their gaze waning as he struggled with himself to keep matters light for the time being.

"What ever happened to good old flannel?" He chuckled, lifting himself up a bit, just to dispel the rest of his temptations. "Flannel would be much more proper for a healing goddess."

Daine shook her head and laughed, her feelings once again mashed into a mixture of uncertainty.

"Goddess, hah." She scooted out from under his lanky form, escaping to the opposite side of the bed and only barely managing to keep from stepping on one of the cats. Glancing about, she realized that none of the People had blinked an eye about the whole escapade. Do you all ENJOY watching?! She exclaimed, wringing her hands in her tangle of brown waves. Her face breaking into a disarming grin, Daine laughed as she lumped the spilled pillows and quilts back on top of the bed. Demi-goddess or no, her Ma had taught her never to leave a mess in someone else's cottage-- err, castle. Numair, too, stood up and set the room to rights slowly, his bones unhappy from their sudden increase of use. Whereas the girl had risen from the dead with a song in her heart, he had caught but a few hour's rest in a fortnight. Watching her, though, sends my spirits soaring on hawk's wings again.

Rounding the bed, Daine clasped her hand (which, for whatever reason, was small even for her five feet and eight inches) in the Numair's massive one. She tugged it vehemently towards the hall in the direction of the stair.

"Come on, Mage. You've probably kept the whole house awake with your snoring.. let's go tell them we're feeling as fit as colts in the summer rain, shall we?"

"Speak only of yourself. I could use a night's sleep--"

"-- what do you call that thing you just woke up from?"

"A cat nap!"

"I know cats that sleep for months! Now c'mon, nobleman, tell me what I've missed this past day."

Numair stopped, pulling his lighthearted mistress back 'til she faced him once more. "This past day? Magelet, you've been out of this realm for more than two weeks. You've had the entire countryside on their knees in the temples praying that the strangest of their saviors makes it through the summertime!"

The gravity of it all hit Daine with a force similar to that of a freshly-awoken wooly mammoth. "Weeks?" she squeaked, tightening her grip around his enormous hand.

"Weeks."

"Well," she said decidedly, eyes lowered, "I've a lot to catch up on. I think you'd best get started, Teacher."

Numair sighed and pulled her to him, shaking his head in disbelief. "You are too much to handle," he croaked, wrapping his arms firmly about her gentle curves. How can anything wield such power and hold such strength and still be such a child? And what have I done? The two rocked back and forth in a lover's embrace for long moments, neither saying anything. Thank the gods she's back—but am I right in wanting to keep her?