Update A/N: Just editing, no rewrites. Keep reading!
A/N: Thank you all, for your reviews! They are still coming steadily, and I'm thrilled with the feedback. I've had support, suggestions, advice, and amazing praise, and it means so much!
A couple of people have commented that they'd like to see another Daine/Numair one-shot. I've been working on a kind-of sequel to Stumbling Steps, where Daine and Numair's relationship is revealed to their friends. I've actually started more than one version, and have had a few good ideas, but nothing is really flowing just right. I'm still trying to get a feel for how they would go about it—or if it would be an accident—and what everyone's reactions would be. Don't worry, I'll keep working, I promise.
I upped the rating on this fic to PG-13 since I had an anonymous review which implied that the end of chapter five was not appreciated. To quote: "the last bit was nasty and totally unnecessary". No one else mentioned this, and even if they did, I wouldn't change it. First off, I thought it was quite tasteful—implied sex, but nothing graphic. Secondly, I can't imagine Diane and Numair's relationship without this element. Relationships should never be based entirely in sex, but it is an aspect of romantic relationships, and both Numair and Daine are young, healthy, and physically expressive people—consider the ending of The Realm of the Gods (remember their reunion after the final battle?). I use their intimacy to show aspects of the character which they keep fairly private, and to show another aspect of how they relate to each other. Case in point, the beginning of this chapter. So, for future reference: THERE ARE IMPLICATIONS OF SEX IN THIS FIC, INCLUDING THIS CHAPTER. There, done.
Anyway, thank you all for your reviews and, since someone was worried about this: no I won't abandon this fic as some writers do. I may end up with a slightly longer break between posts if I start to get stuck, but since I really don't believe in writer's block—or rather, in submitting to it—that break shouldn't be more than a week. Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere, especially not as long as you all keep feeding my ego.
Disclaimer: Okay, I think you've all got the point
Lingering Ghosts
Himura Seraphina
Chapter 6) Morning
Daine woke quickly; years of traveling, battles, and sleeping beneath the Rider's dormitories had ended her ability to drift gradually into wakefulness. It took only a heartbeat to remember the night's events.
She was in Snowsdale.
She stirred, reality sinking in and making her restless, only to feel the strong arm draped across her waist tighten, drawing her more firmly into the warmth of the blankets and her lover. Restlessness fading, a smile touched her lips as she laced her fingers with the ones resting under her breasts.
For a year they had been lovers, but the pleasure of waking up in Numair's arms had never waned. She had been used to sleeping near him while they traveled, and was equally used to the presence of warm bodies in her bed, as her People friends often joined her at night to keep her warm and provide company. She had thought that, except for their lovemaking, sharing a bed with Numair would seem no different. It had taken one night to realize her mistake.
Numair was loath to release her in sleep, and they slept close together, either spooning or with her at his side, using his shoulder as a pillow. There was something intimate about laying there, skin to skin, sharing warmth and even breath.
Going to sleep surrounded by his warmth, his spicy scent in her nostrils, and waking the same way, was one of her greatest pleasures and comforts. With Numair in her bed, she could sleep easily even without Kitten or any of her friends; when he was away from her, all the animals in the Palace couldn't make up for his absence.
Daine shifted closer to Numair, the entire length of her back pressed against his chest, his hips cradling hers. She felt him stir slightly, his breath washing over her neck as he sleepily nuzzled under her ear—one of his most endearing habits—and she playfully wiggled again.
She heard a faint rumble rise from his throat as his arms tightened further, stopping her movements. "Behave magelet—don't start something you can't finish."
She relaxed, her body going limp, and Numair's arms also relaxed fractionally as he kissed her shoulder gently. As soon as she felt his arms give, she pounced—turning even as she pushed him back. A moment later, she was looking down at him, stretched out on his chest with a wicked grin. "It's only false dawn—I've plenty of time to start and finish."
Numair laughed, a throaty chuckle that made her shiver, and tangled his fingers in her curls, which spilled over her shoulders and across his chest. "Really? Because if you're pressed for time I can hurry."
There was a look in his eyes that she had become familiar with, one which was both playful and hungry, and it never failed to make her shiver.
"Well, we do have a busy day—perhaps that's best."
In a move too quick for her to see, he lunged, wrapping her in his arms and flipping her onto her back. With his dark hair falling around his face, framing it and creating a screen around them, their lips only inches apart, and her wrists held gently but firmly in his grasp, Daine's breath shortened, speeding up further as all she tasted was his scent. His black eyes glittered in a face drawn tight with passion.
"Whatever you say, sweet," he murmured, even as his lips descended the meager space between them to capture hers. All rational though fled, taking with it worries, fears, and memories, and leaving only him; his scent, his taste, his touch.
His breathing, still slightly ragged, was broken by a faint chuckle that she felt more than heard. Daine lifted her head from where she was curled up on his chest to gaze dazedly at him. He took in her tousled curls and swollen lips and chuckled again.
"One of these days, magelet, you're going to kill me."
She humphed, dropping her head back down to his chest, listening to his steady—albeit rapid—heartbeat. "Don't blame me—you did that all on your own. I was just along for the ride."
His chuckle became an amused laugh as, with some difficulty, he lifted a hand to stroke her hair. "But you were the one who suggested the pace."
"It was only a suggestion—you didn't have to follow it."
He laughed again, so hard that she had to hold on or be shaken off. "But it was an excellent suggestion."
"Then don't complain." She found the energy, somewhere, to nuzzle against his chest, brushing a light kiss against his skin. His hand tightened in her hair.
"Stop that—that's what started this in the first place. Any more and you will kill me."
"I didn't hear you arguing," she muttered, to his further amusement, but relented, her ear once more against his heart.
They lay like that, amid tangled blankets, Daine draped across him and Numair stroking her hair, as their pulses slowed and bodies cooled. Finally, Numair spoke. "We'll have to get up some time—we do have a job to do."
"I s'ppose."
"Don't let them hurt you, Daine. If they can't see what you are, then they aren't worth your thoughts."
Gods, she loved him. "What am I, Numair?"
"You are Daine, the Wildmage, friend to the People and heroine of Tortall. You're friend to royalty—including an emperor—knights, and soldiers; a member of the Long Lake Pack, and the Assistant Horsemistress of the Queen's Riders. You're the daughter of Sarra, healer, midwife, and goddess, and Weiryn, god of the hunt. You're stubborn and passionate, brave to the point of foolhardiness, and loyal to the bone. You're Daine," he concluded, softly, "my Daine."
A tear slipped out, landing on his swarthy skin, before she controlled the rest. "Foolhardy, huh?" she managed with a sniff.
She could feel him smile. "Oh, yes—anyone who walks right up to enraged dragons, takes on entire flocks of Stormwings, tears down Palaces, and faces down the Great Gods—and not only argues with them but wins the argument—is utterly foolhardy."
"You'd best say it right out—I'm mad, is what I am. Besides, I'd have to be, to have taken you on."
"I didn't hear you arguing," he growled, playfully returning her own words.
"Well, you have your uses."
"Dare I ask?" he said dryly.
"You make an excellent pillow."
"My life is complete now—I can aspire no higher." He gripped the back of her neck, gently drawing her up to his face, where he kissed her once, hard. "Enough, magelet—we must get up, before someone comes to look for us." He slid out from under her to look for his clothes.
Daine curled up around a pillow and watched him, admiring, as he pulled on black breeches. "Your stamina is excellent too," she added helpfully.
He turned to glower at her, even as his lips twitched. "We do our poor best. Up!"
She frowned at him before rolling to her knees, holding out her hand for her discarded clothes. A sky blue shirt flew at her, falling across her head rather than into her hand. Daine struggled into it, muttering as she did so. "Your aim is bad, though."
"Care to wager on that?"
"You missed, didn't you?"
"No," he said calmly as her head emerged from the neck hole, "I didn't."
She scowled at him. "Why do I put up with you?"
He raised his eyebrow and, recognizing the expression on his face as pure mischief, she scrambled ungracefully back. His reach was long, however, and he caught her shoulder, pulling her into a long, drawn-out kiss before she could blink.
"I think that has something to do with it," he said calmly some minutes later as he drew back. His breathing was a little uneven, but she barely noticed as she stared dazedly at him, trying to regain her scattered wits.
"What?"
He dumped her breeches in her lap with a chuckle. "Get dressed, magelet."
She did so automatically. As she fastened the breeches, Daine finally snapped back into her senses. Her head shot up and she glared at him. "You are evil." Numair only laughed—and moved out of reach.
Numair and Daine entered the inn's common room a quartermark later to find most of their party already there, breaking their fast, along with a number of curious townsfolk. Spread out at one of the rough wooden tables by the hearth, all of the Tortallians minus Lena, and both Gallan knights and Baron Marcus ate while chatting or—in Evin's case—while yawning hugely. The Rider had never been an early riser, Daine thought with a amusement, remembering how Evin had received special attention from Sarge when he didn't wake on time; 'special attention' being the trainer standing directly next to Evin's ear when he let out one of his famed bellows.
"Ah, Daine, Numair," Raoul called out when he spotted them. "Come and sit."
The room, not particularly noisy to begin with, fell silent when Raoul called her name, as every one of the villagers turned to look—or, for some—glare at her. The serving maid looked fearful as she approached with bread, cheese, and dried fruit, and scampered away from the table and Daine as soon as she placed the tray before her. Daine shrugged as her friends looked disgusted.
"We can't get out of here soon enough," Evin muttered angrily, stabbing at a piece of yellow cheese and glancing around the room at the villagers.
"There is little that common folk fear more than the thought of madness." Baron Marcus said diplomatically. "You must forgive their ignorance towards Mistress Daine."
"The only thing worse than madness is curses to these folk," Daine told Evin, but she spoke so everyone at the table could here her. "And, thanks in part to Rikar, they see me as having both—they'll never accept me, or even stop being afraid of me. But then, they never really liked me in the first place, so it's not that different."
"Lena went to check in with the camp and give out the morning's duties," Buri spoke, changing direction swiftly. "When she gets back, we'll lay out our plans for today and the long haul. Are you up to a little scouting, Daine?"
"Always," Daine grinned, eager to have a reason to shapeshift and escape, briefly, the tension of Snowsdale.
"Alright, then," Buri concluded some time later, "the 7th Group will be scouting out it a five mile radius from Snowsdale, with Daine covering the entire circle. Evin, remind your group to stay in pairs and not to confront anyone they find—reconnaissance only. The 5th and the Own will be here, setting up a perimeter, and setting up precautions for any attack. This is what you want to know about, Baron," she spoke to Marcus, who was watching everyone at the table avidly. "How the Riders work with towns and villages, and what they teach the folk to do to defend themselves. Snowsdale is our base camp, since it's central to the region. Next week, we'll send small groups out to the other targeted villages to make the same arrangements, but its Snowsdale that's been the real target."
"Very reasonable, Commander."
"Excuse me, Commander," Sir Conrik asked, looking confused, "but how will Mistress Daine cover an area that it takes twelve other men to scout?"
Buri only raised an eyebrow as the rest of the Tortallians chuckled. It wasn't a question often asked—most of Tortall knew what Daine was capable of—and obviously looked forward to the anticipated shocked expressions of their escorts. Cedwin, who knew a great deal about her gift, turned to stare at her with wide, eager eyes. "You'll see, Sir Conrik," Buri answered.
"My men are ready, Commander, as soon as you give the word," Evin stated, standing up. "I'll be riding the northernmost sector, along with Relan."
"Good. Numair, the speaking spell?"
Numair held out his left hand, palm up, and focused on it. Within moments, a glittering ball of black fire laced with silver appeared. It rose several inches from his hand and into Evin's cupped hands.
A voice, echoing as if coming from inside a well, came from the ball. "Commander? Do we move out?"
"Everyone in their assigned sectors, with their partners," Evin said with authority, knowing that, at the other end, his voice was being heard by the entire camp through the spell's receiving end. "Don't split up, and don't do anything stupid. Do not confront any suspicious persons, under any circumstances—any one who does will be on latrine duty for three months, and I am serious. The spelled flares you have are only for emergencies, or if you're under immediate attack. Daine will be accompanying us as well."
"Yes sir!"
The spell collapsed, leaving several impressed Gallans. "Is that really an effective way of giving orders?" Sir Relwyn asked.
"Lack of communication between various parts of an army is one of the greatest difficulties in coordinating troop movements," Raoul spoke. "The spells allow immediate communications between officers, even in the heat of battle or over a large distance, and can't be intercepted like messengers can."
"And, once they've been set up, someone with even a small gift can activate the receiving end," Lena explained, "so you don't need a mage with every troop—making it perfect for Riders to uses, as well as the army, navy, and the Own."
Marcus looked eagerly at Evin's now empty hands. "I have a number of questions about that spell—I haven't seen a speaking spell like that."
"Nor I," Cedwin added.
"Then perhaps you'd like to speak to Numair this afternoon—he perfected the spell for use in battle."
Daine nearly laughed as Numair became the immediate focus of several sets of eyes. That would keep him out of trouble for a while.
"Daine, Evin, head out now."
"Yes sir," they responded, saluting, making Buri laugh.
Daine turned towards the main door, catching Numair's eye for a heartbeat. In that moment, they held an entire conversation with their gaze.
Be safe, sweet, and be careful
Always—stay out of trouble
She took two steps towards the door before she noticed Rikar and Hakkon standing several feet away—not surprising, as the village would become directly involved this afternoon when the Riders began making improvements to protect it. Hakkon looked past her, over her shoulder—ignoring her existence in the same manner that people were 'cut' at court—unacknowledged and therefore, nonexistent to their so-called 'betters'. She found it far more hateful than Rikar's overt disgust.
Evin had reached the door and turned to look for her. Seeing who she was watching, he made to return to her side—a curt gesture stopped him. Behind her, her friends were alert, ready to come to her aid at a moments notice.
"Sir Conrik, you wanted to know how I can cover the same distance as the 5th Company, didn't you?"
"Ah, yes mistress."
"Well then."
A moment later, over a heap of clothing, a giant timber wolf stood, four feet at the shoulder with a heavy pelt of mixed greys. There were gasps, shouts, and even a scream from the timid serving maid. With her wolf's nose, she could scent the fear coming from several people—predominately the two men she kept her gaze locked on.
Hakkon stared at her—her wolf self, anyway—in stunned shock, eyes wide and mouth agape. Deliberately, she yawned, revealing powerful jaws lined with sharp teeth, and was satisfied when he staggered back a step.
Rikar watched her with horror, true fear in his eyes. She felt no real pleasure, just a kind of peace—she had no reason to fear Rikar as she had as a child, because in the end, she was capable of far more than he was. In her wolf's body, she was able to attain perspective, and no longer saw the priest through a child's eyes, but those of the woman she was now.
She scooped up her clothes in her mouth turning to drop them by Numair. He raised a single eyebrow at her, as if to say 'And I'm supposed to stay out of trouble?'She shook herself lightly with a soft woof of amusement, before starting for the door.
A path between her and the entrance opened immediately as the lingering townsfolk scrambled to get out of her way. Evin held the door open for her, and at the threshold she sat down, sniffing the air.
The sky was clear, and she could cover more ground from the air than even her wolf-shape could. Shaking herself again, she changed shape once more, sliding comfortably into a falcon's body. Blinking rapidly to adjust to the raptor's vision, which had a narrower peripheral range than a wolf's did, she heard Evin clear his throat behind her.
Human hands cradled her gently as she was lifted from the ground. Carefully, fully aware of the damage a gyrfalcon's talons could do—including sever the spine of a human-sized animal—she griped Evin's wrist gently where his archery guards extended.
"Ready, Daine?" he asked and, when she bobbed her head, he tossed her up giving her the lift necessary to take flight.
Her last view as she shot off north was of Snowsdale falling away behind her, becoming little more than a grey-brown blur on the landscape.