Disclaimer: It's not mine! (sob sob) none of it is mine! Man that really blows for me. It all belongs to Tamora Pierce, setting, characters, the works.

Hi, it's me again. Thanks so much to people who read and reviewed the story.

Lady dove – I'm sorry for the mistake, thanks for the heads up and the compliments! 

Tammy P roCKs – thanks! And I agree whole-heartedly with your name

The foolish immortal: the answer lies within! (Freaky music plays)

Kings lioness: "yes ma'am" Bo replies meekly from beneath computer desk. (My fav line)

I'm sorry that the plot still hasn't come out, but I was very busy this week and am leaving for most of next week tomorrow. And I haven't given up so here's a bit of fluff to set up everything.

Daine woke to an incessant taping at the shutters. Wait a moment, I always leave the door open a bit in the rider barracks she shifted, meaning to open the shutters and admit some of her people friends. But she was trapped; a huge heavy arm was draped across her chest to rest on the bed cover. A large warm something warmed her back as she lay on her side facing the shutter. Suddenly it all came flooding back, Numair's room! She closed her eyes for a moment I slept here. She thought in dread I was just so tired – I'll never here the end of it! Tears collected behind her eyelids. Just because of the difference in their ages, their relation ship had to be kept secret from everyone. If the court gossips found out that they had slept in the same room, even if Innocent exhaustion was the cause, they would have Daine as a prostitute and Numair taking advantage of her in hours.

A tear of anger rolled down her cheek, didn't the stupid court realize how hard Numair and she worked for them! Almost every waking moment for the past 2 years, the duo had been busy for Tortall's benefit, first with Carthak and then with the Immortals, and they still were. Don't they realize what its like, spending Every-Waking-Moment for their benefit? Numair is fair worn to the bone, me too for that matter!

The tapping began again, and Daine struggled out from under protective arm. Her whole body felt heavy, and, looking inside her self, she saw the copper fire of her magic still little more than a flicker. She opened her window to admit two sparrows and a squirrel. She chatted with them for a moment before telling them she was heading back to the rider barracks in a moment. They departed, and she gazed around the courtyard, noting that the lights were on already in the royal meeting room. "I'm glad I'm not the king, having to deal with those court vipers all the time" She muttered as she sat back down on the bed.

"I'm glad you aren't the king too," murmured a light tenor voice behind her. She caught a glimpse of brown eyes before she was pulled down into a warm kiss. "I'm glad you aren't the king too," Numair panted when they came up for air. "He doesn't kiss half so well as you."

"What!" Daine giggled, "You've tried!"

He smiled and opened his mouth "wel – oofff..!" she punched him in the stomach, hard, and then covered his mouth with her own. He groaned softly and drew her closer, and for long moments they reveled in each other's prescience, ignoring the harsh reality of the court.

When they broke apart, Daine drew back and surveyed her teacher, friend and love, Numair Salmalin. He lay on his side, head resting on fist, while his other hand rested in the warm depression she had recently vacated. "I take it you've been here for a while," he said, trailing his hand across the depression she'd left. "Sweet, if anyone sees you here…"

" I know," Daine said sadly, "do you have some water?"

Numair motioned to the dressing room, and went into the workroom that came with his suite of rooms.

When magic was low, being cold and wet stimulated the magic, boosting a mage when his, or in this case her power was low or the mage was attempting a large piece of work.

Daine poured cold water from the pitcher on the washstand into a large basin; testing the temperature with a finger, it was ice cold. Numair stuck his head around the curtain that separated the dressing room from the rest of the suite.

"Here" he handed her a small cup of salt, which added even more to the amplifying effect.

"Here goes!" Daine said, after stirring in the salt. In her minds eye she saw the puddle of copper fire blossom into a larger spring not much, but enough for a small shift, a sparrow or some such. "See you at breakfast!" she cried, as her magic flowed through her.

In a matter of moments her clothes dropped – empty - to the ground, Numair catching them before they fell into the basin. He then pulled open a sleeve to let the sparrow inside fly out.

It perched on his shoulder, running its beak through his hair, then took off out the window, to speed off toward the rider barracks.

She soared through the early morning sky; the sun had just crested the horizon, and the palace grounds were quiet. I'm lucky that most of the court isn't on travel hours like Numair'n me. Daine thought, reveling in the lightness of her wings. It was nice to have limbs that didn't feel as if they were constructed of lead.

The rider barracks drew closer, and she looked down to see a large group of young people her own age gathered in a fenced paddock. They were all tentatively approaching a number of fierce mountain ponies gathered there; Onua must have brought them from Galla without Daine this year. She swooped lower, toward the storeroom that had been converted for her use. The outer door was open a crack – for her people friends – she darted in and perched on the bed. She started to shed her sparrow shape, but without the stimuli of water, going from a finger's length to her own five feet four inches was a challenge. Back in her own skin – and not much else, her only garment was the silver badgers claw around her neck – she stumbled over to the cloths press and began to dress. I'm fair worn out, if one shift can tire me this much! She thought.

A few moments later she left her room, clad in simple tan breeches, a sky blue shirt, and a forest green tunic. She spotted the rider's commanders over the fence of the paddock. Buriram Tourakom, or Buri, commander of the queens riders, Onua Chamtong, the rider horse mistress, Sarge, the second in command to the riders. Farthest away from Daine, leaning on the fence, deep in conversation with Buri, stood queen Thayet the peerless of Conte, often called the most beautiful queen in the world. As Daine approached, a trainee rode by the fence, plying his riding crop cruelly on the piebald pony he rode. Before the instructors could shout at the trainee, a stallion's, long, commanding scream pierced the air. Every pony, rider less or ridden, galloped over and encircled the piebald and abusive rider, all poised to bight or kick. Absolute silence fell.

Without turning around, the queen said dryly. "Welcome home, Daine."

"If I ever see you do that again," Daine's voice strained from holding the ponies back. "I wont hold them back!"

The commanders approached Daine as the trainee dismounted and dropped the riding crop. With that the ponies returned to the now speechless trainees who had been inspecting them before the incident. "You don't look so good," Onua stated to the panting Daine, "your quite pale"

"Nothing next to poor Derek over there," Thayet's voice was muffled by the a hand over her mouth, "he looks ready to wet himself!" Daine looked at the queen, then at Buri; both riders were stiffening laughter with their hands.

Suddenly they both burst out laughing, Thayet clutched her sides and roared with laughter; something she would never have done in any company but the riders. "Shoulda' seen the look on his face!" Buri roared as Daine giggled and was enveloped in hugs from the rider commanders.

These people had been her first friends at court, and they were like a family to her now. Onua was like a big sister to her, helping sort out her feelings just after her family had been murdered, Buri could sympathize with her about the war. And Thayet, Thayet was always there, constantly proving that nobility could work just as hard as commoners. It hurt her inside that she couldn't tell them about her relationship with Numair.

She was called out of her thoughts by Thayet's voice. "I swear, if Jon sends you out again without at least a week of rest, I'll slap him."

"Rather you than me, Thayet! Why he'd be so mad he – " Buri was cut off by a loud protest from Daine's stomach.

After much more laughter, Daine left them to the trainees and headed toward the palace proper, where she and Numair would report to the king over breakfast.

She arrived in the royal suite with Thayet, to find both the king and Numair already seated, and serving themselves eagerly – and, on Numair's part – stiffly

"Ah, Daine, have a seat, you must be hungry." The king said as Daine slid in beside Numair.

"How are you feeling, Magelet?" Numair inquired softly, as though she hadn't seen him just an hour before.

"Worn out," she replied, serving herself a pancake, "you?"

"The same, although better than last night" they both smiled at the understatement"

"Yes, about last night, Jonathan," Thayet said in an icily conversational tone. "Numair was unconscious! You are working them entirely too hard."

"As you know, dearest, there are some situations that no one else can handle. I've only one Wildmage, and, unfortunately, only one blackrobe." He looked across the table into each pair of eyes in turn, sapphire meeting blue-gray and brown.

Daine no longer tingled from his gaze. The first time Numair had kissed her had put flight to that for good. "I apologize greatly for working you both so hard, but it can't be helped. Anyway, down to business. What have you to report?"

So? Please review, because they make me feel all warm and tingly inside cya ASAP, AKA Friday, bye

Bo the Bowfull bowman!