"Too slow!" Alanna grinned as she swung her staff and it landed squarely on his arm. He winced, moving away, and cast a fowl towards the Lioness. "How will you fight off an attacker if you handle a weapon like it's made of butter?"

"Gosh, Alanna, you're right. It's too bad I don't have anything else at my disposal, like the gift ." He tossed his staff to the ground and leaned forward, bracing himself against his knees to catch his breath. Dane laughed and looked up to wink at her. Her breathing was nearly as ragged, and he could see where her curls had begun to cling to the sweat on her neck.

"And when you're drained? What then?" Alanna twirled her staff in one hand, barely a hair out of place.

"Alanna if I'm drained I won't be able to lift a sword, let alone fight someone." He stood with a sigh. "I'll wait for Daine to save me. That's why Their Majesties employ her, right?"

Daine had moved to his side and nudged him, "I can't always be there with the rate you find trouble."

"That's rich, coming from you." He scowled when Alanna motioned for him to pick up his staff. "On second thought, I'll just roll over and ask them to make it quick. It's probably the only way I'll be able to retire."

"It's just a little self-defense, Numair. You're valuable to the crown and it's high-time you learned some," Alanna admonished him with a shrug, "at least until we can find someone more pleasant to take your place."

"I think it's Daine's turn." He waived her off.

"To wallop you?"

"So much abuse," he clutched his hand to his chest. Sarge's booming shout reached them through the thicket from where the rider's were being put through their own paces with sparring practice.

"Ah, more promising students wait." Alanna turned back to them, raising an eyebrow at Numair's expression. "Oh no, you aren't off the hook. The two of you can practice grappling until I'm back." She was already moving away through the bushes.

Numair sighed and turned to Daine. "Do we have to?"

"She's not wrong. It would do us good." Daine smirked, and moved to stand opposite him in the clearing. The rider could be heard in the distance, but he had insisted on a secluded spot where no one could see him get thrashed by his friends. There was a reason he had become a mage and not a knight; several of them, in fact.

"But my hair," he groaned, smiling at the laugh it earned.

"Already ruined." She spread her feet apart, bracing herself, and raised an eyebrow. He mirrored her, albeit taking up a somewhat wider footprint, and felt his body groan in protest. He was mentally calculating how many days he still had to survive in the saddle when she struck, wrapping herself around his stomach and trying to sweep his feet from under him. She nearly succeeded, but he caught himself and wrapped his arms around her to take them both to the ground. They rolled and he planted his legs to stop their momentum and trap her beneath him.

"Hey, you learned something," she grinned up at him, arms held above her head and panting.

"I guess so." He had surprised himself, truth be told.

"Embarrassing for me, though," she muttered.

"Oh, just wait," he grinned. She had barely had time to cast a questioning look when he released his grip on her wrists and began to tickle her ribs. She squirmed, laughing, and pushing against his weight. "It's not nice to make fun of people, Magelet," he laughed.

Suddenly, he felt the world tilt as she wrapped her legs around his waist and heaved them over. She brought them to a mirror image of before, her hands pressing his own into the soil. Where he had been able to use his size to hover over her, however, she was straddling his hips. He struggled to catch his breath.

"You're not supposed to let down your guard," she breathed heavily, still smiling and hair half-pulled from its fastening.

"Are you going to punish me now?" He responded before he thought of the implication; just as realization of the way he could feel her body against his own began to sink in. If he weren't so distracted he might have thought to take the words back.

Instead, he couldn't help but focus on the way her hands grasped his own and the way her thighs nestled around his hips. How something in her expression had changed at his words —a small shift but noticeable. From playful to excited. Predatory, even. He shivered, acutely feeling where else their bodies touched.

She shifted and he thought she would get up, but she leaned forward instead. It was so slight he wasn't sure if someone watching would notice, but he could feel it. Her body tensed, from her grip on his hands to where she straddled him. "And how should I do that?"

He swallowed as her exhalation fell across him. He wondered if he was imagining the huskiness in her voice—wishful thinking, perhaps—and the way she pressed into him. Her motives might surely have been a figment, but when she shifted again he knew the closeness wasn't. If he didn't push her away he would embarrass himself, if he hadn't already. And yet, one traitorous thought nagged at him as he watched more curls fall to frame her face—what if she liked it?

He licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry and useless. She leaned forward, and he would have thought he'd truly lost his mind if it hadn't been for her curls pooling against the fabric of his shirt.

Alanna's voice called out, close enough that Daine sprung up and moved across the clearing. Numair, still dazed and in no condition to be seen prone, pulled himself to a seated position.

Alanna's fiery head poked through the shrubbery and she clicked her tongue at him, "Surely she didn't beat you that badly."