For the fifty people who are following this story - this long chapter is for you.

Chapter 24

Alanna had left him sitting in his own little universe, considering the facts and the way his life had turned, but now he was sitting on top of the small table with his feet planted firmly on the chair with his chin resting on his right fist while his elbow rested on his knee facing the black space where he knew she was sleeping and he still was thinking about which road his life had taken.

He had moved from his study to escape the dark thoughts that roamed his mind, but sitting in the darkness while the sun was shining bright outside the curtains didn't improve or forced the dark thought away.

Sitting inside his bedchamber it was clearly that his thought only became darker with each second that passed, but there was a reason for them to be present and he knew that didn't make any sense in forcing them away, for they would only come back more stronger, more vicious and more cruel, only to torment him at night. He moved an inch, allowing the blood to gain asses to his now tingling and sleeping thigh.

Some of the dark thought was about his past and the few months he had lived under ground, only to be alive on the mercy of an insane man, his former friend, but others thoughts was speculations about if he had known beforehand that Galla had housed a girl with so unique gift, he was wondering why hadn't he sensed her strange abilities before now?

Given that he was well-educated in tracking down potential gifted in other countries such as Tusaine or even Tyra, his birthplace, he could have brought her to Corus long before his king had ordered him into this marriage. Looking over to where the sleeping frame was laying, he could still see the copper-colored fire that twisted from her, only to try to sneak out of every crack in his chamber. Her presence screamed that she was within the palace, but his wards would prevent the assassin to know where exactly she was and as long she was within his chambers, she was safe.

Thinking about the darker thoughts that presented themselves, he wasn't surprised that the destiny had brought her into his life – he only wished that the destiny had done the deed earlier.

Numair wasn't a fan of sitting atop the table he usually used for his many variations of cream and with his legs resting on the chair he had brought into his bedchamber from his study, he found that he was indeed very comfortable sitting in this place, just allowing himself to look at her.

It allowed his thought to wander easier and it wasn't until a shivering movement from his bed caught his attention – he found himself raising from the chair, walking slowly over to her, he squatted down and searched her face as if she would tell him in her sleep what was wrong. Forming a ball of light in his hand, he lifted it up over the brown hair and commanding the ball to stay where he had placed it in the air, he could clearly see that she was having a nightmare or maybe bad memories. He almost fell backwards on his bottom when she suddenly began to talk in her sleep.

"Please – no! Please – don't hurt me!" she begged pressing her face down into the mattress.

"Shhh" he tried to comfort her by words and was about to reach out to push her hair back, when she flinched from his reach.

"No!" again she exclaimed and he lowered his hand down. He came closer and it seemed that she was calming down on her own, when the last words left her lips "please not alone, I don't want to be alone!"

He was about to touch her again when something scratched the wood on the door leading out to the corridor. Someone was standing out there. Frowning he pushed himself up and followed the sound – opening the door, his vision was met by nothing but empty air. Only raising his eyebrows and about to close the door, something touched his leg briefly – Numair considered himself to a man with his feet firmly grounded, but the touch got him to jump and looking down rapidly he found a large reddish cat walking as if it owned the world into his study. "Oh no you don't" he said and left the door open to gather up the cat in his arms and carrying it over to the door, he pushed it out quickly and closed it.

About to turn around a movement caught his eye to his right, and walking along the wall was a black cat. It turned its ear when he came forth and only hissed at him, as his hands, rather awkward and inexperienced, lifted it up. He had never been fan of these furry creatures, that had an over-earthly wish to lay among his bottles with dangerous liquids. It had happened more times than he could count on his two hands, that when he was distracted enough to leave the door leading to the corridor open for time enough for them to sneak up, and settle themselves down in the middle of his experiments he had on a table. With a scatty mind it was bound to go wrong when animals was involved – this proved to be true when he was riding his gelding.

"You are going the same place – at the other side of the door" Numair halted his words as he was about to drop the black female down on the floor on the other side of the threshold – outside his door the reddish cat had multiplied itself to become ten cats in mixed colors; some walking, some laying – waving their tales up and down, a gesture that shoved utter impatience, and some again was cleaning themselves.

Wrinkling his nose he pushed the black cat out by placing his large hand at the cat's bum and closed the door. Looking down over himself he sighed at the sight of his previously white shirt. Taking a firm hold on the fabric he lifted the shirt out of his trousers, when something clicked on the window.

A starling was sitting on the windowsill, prickling its beak into the glass again and again. Numair crocked an eyebrow as another starling settled on with the other and when a third appeared, he was only beginning to start a single thought as yet two starlings settled beside the others.

"You must be joking?" Numair chuckled as they began to hammer on the glass simultaneously. "If you think that I would allow any of you to..." he stopped, turning over to the door that lead into his bedchamber before he turned back to the window, where the sun was caught in their black metal-shinning feathers. "So I'm given the choice to choose between cats or birds?"

One of the starlings broke of its prickling on the window, only to croak its head to the side as if to asses him.

Numair scratched his chin, wondering how he could be so dense – he did have a Wilde Mage sleeping in his bed. Numair turned to the door and opening it. Outside fifteen cats sat or lay on the floor, waiting to be given access to his rooms. They was sitting unnatural still, just looking at him with the same assessing look the birds had given him. "On one condition" he said giving them each of them a firm look "I will allow one to enter and the rest of you can come and visit when she's awake or the one who's chosen wants to leave – have I made myself clear?" pausing as if his audience was an assembly of young and eager pages he was teaching.

He was wondering if they could understand him when the first cat, the one that looked like a miniature of a red tiger, rose and walked with straight legs past him, brushing briefly against the fabric of his breeches and into his chambers. A mixture of a frown and a smile broke on his face as the other cats scattered away down the corridor.

The day had passed during his time sitting and the sun had moved in its own path over the sky, almost sinking down on the horizon. He had informed the King that he, nor her, under any circumstances, was going to take part in any ball before he was sure that she was alright and after much sending letters back and forth between them, Jonathan had agreed, to every squires happiness, that the ball or the introduction of the Wild Mage was going to be postponed.

Such Numair made sure that he was present in his chamber while she was sleeping and sitting with his book, the one he had tried to read in the attic, he was interrupted several times by pages that came to his door, knocking and delivering various letters that needed to be taken care of.

When the seventh time a knock sounded he gave up entirely and rose from his chair. Outside stood a nervous man dressed in soiled apron and a face that had been standing to near a hot furnace.

Numair narrowed his eyes, it was late afternoon and the previous letters had stopped arriving a hole candle mark earlier, so he had been sure that it had been safe for him to lay some sort of plan about beginning to teach Daine, who was still asleep. "Yes?" he asked while holding the door ready to slam the door shut. He hadn't seen the man before, but he couldn't know or see every person that worked under the Tortallan crown.

The man was nervous and without a word given he hold out chains made of steel and something else. It seemed that the smith, Numair concluded, found his way to speech as he handed over the item. "Sorry to disturb you sir, but she said that they was to be ready this afternoon and that they was to be delivered to you as soon as the steel was still warm" the smith said with an apologizing note in his voice. "I thought that I should take them myself after she told me who recipient was".

Numair took the steel and the metal in his hands began at once to buzz as a vibrating notion erupted from the chain – he paused, it wasn't a normally chain and as the vibration continued he realized that it was shackles he holding. He almost dropped them to the ground as a memory shot through his body and settled itself to burn in the deep scars on his back. "What...what am I supposed to do with them?" he asked looking at the man, who had taken a step back.

The smith shook his head "One does not question the Lioness when she gives an order" he answered and back further away "that also goes for her husband" he added.

Numair looked down again. He wanted so much to let go of the metal, but if he did, the smith would maybe start to question his reactions. When he lifted his face again the smith was halfway down the corridor "What about payment?" he called after the man.

This only lifted his arm and shouted a respond while still walking. It was as if the man couldn't be far away from the mage "An order from the Lioness doesn't need payment" and with that the smith turned around the corner, taking the stairs down to where the pages was being trained in various arts; such as mathematics, battle strategies, etiquette and of course, magic.

He was letting go of the door and withdrawing into his chambers, still holding the shackles he lifted his gaze only to find that a the red cat was sitting in the middle of the floor, looking up at him. "I don't suppose you know what it is I am to do with this?" he asked and as there was only silence, he muttered low "I didn't think so".

Opening the door for the cat, which he couldn't help himself to bow out of the room, he waited for the next to enter. Black as night, a new cat walked in and continued over to the door that lead to his bedchamber "Say to her that if she needs anything I'm right here" Numair spoke out loud, not expecting an answer from the cat, before he added "where else could I go now I think of it" he looked down with disgust lingering on his face "and what in Mithros' name does she want to do with these?"

Every small noise that came from his surroundings had him on edge and it took him a long time to settle down and relax enough to concentrate on the shackles that lay before him. It wasn't until the bell rang telling everyone that dinner was served that he had discovered the true meaning with the shackles – Alanna had somehow or by accident found out the one way to detain the assassin when they got their hands on him.

Numair had never told anyone, nor the king for that matter, about the qualities of the shackles that once had held him prisoner deep down underneath the fearsome palace made in marble and gold, his former home; the palace of Carthak. How she knew or had found out he didn't know, but the idea was the same – spell the shackles so the wearer couldn't use his or hers powers. They was neutralized and the one who would wear them would feel the feeling of downing, when they tried to gain access to their gift.

He knew the spell that had laid on the shackles he, himself, had when he had sat in the dark and damp dungeon. Cursing low under his breath, he tossed the shackles down on the table in front of him. Had he know at that time that he was the one to wear them for the first time, he would never had improvised in an experiment done on iron and such he would never had discovered the spell that would be used against himself.

He was in the process at writing down the pros and cons of that particular spell when a noise reached his ears. Numair dismissed it as some of the noises that came from walls, surrounding him, which liked to stretch themselves in the change from warm to cold as the day became night.

Another note was thrown over his shoulder, hoping, that it possible would land where it was supposed to – namely near the fireplace where embers pulsed weakly.

"Do you always treat papers such?" a low voice asked suddenly making him jump in his chair, flinching when the wood beneath him protested over the weight and the sudden movement.

Lifting his head with a jerk, his neck protesting under the quick movement and grimacing over the fact that he had sat in the same posture for far to long, he turned back to where a pile – a rather large one was shattered before the fireplace. It was a mess, pure and simply. "Actually" he replied softly looking back to where she stood "old habits die hard I'm afraid" he confessed.

Taking in her frame, the nervousness posture that had overridden the posture of a confident and stubbornly woman, Numair gave her a testing smile, but either she wasn't in the mood or she ignored it altogether as he allowed it to disappear from his lips. "Did I wake you?" he asked softly instead.

Daine shook her head, looking down at the black creature in her arms "She woke me" she replied, her voice a bit shaking. Lifting her eyes she found Numair waiting patiently for her to continue "She been trying to get your attention for the last ten minutes, but when you didn't notice her, she came back complaining to me that either you where to lazy or you were just simply caught up in your work – she needs to go to the privy".

Raising his eyebrows, he looked at the cat who only stared back with amber-colored eyes "My apologizes" he whispered and waved a hand in the direction of the door to the corridor. It was a gesture he knew was unnecessary, the door was spelled to answer one single thought requesting it to open and as the thing in question swung open, the cat jumped abruptly from Daine's arms and hurried out. "Indeed she was in a hurry" and looked at the door as if it had been naughty "oh for Mithros' sake – what comes after one exiting the room?" he asked, to no one in particular, but Daine caught the annoyance in his voice.

She flinched as the door crashed into closed state and she was sure that if the door had been a child, it would had struck its tongue out in a very bad behavior.

"So sorry for the rudeness" Numair said still giving the door an angry look "I'm fair sure that the nymph who lived in that tree before it was cut down spoiled it to its limits" he sighed low, only to turn his dark eyes to where she stood "ever since I received the new door, after I accidentally blew the other one to pieces, it has acted as a ill-mannered child – sometimes I think that the nymph purposely cast a spell on it before leaving it" he added before stopping his float of speech, why was he rambling and why in Shakith's name was he so nervous? Normally he was so self-confident when it came to woman, that he left them standing looking as if they just for the first time had seen a magnificent star, but being near her, his tongue seemed only to want to make knots.

Blue-gray eyes stared at him for the longest time and when she finally opened her mouth, the words that came over her lips wasn't the one he had expected. Numair had wanted her to catch the hint about the undine, but she had chosen a more serious subject, one he actually had no words for and when the line came, he crumbled in defeat.

"Someone like you shouldn't be marrying someone like me" it was said in so clear a statement, that she seemed almost shocked over her own words, slapping her hands over her mouth. Daine continued her speech, but he caught only half of it as her fingers suppressed her words.

"What?" he asked and rose from the chair.

Moving her hands only mere millimeters away from her mouth, she repeated the line "You are clearly a very highly regarded person in this country and someone like you will eventually find that marrying me was a clear mistake".

Narrowing his eyes, Numair moved forward as she began to move back. It wasn't until at the end, when she took an over-largely step backwards, that he realized that he was quit intimidating in his movements, like a predator walking towards its prey.

"Please don't hurt me" Daine whispered as she was backing up against the wall, turning her head away from him in such a way that puzzled him and it wasn't until a few large breaths later that he found that she was waiting for a blow.

Forcing himself away, turning his back to her, running his hands through his hair that was gathered in the neck, he mumbled low "I gave you a promise the night of our betrothal that I would never lay my hands on you unless you invite me" he paused – if only he could set her free, give her the freedom she was entitled to, but he couldn't as long the assassin was on her trail and he couldn't break the sacred bond that bound them together.

Turning around he found her mistrustful eyes lingering on him "When the assassin is caught, I'll take you to the temple of the Great Mother Goddess to get the betrothal annulled and then I'll help you financially to get settled somewhere you want".

To his surprise Daine's mouth dropped "You would do that? Get it annulled and then just give me your money? You don't know me!" she exclaimed and suddenly she crossed her arms in front of her, shoving him for the every first time the stubbornness that he had a feeling that lingered underneath the mask of insecurity. Leaning slightly forward, it was now she that was the intimidating part "What do you demand in return? Such sacrifice doesn't come cheap and what about the king, he did order you to be in an arranged marriage with me -" her features in her face changed from suspicion to utter horror "will he do something...will he hurt you?"

Numair was so bewildered that first no words left him, but as she continued to look at him with horror, really believing that the king was actually a cruel man – the only thing he could think of that very moment was to laugh – and the more confounded she seemed over his reaction, the more he laughed hard.

"Am I so funny?" Daine demanded to know taking a step towards him, raising herself up on toes, only leveling herself to the height of his chin.

Waving his hands dismissively he found himself taking an equally step back away from her, founding that the situation had turned, but he still continued to laugh helplessly.

Crowling, Daine took another step forward. How dared he, she thought, to laugh at her cost, but his laughing was contagious and she could help to smile a little herself and as the man in front of her was backed up against the couch, she only took one step forward – she actually liked the casual way he behaved - and gave him a firm push into his chest, making him fall back.

Numair yelped in surprise and landed firmly on the soft seat, the movement causing him to laugh harder and gazing up at her, he found that she was mere inches from him and about to lift his hand, the urge to strong to resist, wanting to pull her down to him – she turned abruptly, only to disappear into his bedchamber while soft words reached him.

"And Stel told me that woman here found him irresistible – I can't imagine why, he's simply intolerable!" and with that she was gone, gone behind the closed-door to his bedchamber, leaving him in a another fit of laughter.