As she watched him ride away, Daine felt nothing but a numbness in her throat. As he road away, she could tell from the tension in his back that he knew she was watching him. But then again, perhaps that unnatural rigidity was due only to his dislike of riding on horseback. Perhaps he didn't care about her at all; perhaps any hope of a real relationship had been a fantasy on both their parts.

All of yesterday, and even once this morning, Numair had come to knock softly on her door. But she pretended to ignore him, she went for a walk with Tahoi, she buried her head under her pillow. And so this morning, he had ridden away from her without saying goodbye for the first time since she realized she loved him. For the first time since she realized she loved him, she had begun to understand how empty her life would be without the tall mage who she still followed with her eyes. He wore a dusty traveling cloak over his black robes, and his saddlebags bumped along in time with his own graceless figure. He was just about to pass out through the gate when he turned once in his saddle and looked up to where the Daine-hawk circled lazily above him.

"I love you, Magelet," he spoke quietly, but he knew the wind would carry his words to her. Then he rode away and the bird that was his true love was left, winging in deft circles against the brilliant autumn sun.

The next four weeks were the slowest of Daine's life. Twice, Alanna had been forced to assign her duties around the palace after the maids found her lying in bed for hours on end. She took Cloud out on long rides and helped Onua with some of her old duties in the stables, but still she could not help feeling that without Numair around her life was bland and colorless. More than anything, she spent time thinking about the two of them, and how things might change when he returned. In the mean time, she had mostly forgiven him for forgetting about the lessons. Mostly. There were still nights when she would lie in bed shaking with anger, only to wake up in the dark hours of the morning because she thought she felt him next to her. Those nights, her body ached for him and she would shove a pillow tightly between her thighs to stop the longing. Soon, she took to packing pillows tightly around herself before bed every night, or simply not lying down without having practiced in the training yards until her muscles shivered with fatigue. By the end of the month, she would have done anything just to have him back by her side.

Numair returned to Corus on a bright but cold November afternoon. Watching from her window since the early morning, Daine was surprised to feel her heart quicken when she saw the familiar figure riding up the long road to the palace. She stood and went to her small bed, which she lay on for a minute with her fists clenched. I will not let him see me cry, I will not be angry with him, Gods, let him still love me. She waited until she saw a stableboy take his horse (poor animal!) and then allowed herself to dash from the window and down the stone staircase until she saw him, there in the entrance hall, and she did love him, she always had. Now she ran toward him, just wanting to be in his arms and -- something was wrong. He had caught her by the shoulders, and there was something wrong with his face.

"Numair! I missed you so much..." His face was as stern and cold as steel, and his voice when he spoke did not contain the usual calm warmth she was used to.

"Daine, we need to talk." It was only now that she realized he still held her at arm's length, that his back was ramrod straight and he would not meet her eyes. When he drew her into a closed room and told her that he did not love her anymore, it was this fact that she held onto, and when she finally made it to her room and allowed herself to sob in earnest, she realized that she had not once glimpsed his perfect coffee-brown eyes.

This was far worse than knowing that even though he was not nearby, wherever he was he loved her. Now she knew he was close to her and didn't even care, and it was killing her. Numbly she dressed for each day, numbly she did her duties around the capital, and numbly she assured those who asked that no, she wasn't sick, she just had a slight headache and would be back to normal soon enough.

The first time Daine saw him in a corridor and he did not acknowledge her, she barely made it back to her room before the tears came. But within a few months, she was used to the hurt of seeing him and not smiling, and could restrict herself to only the slightest of trembles when they were in a room together. Over the holidays, she visited with her parents in the divine realms. Though Sarra and Weiryn did not mention it, she knew they sensed something was wrong, and worried about her.

It was not until mid-March that Daine again spoke to her one-time teacher. She had just come from the training yards, and her lips were raw and chapped from the bitter wind. She barely registered the warmth of the castle, only stopping to irritably pull at her worn gloves. Deciding to beg a bowl of hot soup from the cooks, Daine made her way toward the kitchens. Concentrating on clenching her chilled hands, she did notice the two men climbing the staircase toward her until she bumped into one of them.

"Excuse me," she muttered absently, then looking up met a pair of deep, muddy eyes, set in a tanned face and framed by wisps of coal-black hair that had sprung loose from his horse-tail. "Oh!" Now she brought her eyes back to her feet as he brushed past without a word. It was only when she reached the bottom of the stairs that her blank hurt and surprise changed to anger. "Master Salmalín!"

The second man turned, but Numair only slowed his pace.

"A lady is addressing you, sir," obviously the other man was a courtier, his bland face unmatched by his brightly stylish clothing.

"I am only surprised, sir, that she has done so," replied Numair, equally as polite but far more coldly "as I had recently asked her not to." Then he turned sharply on his heel while his companion gaped after him, and Daine was left frozen at the bottom of the staircase.

"I loved you!" She shouted after his retreating back. "Numair Salmalín, I loved you. But I always thought you were so much better than these Gods-damned pretty boys, I thought you were so much more. You said we'd always be together --!" Here she broke off and leaned against the cold stone wall, letting herself slide down until she sat with her back pressed firmly against the rock. She allowed herself to cry until her tears dried up, and she had resolved to cry no more for any man.

A floor above, the mage Numair Salmalín excused himself from his still dumb-struck companion, and made his way to his study. It was only after the door shut firmly behind him that he allowed himself to sink into a chair and bury his head in his hands. His shoulders shook as he cried for the one woman he would always love, the one woman who must at any cost believe he did not care for her, and the one woman who even then shivered against a cold hard block of stone when he wanted so badly to hold her in his arms.