Dunlath's dining hall was much improved since Daine's first visit, years prior, if a little cramped. With each visit she had noticed more tables added, and fewer free seats. On her first visit, it had been to accommodate the servants—happy to break bread at their lady's table once more. Then, of course, space was needed for the visitors from the village—human and ogre alike—should they happen to be there during meal hours. And, as Maura found her footing, more and more visitors from beyond the valley seeking favor, mutual connection, and the hospitality Dunlath came to be known for. Tonight, though, the hall was as lively as it had ever been in honor of the betrothal ceremony for The Hon Josu the Youngest of Josu's Dirk and Lady Maura of Dunlath.
In Daine's opinion, the ceremony had been lovely enough—the pair was obviously smitten with one another, which was about as much as you could hope for when a love match wasn't even a part of the conversation—but the following banquet was the most fun she'd had the pleasure of attending. Barring her own future, and theoretical, betrothal what other could she hope to have ogres, a basilisk, a dragon, and a very well-dressed squirrel in attendance?
It doesn't bother you?, Daine asked Flicker, adjusting the tiny jeweled collar around his neck. A neck that was substantially thicker than when they'd first met, mind you. He nibbled at a honey-drizzled cake and and tracked on the tablecloth with sticky paws. Despite the gray of his once vibrant coat, he still moved with the sprightliness his name demanded.
Bother me? He huffed, licking frosting from his nose. It took her long enough to start giving me my own instead of her cast-offs.
An image appeared: A younger flicker pulling a ribbon from Maura's hair to wrap around himself, chittering at the young noble angrily.
Daine chuckled, you have others, then?
Oh, yes. Many. His tail twitched. But this is my finest.
"It is very pretty," she told him, speaking out loud now for the benefit of the mage seated next to her. She'd felt, more than saw, when Numair Salmalín leaned around her to get a better look at the squirrel.
"Are those black opals?" His eyebrows twitched together as he inspected the collar and Daine translated.
Yes, was the pleased reply. From the mines. Tkaa once told me that there was a human ruler with a neck decoration that has six rows of them. Mine has seven.
Daine hid a grin at Numair's scowl when she relayed this message.
"Fine thing when a squirrel is better dressed than I," he grumbled, sitting back in his seat. At the far end of the hall, a set of double-doors she'd never been through opened and a herald announced that it was time to commence with dancing.
Josu offered his hand to his future bride, who blushed sweetly and accepted it before the rest of the room followed suit. From the corner of her eye she saw Tkaa leaning far to one side so that he could lead Kit. The dragonet, for her part, walked carefully on her hind legs and, to Daine's amusement, mirrored Tkaa's habit of carrying her tail over her free paw. It would take them some time to make their way to the ballroom at that rate, but anything that occupied Kit's attention was a win in her book.
A tap on her shoulder drew her attention and she turned to find Numair standing over her—head inclined, one hand behind his back, and another extended towards her. She smiled, pleased, but shook her head and motioned with a pointed look towards a pretty noblewomen at the other end of the table who was without an escort. Decorum dictated nobles receive first offers of escort, and they were always encouraged to mingle with society when they were at formal events—Thayet felt it helped lessen resistance from high society to the oddities Their Majesties kept company with.
He shrugged—a small enough motion that you'd have to be watching for to see—and motioned again for her hand. She shook her head again, rolling her eyes at his look of mock-hurt as he turned to offer the Lady his escort, casting one final glance and a wink back at her before he did so.
Sir Douglass of Veldine caught her eye from across the room, leading Lady Elise of Palinet, and she smiled at his questioning look. She was sure he'd summon an escort for her out of thin air if she gave him any reason to believe she desired it. Alone, she was last to leave her seat and it was precisely how she preferred it. Much easier to slip in and out unnoticed if you weren't making small talk with someone who was, at best, wondering if you would be up for a bit of fun in an errant rosebush and, at worst, terrified of you.
Would you like to be my escort? She offered a hand to Flicker, who shook his head and leaped over a centerpiece to reach an unfinished platter of cakes.
No, there is plenty here to occupy me.
You'll make yourself sick. She was a little shocked at how much he'd eaten already.
Don't worry. I can eat a lot.
Shaking her head, she made her way to the far room. Inside, Josu and Maura had already opened the dancefloor and numerous couples—Numair and the pretty honey-blonde he'd escorted among them—were were dancing to a lively, sweeping tune. She found a comfortable seat in a corner where she could chat with the castle cats, Scrap—grown and trailed by several of her own children—among them. She declined two dances, but accepted three—one from Douglass of Veldine, and two from Numair. The party was well on its way, and far from over, when she asked a servant for wine cut with fruit juice. It was a trick Numair had shown her years back that had made it much easier to enjoy a bit of drink without the need to be so wary. Across the hall, Josu's grandmother was working hard not to look scandalized as one of the Ogre Chieftan's lifted Kit so she could choose a dessert from a tiered display.
Eyes scanning the room, scowling to see Numair dancing with the blonde again, she caught sight of Maura waving her over from where she sat at a small, raised table. Dislodging several cats and one shaggy hunting dog, she complied.
"Hullo," Daine curtsied, and accepted Maura's motion to sit.
"We've barely had a chance to speak, I'm afraid." Maura turned to her, taking Daine's hands in her own. It had been a delight to see Maura grow into her own over the years; Life ruling a fiefdom suited her. From the well-bred but awkward girl of ten, she'd found a certain approachable charm that balanced her plainness and a confidence that commanded respect. Word of her from her subjects—which Their Majesties did keep an ear to, much to the chagrin of some Fiefdoms—were almost always kind.
"You've been fair busy," Daine smiled. "Congratulations. You seem happy." She hoped she was right. She had her own hang-up's when it came to the matter of marriage, goddess knew, but she also had freedom—she never quite knew how to approach the matter with her friends who lacked that.
Maura blushed, dropping her head. "I am. I think," she bit her lip, "I don't want to jinx it, but I think we'll make a good match. He's been lovely and," she leaned in, as if sharing a secret, "I think he might like me too."
Daine squeezed her hand. "I think you're right. I'm surprised he's not here—I've hardly seen him leave your side." Maura looked more than a little pleased at the observation.
"I'm glad to have a moment just us, though. I have something to ask you." The younger woman was blushing violently.
"What can I help you with?" Daine eyes her warily—sure, Maura was still easier to fluster than her Rider friends but she'd learned to take much in stride since she became responsible for the valley.
"I need information," she whispered, glancing around to make sure they weren't overheard.
"I'm happy to help with scout word, but is it so urgent it can't wait until morning? You should enjoy the party, Maura. It's for you, after all."
"No, it's nothing like that." She was clearly a little frustrated. "And I've been wanting to ask you since you arrived—well, before that but I was too nervous about putting it in writing—but it's been so busy and I don't want to miss the chance. I need to know about," she faltered, deep blushing, "the marital embrace."
"The marital embrace?" Daine pulled back, brows knitted in confusion, "What's the marital—oh. Oh!" Well, the blush was explained, anyway—as was the concern over being overheard considering the company in attendance. "Maura, has Sir Douglass—" Maura made a face, "—No, of course he wouldn't have done it himself. Has he not had a healer come to explain the facts to you?" It was no surprise Yolane hadn't taken care of telling the girl the nature of such things, but surely others would be aware she'd need at least a little education.
"Of course he did," Maura huffed, "I understand where everything goes—mostly, I think—it's not that." She straightened, smiling at a passing Lord, before turning back to speak to Daine in a hushed voice. "I've been told what to expect but it's all so," she made a face, "procedural. And I'm not naïve, I've heard my friends in the village talk, and I know there's more to it than begetting an heir but no one will tell me what that more is."
"Alright," Daine said slowly, biting the inside of her cheek. She was somewhere in the transition between being taken aback and amused but not quite sure which end she was closer to. "How do you expect me to help?"
"Well, I mean, you've," she gestured vaguely at the older woman, "right?"
It was Daine's turn to blush. She'd talked of such things among close friends on occasion, but she felt very exposed to have it sprung upon her while sitting at a table set to make its occupants a spectacle. Still, Maura seemed more than a little anxious and Daine had been privy to more unfortunate situations involving girls unaware of basic information than was decent. Maura, for her part, was still deep in conversation—more than a little bit of which was clearly with her own self.
"I mean, you've been all over the Realm and beyond on these great adventures and you've talked to gods and dragons and you don't seem interested in marriage—Douglass told me he'd heard you've had at least one offer, and that was long ago enough now we'd have received notice if you accepted—and it's all so adventurous. When you read a story like that there's always romance, so—'
"Maura." Daine held a hand out to stop her, raising and lowering it slowly to signal it was time to breathe. With a slight motion, mustering as little motion as she could get away with, Daine nodded once and spoke, "It's alright. What would you like to know?"
Maura was off again. "Oh, goddess bless. I've read this three times," she pulled out a small book from a fold in her skirts and Daine grimaced when she recognized it. There were at least a dozen strips of parchment stuck between the pages, marking areas Maura had thought important. "And all I've gotten from it is to not do it until I'm married, not to even think of it if I really want to be proper, because it will ruin me. But once I am married I should be willing and joyous about the act to please my husband. Except it doesn't tell me anything about how to go from knowing nothing to knowing enough to be pleasing, or enjoying it for that matter. And, well, I shouldn't say this but he's already—" She faltered, looking down at her hands. She picked at a worn corner of the cover.
Daine placed her hands on the girls, taking the book from her gently. She'd read Advice to a Young Noblewoman—well, part of it, anyway—after Thayet had gifted it to her in what she hoped was a well-meant gesture. She was not a fan of the author's, Fronia of Whitehall, advice. Frankly, considering Thayet's liberal stance on so many other matters, she'd been a little shocked to find that the Queen agreed with the text but it was not her place, or her world, and the book had become popular among the Tortallan nobility.
"Maura, has he asked for something you're uncomfortable with? You don't have to do a thing you don't want to." She squeezed the hands in her own. "A betrothal is not a marriage, if he's pressuring—"
"Oh, no." She shook her head. "He hasn't asked a single thing of me, really. Well," she grinned, "one thing. He made me promise we wouldn't name any heir after him."
Daine laughed. There were more than a few bawdy tavern songs about Josu's Dirk, and she did not envy the young man's misfortune of carrying the the full name. The Lords of the Fiefdom seemed aware enough of the entendre not to hoist it upon a first son, but apparently felt the tradition too important to pass up the opportunity with the second.
"Well, any son—and Josu, once he's your husband—would be of Dunlath. The name on its own isn't so bad."
"No, but I think he's a little traumatized by it still." She took a deep breath. "But, what I was saying before—he did kiss me. A few times, actually." She was still smiling, but it was a very different expression.
"And?" Daine grinned, recognizing the look for what it was.
"It was lovely," Maura breathed. For all her plainness, she looked quite pretty. "I know we weren't supposed to—"
"Oh, pish." Daine flicked her fingers in the air. "There's nothing wrong with a little kissing. I'd argue it's good to know you've at least a chance of getting along in that way, considering you're to be married."
"The book says that a good noblewoman—"
"If not being kissed before you're making your vows is required to be a good noblewoman, I have some unfortunate news about the state of the Tortallan court for you." Daine smiled. Clearly, the girl had never taken a stroll through the Palace Gardens on Midsummer.
There was at least a little relief in Maura's sigh, "That's a relief, then. But I've also been wondering if it's worth waiting for everything else." She was speaking quickly again. "And I don't know that I want to do more before marriage, but I don't know that I don't want to either."
"Well, you're already betrothed and of an age to marry. Does it have to be a choice or either or?"
"Douglass wants me to wait until I'm eighteen." Maura made a face that earned a laugh from her companion.
"I take it you're none too fond of that idea?"
"I suggested sixteen."
"That's in a month, no?" Daine struggled not to smirk at the idea of Maura and Douglass debating when she would marry. She could see both sides of the argument. Younger women married every day, and Maura had a good head on her shoulders, but she'd seen enough bad marriages to understand why Douglass was taking a more conservative approach. At the end of the day, though, Maura had a very different set of responsibilities than Daine and it wasn't something she could truly understand.
"Six weeks," she replied as if the two weeks made all the difference, "I think I'm wearing him down. We usually settle somewhere in the middle of our opinions, anyway. I should have started my argument earlier."
"Well, regardless of when you take your vows—it's the choice of whether to wait or not that has you so fixated?"
"Goddes, no. That's part of it but there's so much more. What if I like kissing him, but I don't like everything else? What if he's bad at it? What if I'm bad at it? How are you supposed to be good at it all when you've never done it, and what if he's expecting me to be good at it? What if I don't know where something goes and he thinks I'm foolish? What if neither of us know where anything goes and we can't figure it out? I assume he's done it before since men usually have but I haven't asked—and how do you ask that, politely, anyway?—and I don't know if I really want to know. And what if he doesn't know what he's doing and I don't like it and I want him to do something different, but I can't really tell him what to do because of course I don't know what I'm doing so how could I know—" She gasped for breath and Daine leaned in.
"Take a breath, Maura. I promise, it's not all as difficult as I think you've made it out to be in your mind." Seeing Josu approaching from over Maura's shoulder she winced. "I'm afraid we have company—no, breathe. We will talk tomorrow, I promise. A ride around the lake, I think, so we can have the privacy to put your mind to ease." She stood, tucking the book into the pockets of her own skirts, and curtsied to Josu.
"I'm sorry that took so long, my dear," he put a hand on Maura's shoulder and Daine smiled at Maura's reaction to the endearment. "I'm afraid the world is changing a little too quickly for my grandmother."
"At least one of those changes is my ward, I'm afraid." Daine spotted Kitten, eyeing the jeweled trim on the grandmother's long sleeve. "I'll have words with her. She should know better."
"Please don't," Josu chuckled. "She was always after me to broaden my horizons as a youth so I'm quite enjoying the turning of the tables."
She left the couple to one another with a long exhale. Tkaa had taken Kit in hand, so there was nothing to occupy her in that regard, and she scanned the room for Numair. Not finding him, she scowled until she noticed that his dance partner was still in attendance. The next most likely scenario was quick work to confirm with the help of the north tower bat colony, already out on their nightly hunt.
She asked a servant outside the hall for a pitcher of wine and two goblets, declining their offer to carry it for her, and found her way to the observation deck nestled on the top of the north tower. She tripped on the last step, keeping her balance but wincing at the twinge in her ankle. She'd twisted it climbing down from the tree that housed Flicker's brood on their first day and she'd promised Numair to see the healer, but hadn't.
"A star shower you just couldn't miss, or tired of the crowds?" She asked when he turned to see who was approaching.
He smiled, "A little of both." He turned towards her from his seat, a stone bench built along the entire perimeter of the wall, and leaned forward to pull a stool out from under the small table next to him. "I wasn't expecting company." He didn't seem displeased by it, just questioning.
"Well, how could I stay when my favorite dancing partner left?" She grinned and noticed, with some surprise, how he tried to hide a pleased smile.
"Lying is not a becoming trait, magelet," he teased. "I can think of at least one man you've enjoyed dancing with more. You've never blushed like that with me."
She groaned and felt her face grow hot at the memory—one she'd hoped she'd live down someday, but it seemed ever more unlikely as time passed. She placed the goblets on the table, filling them, while he watched her. "In my defense, how many girls have their very first dance with the King of Tortall? And without any warning?"
At fourteen, in preparation for her involvement with the delegation to Carthak, her etiquette lessons with Thayet had turned into a dancing lesson with the King. This was rather before she'd learned to look him in the eye without feeling at least a little nervous, so to dance with him—and step on his feet so many times—had been overwhelming in a unique way.
He laughed, "I thought you might burst into flames with how red you were." He accepted the goblet she passed him with a raised eyebrow. "Are we toasting something?" As a rule, they didn't often imbibe when it was just the two of them.
"We're having a drinking conversation." She took her seat, crossing her legs and feeling one of her slippers dangle off her heel.
"Ugh, not you too," he scoffed. He'd lectured her many times for her habit of rolling her eyes, but he could compete with her on that front when he was in the right mood.
"I see you've also had the pleasure of Onua's philosophy on the matter."
"Unfortunately," he replied, nonplussed, "and I will tell you the same thing I've told her: there is no conversation that requires drinking. The only strategy to her drinking conversations is that she hustles you so you get drunk enough that she can get out of the conversation."
Daine grinned, "then you've never been on the receiving end. I've had a couple where she's been the one doing all the talking."
"I'm more than a little intrigued, but I won't insult either of us by prying." He swirled the dark liquid in his cup. "Now, what can I help you with?"
Daine sighed and dove in. "Maura has herself all worked up over the idea of sex and she's got questions I don't know how to answer, so I'd like your help."
Numair blinked, took a drink, and spoke with a sigh, "Well, I owe Onua an apology, I suppose." He rubbed his face with his hand. "I'm a little confused as to why you would need my help, though. I seem to remember a very pert and very informative overview from you some years ago on just how well your mother had prepared you regarding the facts of canoodling." He grinned, elated that Alanna had been on the receiving end of the sass and not himself.
"She says she's got the theory well enough," she rolled her eyes, remembering the incident he was referring to, "but it's the practical I'm at a loss on."
"The practica—oh. Oh?" He pulled his head back in surprise, looking more like a stork than ever. "But you've—surely. I had thought—" Several expressions appeared on his face in rapid rotation with confusion chief among them. She'd never seen him flounder quite so spectacularly. "Have you not—?"
She laughed when understanding reached her, "Oh, goddess, no. I've had sex, Numair." She raised one eyebrow at him. "You didn't really think I was a virgin, did you?"
"No, I didn't, but then you said—" he waved his hand helplessly and sighed, taking another drink. "Can you please put me out of my misery and tell me exactly what it is you think I can help with?"
"I'm sorry, I wasn't very clear. Considering her questions, I think I need a better grasp of the man's side of it all and, honestly, I've never given some of it much thought."
"Ah, that makes more sense. Why don't you relay her questions and we can start there."
Daine walked him through the conversation—to the best of her ability due to the speed at which it had been communicated to her—and he pinched the bridge of his nose, listening intently. It was fair amusing to her how his learning brain, as she had referred to it on many occasions, could override his discomfort in almost anything—from handling vile smelling substances to, evidently, discussing sexual hang-ups with her. If it was all kept hypothetical enough, anyway.
He whistled softly when she was done. "Poor girl."
"I know; I don't remember it all being half so overwhelming."
"Neither do I, but," he winced, "I suppose neither of us were facing it with the prospect of it being our only partner." He sat for a moment, running a finger along the bridge of his nose, because he realized the implication of his statement. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed what you—"
"Odd's Bobs, Numair. Please." She rolled her eyes. "Marriage was not—and has not been—my aim."
"I don't want to offend you," he sighed.
"You've always said I'm too practical for my own good, haven't you? The only way you'll offend me is if you keep acting like I must become fragile once something turns to bed games."
He smiled, just a little, at the euphemism, "Fair enough. Let's—for tonight—agree that we will just speak frankly about the matter? I fear we'll never get to the point if we don't." He clinked his goblet against hers when she offered it in mutual agreement. "Alright, it sounds as if she's spoken to a healer about what to expect in simple terms?"
"She says she understands that well enough, but I plan on going over it once more all the same," she laughed, interpreting Numair's expression correctly. Another thought occurred to her. "She didn't mention if she had a charm, though. I know children will be expected once they wed—"
"It sounds like one may come before the other, though. She should have one. I've heard it can be hard for women—especially noblewomen—to procure them outside of the cities. Douglass is a practical man, but I doubt this is an area he's even thought to involve himself. I'd be surprised if anyone else has taken it upon themselves to give her one."
"I can't imagine her going to the healer on her own—especially not with just the one in the village, and her being known to everyone."
"I agree. And expectations once they are married or not, she's young and should have a say."
"Well, I'll ask and if she doesn't that's easy enough to fix. I'll give her mine," she shrugged. "I can get another back in Corus."
"I can make you one before then, if needed." He toyed with the stem of his goblet, shifting the base around the table top.
Daine grinned, "For all the romance I'll find on the road between Dunlath and Corus?"
He sighed, opening his mouth and closing it once before speaking. "I wasn't trying to insinuate, just offering my assistance so you weren't going without."
It was too easy to tease him. "Your assistance to make sure I won't go without canoo—"
"Without a charm." He shook his head at her, but the ghost of a smile played on his lips. "You're exhausting, have you been told that?"
"Often; mostly by you."
He ignored her. "Besides, you don't always plan these things."
"You don't?" She asked in mock astonishment. Her jaw was beginning to hurt from grinning, but she was too amused by the situation to stop.
"You know, since the opportunity has presented itself, I'd like to say that despite the reputation given to me by the court gossip mill I very rarely have," he waved his hand around, searching for the right words, "aims. I prefer things to feel organic. For there to be some authentic connection. And if there's an opportunity that both parties are receptive to," he shrugged, letting the statement linger.
"I know." She nodded, voice losing its teasing edge.
"You do?" He glanced up at her, and back at his goblet. There was tone to his voice that would go unnoticed by many, but she recognized as vulnerability.
"Yes, it's fair clear to anyone who knows you that you're no rake."
He sighed in clear relief. "That's good to hear. I'd wondered what you thought when you hear such comments about me."
"You worry what I'd think?"
"Of course. Your opinion matters to me. Greatly, in fact."
"I didn't think that applied to these types of things."
"It applies to all things."
"Well, if you'd like to know, I think quite well of you in all things."
He smiled, pleased, and she was tickled to see how he blushed. "I do like to know that. It's mutual, to be clear."
"And I know you don't spend your time prowling around court for another conquest—you'd never have time for your experiments," he laughed at the statement, "but you have to admit that authentic opportunities aren't exactly rare for you with being so charming and handsome."
"Charming and handsome?" He shifted, suddenly the picture of confidence, and beamed at her.
"Humble, too. Did I mention that?"
"Of course, of course," he waved a hand at her before crossing his arms, "but more on the handsome part. It's the hair, right? Did I tell you I revised the formula for the yellow serum? I get to smell like cloves all the time now."
"Mouse manner; avoiding the accusation."
"I assure you," he leaned in, hand over his heart, "I'd never avoid the accusation of how handsome I am. I take full responsibility."
She giggled, a little put out at just how well his charm worked on her. "You're fair aware of it, so you must be fair aware of the opportunities it affords you."
He leaned back, blushing a little in the moonlight, but not before tweaking her nose. "You're not exactly hard on the eyes, magelet. Have I ever lectured you about glass houses?"
"Many times."
"Then you know the dangers." He picked up his glass again, taking a long drink, and studying her before speaking again. "I think you're afforded plenty of your own opportunities with little searching on your part."
She looked away and knew she'd developed a blush of her own. "I do," she faltered, considering her words, "enjoy the rush of it all. The connection. The spark. Whatever you'd like to call it. I find that it all feels a little dull—faded—if you try to force it, so I prefer to wait, if I need to, rather than try to light something on fire that was never meant to catch."
"I couldn't have put it better myself." He was still watching her. She could see him from the corner of her eye, but didn't quite trust herself to look at him directly lest he see something telling. He sighed, "Unfortunately, though we may be in agreement, I don't think this line of thinking helps Maura."
"Ah, you're right. They'll have to work with what's there."
"Let's review the concerns again."
Daine sighed, listing them off with her fingers. "To put it simply, that she won't enjoy it. That she won't know what she's doing and will embarrass herself. That he won't know enough to show her what to do, and they'll never figure it out," she bit her lip not to laugh, "or she won't like the way he does it and will insult him, or not know how to ask for what she would like for lack of knowing. Oh, and I'm not sure if she's more concerned about him having had other lovers or never having been with a woman."
"Ah, just that?" He groaned. "Some of it is simple and has been since the dawn of time. Worries of performing poorly during their first experience? Show me someone who says they were not nervous their first time, I will show you a liar." He refilled her glass before his own.
"I can't argue that," she grimaced. "It's hard to imagine you fretting over such a thing, though. You're always so confident with women."
He laughed, loudly, throwing his head back. "That is because some god bestowed the boon upon me that you did not meet me during my teen years. I am deeply thankful that we both avoided that particular misfortune."
Daine gaped. "Why? I wish I had known you then."
"I don't." He shook his head, watching his reflection in the wine.
"Lindhall says you were a good man, even back then. He told me once that it's the single most notable thing he disagrees with you on."
Numair sighed. "He's a kind man—though he worked hard to keep that a secret from us as students—but the fact of it was that I was foolish, vain, and careless more often than not. I don't think you would have liked me very much back then," he exhaled softly, "and I'm not very interested in a scenario where you are, at best, indifferent towards me."
"I could never not like you. You're—" she swallowed her words; favorite on the tip of her tongue and too telling. "Well, I could never not like you." She let the silence linger for a bit, before blinking. They were fair distractible tonight. "And there were plenty of other people who liked you, even foolish as you were back then. Your first, for instance?" She raised an eyebrow at him, peering at him from over her goblet as she enjoyed her wine.
He laughed again, "I'm sure she didn't like me much anymore after we'd done. I wasn't nervous, I was terrified."
"Oh, no."
"Oh yes. Not to start. I was elated at first, felt like I was on top of the word—I was, of course, and adolescent male—right up until it was time to, well, perform. And then all my nerves hit me at once. I was a bumbling, shaking mess and that's putting it kindly."
"I'm sure it wasn't that bad," she winced at the expression on his face.
"It wasn't good. She was very polite about it all, but I never got another invitation from her. At the time, I didn't think much of it—I was, perhaps, a little too cavalier about it all—but in hindsight I understand how much I had left to be desired."
"Well, if she was expecting the earth to move with it being your first time then that was part of the problem. It's not so different from anything else—it takes practice."
"My first time, not hers. Not that it matters." He shook his head, "I think you've identified your first bit of advice, though. The first night should be taken as it is—it's a starting point, not a final one. If it leaves something to be desired, that's not unusual. Intimacy grows with time if you nurture it, so if you both communicate what you need from the other—what?" He stopped at her expression and she shook her head, looking the picture of innocence.
"What?"
"Don't what me. I just shared how deeply poorly I performed my first time. Tell me what you were thinking there, to make that face."
She groaned, "Fine. I was thinking how I'm the last person who should be coaching her on communicating needs to a partner." When she didn't speak he motioned for her to elaborate. Clearly, she would not be getting off easily. With a sigh, she spoke, "If there's not enough of an emotional connection and the tumbling isn't satisfactory it's just not worth the effort. Or the risk that they'll get cross, and then you have to stroke their ego back up."
"So," he shook his head, "you just go along with what they give you?"
"No, no—gods, Numair, you know how impatient I am. Do you think I'd put up with anything like that for long?"
"But you don't talk about your satisfaction with your partners?" He seemed genuinely confused by this.
"I do sometimes, if it seems worth it. During, certainly—that can be quite fun. But if they aren't receptive or it just doesn't feel like it will never get to the point of being worth the effort I just," she shrugged, "stop seeing them." He'd given her a very interesting look when she spoke of voicing her thoughts during, but laughed once she'd finished her statement.
"That's cold, magelet. Who knew you'd be so ruthless?"
"Oh, come now. You've never ended something because the sex didn't entertain you like you'd thought it would?"
He paused, thinking it over and shifting in his chair. "I'd like to think I don't do that but," he conceded with a nod of his head, "that wouldn't be the full truth. I do try to ask what my partners enjoy, though, and I think that counts for something."
"I do my best to make a polite excuse—it's not like I tell them that they're bad in bed and to leave me be. And if there are feelings, sure, that's fair different. But if it's a bit of fun that's not actually fun I just don't see the point. And in those cases they move on quickly enough, anyway."
"I think you may be surprised by the effect you have on men. I've heard rumors of at least a couple who were quite saddened to lose your favor."
"Oh," her mouth turned down in a frown, "that is surprising, actually. I think I'd just as well not know who. I'll feel badly if I see them again."
"That aside, the answer to many of Maura's questions—all of them, really—comes down to communication. Unfortunately, that's something you can't do for her. She and Josu will have to muddle through at on their own, I'm afraid."
"That will be a challenge for her, I think," she shook her head.
"Are they not getting along?"
"Oh, that's not it. I think they're fair sweet on one another—actually," she cocked her head and smiled. She moved to sit next to him on the rampart, vaguely aware of the small hitch in his breath when she sat close to him. The bat colony, keen to keep her abreast of the nights happenings since she'd asked them to find Numair, had tipped her off to something in the gardens below. "Look—ah, right there. See?"
Just visible in the moonlight, Josu and Maura could be spied creeping through the shadows of the garden. They were too small to hear anything, but since Josu had dipped her back in a sweet and lingering kiss it hardly mattered. Daine leaned back to give them privacy and felt Numair do the same. They'd both leaned through the same break in the wall, and they were close to one another now. She turned to him, grinning.
"Well, that's nice. They were affectionate enough at the ceremony—and it seems there's attraction there. And she's still worried? I'd say they have as good a foundation as they could hope for at this point."
Daine leaned her head against the stone, content to stay near him. "Well, I think she feels bad about the attraction what with not being married yet. She's been fretting about the fact that they're even kissing, and fretting more that she enjoys it."
"They should be enjoying it. A little kissing, falling in love—if that's not something in this world to be enjoyed then I don't know what is."
"A romantic at heart, Master Mage."
"I am and I won't apologize for it. I like nice things, and there are few things nicer than romance—the anticipation of that first kiss," he paused, eyes flicking to her lips and back to her eyes of their own accord, "the butterflies in your stomach, the quiet intimacy of it."
She smiled. She liked how open he was being, and she always loved to hear him speak of things that made him happy. "When was the last time you felt butterflies?"
"Ah," he blushed and looked down, "quite recently, actually."
"That's fair lovely."
"You?" He glanced at her from under long lashes and it was her turn to look away, watching an owl fly over the gardens.
"Also recently. Surprisingly so."
A moment of weighted silence passed before he cleared his throat, "So, with how lovely it can all be—why would it bother her so?"
Daine scoffed, remembering her souvenir. "Well, because an unmarried lady wouldn't be so untoward," she said in a mocking tone, and rose to her knees. Numair's gaze fell over her body, raised and quite close to him, in an interesting way—she wasn't quite sure what to make of it—while she dug in the hidden pocket of her skirts. She produced the book, raising it so that he could see the cover. "And this is at least partially to blame." She settled back into a seated position.
"Is that—" He leaned closer, "That's that book that Thayet gave you, yes? The etiquette guide?"
"Advice to a Young Noblewoman; the one and same," she scowled.
He chuckled, "An interesting recommendations for you for a number of reasons."
"Have you read it?"
"I think it would be an even poorer fit for me, magelet."
She made a clicking noise with her tongue in annoyance. "I'm not so sure about that."
"I take it you were not impressed." At her self-explanatory look he chuckled, "You know, she told me once that she regretted giving it to you—and I'll have you know I've rarely heard Thayet the Peerless admit to regrets. She even said she wasn't sure if she'd gift it in the future. I take it words were had?" He eyed her with a poorly concealed smirk.
"Oh, that," her shoulders dropped, "I'm afraid I lost my temper."
"The Royal Palace still stands, so I doubt that."
Unable to resist the temptation, she stuck her tongue out at him—childish, but worth it for the laugh. "Not that badly."
"The Tortallan Court thanks you for your restraint," he muttered.
"I'd been seeing one of the Rider Commander's—from the 2nd—for a bit and she'd noticed. I'm sure she'd meant well, but she gave me the book along with a talk on how my virtue had value—a fair late talk at that point, too—and then I started reading it because, well, it was a gift and it seemed rude not to," she sighed, "anyway, it struck a nerve." She opened the book and began flipping through the pages as she spoke. "She stopped by to see me right before Beltane that year—so it was obvious why she was checking in—and asked how I was liking the book. I'd been hoping not to speak of it again so when she asked—and with me feeling so put out—I said I'd understood well-enough that with me being common born I was well enough to—what was the phrase again?" She used her finger to track the text she'd been seeking, "Ah, here it is: I said I'd understood that I was free to tussle in the hay with my loutish swains, and then I asked if I was only allowed to sleep with the loutish ones." She winced at the memory, and Numair's brows snapped together.
"What?"
"Here, let me read you the passage: A noble maiden must convey dignity and chastity without appearing to think about either one. Let common-born girls tussle in the hay with their loutish swains."
"I can't blame you for being offended. I'm offended for you."
"She did apologize, and I could have been nicer about it, but still. She told me later that her mother had given her a copy as a girl and she'd forgotten some of the details—I know how that can be, I suppose. She'd always held it in high regard, and felt it had helped her, so why wouldn't she pass it on?"
"Still, considering her liberal stances on women's rights in almost every other area I'm a little surprised that that," he pointed towards the book, "is something she would support."
"She is traditional in many ways—I think sometimes we see her when she's the Thayet who travel's with the Rider's and rides bareback at dawn when, really, that's a very small part of what she does."
"There's probably truth to that." He looked thoughtful. "Perhaps she should write her own book on etiquette. An updated one, for the Tortallan woman."
"Think she'd let Alanna edit it?"
Numair laughed, "No." He reached out. "Can I see that?" Daine was quiet as he skimmed it, watching him cringe several times. "Let no man but your betrothed kiss any more than your fingertips; let your betrothed kiss you only on fingers, cheek, or forehead, lest he think you unchaste," he read, "Your chastity will make you a prize to you future husband's house and an honor to your own." He closed it with a snap, and handed it back to Daine. "Well, I can see why Maura's developed something of a complex."
"Right?"
"It's one thing if that's what she wanted. Abstaining until marriage is a perfectly valid choice—I, for one, strongly believe it should be a purely personal choice—but it's not one that should be made out of duty. And the expectations should never be to shame someone for taking joy in being loved."
"You don't have to convince me," she held up her hands. "But I'm not sure how to put her mind to ease. I might steal some of your words."
"By all means."
She shifted, dropping one foot to the ground and wincing when she put too much pressure on her bad ankle at the wrong angle.
"What's wrong?" He leaned to look at where she'd stepped.
"Nothing," she waved him off but knew he'd probably already worked it out, "that ankle is still just a little tender."
"Daine. You said you'd go to a healer."
"I know, I—"
"I'm not really interested in the excuse," he motioned for her to sit back on the stool and again, when she had, for her to lift her leg so he could inspect the ankle. He took it gently in his hands, resting her lower leg in his lap. Her slipper went first—placed next to him—before he slid her skirts up. Not much, just enough to get a view of her ankle but she shivered at the touch all the same. If he noticed, he didn't let on.
"It's a little swollen," he murmured, "let me know if anything hurts." He palpated her ankle gently and methodically, fingers pressing against her skin in a light pressure to check for the source of the pain.
"Have you heard anything of his reputation? Josu, I mean." She asked following a moment of silence. His free hand had slid to the back of her calf to keep her leg steady, and something about his hand beneath her skirt—even so slightly and for such an innocent purpose—was fair distracting.
"You mean as to whether his chastity will be a prize for Maura?" He grinned and shook his head. "No, and I'd find it hard to tell if I had to guess. Sometimes it's as it seems, and then sometimes the braggarts are really bleeding romantics, and the quiet ones are rakes."
She made a small noise of agreement in the back of her throat before clearing it, "Too right. She'll just have to work up the courage to ask him, I suppose, but I'm not sure if even she knows the answer she's hoping for. If he's more experienced it could be helpful in guiding them, but mayhap he'd expect too much of her."
"Either way, if she is a virgin the expectations should be the same for him. To be gentle and understanding. As she should be of him. It shouldn't be too much to ask."
"I think we've both heard plenty of stories about it going poorly to know it can't be assumed." She winced, remembering Miri's rant at how disappointing her first experience had been—followed by how mortified she'd been to find that Numair had been in the corner of Daine's room when Miri had barged in to deliver it. "Was there anything you wish you'd talked about before—or been asked—when you've been someone's first?"
His fingers paused, pressed against the pulse point under her ankle bone, and he looked up at her with an odd expression. "I, ah—I've actually never been someone's first."
"Really?" She found the admission surprising. Of all the men she'd heard tales of bungling the whole thing, she thought Numair would be fair sweet at making sure a woman enjoyed herself.
"Really," he shrugged, and shifted his fingers upwards to press against a new spot. She flinched, and his hand paused again. "Hurts?"
"Just a little.'
"Alright, you know the drill—nod to say it hurts, shake your head to let me know it doesn't."
She nodded in agreement to his instructions, and to the next press of his fingers. Wetting her lips, and knowing it was really her place, she asked, "Varice?"
A soft laugh announced his response, "No—although I understand why you'd assume it. She was a little older and had already been courting. At least one was rather serious, but that's a story for another time. Maybe never—that boy used to vex me something awful, but now I'm not sure I can remember the details all that well. She wasn't my first, and I wasn't hers. Not with sex, anyway. She was certainly my first love and it was probably a boon that those two experiences—first bedding, first love—weren't combined for us." He looked at her, gauging her response to his pain testing—among other things. "How about you? Been stealing virtues as well as hearts, magelet?" He grinned wickedly.
"Just one," she admitted. "He was sweet—real sweet, actually—and I could tell he wanted to impress me," she winced, "but I do wish he'd told me. Before. I found out in the aftermath and had I known—well, I would have approached it a little differently I think. Tried to make it more—I don't know—special?"
"He had the fortune of being with you, that's fair special." His response was quiet and he didn't look at her to see the blush it evoked. His touch on her ankle had slowed, though he didn't stop.
"Still, I wish I'd known. I think it's easy to forget that men need just as much affection as women." She made a face; she remembered the hostler fondly even if she didn't miss him. "I don't think there were hard feelings in the end, so that's something."
"Your observation about affection," he murmured, "you should share that with Maura. It's important. She may find that he has many of the same concerns, but feels that he has to be the man—in the worst sense of the word—in the arrangement and she'd think less of him if he brought any of it up."
She nodded, slowly, weighing the thought. "You might be right about that."
"Perin?" He asked it in the same way he often brought up a stray thought that had been eluding him and had finally been caught—a voice she'd heard many times to the tune of an obscure tome or missing ingredient. He continued in response to her visible confusion, "Your first. Perin, that clerk who was so besotted with you after we returned from Carthak."
She blinked. "No, actually. That faded out after—during, I suppose—the war." She couldn't help but laugh at his expression—serious and determined. "I don't think you're going to guess it."
"No?" He made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat. "I don't suppose you'll tell me?"
"You really want to know?"
"We said we'd speak frankly, and I've shared far more than I ever thought I would, and I've—yes, I would like to know if you are comfortable telling me."
She bit her lip in decision. "You have to promise to not have a fit."
"A fit?"
"Yes; promise you won't be sour about it."
"Why would I—okay, fine, yes, don't give me that look. I promise—why would I be angry?"
"I'm not exactly sure why, but I've always had a feeling you'd be fair unhappy if you knew me and him were involved." She took a deep breath and exhaled hard. "Rowan of Hillbrand."
"Rowan of—" Numair sputtered, and Daine startled when his grip tightened on her leg. "Sorry. I mean, Rowan of Hillbrand. That's," he choked out the words, "interesting."
Rowan was a mage they both knew. He'd studied at the City of his Gods in his youth, and spent is time between the The City of the Gods, the Royal University, and his family estate in Tusaine since earning his mastery. A status he'd earned after Numair, despite being older.
She sighed. "Out with it."
"With what?" His barely contained outrage somewhat lessened his attempt at innocence.
"I was clearly right about it vexing you but it's out now, so go ahead. Tell me what you've taken issue with."
"It's not my place to pass judgement on your personal life."
"You're right. It's not." She nodded and gestured for him to continue. "Let's hear it anyway."
He fixed her with an incredulous look. "He's much too old for you, Daine."
She scoffed, "Please. Is that really your issue?"
"What else could it be?"
"You hated that paper he published on the Ekallatum Scrolls—"
"That paper was daft," he grumbled.
"And I just thought you didn't like him very much."
"I liked him fine outside of a few academic debates. My use of the past tense should be noted in this instance, magelet." He shook his head. "Did he—" he faltered and she was surprised to see true distress written on his face.
"Numair, I made my decisions freely and willingly if that's what you're worried about. We were both very clear—and very much in agreement— with our intentions." When he didn't respond she leaned forward to cover his hand with her own, halting his examination. "Numair."
He sighed and she leaned back, but his hand stayed still with the exception of the small circles his thumb traced on the back of her heel. He sighed. "Alright, alright. I believe you. Goddess knows I've trusted you with everything else, so your own mind should be one of them." He shook his head, "But that doesn't change the fact that he's too old for you."
"He's barely older than you."
"Who is also too old for you." He shook his head, looking a little astonished that she didn't seem to understand what he was saying.
"Oh, piddle. Don't be daft—of course you're not."
"What?" He stumbled over his words a little and she cocked her head at his expression—several expressions, in fact, engaged in some sort of battle for control.
"You're not too old for me. If you had—if there were those sorts of feelings between us that would be a daft reason not to act one them." Numair opened his mouth with the clear intent to speak several times, failing more profoundly each time, until he produced a gentle, choking sound from the back of his throat before clearing it.
"Daine—"
A rattling sound rose from the staircase and they moved apart quickly—he sat back, picking up his empty goblet, and she dropped her foot to the ground and straightened her skirts. A servant appeared, carrying a tray with a pitcher of wine and a plate of sweets.
"Begging your pardon," she curtseyed. Seeing it done while carrying something always impressed Daine, since she could barely balance herself let alone a tray. "Marielle said you'd come up some time ago, and would be needing a refresh."
"Thank you," Numair shifted back and motioned to the table. The servant made short work of her delivery, clearing the empty pitcher before quietly taking her leave.
Silence fell between them, broken when Numair cleared his throat. "Maura."
"Oh, right," she laughed a little. Her thoughts had been very, very far away from where they had begun when they first started talking. "I feel better about what to say. I can cover the basics and then—you're right—they'll need to push through some awkward talks but it will be good for them. Fair simple answer, in the end."
"Who knew?" He held out a hand, splaying his fingers in mock surprise. "Open communication is beneficial."
"Thank you. I appreciate you bearing with such an odd conversation." She made a face. "Although I think we talked more about ourselves than anything."
"We are fascinating people." He grinned. "And sometimes introspection is a very useful tool in sorting out external problems. Like how to explain the birds and the bees, for instance."
Daine made a face, "I never understood that saying. Why birds and bees?"
"I've heard a couple theories, actually—"
"Of course you have."
"—the first just being that birds have eggs and bees have the—well, ah—bees pollinate."
"Are we done being frank?" She teased.
"There are limits, Daine. Let me at least try to be delicate." He rubbed his face in his hands.
"The other reason?"
"Oh, yes. There's an old rhyme. Tyran, I think—and that's why birds do it, bees do it, even educated fleas do it; let's do it, let's fall in love, let's make our love." He recited the verse with a shrug. "The two are probably related, but I'm not sure which came first: saying or rhyme."
"So I'd be a bird—"
"Correct."
"And you'd be?" She let the question linger. He laughed, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Right now? I feel like the educated flea." He grinned, despite himself, and looked at her. She thought he had something else to say but he just shook his head. "It's getting late."
She looked to the sky to see the moon hanging low and nodded. "You're right. Time for bed, I think." She pushed the question she most wanted to ask him from her mind. Fine thing, preparing to tell Maura to have courage when she couldn't summon her own.
They walked together to the guest wing. Despite the hour, music could still be heard from the hall before.
"I'm afraid we might be the boring ones tonight." He said to her in a hushed voice, standing outside her door. "You could return to the party. You've missed most of it."
"I preferred my evening the way it was." She looked over her shoulder when an upswing in the music echoed through the hall. "We could have another drink, if you'd like, though." She rested her hand on her doorknob. He didn't miss the motion, eyes flicking to her hand and back to her face.
"I'd like to," he shifted, fussing his the button on his sleeve, "but I shouldn't."
"Getting too late?"
"N—yes, too late."
She nodded. "You're sure I can't convince you?"
"No," he said it quickly enough that she knew he'd not thought his answer through as he usually did. He cleared his throat and changed the subject. "You've got your talking points for Maura?"
She laughed and it sounded louder than it should have in the quiet of the hallway. "Yes, the basics, the communication, why she should never read that book again—" Numair chuckled "—and I'll think I'll throw in some reminders on the things she should be slowing down to enjoy."
"Like?" He leaned against the doorframe, standing close enough that she had to crane her neck to get a decent look at him.
"Like the anticipation of being kissed." Her throat felt dry and she wet her lips. He watched the motion with a look that was too heated for her to write off, but not forward enough to know it wasn't the wine and wishful thinking playing tricks with her.
"That's a good one," he murmured, absentmindedly. He reached out to stroke a curl from her face and she closed her eyes at the feel of it.
"And I'll remember to give her my charm." She opened her eyes, meeting his through her lashes. "So I'll only have one through tonight."
His fingers against her cheek flexed, just a little bit—like he wanted to grasp her face in his hand. He pulled it away instead.
"I'll make you another. Soon. If you'd like."
She nodded, pulling away in disappointment. "I'd appreciate it."
He cleared his throat. "Before that, though, there are a few options—for the charm—so maybe we could talk about it more." He stood up straight and slid his hands into his pockets. "Or birds and bees. If you'd like." He scuffed the floor with his boot.
"Actually, I rather prefer fleas." She opened her door and slid inside, catching a glimpse of Numair beaming at the floor before she closed it.
Daine and Maura took a long, long ride around the lake the next morning. With a little cajoling—and a lot of patience—Daine felt much better about the situation by the time the sun marked the noon hour. Better yet, Maura seemed to feel much better. She was still peppering Daine with questions as they approached the village bridge—at which point Daine had to remind her to keep her voice down—but they were questions stemming from excitement, not anxiety.
"I think—" Maura bit her lip "—I think I might want to wait a little bit longer. It seems like if we're going to do it, we should be able to talk about it first."
"That a fair reason as any," Daine reached up to help Maura down from her horse and was impressed when the woman dismounted on her own with ease.
Two servants came to take their reigns, bowing to Maura. Daine tugged at her shirt to straighten it, turning to the girl. "Lunch?"
"Actually," she blushed, "Josu asked if we could eat privately, in the gardens."
"Oh, go on," she waved her off, noticing how Maura struggled to walk like a lady and not run through the halls. A familiar form near the steps caught her eye.
"How did it go?" Numair asked when she joined him, leaning against the east side of the stable.
"Well, I think." She shrugged, "I've done as much as I can, anyway."
"I did a little digging while you were gone."
"Oh?"
"Josu's completely taken with her. He's been gushing to anyone who will listen to him about her all morning."
"Oh, good," she breathed. "That's welcome news."
"I think they'll do well together."
"I hope so. She was eager enough to see him after a morning apart, anyway. I don't suppose I can convince you to join me for lunch?"
He lifted small sack she'd overlooked. "Actually, I was wondering if you'd want to ride out and take lunch by the lake. I know you've been out all morning, but—"
"Okay," she smiled at the welcome surprise. "Are you sure? We'll be eating out of bags plenty soon enough, and I know how much you prefer a hot-cooked meal."
"Yes, well," he looked down, "I was also hoping we could talk."
"What about? Birds and bees?" She grinned, teasing, but the look on his face when he met her eye took her breath away.
"In a way—related anyway." He swallowed, "About falling in love."
She smiled again, trying to remember how to speak, and nodded. "Let's do it."