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Nightfall was accompanied by the usual knock at his door.
Numair reached with his Gift to undo the bolt and a moment later Daine slipped into his chambers. He rose from his chair to meet her with a kiss, absently checking the silencing wards on the room as he did so.
“How are you tonight?”
She peered up at him, smiling from under long lashes. “Fine as ever.” She glanced toward his desk, spotting the open vial of ink. “You’re working?”
“Just finishing up this report for the king. It’ll only be a minute.” Numair released her and returned to his seat, intending to reread his last sentence and carry on with his account. Instead he watched the way Daine’s tunic clung to her curves as she moved across the floor to his dresser. She picked a nightdress from where she’d stashed it in the bottom drawer.
These stolen hours, nights by her side, had been all he’d never allowed himself to imagine. The pattern was nearly second nature now. The mages would go their separate ways from the mess hall after supper each evening. A few hours later, Numair could expect a knock. Sometimes Daine arrived with a need for him as strong as it had been that first night. Others she came with a drink, or a story, or nothing at all. In the early days, Numair had worried they’d need to sacrifice their friendship for this new nocturnal equilibrium. But to his relief he found that his easy rapport with Daine hadn’t deteriorated, just become confined to his rooms and the dark of night. In his rooms they settled back into habits built up from years on the road. They knew how to keep house together, how to chat after day’s end. They knew how to sit with silent moments and when to turn in by mutual design.
It was only in the daytime now that their conversations became mechanical and businesslike. In the hallways their words were always stilted with just a tinge of performance.
Numair reread his last statement and decided it was good enough for a conclusion. Or it would have to be, anyway. He signed his name. “I heard the Queen visited the Riders’ training today?”
“She did.” Daine closed the drawer and sighed. She turned back to face him, her expression unreadable. “Numair, what are we going to do about the Laipirn’s Day ball?”
Numair set down his pen. He still had no sure answer. The Contes’ guests that night were expected to arrive in pairs: last year she’d taken Perrin, and Numair had arrived with Lady Amanthe. Thank Mithros the times had changed.
Daine sat on the edge of the bed nearest his chair as she continued. “Thayet was recommending acceptable suitors for me earlier. She’s trying to pair me off with one of the squires.”
“What did you say?”
“I told her I was working on my plans for the ball and she needn't worry.” Daine traced a wrinkle in the bedsheets with her finger. “So what do you suggest we do?”
Numair chose his words carefully, studying her expression for a reaction but finding her poker face as clean as his own. “There are a couple of options. We could find other partners for the night.”
“Do you have anyone in mind?”
His voice was low. “I haven’t thought of anyone but you in weeks.” He was pleased to see a blush blossom at her collar. “But if you have someone, please. I know better than to set eyes on a squire’s girl.”
“I have you, Numair.” Her voice was quiet too, and firm. He felt his own neck flushing now. “The other option?”
Numair fiddled with the bracelet around his wrist. “We could choose to be introduced together.”
There was a pause, and Numair took the moment to picture the scene in his head. There would be some confusion among the crowd—surely they don’t mean Salmalín with Sarrasri. And on the other hand there’d be satisfied faces from those who’d say they knew it all along.
Daine spoke before he could backpedal. “We haven’t even told . . . That would be throwing us straight into the fire.”
“Yes, it would. I understand. I’m sure Lady Amanthe would accompany me that night if I asked her.”
Daine made a face. “I’d rather you didn’t. These weeks together have been . . .” she trailed off. “Maybe it is time we’re introduced together.”
Numair cleared his throat. “This time we’ve spent together has indeed been wonderful, Daine. But I worry for what will happen when we move into the light. The court isn’t subtle when it comes to opinions of this sort.”
“Let’s prepare, then. We can walk it through.” Daine drew her feet up to the bed and crossed her legs, a streak of determination crossing her face. “The herald announces us. We enter arm in arm. Wilma of Eldorne whispers something nasty about us to her husband. Lady Amanthe is in the crowd, looking like she swallowed something sour. ”
Numair smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Won’t it disturb you to have them whispering like that?”
“The Eldornes barely ever come to court these days. They don’t have any influence over my work.”
“It’s not just the Eldornes, Daine. And standing next to me will introduce a burden for you to carry. If we were to announce, and then stray back to former lovers by the next ball, it would be a scene.”
“Well I’d feel dishonest standing next to another at Laipirn’s. And I don’t intend to leave your side anytime soon.”
Numair felt something swell in his chest. “I would have nothing else, magelet. But I want to be sure you understand this warning. Our disclosure won’t be without friction.”
The questions. The smirks. Even from the well-meaning, even knowing he had all the right answers. Every inquiry would burn like a shot of liquor down the throat.
“That’s why we’re practicing.” Daine tilted her head, raising an eyebrow suggestively. “You don’t like it when I set the exercises?”
Numair brushed past that comment without offering it the dignity of a reply. “So we enter together. The Eldornes, Cavalls, and Lord Nond vociferously disapprove. The Palinets suggest to Harailt of Aili that our rooming affairs are the reason you’ve held the mages’ favor all these years. Eyes and whispers follow us in the halls for a week.”
“For a week, and then no more. And first comes this night. We’ll find refuge at dinner with someone who won’t be terrible. Harailt, maybe. And a glass of wine.”
Numair nodded. “We’re expected to sit near Harailt anyhow. That will be beneficial. The mages won’t object to us. The queen will almost certainly say something to us in private, but I don’t think she’ll mind the two commoners pairing off. If anything, she’ll be disappointed we won’t be helping water down the noble bloodlines.”
“There’ll be quite a few in our corner. Alanna will poke fun, but we know how to suffer that. Raoul will be good to us, too, if he shows that night. And then there’s just dinner and the dancing.”
“We’ve never danced together before, have we?”
The corner of her lips twitched. “We can try it now.”
“Not that kind of dancing.” His brow furrowed.
“Not ’til later, anyway,” she replied with a smirk. She stood, curtsying and holding out the thin edge of her nightdress like it was a proper gown. She looked up from her position when he hadn’t followed suit a moment later.
Numair groaned as he rose. He bowed humbly. “Would you join me in this dance, Mistress Sarrasri?”
Her eyes sparkled as she took her place beside him. “Lead the way, Master Salmalín.”
Numair’s chin jutted just above the top of her head, their bodies fitting neatly into each other’s negative space. He pressed a hand to her waistline and took a step forward. Daine moved back to parry his thrust, and he spun them to the side in time with an imaginary tune.
They completed a few more box steps and turns in the bare of his living room, swift and dizzying. Then Numair slowed as the music in his head coasted to a stroll. He pulled her in closer, humming the tune into her hair. He felt a grin as she looked up, and he nodded down in parallel, covering her lips with his. Their waltz faltered as Daine stepped forward in time with the rhythm whereas he had stiffened, immersed in the kiss. She laughed as they broke apart, stumbling, before returning to form to try again.
They reconfigured their balance. Numair bowed comically low, as if to a deity. Daine curtsied, wobbling like a child at finishing school. He stepped to her and they turned, feeling their way slowly into a droll pattern all their own. Out of the corner of his eye Numair saw crows watching from a perch on the windowsill. He curled an arm around his love like he did when they slept, and danced on.