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Daine had never thought she would think it, but at this point, it was the salacious rumors she preferred. The anger at the slights against Numair's honor was preferable to the uncomfortable anxiety and need that gripped her stomach when she heard the less salacious ones—the ones that stopped supposing how her dear friend was taking advantage of a young girl and started speculate when he was going to propose marriage to her instead.
Some of it was age, she knew—her being almost twenty was very different from her being barely thirteen—but the way they spoke of Numair's interest in her, feelings for her...
She wondered when it had gone from caustic words about how he must have been demanding things of her body to take in such a wild child as her to pitying murmurs about how besotted he was with her, and how he was likely never to marry because he was so obviously gone on her, and what a mess it would be when she broke his heart.
They always spoke of it like it was a given, too, like there was no question that he was in love with her and that she didn't return the sentiment, and all there was left to consider was the fallout. At least the salacious ones had been more petty and hateful than earnest.
Both kinds of rumors were clouding her head during the Midwinter celebration. A group of older noblewomen watched the gathering with keen eyes and wagging tongues, speaking just loud enough that Daine could hear most of their words as she studied the wine in her goblet.
She didn't want any more, she thought, but she did wish she was tipsy enough to stop thinking about the issue so much.
Then she registered the sudden silence from that corner, like they were all holding their breath, and looked up to find Numair crossing the room to her in long strides, bright-eyed in the way he got when he was drunk.
"Enjoying yourself, are you?" she asked dryly when he arrived, smiling despite herself. His good mood was infectious.
He didn't answer in words, just ducked into an elaborate bow that ended with his open palm in front of her nose in a silent request for a dance.
If she had ever managed to say no to the mischevious gleam in his eyes, she couldn't remember it. She slipped her palm into his and let herself be tugged to the dance floor.
"You, habibti albi, look absolutely magnificent tonight," he confided to her as he drew her into a spin. Then he paused and frowned. "Have I told you that yet?"
"You have," she told him primly, fighting a grin. He always got his endearments mixed up when he was drunk. She wondered what that one meant. "Twice, as a matter of fact. Now thrice."
Sheepishness crossed his face, then he covered it up with a grave nod. "Good. It bears repeating."
He was less meticulously gentle when he was drunk, and sometimes she was surprised by how much she liked it. He held her hand and waist like he didn't want her to go. Snagging her body and pressing their fronts together only left her hyperaware of his every muscle and their every point of contact, and when he dropped his head to stare down into her eyes, her heart was left thumping loud and hard, just as it always did.
His steps faltered slightly. "Agmal a'ouyoun filkone ana shiftaha."
It held the odd deliberation of something quoted, a raw edge to the words that seemed just a little too much for the moment, and she was left blinking over it.
It took her a second to find her mental footing again. "Translation, please?" she asked once she had found it.
The alcohol flush deepened into crimson, and he jerked back and cleared his throat. "Poetry quote. Hard to translate. Don't worry about it."
Daine raised her eyebrows and cocked her head, knowing fully well that 'hard to translate' was one of the many things Numair was likely to take as a personal challenge.
"We should dance," he said firmly, with drunken volume, and took her off spinning again.
She collided with his broad, firm chest several more times in the next few minutes, her nerves tingling on impact every time, but when they finally hit a pause, her back to his front and his chin over her shoulder, she was still thinking about it.
"One day I'm going to learn Thak, and then you'll be sorry," she murmured in his ear, and saw the knob of his throat bob.
"I may well be," he murmured back, rueful and too-sober, then released her and spun her out into a much slower, more casual dance.
She caught sight of the noblewomen watching the two of them like hawks, and it was something between impulse, spite, and rebellion that had her catching the back of Numair's neck and drawing him down so she could kiss his cheek and whisper, "Need your help. Come with me? Won't be a moment."
His nod held an odd beat of hesitation, but it was a nod all the same, and he allowed her to take his hand and lead him out of the great hall without complaint.
She didn't drop his hand until she was sure they had been seen heading in the direction of his rooms, then stopped in one of the outer passages to sigh in relief.
"My help, my magelet?" he prodded.
It was only then that exactly what she'd wanted help with sank in, and she felt herself flush scarlet. "I... well. People talk."
Confused, he agreed, "So they do."
"The gossip now's tiring, y'see," she added, and felt his eyes burn into the side of her head. "I just thought..."
He waited, and Daine was forced to finish.
"Maybe seeing us would give 'em something different to talk about for once." She snorted. "Goddess, right now they can't shut up about how you seem to be in love with me. Or how'm going to 'break your heart'. I thought if maybe they saw this... well."
Maybe the rumors would go back to safely salacious, instead of this romantic nonsense they all seemed hung up on now.
He still hadn't spoken, and she couldn't bring herself to look at him. Instead, she kept going.
"You! In love with me! Can you imagine?"
"...Hardly."
"Exactly," she said, firmly ignoring the strange tone he'd said it in and the painful shock of ice it bore. "I'm sure Kitten missed us terribly. And I want to borrow a book to learn Thak."
When she did gather the courage to look at him, she found him watching her with a faint, wistful grin on his sensitive mouth. "Kitten surely shouldn't be kept waiting," he said when she met his eye.
"And the Thak?"
He hummed noncommittally, looping her arm in his as he led the way back to her room, and she followed with a quiet, exasperated huff.