The morning the barrier fell, the king decreed that the Seventh Night Ball, to be held three days hence, would be open to every member of the palace staff as well. He was of course assuming that every knight, soldier, and mage would be on the walls fighting back an advancing horde of spidrens, centaurs, and stormwings, but Thayet had prepared for a ball so by the gods there was going to be a ball. Of the council members, he sternly ordered them to be present at every function with smiling faces, supposing there was no host at the gates. Daine, smiling, thought she'd most likely be able to escape the panoply for once. She had to bite her lip when she saw the same wistful gleam in Raoul's eyes.

That afternoon, the sun shone pearly through fine wipsy clouds, then disappeared all together as heavier bands ghosted in. By the time Daine scowlingly acknowledged that she had no excuse to run off, several inches of fine powder covered the palace. The temperature was dropping. As she shook the snow from her heavy work coat, she admitted that the swirling talking drinking masses would at least make the grand space warm. Right now she just wanted to stop shivering.

Breathless, curls piled haphazardly on top her head, still slightly damp, Daine was one of the last people into the banquet hall. She cheered up considerably when she realized the page was leading her to a seat next to Numair. Before Carthak she was rarely seated with him, now here was the third time in a row. Maybe Thayet realized that she never liked formal functions because she was always either bored to death or ended up scaring some young buck to death.

When he saw Daine approach, Numair thought Thayet was congnizantly torturing him. Daine glowed in blue satin, warm not from a fur stole but a brocade surcoat. He then spared a moment of panic wondering if Thayet knew and if she knew how many other people knew? She lit up when she saw me. No, the only one responsible for this torment was his self. He clenched his fists on his thighs and fought to control his expression, but he winced as his sore hands protested. So of course this was the first thing Daine noticed when she sat down.

"Are you feeling the weather?" She asked softly.

He spread his swollen fingers. "I can hardly hold a spoon. This is going to be some storm."

"You know, maybe you should stop cracking your knuckles."

Now she was frowning again, Numair could have kicked himself. So he teased, "Yes and that'll be the day you can pop your fingers." He grinned when she wrinkled her nose at him.

"I'd think twice before I started throwing flaws around, master mage," she said loftily.

"Yes, I'd tread carefully, Numair, unless you want everyone to hear what you were like as a student!" Lindhall brought a laugh from the rest of the table.

Daine blinked, off balance, as she realized she hadn't even noticed they were there. Quickly, she said, "Oh please Lindhall, take pity, Numair is under orders to only show smiles. He might be too hard pressed to oblige! Now, if you still feel like telling me, pull me aside during the ball." The rest of the table laughed.

"Pray tell, Numair, what would bring a smile, so we can all avoid the descent of kingly displeasure?" asked the old mage next to Harailt.

He exaggeratedly brought a pondering finger to his nose and said, "Hm…a clear night, a warm blanket, and an active meteor shower." While laughing, Lindhall couldn't help but notice the quick grins Daine and Numair gave each other. Discussion waxed academic throughout the meal, but ever polite or esoteric. Tkaa and Kitten provided knowledge or theatrics whenever conversation lagged, even their friendly presence was reassuring. No one brought up immortals or barriers.

After the third course, Daine had enough of watching Numair pick at his food. She nudged his foot and murmured, "You need to eat, you more than anybody." When he met her eyes, she read the barely concealed stress there and took action. She spoke quietly with the page when he came to collect their plates, and when he returned he carried a bowl of soup and a basket of bread. His quiet smile was all the gratification she needed.

Eight courses later, with the grand desert, the page carried a steaming pitcher to the table. "Emperor Kaddar's Midwinter gift to Tortall, sirs and lady, coffee from the south of Ilinat." He poured steaming black liquid into the heavy ceramic cups that Daine had wondered about for eleven courses.

"Coffee!" Numair and Lindhall exclaimed. Daine hid a smile. She was about to take a sip when she saw them both reach for sugar and Numair for cream as well.

"My goodness what a gift," Lindhall sighed after his first sip.

Daine made a face and added more cream and sugar.

"We'll all be dancing tonight," Numair added happily.

"Why?" Daine was suddenly worried, she avoided alcohol and normally Numair did as well.

"Coffee contains a stimulant—no, don't worry it doesn't affect judgement," he explained. "Though if you drink too much you won't be able to sleep."

Lindhall put in, "That'd be about a whole pitcher's worth, though."

"Ah coffee, to you I owe my university robe," Numair declared with another sip. Lindhall swallowed a laugh.

When the king and queen rose, Numair was weighing his options—get deeply involved in some scholastic debate in a corner or just hide behind the hangings. He wasn't going to dance with her and he definitely wasn't going to watch her dance with anyone else. They found Alanna in a nook, a carefully pleasant expression pasted on. She did look truly pleased to see them though.

"Did Jon order you here too?" Daine asked, knowing how much Alanna had been looking forward to Midwinter at the Swoop.

"Yes. Let's give him some smiling faces." Together they smiled sweetly at the throne before scowling at each other. Then they laughed. "I made it to Corus just as it started snowing. Of all the things I could be doing, I have to sit here and keep up some daft pretense. At least you have someone to dance with, I made George stay at the Swoop." The music started, she flapped her hands at them to go.

Numair resolved to put crushed Kyprish peppers in her riding gloves.

Daine sniffed and said, "So that's how it goes, I come to say hullo and already you're trying to get rid of me."

Alanna cackled. "No, but Jon wants you visible. So be visible. Then you can come back and keep me company."

Numair heaved a long suffering sigh. "All right Magelet; let's go be conspicuously care-free and cheery." He held out his arm to her with an ironic bow.

When they reached the dance floor, Daine tried hard not to think about his hand on her waist.

Numair tried hard not to think about the fact that she was wearing the earrings he gave her last Midwinter.

After several silent moments, Daine said, "It's crazy to think that people are reassured because we're here."

Numair looked down in surprise, then grinned. "You know Magelet, you're right. If they had any sense, they'd be worried!"

Daine stepped on his foot and said, "Oh hush you."

"Well I hope you're not having a crisis of confidence, otherwise I'll be forced to compliment you…and we know that won't be pretty."

She bit her lip, and Numair bit his tongue. "Not a crisis of confidence, no," she mused softly, "but it's sure something." He gently squeezed her hand, and the song drew to a close. He quickly let her go, and tried to ignore her confused blink.

He once again held out his arm. "I'm not about to have the Lioness come looking for us." Halfway back to the Lioness' lair, Numair noticed Lindhall watching them from a corner. He murmered to Daine, "You go ahead; I need to see to something." He weaved through the crowd, taking a proffered glass of wine from a squire.

When he reached the bar table, Lindhall raised his eyebrows. "Why are you in this nook and not another?" Lindhall asked.

Numair, mid sip, mrphed into his wineglass.

"You can't tell me you're still just friends," Lindhall muttered in exasperation.

Numair appealed to the ceiling, "Is everyone a mind reader these days?"

At that moment, Daine was led back to the floor by some young knight. Numair quickly stared into his glass.

"Mind reader? No." Lindhall said quietly, "But I wish you could see the difference in her expression, between now and when she's in your arms."

Numair's head snapped up. "She. Is. My. Student." He practically growled.

Lindhall delicately raised his eyebrows again. "And when, pray tell, was her last lesson?" When Numair blinked, trying to think, Lindhall said, "Ah, that's what I thought. Let me tell you something your out-of-proportion sense of propriety has kept you from figuring out yourself—relationships change. To be a teacher is in itself a transient position. Am I still your teacher? No. I'm your colleague, your friend. Indeed I would say Daine is even more your colleague than I am." Seeing Numair's questioning glance, he explained, "Yes I'm also a scholar, but I'm not the one galavanting all over the country on missions. Tortall owes much of what little peace it has to you two." Recognizing his former student's expression, Lindhall sighed. "But there's nothing I can say that'd make up your mind. Have fun with that." He patted Numair's shoulder and walked away.

The remaining mage stared into his half empty wineglass. Lindhall was right in many ways, but it wasn't just that he had been Daine's teacher for years; it was that she was only sixteen. But she's already an adult. Only sixteen! In the city she'd already be celebrating her first or second anniversary. What, marriage now? At that thought, even Numair's hopeful self quailed. Down that road lay pain. He banished the concept from this current argument. Lindhall said…maybe she really does light up…not just imagining. Could he objectively gauge her reactions? Not really. Oh hush you. He would try.

When he looked up, there were fewer people in the ballroom. Had that much time passed? He looked for Daine and saw her conversing with a group of her Rider friends. Leaving the half empty glass of wine on the bar table, he headed towards her. When she saw him coming, she bade farewell to her friends and met him halfway.

"Goddess, Numair, what have you been up to!" Daine called, still flushed with laughter. "You haven't moved since you went to talk to Lindhall."

"Oh he gave me something to ponder." Gods above, she was beautiful.

"Something to brood about, more like. Is everything alright?" She made a face and amended, "I mean, what were you thinking about?"

"Just…how accuratly people can learn to read facial expressions and body language." Change the topic now! "Where's Alanna?"

Daine grinned, "Oh she left as soon as Raoul, then Buri did. I was actually just getting ready to head out too. Gods forbid we get attacked in the morning."

Numair cringed and said, "That's good thinking. I do believe I'll follow in your stead." Together they headed out into the cold corridor.

Daine kept the surprise from her face, thinking he hasn't taken a lover since Va—since coming back from Carthak. She would not wonder about to what meaning.

They both walked in ponderous silence until they had to part ways, their rooms being in separate buildings. They stopped, stared at each other, and both laughed a little at themselves. Numair dragged a hand down his face and groaned, "Gods what a day. Has it only been one day?"

Daine's eyes widened. "It has only been one day." She paused, both lingering. "Numair what do you think is going to happen? I mean, when?"

He tucked a stray lock behind her ear. "I don't know Magelet. This storm should buy us some time, but…"

"Yes. But." Suddenly, Daine threw her arms around him, he hugged her tightly back. She kissed his cheek and said, "Midwinter luck." Just as quickly, she let go and was walking away.

Numair stood shocked still for a moment, then called, "Daine!"

She turned. "What?"

"It's a blizzard out there!"

She just looked at him for a moment, then threw her hands up and laughed. "Odds bobs Numair, the stable is just across the yard!" Seeing his expression, she added, "If I get buried I'll send a cat after you. Good night!"

"At least—wait." He caught up with her and dug into a pocket. Handing her a stone, he said, "At least take this, you'll stay warm and out of the wind."

Her eyes shone up at him in the dim corridor. "Thank you Numair." He couldn't help but kiss her cheek in return before turning away.

Shaking his head at his own folly, he made his way up to his rooms. His wards recognized him and as the door opened, a tabby wound its way around his legs. Smiling, he picked the cat up and closed the door behind him.