The Pursuit of Excellence
By: Alabaster Crow
The Inquisitor and her Military Adviser are barely more than strangers, yet the undeniable attraction that began at first sight is pulling them together despite their attempts to keep their relationship professional.
Chapter 2: Tales of Innocence Lost
As she retrieved two clean wine goblets, Tahlya was pleased to see that Cullen was lighting some candles for the table. It felt good seeing him jump right in, unafraid of rummaging around for plates and utensils despite it being her personal space. With her setting out the goblets and pouring the wine as he portioned out the food, there was an agreeable air of domesticity and fluid cooperation.
"Well, no one can say that we don't work well together," she observed, as she made note of how quickly everything had been arranged.
He nodded as he pulled a chair out for her. "Indeed not."
As she took her seat she found herself trying to keep her smile from growing. Having him all to herself like this reduced her to a quivering mass of nerves and she had to admit that the information she'd gleaned from Cassandra had put her somewhat in awe of him. And then again, the way he changed from a very serious, no nonsense military leader to an attentive and charming, if somewhat unsure gentleman was incredibly endearing to her.
"Uh, hello?"
She came back from her musings to find him seated beside her and regarding her with interest. "Sorry," she laughed self-consciously.
"Would you care to tell me what you were thinking?" he asked, as he began to eat the stew.
She felt her face flame. "Maybe I will... one day; when you know me better."
His eyebrows furrowed and then relaxed. "After these many months I feel as though I know you well enough," he replied slowly, "However I do look forward to learning more about you from a personal standpoint."
"And on what do you base your concept of knowing me well enough?" she challenged. "From my standpoint I do not see how you can possibly really know me at all."
He gave her an indulgent look. "I know your personality, if you will. I know you are usually levelheaded, that you are under most circumstances slow to anger. If at all possible, you prefer to step back and think things through before acting. You have a quick wit and a good sense of humor. You are generally kind and empathetic. You're very intelligent and well learned, and you are an Andrastian like myself. I see in you many qualities I hold in high regard. Most of what makes you who you are is carried where all can see, and I've seen enough to know I wish to know more. I wish to know your story and your thoughts. And, if you so desire, I am willing to offer the same in return... uh... that is if you... wish to know me better."
She nearly melted as he stumbled over his words and then blushed. It was reassuring to know that they were equally invested. She nodded. "You know I do."
At that he took a deep breath, leaned back in his chair and regarded her thoughtfully. "Pray tell me what you have learned of me. What do you see as my personality?"
Tahlya felt no hesitation in doing so. "I see a man who is steadfast in his beliefs, but who also constantly questions his own actions and motives. You are quick to anger when your core beliefs are questioned, but also willing to rein that anger in and listen. There is great kindness and compassion in you, but also a tendency to judge too quickly. You strike me as someone who is at war with himself, yet who can be relied upon to always do what he says he will. Apart from that I see a strong leader who does not sway from what he sees as the right path or course of action. You're brilliant in so many ways and charismatic as well. You lead by example and inspire the loyalty of your men. They would follow you anywhere; do anything you command of them, for they trust that you will do right."
As she spoke, Cullen's blush had returned. He appeared moved by her regard.
Unfortunately, she had one more observation; one he might not appreciate. "I've also seen loneliness in you; of your own making. Others are drawn to you, especially women, yet you intentionally withdraw from overtures of a personal nature. You guard yourself from any seeking more than a professional relationship." She leaned forwards and dropped her voice to nearly a whisper. "This saddens me, Cullen. Why do you feel unworthy of friendship or the comfort of others, I wonder?"
His eyes had at first widened as she spoke, but then moistened. He attempted to hide this by looking away, but then did meet her gaze. "But I am unworthy," he finally stated. "And you are far too perceptive. I find myself at a disadvantage."
"Then I hope you will be able to explain that, for I've never before met a man more worthy. At the risk of speaking too bluntly, please allow me to state what we both already know;" Here she took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "Despite this feeling you carry, you are here, seeking a connection to me. Let me put your conscience to rest; it is I who feels unworthy of you. I've killed many men in the name of justice. I've racked up an impressive number of sins which I seriously doubt you could match. I do not know what you see in me that draws you so, but I am grateful for it."
She released his hand and looked away, certain that she'd more than overstepped her bounds, but before she could withdraw her hand, he captured it in a tight grasp. Startled, she met his eyes.
"It seems we both sell ourselves short," he murmured, a warm look coloring his expression. "Let us counsel each other then. It could well be that together we will find a greater understanding..."
She tried her best to appear composed. "I'm going to need more wine to settle my nerves," she admitted, shakily, as he reluctantly released her hand and lifted the bottle to refill their goblets.
Tahlya dared a glance at him and was surprised to see a wry smirk upon his face. After handing her a goblet, he lifted the other in a toast. "To liquid courage and to deeper understanding."
Tahlya couldn't help but feel relieved by his words, and gratefully gulped half her portion down.
Cullen did the same and then nodded as if to himself. "There are things in my past which I still have difficulty facing. They've shaped who I am and once you know of them you will understand me well enough. I pray you do not turn away from me afterwards..."
She made to speak, but he held up a hand forestalling her.
"Come; let us talk of other things while we eat. Please, will you tell me of your family; your childhood?"
"I grew up in the Free Marches, in the city of Ostwick," she began. "I was the third child and only daughter of... a well-respected family."
To her chagrin, he shot her a piercing look. "I'd heard that you were from a noble family; that you're nobility. Is this not true?"
She almost cringed. "I did not realize it was common knowledge. I've reason to keep that from becoming well known."
He put down his fork. "Will you tell me why?"
Tahlya cleared her throat, suddenly very nervous. "I went to the Chantry conclave to help broker a peaceful resolution to the Mage – Templar hostilities.
My brother accompanied me and our father stopped in on his way back home." She was unable to continue, and found herself staring down at her bowl, reliving the worse day of her life.
She was brought back by the warm feeling of Cullen's large hand coming to rest on her shoulder.
"I'm so sorry," he said, softly. "I know you were the only survivor."
She looked up to find him watching her with sympathetic hazel eyes. "My other brother was killed by an ox when he was still a child," she managed to say. "My mother died in childbirth along with the babe when I was but five years of age. And many of my cousins and other relatives were also at the Chantry's conclave when the veil tore."
She met his gaze. "Don't you see? I'm now the inheritor of the Trevelyan estate and lands. If word gets out I'll be mobbed with suitors; all of them wanting to be the new Teryn. I've no interest in a marriage of convenience, nor have I the time to deal with such political drama, but it will still be expected of me should it come to that."
Cullen looked shocked. "I... I'd never... They would not dare!" he ground to a halt, withdrew his hand and swallowed. "Tahlya, they would have to go through me... and unfortunately for them, I have the largest army by far. You have nothing to fear; I will brook no threat... to Inquisition business."
"Thank you," she replied. "Hopefully such a thing will not occur. Downing the rest of her wine, she cleared her throat, and continued, "I was raised in privilege; given the finest clothes and education. At a young age I developed an interest in swordsmanship and was allowed to train with sword and shield. I proved to have a talent for it and was soon surpassing all my peers. My days were spent learning how to run the estate, receiving an education, touring the lands with my father or eldest brother, and training."
"Did you have any friends?" Cullen asked, as he finished his stew and began slicing up the bread and cheese.
"There was a servant girl; the daughter of our cook, who was my age. At first we were allowed to play together and we became very close. Soon enough our social status came between us. By the time I was nine I was forbidden to keep her company. I was informed that she was beneath me as she was a servant and that my reputation was at risk.
Still, we would sneak off together when we could, but eventually we were found out." Tahlya sighed. It still grieved her to think of her friend. "I was called before my father and dressed down most severely. You see, my friend also happened to be elf-blooded. Her father died long before I could walk, so I'd had no idea. That was the day I learned just how prejudiced the gentry are. Father let my friend and the cook go that same day."
She dared a look at Cullen and almost teared up at the sadness written on his face. "That is a terrible thing to hear," he said in a low voice. "Did you ever see your friend again?"
She shook her head. "No; they were both gone when I left father's study. I did try to find her years later, but was unsuccessful."
He sighed, "At least she knew you were her friend. I'm sure she knows you were not at fault in their dismissal."
"I hope you are right," she replied. "Anyway, I threw myself into my studies after that and never really formed another close friendship."
Cullen fidgeted in his chair before managing to ask, "And what of love? Have you ever… been in love?"
She felt herself blush to the roots of her hair, but somehow managed to answer him truthfully. "I am twenty six years of age," she replied. "It is a minor miracle that my father did not have me married off by the time I was twenty. Of course I've been in love."
Cullen shook his head. "Are you implying that everyone is capable of experiencing that tender emotion? If so, then I must beg to disagree."
She felt confused by the sudden change in the direction of the conversation. "Pardon?"
He sighed deeply. "It has been my sad observation that many are too willing to misinterpret their feelings or the overtures of others as love.
He ran his fingers through his hair, and then nervously clasped his hands together before him. "I was a Templar for over half my life, and if there is something most Templars excel at, it is observing others. I've always believed that love, by its very definition, is unselfish. Yet I have rarely seen anyone actually demonstrate that fine trait."
Tahlya's mind was whirring as she tried to predict where he was going with the conversation. "What did you observe then?" she asked.
He shot her a disturbed look from under his brows. "Most of the time I saw selfishness; both men and women who were most interested in what their lover could do for them. Rarely did I see true acts of unselfishness."
"I think I see what you are trying to convey."
Cullen shook his head. "What I am trying to point out is that few people are truly capable of romantic love because few are capable of giving of themselves unselfishly. I most often saw real love demonstrated by a parent toward their young child."
"Have you ever been in love?" she asked, determined to steer the conversion somewhere else.
He nodded sadly, "I thought I was. I even cared enough to keep it to myself; after all, what could a young Templar ever offer a mage? And when the time came, I made it easy for her to walk away and not look back. I told her I hated her kind… and at the time I meant it. I regret those words more than you shall ever know."
She was consumed with curiosity. "Who was she?"
"The Hero of Fereldan," he replied, after a few moments of hesitation.
"What?! The Hero of Fereldan?" she exclaimed in astonishment.
He blushed. "I knew her when she lived at the circle tower. Ironically, it seems she found true love in the arms of the King, who also was once a Templar. Somehow they have fought the strict rules governing whom the King may love and remained together, despite the sacrifices they surely each must endure in order to do so."
"Have you ever contacted her since?" she asked, still stunned by his admission.
"No, and I never will; for as I matured and thought back to that time in my life, I realized that I could not have truly loved her. I knew nothing about her; not even much of her personality. You cannot love what you do not know." He reached out to take her hand and brought up to his lips. Lightly he kissed her fingers. "Please tell me; did you truly love the man you spoke of, or he you?"
She sighed. "I thought I did at the time." Here, she felt herself faltering. "He ended up hurting me, and it seemed it was an easy thing for him; he did not regret anything. Perhaps it is as you say; I really did not know him. As it happens, when he turned away from me it took me a very long time to trust again, but eventually I put him out of my thoughts and moved on."
To her embarrassment Cullen flinched. "I see..." he breathed, suddenly reaching for his wine and drinking deeply.
"Perhaps you might speak of your childhood now?" she asked, feeling as though she had failed in some way.
He took another long drink and sighed. "I was given to the Chantry as an infant. I know nothing of my parents or my background. They each nibbled the cheese and bread as he continued, "I remember asking if I had a last name once, and the revered mother told me that I did, but that she was forbidden to reveal it. She told me I must not think that I ever had any other life; that they were now my family."
Tahlya was stunned. "You have a last name? But that would make you..."
"Of noble blood, yes," he replied. "However, that is no longer a valid claim as I was given up."
"That must have been a difficult thing to know," she prompted.
He shrugged. "It was all I knew. Like many such children I used to make up farfetched stories as to why my family had no choice but to surrender me. In due time, after becoming a full Templar, I understood all too well the true reasons for most Chantry adoptions."
"What would they be?" she asked, inwardly cringing at the thought of how the knowledge must hurt him.
Cullen sighed. "The birth of any infant to a circle mage results in the babe immediately being given over. In poor, non-magical families, oftentimes children are given up as they feel they are unable to feed any more mouths. Amongst the gentry a child is often given to the Chantry as recompense for a favor rendered, and sometimes when a lady in the family has hidden a pregnancy occurring outside of wedlock; especially should the father be considered beneath her station. Such children are unlikely to ever be acknowledged should they somehow learn of their parents and attempt to make contact."
"Have you ever sought to discover your particular circumstances?" she asked.
He shrugged again. "To what end? I do not require a last name or title. I made my own way in this world and the titles of General and Advisor to the Inquisitor are well enough, don't you think?"
She shrugged. "That is for you to decide, but I would think you would at least be curious."
He sighed. "Perhaps one day I shall investigate further, but this is hardly the time."
Things seem to about to become awkward so she rose from the chair. "Shall we move closer to the fire?" she suggested, picking up her goblet and one of the pears.
Cullen took his own goblet and also the plate of cheese and bread before following her to the oversized chairs that sat before the fireplace.
They settled in, warming themselves as they relaxed. For quite some time they were content to sit in companionable silence, watching the fire and listening to the patter of rain on the windows, but eventually Cullen resumed his tale.
"Like all Chantry children, I spent my first decade raised with other boys and girls. Each Revered Mother was in charge of six to ten children, all of whom remained under her care until they left her at the age of eleven. In this way, we did feel cared after; as though she was our mother.
I had a female friend at the Chantry. She was something of a tomboy, but she was also bright and funny. I missed her terribly when we went our separate ways. You see, at the age of eleven the boys and girls are separated. I was moved to a different wing, while she and the other girls were moved to a different Chantry; one with a similar wing only for girls."
He stopped and started rubbing his left elbow, while suddenly appearing distressed. "Three years later I overheard two Templars talking about which children had turned out to be mages; and hers was one of the names they listed." Again, he drank some wine and then brusquely wiped his eyes. "I will come back to her in a bit… Like yourself, I showed an interest and aptitude for swordplay. This was supported by the Chantry and I received the finest instruction. By the time I was fourteen, I'd already been singled out by the Templars, and when approached by them I readily agreed to undergo the training. I was quickly relocated to the Templar compound where I began my intensive education. Did you know; they say that Templars receive education even superior to that of the nobles?"
She snorted. "Maybe, however my education was not colored or distorted by the Chantry's need to curry loyalty, despite that my family are huge supporters of both the Chantry and the Templars. We serve willingly; not because we fear to do otherwise."
Cullen's brow furrowed. "It is not like that at all!" he proclaimed loudly, but then at the look she threw him, he sighed. "Oh all right; they do that… but only a little."
She couldn't help but laugh, and he joined in. Then she brought up a subject of keen interest to her, "So, tell me about the lyrium?"
All trace of humor vanished from his face, but after a few moments he answered, "I first took it at the age of sixteen; after taking my final vows," he answered. "The first time was… intense. It is hard to explain, but when you dose, suddenly you feel like you're thinking twice as quickly. Time almost seems to slow around you for a moment. Then, there is a sudden sensation of being grounded; as though all your weight has suddenly settled into your feet. You are no longer hungry, or tired. You stop desiring… anything. You just are; and you're able to focus on problems with an amazing clarity. I think I was addicted to it before the first few months had gone by."
At the dream-like look that crossed his features, she cleared her throat, which snapped him back to attention. "Are you still taking it?" she asked, trying to keep her tone neutral.
He looked embarrassed. "Sadly, yes. I've worked very hard at cutting back my dosage; however in all the time since I left the order, I've only managed to half my usual dose, and cut back to every other day. As it is, by the time I allow myself my next portion, I am feeling quite ill indeed. I don't think I can cut it further without help, and I've no idea how it may even be accomplished."
"I will see what I can learn; inconspicuously, of course."
"That would be greatly appreciated. I've no desire to become a burned out idiot, nor do I wish to find out what would happen to me should my supply be cut off."
"So then; what happened to your friend?" she asked, steering him back to his tale.
Upon completing my training I was stationed at the Circle Tower at Kinloch Hold, as you already know. It's where she would have been sent. Almost immediately upon arrival, I asked after her and that was when I was informed that she had not passed her harrowing."
"Oh Cullen, I am so sorry!" she responded, reaching out for his hand.
He took hers willingly. "I suppose that knowing her influenced my actions at the tower; but whether for good or for evil, I cannot say."
"I don't understand…"
"Of all the Templars there, I had the greatest sympathy for the mages. I saw them as people rather than as vessels for evil. Perhaps if I had been more guarded, I might have seen what was afoot and stopped it before the tower was lost and perhaps I would not have hated them quite so much afterwards."
She squeezed his hand tightly and met his sad gaze. "It is because of your compassion that you survived the tower; that you were able to eventually see that mages are not automatically evil," she nearly hissed. "If not for your friend and your sympathy, you would not be here working with me now to bring about peace; you would quite possibly be one of the red Templars."
A small smile tugged at his lips. "Thank you, Tahlya, but I would still be a Templar; never one of the ilk you refer to. I have, all my life thought things through on my own, much to the Chantry's displeasure, I am sure."
They continued to hold hands for quite some time as they sipped their wine and again fell into a peaceful lull, but soon enough Tahlya roused and renewed their discourse. "I've heard I am not the only one in this keep whose night terrors keep the others from their rest."
"Yes, he admitted. "No matter how much progress I feel I've made in accepting my past, the nightmares continue unabated." He turned to look towards her, his eyes searching her face with something akin to trepidation. "What prompts your nightmares?"
"The moments surrounding the tearing of the veil," she answered immediately. "My brother had just relieved me in the audience chamber. I'd gone outside to get some air and stretch my legs. That is when it happened. The noise, Cullen; horrendous, and felt throughout my head and chest as well as being heard. Never have I felt such terror and confusion! The veil tore from the heavens down to the ground, and I heard the others screaming around me, but I could not see them, for my vision was suddenly filled with an image of another world. And in that world there was a summit, and upon that summit there stood a woman of such beauty…"
Cullen was sitting on the edge of his seat, leaning towards her as he squeezed her hand to gain her attention. "Who was she?" he asked in an intense tone.
She shook her head, "At the time I knew her, but only moments later I could not remember… She reached her hand out to me and I took it. Then there was a boom... a deafening sound, and then the screaming stopped. I felt suddenly displaced… and when I awoke, I was on the ground and all the others were but dead corpses littering the landscape. I have little recognition of what happened between then and when I was discovered by Cassandra's men."
She dropped Cullen's hand and took up her goblet with both of her own; hands which trembled uncontrollably. She drained the vessel and then spoke, "That is what I relieve in my sleep. That is what causes my terrors."
Cullen re-filled their goblets with the last of the wine. "My nightmares always take me back to the Circle Tower at Kinloch Hold," he confessed. "I wonder at us each having been present when the veil tore asunder. Do you think that it might be destiny that sees us both here together?"
"I cannot believe it an accident that we both survived such a rare and dangerous occurrence," she admitted.
For the next long while Cullen told the tale of all that befell him at Kinloch Hold. He held nothing back; even telling her of the trauma he suffered when he'd had to dispatch mages who failed their harrowing.
When she heard his voice crack, it pierced her heart; she felt such sorrow for him. And his account of the fall of the tower had her frightened beyond belief; she could not even imagine how horrible it would have been to live through.
When he told her of the demon's and their torture; of how he'd witnessed the failure and death of each of his friends in turn, her heart ached for him. When he burned with humiliation and yet still told her what the demons specifically subjected him to in order to try to break him, she cried.
And when he was finally done with his tale, she told him how much she admired his fortitude. "For you to have resisted, when not one of the others could, speaks volumes for your integrity, and strength of will. I find myself humbled by your resolve…"
She nearly melted at the depth of feeling in the gaze he turned upon her. "Thank you, my lady. I thought... Well, I thought you might have been repulsed by my past."
She shook her head. "How could you have thought that? You did nothing wrong. Although your trials took place within your mind, this still qualifies as a rape of sorts. You did not willingly capitulate and you had no control over what they did to you. Cullen, you are blameless in this; no matter how… dirty the memory makes you feel. Please will you not accept the truth of what I say?"
Rising from his chair, he strode quickly to the window and leaned upon the frame with his forearm. His head was bowed, his back to her, and it took a few seconds before she realized he was crying, albeit silently.
She rose and went to him then, embracing him from behind and laying her head upon his back in silent support. He covered her right hand with his own; holding it over his heart as he slowly composed himself.
"You cannot imagine the relief I feel right now," he eventually was able to murmur. "I was convinced that all who heard of this would turn away from me. You're support… means more to me than you will ever know and I feel as though a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders."
She squeezed him gently and continued offering him silent physical support, all the while savoring the smell and feel of him as they stood together.
After some time, he wiped his eyes on his sleeve and carefully extracted himself from her embrace as he turned to face her. Lifting the hand he had kept hold of, he slowly kissed her knuckles and then spoke in a somewhat shaky voice, "Come; let us return to the warmth of the fire."
He led her back and saw her seated before taking his own chair and greedily finishing off his wine.
As he did, Tahlya removed a knife from her boot and began slicing up her pear. When she added the chunks of fruit to the last of the wine in her goblet, she noted Cullen's questioning look.
"I can't say I've ever seen anyone do that with pears."
She arched an eyebrow at him. "Then you are in for quite a treat when you try this," she replied, swirling her goblet.
He slouched down in the chair. "I must say I was wondering if I would ever be presented an opportunity to enjoy your company... outside of official business," he admitted, watching her carefully. "It has been several weeks at least since you spent time getting to know the others. I was beginning to think you found some fault with me."
She took a sip of her wine and turned a frank look upon him. "On the contrary," she protested, "You have consistently shown yourself to be perceptive and capable. Somehow I've always felt I could trust you; that your motives are above reproach. Thus I felt no need to rush our acquaintance. Tonight you have proven my assessment of you to be correct. You will have to put up with being my most favored advisor now."
"Patience is a virtue," he sighed, with a small laugh. His melancholia seemed to have finally vanished. When she laughed, he roused himself, sitting upright once more. "How is your drunken pear?" he asked curiously.
Tahlya dipped her thumb and forefinger into the dregs of her wine goblet and removed a piece of pear, which she then popped into her mouth. "Delicious..." she sighed, closing her eyes as she chewed it. When she swallowed and opened them again it was to find him rising from his chair. Coming to stand directly before her, he dropped to one knee and placed a hand on each armrest, effectively trapping her in her seat.
She froze, her breath catching, and found herself unable to do anything but lock eyes with him as he leaned in closer, a smoldering look of want transforming his handsome features.
His eyes flicked from her lips to her goblet and back again. "I think you should have another one," he managed to husk out, his voice dropping in both volume and timber.
Without breaking eye contact, she dipped her fingers back into her goblet, coming up with another piece of pear, but before she could bring it up to her lips, Cullen's hand gently captured her own.
Slowly, he brought her fingers towards his mouth, as her breath caught in her throat.
At the last moment he hesitated, but then carefully enveloped her fingers with his lips, his tongue prying the fruit from her grasp.
She gasped audibly at the first touch of his mouth and then, to her embarrassment, moaned when his tongue slipped between her fingers. Her eyes were locked on his mouth as he slowly chewed the fruit and swallowed, and for a long moment the scar that ran through his upper lip became her entire world.
She felt compelled to kiss him; to feel that jagged line shift against her lips... and it was only after he leaned away and began to stand that the compulsion was broken.
"...Maker..." she groaned.
In an instant he was on his feet and pulling her up to stand before him. Taking the goblet from her, he set it on the table so that he could grasp both her hands. "You are too kind to trifle with me," he breathed, kissing each in turn. "If you do not return my affections I beg you to say so now. For my part, for quite some time now I've held you in the highest esteem. Long have I yearned for your company; even if only for a few minutes. I've unburdened myself to you, and now you know me. If you do not return my feelings, only say the word and I shall never trouble you again."
Her heart was beating out of control; so surprised and elated was she to discover the depth of her reserved and proper advisor's feelings for her. "Cullen," she sighed, looking earnestly up at him. "If you only knew how long I have entertained sentimental feelings for you..."
And that was it; with a gasp of understanding, he leaned down and captured her lips, kissing her soundly. When they came up for air they were both flushed and breathing heavily.
"Maker knows I have guarded my heart too well and for far too long," he murmured near her ear after pulling her into a tight embrace. "but I've learned the error of my ways. The world may well be ending and none of us knows how much time we've left. I'll not deny myself the pleasure of your company." He leaned away, gently took her chin in his hand and tipped her face up so she met his eyes. "I love you, Tahlya."
His declaration jolted through her, especially in light of his thoughts on love. She found herself both shocked and filled with trepidation as she could not say she felt the same magnitude of affection. Her eyes must have reflected her thoughts, for he nodded and kissed her tenderly.
"I understand," he whispered against her lips. "Only tell me that you care and that there is a chance you might one day love me and I shall be satisfied." He smiled gently and hugged her to him again, his scruffy, unshaved cheek gently scratching against her own. "Let me make my intentions perfectly clear; I intend to woo you, and I'll not be satisfied until you admit your love for me."
She found herself smiling, as her heart hammered wildly in her chest, her conscience satisfied. Wrapping her arms around him and burying her fingers in his hair, she pulled his head around so she could kiss him soundly.
"What I feel for you I have never felt for another," she admitted. "Does this satisfy you?"
"It is a good start," he whispered, pulling her up against him and kissing her back with a bruising passion. When his hand pressed against her lower back, forcing her to conform to his entire length, she felt the evidence of his desire press into her belly, and nearly lost all reason.
After another heated moment he pulled away, and gently moved her to arm's length. "It is nearly morning," he murmured. "I should take my leave."
"Please stay," she found herself shamelessly asking, as she gripped his sleeves."
He let out a great sigh and leaned in to press his forehead against hers. "You ask... a great deal."
"Yes," she admitted. "However, if I should die tomorrow, I'd just as soon have the memory of you to comfort me."
"Tahlya…" he groaned. "If you had any idea of what it truly is that you ask of me..."
She instantly felt ashamed of herself. Given everything she'd just learned of the man, how could she be so selfish? She released him and took a step back. "I'm sorry," she whispered, lowering her eyes. "Please forgive me. It was wrong for me to push you so."
When he made no reply, she raised her gaze to find him regarding her with a conflicted expression.
When he spoke, his voice was gruff, "If you are certain of this, then I'll not refuse you, but be warned that on the morrow I'll suffer no rivals..."
"You are all that I want," she assured him.
With a strangely grim expression, he suddenly hoisted her up in his arms, and as she squawked in surprise, made his way towards her chamber doors.
To be continued...