Chapter 25
"…But you're still staying here."
She frowned and refused to let go of him as he once again drew away from her.
"I'm not helpless."
A resounding boom echoed far above them, beckoning him out of his stronghold, a final ultimatum before the full onslaught of the storm. The humor vanished from his face as he looked at her intently; they had no time to argue.
"No, but you are still a liability," he said curtly. "You have never wielded magic before, let alone in such potent quantities."
"So you're just going to put all this extra power to waste?" she said pointedly.
He paused, and she could almost see his mind whirring, figuring out an efficient compromise. "No. It would not do to waste such power." He passed his gloved hand over her forehead in a quick motion and incantation. "Stay out of sight until I need your energy…if I need it."
Her skin tingled as magic seemed to infuse with her flesh. "What did you do?"
"You're invisible now," he said. "But you will stay away from the fight, do you understand?"
"But won't—"
He shook his head. "No unnecessary risks. I'll send you somewhere safe, but where I can find you. Don't move from there."
Her frown deepened but she did not argue further, almost losing her balance as the floor began to shake even this far below the surface. It seemed the very desert was coming alive, vast dunes of sand straining against the intruder that had arrived to conquer it.
As he grasped her hand to teleport them above, she could feel the raw energy pulsing through her and mingling with the power that lay dormant in his gauntlet, held in check by his will. The air swept by them in a rush, and he let go of her hand.
A fierce whirlwind nearly swept her off balance as soon as she landed on solid ground, a maelstrom howling in her ears and blocking out all other sound. She covered her ears and hunched down, hardly able to see through the swirling black sands that cut through the air.
But she knew this was not a natural storm; storms did not visit this deadened land. This was Mirage's doing. She looked up through the thickening clouds of sand and caught a glimpse of the clear night sky.
And gasped when she realized that part of the sky was missing.
The familiar darkness scattered with twinkling white was completely gone, as if it had been torn out forcefully by jagged claws. Through the large rip in space, she could see the flash of orange fire and giant boulders that floated by in the absence of gravity.
Stay there. Can't let her see you.
His voice sounded clearly in her head through the storm that raged all around her. She nodded imperceptibly and stood still, the loose fabric of her pants whipping around her legs in the strong wind. She could not see him through the chaotic sands.
Bright lances of flame were shooting down from the torn sky like a shower of meteors, lighting up the desert in an eerie display of elements that did not belong here. Hundreds of these falling stars began to take shape as they landed on the sands in bursts of fire, long slender paws and sleek bodies extending forth, sharp intelligent eyes focused keenly on their latest battleground. Her eyes widened in fear at the sheer number of them; they blanketed the desert like a haunting specter of candles over the vast floor of a morgue.
I BELIEVE YOUR TENANCY HAS EXPIRED, SORCERER.
The gash in the sky took on the distinct shape of two feline eyes that glittered malevolently. They narrowed in delight, savoring the sight of the barren, dark land covered in the blazing fires of her minions. Jasmine shivered as they passed over her, fearing that she would be seen. But Mirage said nothing as she continued to survey the land from her incorporeal place in the sky.
Then she saw him, his cape billowing in the storm, his dark form hardly visible against the black sand obscuring the air. He floated a distance away, head raised to the sky, arms crossed in a cool pose of defiance.
You must not have read the lease agreement carefully enough, Mirage. I'm the one holding the deeds.
WITHOUT THAT GAUNTLET, YOU ARE NOTHING, BOY. I CRAFTED IT. WITHOUT ME—
Without you, I won't have any competition in conquering the Seven Deserts. So why don't we stop with the idle talk and allow me to assert that fact?
A feline hiss seared through the air, making Jasmine wince and cringe back. Then the glowing pupils began to fade, and the large tear in the sky became visible once again behind the thin feminine figure that materialized in a flash of liquid fire. The goddess floated slowly downward toward the sorcerer but remained at a higher altitude, maintaining a haughty stance of superiority. Her voice had shed its menacing volume for insinuating malice.
As I said years ago, you don't want to fight me. But…suit yourself.
She raised her slender arms just as Mozenrath swept his gauntleted hand in an arc. A piercing chorus of screeches from the firecats echoed in symphony with the low rumble that began deep underground, nearly throwing Jasmine off balance. She steadied herself, looking in bewilderment at the sand at her feet; it was shifting, flowing rapidly as if alive, or as if it had yet to reveal whatever gruesome life lay beneath.
She stood riveted in shock and terror by the deathly howl of the ghastly hounds that haunted these sands. Under the fiery light of the torn sky, she could see the first wave of them surging over the dunes, moving in fluid packs, seeming to glide forward on mist. And then her eyes were drawn with horror toward the sand all around her as the tremors ceased, and gleaming black claws began to emerge from the surface. The dark granules of the desert parted easily for the sleek, blackened forms of countless undead creatures that she had never before seen or imagined. She jumped back as the sand near her feet gave way to an enormous arachnid, its jet black legs extending outward like the slow bloom of a rotten flower. Its giant incisors clicked together as it raised its many beady eyes to the threat spread plainly across the sands of its home. Alongside it, a grotesque half-human, half-lizard crawled forth from its burrow, a long forked tongue flickering in the air, tasting the palpable tension and imminent battle, and it shook the sand off its dark mottled skin, rearing back with a low hiss and baring rows of sharpened teeth that dripped thick black liquid.
She forced her gaze away from the monstrous creatures beside her and looked across the desert, gasping at the vast army Mozenrath had called forth. Monsters of all forms and sizes stood at the ready, senses riveted on their fiery enemies, and awaited their master's command. The firecats were clearly outnumbered.
The dry laughter of the cat goddess sent the first crack through the tense silence. The faint sound of clapping drifted down belatedly to Jasmine's ears.
Bringing out all the toys at once, hm? My firecats are thankful for the free entertainment.
She imagined the smirk that must have graced the sorcerer's features at that moment. Mirage had to be bluffing. There was no way that her firecats could withstand a simultaneous attack from seemingly endless hordes of the undead.
Then the goddess waved one dainty hand, and suddenly Jasmine had to shield her eyes. The desert flashed with blinding light, and when she opened her eyes again she found a sea of living fire before her; she could see no open spot of black sand through the waves of flame. The firecats' physical forms had dispersed and bled into each other, joining together into one giant amorphous body of fire.
Let the games begin.
She turned and broke into a stumbling run as the flaming ocean under the goddess' control surged high into the air and slammed down onto the sands near her, entirely too close for comfort. Tendrils of heat licked at her back as she ran, heart pounding, teeth gritted to bite back a scream of terror.
A high-pitched shriek filled the air, masking her own frightened shout at the sight of the burning bodies of the undead creatures, the spiders writhing madly in the flames, all eight legs twitching and crackling. Some of the monsters began to sink back underground, leaving giant holes in the sand that were soon covered over in flame.
She realized with dread that she could not outrun the surge of fire, that somehow it seemed intelligent in its movements, selectively lingering to engage Mozenrath's creatures while rushing faster over barren land.
She had no time to call for help before a sudden wave of flame washed over her completely, and she screamed at the bright explosion of light enveloping her vision, the extreme heat wrapping around her body. She tried to cover her exposed skin with her arms, batting uselessly at the flames that licked along her limbs. And froze when she realized that she felt no pain. She stopped running as the sea of fire continued to surge past her, the shrill screams of undead monsters ringing across the sand. Staring down at her own hands, she turned over her palm, watching the flames dance across her fingers harmlessly. The glowing layer of power from within still protected her.
This…this was what it felt like to wield power. She felt invincible.
She was shaken out of her trance by a gigantic blast from above that reverberated through the air. Covering her head instinctively, she glanced up through the towering flames and caught the end of a glittering shower of sparks from some unseen source in the sky. The air appeared to bend and warp, and she took a step backward in dizziness. But the earth was not moving. It had to be an illusion spell, no doubt an attempt by Mirage to alter the battlefield to her advantage.
Another powerful boom shook the air and disrupted the spell, straightening the plane of reality once again. Jasmine frowned, nagged by a new worry. Mozenrath was expending copious amounts of energy merely to counter Mirage's illusion spells. Would he have enough to last him through the battle? If he needed her power, how would she survive the fight without her own magic shield to protect her?
But the next large blast that rang in her ears was of a distinct quality, purposely honed and channeled to strike at a certain area in the sky. And then there was the searing sound of a bright streak of power shooting rapidly toward the ground.
She watched the magic spell smash into the sand and burst in a brilliant shower of light, a giant shock wave spreading outward rapidly over the sea of fire and…
Turning it all into an ocean of dark liquid.
Thrown into confusion, Jasmine had no time to shield herself before a sizable wave knocked her over, drenching her clothes in the unidentifiable fluid. It was scentless, flowing smoothly around her as a receding tide. She heard the dismayed cries of hundreds of firecats, now scattered, no longer part of a large body of flame. Their soaked, lightless bodies leapt frantically over the watery sands, desperate to escape the liquid that had extinguished their power. They looked like nothing more than emaciated animals. Jasmine turned in time to see the undead hordes beginning to advance once more, their painful wounds covered over by their own mindless servitude and relief from the fire. She forced herself to watch as the first undead creature bounded forward and latched its jaws onto a firecat's neck, smashing its head down into the sand with a wet splash and an audible crack. She fought back her nausea as other grotesque beasts followed quickly behind, taking advantage of their enemies' sudden weakness and beginning a slow slaughter.
Despite the grisly sight, she had to grin and exult in silence. Mozenrath had somehow turned the tide and was close to winning.
Her silent cheers were abruptly cut short by a furious scream from above. Another explosion rattled the breath in her lungs, and a second later a distinctly human form plummeted into the sand a short distance away. She rushed over, her heart climbing high in her chest, and knelt by him, forsaking all thoughts of hiding. She gasped at the twisted position he had landed in, but he stood up and dusted himself off in a fastidious fashion, hiding his pain with a proud scowl. He ignored her presence completely, though she was sure he knew she was there. Despite his self-assurance, she could not help but stare in helpless worry at the way he clutched his side slightly, how he leaned on one leg while trying to hide the pain in the other.
The sound of the goddess' frustrated seething had turned into delighted laughter. With growing dread, Jasmine looked back over the water-covered sands and saw the firecats had flared back to life, now stepping over the wet ground without hindrance. The ones that had not died from the onslaught of the undead now fought back at full strength, actually forcing back the hounds and unidentified creatures of the black sand.
The goddess' malicious cackle tapered off into chuckles of mirth, echoing all around her.
So you brought her along after all. Shame on you, boy; you'll never make a proper Prince Charming that way.
Jasmine froze.
"Boo."
She screamed as a clawed hand raked at her arm, dragging her sideways. She kicked out violently, trying to break the goddess' hold. She caught a flash of a cat's devilish grin, yellow eyes drinking in her pain and shock.
Then the wind was knocked out of her by a blast of power from elsewhere, and she flew backward into the sand, freed from the goddess' iron grip. She sat up slowly, disoriented but fully aware that she had just been inches from death yet again. Her body still tingled with the power pulsing across her skin. She stared at her arm in morbid fascination; it was glowing dark blue, illuminating her veins in an eerie dark light.
By aiming for her instead of Mirage, he'd succeeded in freeing her. She ran to his side, wondering if her shield of invisibility had dissolved completely.
"And now you're hitting her as well. Definitely not long-term material, I'd say."
Mirage stood a safe distance away from them both, slender arms folded, considering them curiously. Her countenance was yet unmarred by the battle, her crimson dress flowing smoothly as she sauntered toward them, the sound of her firecats' victorious snarls in their ears. But the battle between their armies had faded into the background. It was the goddess or the sorcerer who would determine the real outcome.
"But she likes me for me." His mouth curved in a cynical half-smile. "Prince Charmings are last season, apparently."
Mirage's eyes widened at his open admission of their relationship, or whatever they had between them.
"I see."
Her slitted eyes riveted on Jasmine, and there was no question that the invisibility spell had broken. Jasmine stared back defiantly, not showing her fear.
"The street rat really is yesterday's news now, hm?"
Jasmine had no answer for her. So she did not speak, suddenly burdened by a renewed weight of shame and worry.
"I believe silence is the best affirmation," Mirage said nonchalantly, tapping her chin with a sly smile. "I fully expect an invitation to—"
A blast scored the sand at her feet, but she did not flinch, merely looking down at it and shaking her head slowly. "Temper, temper. If you're not careful, Princess, he might hit you even when you're not in danger."
"Business before personal matters, Mirage," Mozenrath said, gauntlet upraised and ready to fire again. "Don't expect an invitation onto my land at any point after this."
"Your land?" Mirage questioned, her mouth twisting in a sneer. "This domain was practically handed to you by a senile old fool, complete with the power of a stolen gauntlet that I created. This accursed desert is mine, boy. Mine."
His cool countenance darkened at her flippant dismissal of the cost he had paid for his power and his domain. "This 'accursed desert' begs to differ."
He moved his gauntleted hand in a quick motion, chanting an incantation, and the sand beneath their feet began to shift and rumble, as if ready to send forth reinforcements for his undead army. But nothing emerged from the surface this time. The sand merely rose in two massive waves to their left and right, almost blocking out the moonlight. Mozenrath stepped back casually, and Jasmine followed without questioning, looking up at the walls of sand in trepidation. Mirage did not move, seemingly unimpressed by the display even as the sand loomed over her.
The walls surged inward, smashing into the space where the goddess had been standing a moment before, and Jasmine shielded her eyes from the spray of sand that cascaded over her body.
The two waves rose again instantaneously and shot into the sky, chasing the small streak of crimson that twisted and dodged each strike until they finally enveloped their target. The sand quickly swirled into one giant roiling sphere that scattered granules down to the ground like a shower of dry rain.
Jasmine held her breath as both of them watched the giant mass of sand above, wondering if the goddess really could be defeated so quickly. She glanced at Mozenrath and found the answer in his grave expression.
The air began to waver once again, and she shook her head as if to clear it. But the illusions were returning, rending the fabric of reality all around them. She looked up at the sky and found the rapid swirl of the sand was slowing until it stopped altogether and fell back down to earth. He raised one hand and parted the massive wave just before it hit them both, and it rushed over their heads as if running over an invisible ceiling.
She clamped her hands over her ears as the goddess' voice rose in terrifying volume over the din of the sand shower and the battle between their armies, chanting in a foreign tongue with malice laced thickly through every word. Mozenrath grabbed her hand and drew her close to him as he chanted a counterspell, touching his gauntlet to her head. Her disorientation cleared immediately, but the air and even the desert itself continued to waver, seeming to warp into some new reality.
A flash of red caught her eye a distance to her left, and she turned only to find nothing. Then the bright color appeared in the other corner of her vision, and she whirled once more but found only blank space. The loud chanting continued in her ears, drowning out the sound of Mozenrath's voice shouting at her.
He raised his hand to cast a spell, but the blue-black fire that erupted from his gauntlet suddenly turned back on them, bending in mid-air and scattering into harmless flames at their feet. He growled and tightened his hand into a fist.
He let go of her and clasped his hands together in a quick spell, then drew them apart several inches, palms open. The space between his hands shimmered brightly and solidified into a familiar instrument. The harp he had crafted to save her.
Wasting no time, he drew one hand across its strings, and her ears almost shattered from the screeching cacophony that sundered the air. Mozenrath had closed his eyes in focus, not shielding his own ears from the terrible dissonance resonating from his hands. He continued to move his fingers across the harp, sending forth a melody of discord that was unrecognizable from the beautiful song he had composed earlier.
The deafening voice of the goddess rose even further as if in willing conflict with the horrid music, and Jasmine fell to her knees, feeling her insides curdle at the vile harmony. But she forced her eyes open, wanting to see what was happening, how Mozenrath would counter the massive illusion. The sand was flickering gold now underneath the flames of her firecats and the fierce battle that continued to rage, the hordes of creatures oblivious to the real battle going on between their masters. The grating song of the harp began to play faster, more urgently, and the sand reverted to its black shade.
WHEN WILL YOU GIVE UP, BOY?
The chanting did not break as the goddess threatened him in a low, menacing tone. She had already lost all patience, and Jasmine feared she had yet to unleash the full measure of her power.
Jasmine, he hissed in her ear. She turned toward him and stood shakily, still holding her head in pain. He had not looked at her at all, still focused intently on the harp. Let go of your fear!
Fear?
She heard an exasperated sigh.
She's feeding off of your fear. That's how the firecats returned. And that's how she's weaving this thick illusion. That blast bent back on me because you don't trust me.
She bit her lip at the thought of her own helplessness. She still did not know how to master the depths of her mind, the hidden doors Mirage had manipulated so masterfully in her labyrinth. How could she control her own fear when she was surrounded by such terrifying forces?
For the last time, trust me! Trust in yourself!
She drew close to him, watching his tense countenance as his fingers moved across the stringed harp, not missing any notes in the jarring cadence of his desperate fight against the illusion. She knew she had to trust him, but actually doing it was another matter. In the face of unprecedented danger and imminent loss for them both, it seemed impossible.
His hands paused for a split-second as a cough racked his body, and the sands flashed gold once more all around them. The firecats snarled triumphantly over the scattered bodies of the undead legions that had already fallen under their claws. Her hand latched onto his shoulder in alarm, urging him to recover, to do something before Mirage's power overtook them fully. The goddess' malicious laughter rang all around them like a death knell.
He turned toward her with the fire of desperation in his eyes, and snatched her hand from his shoulder in an iron grip.
Give me your power, now.
She had scarcely nodded when a surge of power flooded through her, channeled through her hand into his gauntlet. The glove seemed to come alive with dark energy, flaring blue and black before he let go of her with a dangerous smirk on his face.
I'll pay you back later.
She sank to the ground, drained of strength as he drew his gloved hand once more across the instrument, and the harp hummed with new energy coursing through its strings. The discordant song grew louder in volume, but she forced her hands into the sand, refusing to block it out this time. She had to hear his victory, trust in his power, in her own power that she had just given him.
The voice of the goddess suddenly waned in volume, dwarfed by the massive crescendo of his song. The air began to waver even more rapidly, bending back on the spell she had cast, and Jasmine could actually sense the layers of the illusion folding in on themselves. She stood, her knees still trembling, and looked up. The tear in the fabric of the sky was pulsating wildly, its edges expanding and shrinking in a volatile rhythm. She still could not see Mirage, but she could hear her increasingly desperate voice in her head. The incantation was no longer enough to hold back the power of the harp.
And the song that wove through the desert began to change, the dissonant melody returning to its proper tones, singing with power and strength, no longer meandering and wistful as the first time she had heard it. No longer at odds with the power of the goddess, the song was free to resume its former flow and breathtaking melody.
When the music reached its climax, she heard a screech of dismay and even pain from the goddess, no longer ringing through her head, but outside her body, high above in the air. She looked up once again to see the crimson streak of her dress, clawed hands raised in fury to pull at her own hair. The black sand shifted under her feet then, and she stumbled back against his side, holding onto his arm. He did not look at her as he pressed the harp into her hands and brought his gauntlet up with outstretched fingers, his glowing palm facing the sky.
The entire desert came alive in an instant. For as far as she could see, the sands began to rise in a giant surge, as if it were an endless ocean in a wild storm. In the next second the desert erupted on all sides, shooting into the sky and enveloping her vision in black. Dropping the harp, she covered her eyes instinctively, but he pried her hands from her face with gentle insistence. Something faltered helplessly inside her as she saw his smirk of certain victory, and he jerked his head toward the sky. They turned together and watched as the desert ascended to impossible heights at the command of its master. She could not even hear the shriek of the goddess as the sand must have already enveloped her. She caught scattered flashes of fire as the sand swept her army of minions upward in a tidal swell, extinguishing their flames under its crushing power.
They stood in a shield of stillness, separated from the living walls of sand by mere inches, watching as the desert rose to its final height and met the gaping tear in the sky that Mirage had meant to use to join their two domains. It smashed into it and sprayed wildly as a tide of water upon the shore, and began to condense and swirl madly around the gap like boiling water in a cauldron.
She stared in awe as the sand eventually began to slow, seeming to meld with the fabric of reality, or perhaps to repair it. It began to descend once more, spreading thinly across the air as it scattered, having completed its massive task of defeating the goddess. The sky was whole once more, and Mirage and her firecats were nowhere to be seen. They had been forced back into their realm and sealed off hopefully in some permanent fashion from his land.
But her awe quickly turned to panic as Mozenrath suddenly collapsed beside her, dragging her down with him. His eyes were already closed in exhaustion. She glanced up in terror at the black desert that was seconds away from burying them both in a mile of sand.
She had no time to scream before she threw herself over his body and cast out a desperate prayer for survival. Her skin tingled unexpectedly with the remnants of her own power, a last bewildering comfort before thousands of tons of living sand slammed down upon them.
She held onto him tightly as a deafening avalanche enveloped them both, but there was no crushing weight on her back, no suffocating trap of sand. She opened her eyes and looked around them in wonder, and found they were still shielded, but by her power this time. In another second the sound of the world falling ceased almost as quickly as it had come, and she raised her head to find that they were lying in a deep ditch, surrounded on both sides by high walls of sand.
She breathed in and out slowly, closing her eyes for a brief moment to take in all that had transpired, to accept that they were alive and they were the victors. Her mind threatened for the umpteenth time in a month to snap into pieces. But this time the knowledge weighing down on her mind was not crushing in its sorrow, but overwhelming in relief and gladness.
She laughed as she bent over him and kissed his face, wrapping her arms tightly around him. He had done it. They had done it together.
She drew him up into her lap, holding him gently for a moment before beginning to wonder how to move him back into the Citadel. She looked up at the high walls surrounding them and frowned. She still did not how to properly use the magic that coursed through her veins, and attempting to climb the steep dunes dragging an unconscious burden was outright dangerous.
She never thought she would smile at the sight of the undead creatures that appeared at the top of the dunes and began to slide down toward their master.
...
The inside of the Citadel was oppressively cold and dark. Most of the torches had gone out days before, and the sense of desolation was even more pervasive than usual. It was as if the whole place had slid toward death alongside its master, falling into disrepair as his life had steadily dwindled through the sands of an hourglass.
Clad in one of his long robes, she sat in the darkness of his room beside his bed, close enough to see the outline of his face, the slow rise and fall of his chest. She drew a wet cloth across his forehead and neck and wrung it in the bucket of warm water the servants had brought at her clipped command. With methodical patience she washed away the sweat and dust and blood from his skin, careful not to expose too much of his weakened body to the chill air. She shivered as her hands ran over his scars. There were many. Most were old, perhaps nearly invisible to the eye, but they were deep. Now she knew why he covered himself so fastidiously even in the desert heat, why he had always kept his throat wrapped in bandages despite the discomfort they must have caused.
When she finished, she lay down beside him and held him close. His skin was like ice. He did not move, his body having sealed itself off from consciousness as if distrusting the fact he was still alive.
Resting her head in the crook of his neck, she drifted in and out of dreamless sleep, waking every so often to shift to his other side. He was slowly warming, but his skin was still too cold. The gauntlet was still on his hand, and she did not remove it, not knowing how the nature of its bond to him may have changed since the curse had been broken.
It was a nameless hour in the night when he finally stirred. She loosened her grip around him and felt his chest rise in a full breath of air. His chin brushed the top of her head as he turned, pausing when he noticed her against him. He relaxed and lay back, making no move to leave her embrace. Neither of them spoke for a long while.
She stared into the darkness; it seemed time had slowed to a trickle between her breathing and the silence of the desert outside.
"How does it feel?" she said quietly.
The hand idly tracing the curve of her side stopped.
"To be free," she elaborated.
She felt the light glances of breath across her hair as he answered.
"It doesn't feel like anything."
Her own silence told of her agreement. It was nothing like she had imagined it would be. To have finally broken free of madness and terror and death, only to feel nothing. There was merely the need for rest, to stop thinking and moving altogether. Perhaps she should have expected this. Victory was short-lived; all threats to her life were now gone, but emptiness now lay in their wake.
His hand left her side briefly, and a pale light flickered to life somewhere nearby, illuminating the room in gray. She immediately shielded her eyes, a sharp pain spearing through her head. He extinguished the light scarcely a second later in reaction.
"Sit up," he said.
He pulled her up alongside him with surprising strength and turned her to face him. His gloved hand hovered near her face, and she held still, eyes closed. The throbbing had begun to recede, but as soon as he brushed her forehead it exploded in pain and she flinched away with a low cry. He drew back and stood from the bed, moving quickly toward the cabinets.
She felt nauseous at the sight of the fruit, though her body was in desperate need of nourishment again. He made her finish at least half.
The frown did not disappear from his face. She began to feel worried.
"What is it?"
"Your mind didn't have time to recover before Mirage took you."
She placed a hand gingerly against the side of her head, but felt no pain this time, only a vague numbness from the fruit's magic. "And what will that mean?"
His frown deepened. "You'll need something stronger than the Fruit of Renewal to heal you."
She took his arm before he could leave her side again. "Wait. Just…wait. I'm okay now. I just want to rest."
"No," he said, and stood anyway. He retrieved a vial of the magic liquid and uncorked it. She cringed from the bitter smell.
"You sure that hasn't expired?" she joked weakly.
She could just make out the curve of his smile in the darkness.
"Drink."
She took it reluctantly and tried not to gag when she brought it to her mouth. Pinching her nose, she took a small sip.
He snatched the vial before it could drop from her fingers as she coughed violently, tears stinging her eyes. He tilted her chin up and ignored her protests, bringing the glass to her lips once more.
"Throw it back."
She shut her eyes tightly and swallowed fast, fighting the urge to spit it back out. It tasted like liquid ash, wafting into her nose and choking off her breath. He held her firmly as she fought to keep it down.
"Wine…doesn't seem…so bad…anymore," she managed to choke out.
He chuckled and set aside the empty vial. "About time you came around."
Then his voice faded for a moment as a soothing wave of warmth spread from her stomach to the rest of her body and reached her head. She vaguely felt his arms supporting her through the haze of magic that enveloped her senses.
She blinked and her vision cleared. The gray light illuminated the room again, and this time there was no pain. Her mind felt light, no longer lined with fractures, and the mire of exhaustion had faded as well. She could now see him clearly at this close proximity, the calm expression on his face, robe loose around his lean shoulders.
"Thank you. I think," she said, mouth twisting in disgust at the vile aftertaste of the potion.
For a second she thought he might conjure a glass of wine just to mock her, but he gave her the rest of the fruit instead. She took it without protest, not minding the strange flavor after the elixir. He watched her with an elusive expression that she could not decipher until she somehow caught the slightest downward flicker of his eyes.
She was suddenly conscious of his arm around her, though it had not moved since she had taken the potion. Her slowly returning appetite diminished to nothing again as she felt strangely apprehensive under his intent gaze. He took the fruit from her when she lowered it from her mouth, and put it aside without a glance.
"Mozenrath," she said softly.
"You've won the challenge," he said.
She paused.
"You did what was required to lift the curse. You are free to go."
His expression gave away nothing once more, but he raised a hand to stroke her face, and she was sure he could feel her trembling.
"The cost you paid was greater than I expected. And as much as you deserved to learn the cardinal truth of power, it should not have gone so far."
There was no guilt in his voice, but the words themselves made her wonder if she were dreaming.
"I'm sorry," he said simply.
She opened her mouth to ask him why he was telling her this now, whether he was still too tired to think straight. But as he began to draw back from her, she held him fast.
"You already have my forgiveness," she said steadily. "It's a greater truth than power."
She held his palm against her face, and something between them changed. She was suddenly reminded of a time that might have been, the faraway scent of her garden and his face under a noonday sun, free of the curse of power, lips imparting a promise she could not hear but somehow knew.
"I love you."
She leaned forward and kissed him gently. He went still for a moment, but soon his arms encircled her waist and pulled her close. Her hands glided over his shoulders and down his back beneath his robe, brushing scarred skin. It was no longer cold.
She shifted forward onto his lap, and he stopped moving when she wrapped her legs around his waist. She broke their kiss and looked into his eyes, aware of the tenseness of his hands low on her hips.
"I want you," she said.
His gaze flickered, and she leaned her forehead against his, feeling the warmth of his breath on her cheek. They did not move for several heartbeats, as if he were allowing her time. She closed her eyes when he finally broke the stillness, his lips caressing the side of her face, the soft skin under her ear. His hands slowly slid up her back to entangle in her hair, and the warm fire within her began to burn a little faster.
She tilted her head back as his mouth met her throat and traveled down to her collarbone, tasting each slight curve and shiver of anticipation. She draped her arms around his shoulders and kissed his neck, the place where she could feel his heartbeat right under his skin.
Her breathing quickened when she felt him hardening beneath her thighs. Swallowing dryly, she looked into his eyes when he drew back, his hands ceasing their motion in her hair. With trembling fingers she fingered the collar of the robe she wore, heart pounding. His gaze did not leave her face as his hands joined hers and guided them steadily, thumbs brushing over the curves of her shoulders and upper arms. The soft material fell easily to her waist and she instinctively curled forward to cover herself. His hand cupped her chin and brought her face up to look at him. The question still stood.
She nodded, breath trapped halfway in her throat, and he removed his hand from her face, his palm warming her abdomen instead. It smoothed up the flat plane of her stomach and she tensed as it touched her breast, caressing the soft skin in gentle circles. Her pulse fluttered as he lowered his head and his hot breath trailed from her shoulder to the curve of her other breast. A gasp escaped her throat when his mouth closed over the tip and his tongue joined his hand in the same torturous motion.
She shifted her legs apart, the pressure between them already too tight, and heard a harsh hiss of breath. He was growing harder against the space between her hips, and through the delirious daze of pleasure she realized fully where this would lead, where she had wanted it to lead from the moment she had kissed him. For once she did not question him or herself, immersed in the simple, immutable thought that she loved him, trusted him, knew him beneath the layers of cold and indifference. There was a fiery emptiness within her that longed to be filled, and she clung to him tightly, wanting only him to fill it. She wanted all of him, beyond the touch of his hands and the warmth of his lips, beyond whispered words and soft caresses and flushed skin.
He tugged at the knot of her robe and shrugged off the fabric from his own shoulders at the same time. She ran her hands down his back, over the ridges of scars and tense muscle, and rose on her knees to allow the layers of cloth to fall from her hips. She undid the tie at his waist and pulled the long robe free with effort, the fabric partly trapped under his weight.
In the dim, gray light she could see the hard length between his legs, and with hesitation she slid her palm experimentally over it, pausing when he inhaled sharply, breathing hard. She began to pull away but he held her wrist firm, eyes locking with hers; the flint in his gaze rendered her suddenly breathless. And then her field of vision tilted as his hand brushed the empty warmth between her legs. His thumb stroked her once and she reeled, lips parted in a wordless cry of pleasure, unconsciously leaning into his touch. Her hand tightened on him in turn and she felt his fingers thrust into her with a prick of pain. Her muscles clenched instinctively around his hand, the skin of her thighs slick around his arm, and his lips grazed her cheek, her eyelids, trying to calm her.
He began to move his hand against her, fingers sliding in and out of the tight space, and she lay back, arms falling to her sides as she shut her eyes, pleading with sounds she could not understand. He slowed his pace, taking his time in exploring her, and touched a spot that made her vision explode in stars. She opened her legs further and drew him toward her, hands snaking through his hair. He lowered his mouth to her throat once more and kissed the skin beneath her ear, fingers still pushing into her, torturing her senses as she neared a precarious edge she had never reached before.
But before she reached it he drew back, and the sudden emptiness within her ached even more intensely to be filled. She raised her knees and secured his waist as he positioned his body between her legs, pressing against her entrance just enough to stoke the fire in her blood.
He stole her breath with a hard, passionate kiss, casting aside the slow caution and patience he had practiced for her sake. She responded readily, wrapping her arms around his back and sliding her body downward, pushing him into her in one shallow stroke.
She bit her lip at the sting of pain, the sudden discomfort of him within her, and they both fell still for a span of several hitched breaths.
"Trust me?" His voice was ragged in her ear.
She nodded against his shoulder, and he lifted himself off her on his arms, cold air rushing between them, the heat suddenly all gathered below at the point where their bodies were joined. He thrust into her once, slowly, and she flinched beneath him, willing the fear to fade, caught in a war between want and pain. She felt his lips on her face, caressing her gently as he moved inside her again, pulling back and going in deeper this time. His name escaped her lips in a cracked whisper, still pleading for something she did not know.
"Relax," he spoke against her heated skin. "Relax…"
She closed her eyes and felt the slow burn begin anew at the touch of his hand above the stretching pain, his thumb drawing circles around the sensitive flesh as he increased his pace. Her breaths came in gasps and her vision swam in dizzying stars, an incomprehensible wave of pleasure washing through her with each stroke.
She spoke his name again as her anchor in rising floodwaters, holding onto his shoulders as if she would fall if she let go now, and he moved still faster, breaths sharp and hot against her neck. His dark eyes gleamed before they closed in ecstasy, lips parting, losing their path over her skin.
She cried out then as he thrust into her once more and filled her to the brim, heat spreading back through their bodies as sudden wildfire, erasing all the empty space and cold between them in an instant. He collapsed against her and she wound her arms around his back, heart threatening to burst in the aftermath of release.
She lay locked in his embrace, still holding him inside her, sweat mixing over skin, breaths coming fast and faint. The gray light of the room was the only reminder that the world was not a senseless burst of stars. She closed her eyes and let the remaining tension seep out of her as he lifted his head from her shoulder slowly, kissing her jaw and the side of her mouth.
"I love you," she whispered.
His lips found their real destination, and the only other vacant ache within her filled as she kissed him back.