BMT belongs to Trudi Canavan
AkkarinxSonea. Very. Avoid if not your thing! Everyone else, enjoy!
Chapter 36 - Ready
Akkarin glanced up from the book he was reading, and he smiled as he lay it down on the table next to him. Sonea sat curled in one of Rothen's guest chairs, legs tucked beneath her and her hair cascading like a dark waterfall, tumbling over the edge of the arm on which her head rested. Her breathing was the soft, steady rhythm of peaceful sleep, and Akkarin's heart was grateful, eased.
He leaned forward and gently stroked her colourless cheek with one finger, tracing the pink line of a healing scar and his smile vanished. Vinara and the Healers had worked miracles on Sonea's injuries, and many of the more superficial cuts she had suffered were already near invisible silvery lines. But the Black Magician knew that this cut Kariko had made to Sonea's cheek had been deliberately and cruelly deeper; not just an opening in the skin to drain power, or the mark of a sadistic torment, but rather a brand to mark a female slave. Akkarin had seen it done before. The Black Magician's face darkened and he abruptly sat back in his chair, his mind reeling back in contemplation over the last few weeks.
Miracles aside, even Vinara had her limits when it came to Healing, and physically Sonea was still not fully recovered from her injuries at the hands of Kariko. Her Aunt and Uncle had been found servants positions in the Guild so that they could be near her, but she remained withdrawn and solemn long after bones had healed and cuts had mended, wary of any personal contact except that of Akkarin. Only he could coax any spark of light in her earth-brown eyes, but even those occasions were rare.
Watching her now, a familiar feeling of guilt gnawed at Akkarin. And anger, still. The flare of his rage still threatened to blind him. He had to force it aside and remind himself, breathing, that the main object of it had gone, blasted to nothingness by Sonea herself. If anything, that only made the rage hotter. Kariko could not be punished by him. And punished. And punished. He could only punish himself, and he did. Often.
As if on cue, insidious, tormenting thoughts took hold in his mind, creeping in even as he watched her. They taunted: You failed her. You left her. She would not have suffered if not for you. You should not have told her about the Ichani. You. You. You.
He was to blame for involving Sonea with the Ichani; it was not just Takan's insistence that he share his burden that had led him to confide in Sonea, it had been his feelings for his novice. His want. His need. His desire for her to trust him and think well of him. And yet he had been unprepared for Sonea's almost instant and fierce loyalty.
It had been that loyalty that had finally pushed Akkarin's feelings for his novice into sharp focus, like a fog on a mirror that is suddenly wiped away to reveal a true reflection. Those feelings, and the growing hope that she shared them, had inexorably played a part in his decision to teach Sonea black magic and to join in his fight. He had been weak. He had been selfish, and now he had to atone.
That he had been tired, wearied, hollowed out, human, did not occur to him, and he would not have considered it mitigation even if it had.
Now that, against all the odds, both black magicians had survived, the former High Lord was determined that Sonea's needs would come before all else. She deserved that much. He wanted to give her that much.
He thought of the King's plea for him to take up the position of High Lord again, and his parent's disbelieving faces when he had made clear the nature of his feelings for Sonea. He recalled the fleeting whispers he had heard on the edge of his mind as he passed other magicians in the University. They were puzzled by his obvious care and protection of his former novice. They speculated as to what it might mean. The embers of growing rumours about the black magicians' relationship being fanned into flames by their current living arrangements in Rothen's apartments.
The people that mattered were well aware of the situation, and no-one else dare ask. It appealed to Akkarin's black humour to keep the Guild members guessing. They had inadvertently had control of his life for many years, and he felt he owed them nothing more. The Guild was safe from attack for the foreseeable future, and he had accepted the limitations that the higher magicians and the King had demanded, but he would live his life within those constraints as he wished. And he wished for nothing more than to take Sonea's pain away, and with it his own. He wished to see that stubborn spark in her eye, that luminescence. The determination that had equipped her so well in her early life; one of the qualities which had so drawn him to her, despite himself.
As Akkarin pondered, Sonea suddenly became restless, her mouth murmuring inaudible words, reaching out clawing hands and snatching at invisible assailants. He reached to gently grip her arm, and her eyes flew open, her face draining of the little colour it had, and a single word tore from her lips in horror and anguish:
"NO!"
Akkarin's hand was suddenly violently rebuffed by an unseen barrier. A strong shield had sprung up around her; a thing she had not been capable of when her nightmare had been a reality. He held up his hands in a placatory and pleading gesture, his features bleak.
"Sonea, it's me; Akkarin. You are safe now." He breathed. Her eyes, lost in her nightmare, suddenly flickered and focused on the man leaning towards her and they shrank from him momentarily before her shield abruptly dropped. Sonea stared, blinking at Akkarin for a long moment.
"Why do you stay with me?" She suddenly whispered, so softly that Akkarin barely caught the words, and her arms encircled herself in unconscious protection. Before she could stop herself, things she had not had the courage to say these past weeks came tumbling from her lips.
"You could be living for the first time in years; could truly be with a woman who could show you love. Yet you stay here with me, day after day – here, in my cage, "she added and a humourless smile gave a meloncholy twist to her lips.
"You don't owe me anything Akkarin, " she continued quietly, looking away. "I chose my own way. You...you don't have to be with me out of misplaced guilt, or because of what happened between us in Sachaka. Things are different now; we never expected to live." She took a deep, dragging breath and rushed on. "I won't blame you if you walk away. I won't make a fuss; Kariko left me with that much dignity."
Akkarin reached forward and took her hands, emotion clouding his dark eyes. Her words wouldn't settle into sense and he opened his mouth, but said nothing, stunned.
Misinterpreting his silence, Sonea pulled away from him, her eyes dulling further as her selfless bravado left her, and she hung her dark head. Akkarin stared at her, pale and thin, and his heart inside him lurched to see her desolation, still.
"Just don't pity me, that's all. I'll be fine." She managed to mumble the words out, shutting her eyes against the tears that welled there.
Akkarin found his voice at last, incredulous. "Pity you? Don't you know me better than that?" He caught hold of her hands again and, when she tried to resist, pulled her forcibly to him and held her tight; a risk, but her words had spun him, his careful handling of her these past weeks, shattered.
"Is this what you really want?" He murmured into her hair, and he felt her taut and trembling beneath his hands but he continued: " For me to walk away from you; pretend to the world I was nothing more than a concerned guardian, watching over you until you recovered?" His voice was low and tense, but her lack of response told him what he needed to know, and he eased a little. "You would do it for me then? " He asked, disbelieving. "So I could become the powerful and important Lord Akkarin, marry some girl from the Houses and parade at court every day?" Her head, under his chin, nodded weakly.
He touched her cheek gently, drawing back to look in her face, a new wonder gripping him. "I don't know what to say. So much love, so much courage..."
She shook her head and lowered her eyes. "No. No courage. I am not brave. I was afraid... of him." Her voice was a wisp. " I would have begged him to kill me if I'd had the strength."
Akkarin hooked his finger under her chin and forced her to look at him. He held her glittering gaze as his mind reached out and touched hers ,and he felt the depth of her fear and despair, and again his heart felt painfully constricted within him.
"He cannot hurt you anymore, Sonea. No one can. No one will. I promise you that. I promise..." And Sonea did not doubt his fierce conviction. He paused, looking at her intently, seeking through her shame for the truth of her. "And I know you, Sonea. This cage," he gestured to the room around them , "it will not hold you forever. And when you fly free, my heart would sore with you"- he took a breath, resolute, hopeful - "if you would be my wife." His burning gaze challenged her to look deep into heart and see the truth of what lay beating at its core.
"I love you Sonea; and not because of guilt, or honour, or any other transient reason. I love you. The girl who lived with me for nearly two years, and challenged me every day to question the beliefs I was brought up with. The girl who never let fear crush her spirit, or tarnish the purity of her soul. The woman who blossomed before my eyes from an unsure novice , into the formidable, and beautiful, magician I see today. And when you are ready, whenever that may be, I will marry you – if you wish it."
She held his gaze searchingly, her own challenge held there; a faint spark of her old self kindling in the dark pools of her eyes.
"And you would be content for them to whisper: There goes the famous Lord Akkarin – he married a slum girl? " Her chin held some of its old defiance as she spoke and a ghost of a half smile touched his lips as he answered.
"I would," he said softly, and he leaned forward and kissed her pale cheek. "When you are ready."
"What did you expect, Akkarin?! Our heartfelt congratulations and the family jewels as a marriage gift?!"
The tall, richly dressed man spun furiously away from the black-robed figure and walked briskly to the tall window that overlooked the beautifully kept gardens of the grand mansion-house.
"This will be the final humiliation." He added, contemptuous, as he glanced back over his shoulder and shot a scathing glance at his son. "There will be no coming back from this for us, you know that don't you? The Delvon family name will be forever tarnished."
He turned away again and muttered to his own reflection in the window pane. "As if it was not bad enough that you made no secret of the fact you had bedded the girl, but this! Marriage! It's insufferable! Not even Cami's Binding to Merin will negate it!"
"Do not trouble yourself, dearheart," Liessa murmured soothingly as she glided over to her husband and laid a hand solicitously on his arm. "Remember what your physician has told you. You must calm yourself. Akkarin will come to his senses. It has been difficult for him, that's all. He will see the error of his proposal with time, you'll see. A misplaced honour drives him at the moment, but it will pass."
"I am still in room, mother." Akkarin's voice was low, wearied and dripping with impatience. Hus black eyes glittered dangerously as he addressed her. "And as for error; Sonea has been the only thing that's right in all I've done," he stated emphatically as he held the gazes of both his parents in an unmistakeable challenge.
Liessa stifled an exasperated sigh as she surveyed her son disparagingly, though she managed to bank down her rising anger as she squeezed her husband's arm reassuringly.
"I feel sorry for the girl, Akkarn,I really do. Despite what you think, I would not wish that to have happened to anyone." Akkarin's mother straightened herself stiffly, as if preparing for an unpleasant task. "And I am grateful for the part she played in the Ichani defeat," she conceded with clear reluctance, "but my sympathy and gratitude does not extend to my embracing her as a daughter," she concluded calmly, wrapping her returning challenge in an obsequious smile.
Akkarin could not help but admire his mother's restraint. If his father was not present he knew that Liessa would be tearing verbal strips off her son. It was the Black Magician's turn to smile, though his voice, when he spoke, was smooth and cold as iron.
"You misunderstand me," he stated and his mother and father glanced at each other hopefully. "I do not come here to seek your blessing, only to inform you." His parent's hope was obliterated by the contempt that underscored his tone. He flicked a disinterested gaze at them. "Sonea and I will marry. As my parents, it would be appropriate if you were in attendance." His eyes sparkled keenly as he threw a speculative glance at Liessa. "People will only gossip if you are not there, and you wouldn't want that, would you?" he needled, deliberate. There was a silence, and it seethed like substance, begging to be sliced open. Liessa obliged.
"You dare to speak of appropriateness!" She exclaimed, dropping her husband's arm and turning fully to her son. Akkarin smiled crookedly, genuinely. This was the Liessa he knew. "The future heirs of House Velon cannot come from the belly of a Slum whore!" This was the Liessa he had grown to hate. His smile vanished.
"Careful," he said in a low, dangerous voice, and the single word scythed any further insults that were sprouting on his mother's tongue. "That is no way to talk of your future daughter." And, bored now with this pointless sparring, he suddenly turned his back on his parents and glided towards the door, his black robes billowing as he went.
As his fingers clasped the ornate handle, he glanced over his shoulder. It was too tempting. Akkarin surveyed his parent's contemptuous faces. Far too tempting.
"I will send word with the date of the ceremony of binding. Come, or not- as you please. I stopped caring about the gossips' whisperings long, long ago, just before I stopped caring what you thought of me." He paused then in mock consideration. "But, if you do come, remember to wear your best faces, for the gossips will be watching closely and you wouldn't want to disappoint them, would you?."
His father's response was savage– a stream of spittle-flecked invectives that sent Liessa into a flurry of concern about the wellbeing of her husband's heart. The accompanying series of facial contortions made Akkarin's father look far more the monster than he ever had, and the Black Magician smiled grimly.
"Yes, that," Akkarin stated in dark amusement, gesturing to his parent's furious features. "That will be just perfect." And he stalked out of the room, the heavy door snapping shut behind his tall form.
"Akkarin!"
The Black Magician halted at the threshold of his parent's mansion house, suppressing an annoyed sigh; he had no great desire to linger in the family residence after his confrontation with his parents. As he turned, however, his face softened when he saw who stalled him.
"Tobin," he said smiling and holding out his hands to take hers as his sister approached him. "Mother and father said you were out."
Tobin frowned in response. "Mother and father did not want you to have an ally whilst they spoke with you." She grimaced apologetically. "They ordered me to stay away, and I dare not refuse father anything these days, he is in such a black mood."
Tobin smiled suddenly and squeezed his hands. "Is it true?" She asked breathlessly. "I cornered one of the servants who waited on you just now and ordered he tell me what he had heard, on pain of dismissal." She looked up at Akkarin expectantly. "So, tell me. Is it true, Akkarin?"
"Yes," and he smiled wickedly, "it's true. I can hide it no longer - you are in fact crushing my fingers." And his smile broadened as his older sister stamped her foot in angry impatience at his deliberate obtuseness, and it lightened his spirit to see her childish vexation.
"Akkarin!" She exclaimed. "Tell me! Is my little brother to be married?!"
Akkarin laughed softly. "Yes, Tobin, I am." And his joy - his joy- hit her and caught in her throat.
"Oh, Akkarin!" And her eyes brimmed as she pulled him into an embrace. "No one deserves peace as much as you. And Sonea, of course. When will the Binding be? When can I meet Sonea? Will the new residence be completed in time? Who will- ?"
"Tobin," and he held up his hands. "Mercy, please!" He mocked. "The date is not settled yet, and we will probably move into the Black Magician's residence before the ceremony. Just wait until Liessa hears that scandalous bit of information!" Akkarin smiled, pleased, and so did Tobin as she foresaw their mother's rage, though she made a mental note to be elsewhere when that news broke.
Tears suddenly pricked at her eyes as she looked up at Akkarin, and she remembered well the black-eyed, intense little boy who always felt things so keenly - anger, frustration, contempt, joy, love.
Love.
In recent years, Tobin had almost despaired of her dark, brooding brother ever feeling such things, but, not knowing what darkened his spirit, she had somehow managed to hold onto hope. A sharp hope that dug at her heart as she observed the growing cloak of aloofness Akkarin smothered himself in.
Court occasions had always been thinly veiled opportunities for matches to be made between the Houses; a fragile game of political manoeuvrings disguised as courtship, and the sons and daughters of Imardin's rich had dutifully played the part required of them, their feelings mercurial, frequent and played for power. Falling in love on demand was like a hobby for them - and out of it the same way. But not for Akkarin. To their parents' constant vexation, Akkarin had always refused to play the game, skulking as he did at the edges of social gatherings; raising hopes and heartbeats with one flash of his brilliant, beautiful smile, before killing both with a contemptuous sneer.
It was no surprise to Tobin that love had crept upon her brother so unexpectedly, or that it come with immeasurable sadness and grief, as seemed to be his lot in life. And it was no surprise that he should feel it so absolutely, so unequivocally. Akkarin had never done anything by half-measure.
Tobin suddenly reached into the folds of her dress and produced a small, silk pouch from a pocket. With fingers slightly trembling, she pressed it into Akkarin's hands, closing them about it as she glanced warily over her shoulder to check they were unobserved. A quizzical frown creased Akkarin's brow.
"A gift," Tobin stated resolutely. "From our parents, on the occasion of your betrothal."
"Do they know about it?" Akkairn asked with a cool arch of a raised eyebrow.
"No, not yet," Tobin replied primly and a little bit wickedly. "But they will, about the time when mother searches the family vault to find something suitable to bedeck herself with at Cami's Binding to the king."
With growing realisation, Akkarin weighed the small pouch in his palm. "How did you...?" he began incredulously, guessing now at its contents.
"Never mind that, little brother," Tobin muttered perfunctorily, turning him around and ushering him out the door. "You are not the only one with hidden talents. Now go, before mother comes," and she gave him a final, affectionate push.
Akkarin's eyes sparkled as he glanced back at his sister standing in the doorway, and as she held his black gaze she thought fleetingly that the gift she had bestowed was very appropriate indeed.
"Thank you," he murmured.
"My pleasure, little brother. I hope Sonea likes it." And then Tobin tilted her head appraisingly as she considered his eyes again. "But, of course, she will."
Later, when Sonea was sleeping and Akkarin was alone in Rothen's guestroom, he slid out the little bag Tobin had given him and upended its contents into his cupped hand. A laugh, tumbling, easy, loose-muscled, spilled from him in unadulterated mirth. At that moment, Rothen entered the room and blinked in surprise at the tall, black magician.
"Akkarin? Did your visit with your parents go better than expected?" the Alchemist enquired, nonplussed by Akkarin's uncharacteristic display.
"No, don't be ridiculous," Akkarin answered with derision. "It's just something my father said earlier; something about the family jewels..."
Several weeks later, and now installed in the newly built Black Magician's redidence, Sonea awoke from sleep to a stillness and coldness next to her in the bed that she was unused to these past months.
Akkarin had held her each night, his arms around her slender body as she had slept, or cried or whispered her innermost thoughts and feelings into the warmth of his chest. And when night-borne horrors assailed her, his presence beside her was enough to hold even her unconscious mind to the real world.
Now, she blinked slowly as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, pale bands of moonlight painting eerie patterns across the ceiling.
-Akkarin? Sonea sent out a cautious mental call, not wanting to alarm any other magicians who might be awake at this unsociable hour.
-In the guest room. Akkarin answered her enquiry lightly.
Sonea slipped out of bed, wrapping herself in a silken night robe, and padded silently down the hall. As she descended the ebony staircase of their new residence, a feeling of belonging and security assailed her, as it often had since they had moved in. This was the first place Sonea had lived in that was truly hers – her home. Her years spent living in cramped and dirty rooms seemed like a lifetime ago. Even in the comfort of Rothen's rooms and the Novice Quarters she had always felt as though she was an intruder. But this was her home. Hers and Akkarin's – and she felt a thrill run down her spine at that thought.
The thrill unexpectedly lingered as Akkarin looked up and smiled in greeting as she approached him. He sat, wine glass in hand, on a long couch covered in a rich fabric which was arranged in front of a stone fireplace. The dying embers in its hearth was the only light in the room, the soft amber glow crept into the dark corners, causing the shadows to dance and leap to the tune of the flames.
Akkarin stretched out a hand to Sonea as she neared him and she took the long fingers in hers as she sank down next to him. His hair was loose on his shoulders, unbound and wild - his private self- and the guttering light played across the angular features of his face and the fullness of his mouth. He was beautiful, Sonea thought. And she also thought, Oh.
Oh.
"Sorry." He smiled his crooked smile at her, and something in her awakened, not new, but remembered . Oh.
"Did I wake you?" he asked, unaware.
"You didn't, but the coldness of our bed did." Sonea brought his fingers to her mouth, feeling the smooth skin under her lips. "You drink too much," she murmured, glancing sideways at the tall dark haired man who was turned to regard her. He looked away.
"I know. It numbs the pain." Akkarin's voice was tight, the glitter of his jet eyes just discernible in the dim light. Sonea knew that he suffered Kariko's attack on her more keenly than she now did. In her studies, and her work, Sonea had begun to remember who she was, and, more importantly, she realised that other people had never forgotten; had never regarded her as merely a victim. But the knife that tore into Akkarin's heart was double edged; he felt the bite of pain at what Sonea had endured, but also the sharpness of the guilt at failing to protect her. The second cut ensuring that the first one remained open. Enough blood had been spilt; it was time to stitch the wound up and look forward. It was time.
"Akkarin." Sonea began, reaching with her free hand to trace along his jaw with her fingers. "When Kariko tortured and ..."
"No! Sonea; please don't... "His voice was filled with anguish and he turned his head away. Sonea took a breath, and placing her small palm on his cheek, gently turned his head so that he met her intense gaze again. For once, it seemed, it was he who struggled to maintain eye contact. Her eyes were implacable and she continued.
"I said once that when Kariko held me, I would have sought death if I could." She paused, considering, tilting her head. "That was not true. One thing gave me the strength to not seek oblivion and stay there – and that one thing was you. I felt for the first time the depth of your love for me through my blood ring and, deep inside, I knew that it was a love worth living for." Sonea eyes welled as she spoke, but her dark gaze did not waver.
"It was not your fault that I fell into Kariko's hands." Sonea's spoke softly, yet with conviction. "Lorlen needed you; you needed to see Lorlen – to make your peace. You could not possibly have known Kariko's movements. But you did help me find myself again. I could not have done it - could not continue to do it – without you. You must believe me Akkarin, or this guilt, it will always be between us, and Kariko will have got the vengeance he was seeking." Her throat ached with the tears that were held there, and Akkarin entwined his long fingers with hers.
"But the child.." he whispered, his voice scraping.
"Was a precious life that we made, and we will never forget. But I want the chance to look into the eyes of our other children, and not have guilt stand between us and their love. I don't blame you, Akkarin – you have to let it go." Her voice dropped, cruling to a whisper. "You have to let yourself dream again. Good dreams. You have to forgive - yourself. " She was imploring him, he knew, and it struck him with horror, the thought that she was coaxing him back from the edge.
Akkarin was quiet for a long moment, and a tear escaped and made its silent way down his cheek. "I am supposed to be the strong one, helping you through this."
"And you have been; but you have years of hurt to heal. We can be strong for each other, can't we?" She smiled, gentle and fleet and questioning as she lightly squeezed his fingers. " Don't worry; I won't tell anyone that you are not always the intimidating, aloof, dangerous magician you like them to think you are." And he couldn't help but laugh softly, sadly, through his tears.
By the Eye, he was beautiful. Oh. Oh.
Oh.
" But," Sonea continued, "you have to love, to live, to... to laugh. Real laughter."
"Lorlen said something like that just before, before," and Akkarin's throat closed around the words as he choked on the memory.
"And why do you think he said that, Akkarin. Akkarin, look at me," and her tone became fierce and her eyes - summer and earth - became sharp, piercing his shame with a hard truth:
"There are plenty of dead between us, Akkarin. But the way you are, you'd think they were corpses hanging on to your ankles, not souls freed to the elements. The slaves you've killed, Lorlen, they're gone, and they can't be hurt anymore. What happened to me...happened. You can carry the memories around with you, dragging you down, like it's what the dead want , like it's what I, want. I can't speak for all the dead, but I know it's not what Lorlen wanted for you." A whisper, soft, low hesitant: "And it's not what I want for you either."
She wanted him to carry their dream forward, not destroy it with regret. It struck her now with a certainty so implacable that a desperation rose in her at his bleakness.
Akkarin watched Sonea's small shoulders rise and fall with her panicked breathing, not realising this new turmoil unfolding within her. Her hair hung in a braid. It wasn't neat. The soft hairs at her neck had all come unbound and tufted out like down. Longer loose strands of dark silk were tucked behind her ears, all except one stray that lay curved against her cheek.
Akkarin suddenly felt, in his fingers, the desire to brush it back. To brush it back and linger, and feel the warmth of her skin. The pain of longing, of hope, felt like a hole unfurling in the centre of his chest. She had a way like no other, Sonea, of surfacing hope in him, persistent. There was nothing in the world Akkarin wanted more than to start at the beginning and fall in love with Sonea all over again, and at this moment he felt as though the tilt of that world was trying to tip him forwards, to help him, at last: to be nearer to her - nearer and touching- as though that were the only state of rest, and every other action and movement were geared to achieving it. A pull. Like magnets.
Akkarin suddenly laughed softly, then the smile faded. For the first time since Kariko's death, he felt that he may be ready to begin again. Just maybe. But Sonea? Was Sonea ready?
"I love you, Sonea. Sonea..." His voice was low, ardent, and he leaned forwards carefully and kissed her, first her brow, then her cheek, then, when she did not recoil from the charged intimacy, he kissed her lips. When he withdrew, his black eyes bore into hers, only inches away, and he searched for the answer his kiss had asked.
"And I love you." Sonea breathed. The soft glow from the fire burnished her hair and he pushed the silken strand that traced her scarred cheek behind her ear, his cool fingers gratefully caressing the contours of her face as he gave them what they'd wished for. She felt so small, so vulnerable; looks, he had learnt, could be deceiving.
"Things other than wine can numb pain," she said softly, her warm breath on his face. Her eyes danced with the flames reflected in them, the pupils dilated. He moved towards her with that half-hesitancy he had adopted with her since her ordeal, but he kissed her again, moved by the aching familiarity of her mouth beneath his lips. Akkarin's heart slammed into his chest as Sonea unmistakeably turned into his touch, and he caught her against him. And that was all it took.
Magnets collide, and quickly align.
They were urgent, clumsy showering kisses, lips landing where they would - brow, cheekbone, neck. They were overwhelmed with relief. After all that had happened, that they'd been through and done. Relief, and thanks that they had come to this moment.
Breathless, Akkarin drew back slightly, and rested his forehead against Sonea's, the tips of their noses touching, his fingers lingering on her fire-warmed cheek. Her alabaster skin - stone-smooth and perfect...perfect - was flushed, and his gaze was vivid, hopeful, wide and searching still.
"Sonea – ...?"
Suddenly Akkarin's mind was racked with emotions; fear – yes – but also love, desire, longing, and an image, of his own face, silhouetted by the crimson light of a fire behind. Realisation hit and he quickly looked down to where Sonea's hands lay in her lap, and he saw the glint of his blood ring on her finger where she had slipped it out of her gown pocket and had put it on.
As he stared at it, Sonea brought her hand to slide under the fabric at his chest, laying her palm to rest against his heart. I love you. I want you, at the end of all this. The dream, peace, and you. The desperate need, finally released within her, was real, and he felt it wash over him, as sure as he felt his own longing. His heart quickened and beat painfully as her fingers lightly skimmed the hot-smooth terrain of his chest, until it felt as though Sonea held his heartbeat in her hand. And...and maybe she did.
Holding her eyes carefully with his, Akkarin pulled out a chain from around his neck and unclasped a red gemmed ring that hung there. He slipped Sonea's blood ring onto his finger and her mind reeled from the tidal wave of feeling that swamped her. She had shared this bond with him only once before, when she was at Kariko's mercy, half-conscious and drowning in pain, and it had saved her life then. Now it held the promise of life. At last.
"Are you ready?" Akkarin asked in a whisper, but she did not answer. Not yet. And there was still a lingering, trembling, excruciating uncertainty in him as he curled his fingers around her neck ,and then the curve of her waist. She was as warm as summer, and he felt the sigh that moved through her, loosening her so that she could meld more fully to him.
Sonea briefly closed her eyes then, and when she opened them, there was a jolt of eye contact; the pupil-less black sheen of his, and the rich luminescence of hers; depthless; a flint and steel sparking worry and pain, but also strength, and a love as intense as the hate their meeting gaze had once ignited, long ago.
Bringing her mouth to his once more, Akkarin's body responded to the heat of her, the kindling fire, and their lips and breath danced between them with relief once more. And hunger.
Sonea travelled her arms around him, her hands tracing up his spine and clawed at the hair at his neck. Every breath she took was the warmth and scent of him; the headiness, remembered and rediscovered, as she remembered and rediscovered his solidity. Faces were kissed again and again, no spot neglected. Lashes, wet with tears, salt kissed lips to lips.
Encumbering silk was undone and pushed aside as Sonea reclined beneath the gentle, but irresistible, pressure of Akkarin's body. Their blood rings awakened feelings that the two Black Magicians couldn't, and didn't wish to stem, driven by an understanding and desire that they had never known before.
What filled Akkarin most then was not desire, but tenderness, and a profound gratitude that he lived, and she did too. That he had found her, and that he had found her again, and had brought her back from the dark abyss of her own mind. Brought her back. Finally. As she had him.
Gently, as if she might break, Akkarin trailed his fingers across the nakedness of her familiar flesh, her limbs, and he was overcome as he traced the near invisible scars, momentarily remembering the sight of her, brutalised. He pushed it aside. His fists would always remember, and his gut, too, but his heart was filled only with her shy, shining face as she looked up at him expectantly.
As their fire-dappled flesh moved together at last, their heartbeats passed back and forth across the press of their bodies, not in unison, but like a conversation made up in answer to Akkarin's question : yes.
I am ready. Yes. And the words were bright and heavy, like something they could reach for and hold, so they did.
The entwined Black Magicians did not notice when the half-full wine glass Akkarin had set down earlier was knocked and fell to the stone floor, smashing into many pieces – it was not needed anymore.
Two weeks later, in the Guildhall, in front of a small gathering of family and friends, the Ceremony of Binding took place that made Imardin's two Black Magicians husband and wife. Akkarin's hands shook and clenched, and then stilled when he saw Sonea approach with Rothen and Ranel.
And she saw him, and with a bird-tilt of her head she let a smile come out, slow, extraordinary, and it took his breath away, as it always had. This one was unquestionably for him, and he was filled to the brim with joy.
Akkarin's voice was low, sonorous, sure as he spoke the words that bound Sonea to him in law, finally silencing the doubters and denigrators, including his parents - they would never speak to him again. They did not come, of course, and the court gossips made of it would they would, as they were also quick to spread the news of the bride's unusual necklace.
The early evening rays of light cast long shadows across the grounds of the University as the Black Magicians and their guests emerged from the Guildhall. Sonea's dark hair, hanging loose down her back, was burnished by the fading light so that it seemed to reflect the deep red tones of the dress she had chosen.
And there, nestled in the hollow at the base of her porcelain throat, was a jewel as black and as sparkling as the eyes of the man who had gifted it to her. On a fine silver chain, the teardrop shaped gem was cut with many facets, and at its core a tiny heart shape had been carved out by the magician-jeweller Akkarin had commissioned to fashion his family's most prized and valuable heirloom– the resulting hollow seeming to be filled with a swirling, liquid fire that set the jewel ablaze from within.
The shape, Akkarin had told Sonea as he had clasped around her neck earlier, was for the tears of grief they had shed on the path to this moment, but also for the tears of joy that, the Eye be willing, would follow. Yet, as later that evening, Liessa's servant whispered the news of the bride's attire into the ear of the horrified and enraged Lady Delvon, and she howled, howled, it could quite reasonably have been said that the black diamond's shape very neatly symbolised tears of another species entirely.
Please Review. They are gratefully recieved. By-the-way, one more chapter left, if you want it? Salx