Chapter Twelve - Acceptance

Sonea woke around midnight to patches of moonlight on the ceiling and Akkarin's arm draped over her waist. She tried not to move so as not to disturb him but she must have failed, for he withdrew his arm and whispered: "Are you awake?"

"I'm sorry if I woke you."

"You didn't. I wasn't asleep."

She turned around so she could just make out his features in the darkness; she met his gaze and tried to find the right words for what she wanted to say. "About earlier…" she began and mentally winced at that poor opening. "I feel like we need to talk about it and now is as good a time as any."

For a while, Akkarin did not say anything. Then: "All I want is for you to be happy."

"I know." Her hand sought his between the sheets and took it, her thumb tracing gentle circles on his palm. There were lines – scars – even there. "But, Akkarin, I wouldn't be happy without you. And I think the real issue is that you think I deserve better than you – don't deny it, I can tell it's true. And it's so silly to think that because if you look at it from the outside you are far too good for me."

"Sonea. I am a criminal, a villain in the minds of half the Allied Lands."

She shrugged. "So am I. I confessed, I was convicted just like you. But we were pardoned because we saved exactly the same people who condemned us before. Can't we leave the past behind us and just take it as it comes? Unless something happened that I don't remember – did I do something horrible? If I did – "

"Of course you didn't," Akkarin said quietly and reached up to cup her cheek with his free hand. His touch was ever so light on her skin but seemed to sink deep into her bones, she leaned closer without meaning to. "But it will not be that easy to leave the past behind us, as you say. There will be all sorts of… gossip."

"Well," she said, smiling, because she could feel that she had almost won. "If you want to avoid gossip, you should not have joined the Guild."

He made a noise that conveyed only vague irritation. "I have learned that, if nothing else. But you are still far too young, and far too innocent – I all but seduced you to join me in my crimes."

"I might be mistaken," she said dryly, "but I remember that very differently. Unless my memory suffered more than I thought, I begged you to teach me. As for my age, we already talked about that. For you, nineteen might not be much but where I come from, if you live to be nineteen you have likely as not lived most of your life. Don't say I'm young – relatively speaking, you could argue that I'm older than you."

Never had she been more relieved than when a small laugh escaped him and he shifted to lightly kiss her forehead. "You might have a point there. But you're no longer in the slums; if nothing goes wrong, you can expect a long life."

"All the better, if I can spend it with you." She paused, gathered his hand closer and pressed it to her lips. "I don't want to leave, Akkarin."

"If at any time you begin to regret…"

"I won't." She kissed his hand again. "I promise."

##

Sonea knew that she had not entirely convinced him but at least he fell asleep after that; she watched his chest rise and fall slowly and dared not move a muscle lest she wake him. She did not know for how long he had not slept before tonight but she imagined it to be far too long. Staring at the ceiling, Sonea lay awake until early morning, when her thoughts finally settled enough to allow her to dose off for just a little while.

Therefore, when a servant came to give her a very official-looking letter, she was at first too tired to comprehend what she was looking at. Her name stood boldly on thick, heavy paper, and the seal on the back of the envelope had been pressed in gold wax. She broke it with clumsy fingers and then stared at the writing for such a long time that Akkarin had time to read his own correspondence, realise that Sonea had not said anything for a suspiciously extensive period and take the letter out of her hand to skim it himself. His eyebrows rose a little higher with every sentence.

"You have been invited to Court."

"Yes."

"The King personally requests your attendance."

"Yes. Why does he do that?"

Akkarin shrugged and handed the letter back to her. The King's incal was embossed in the bottom right corner, just beside Merin's simple, straightforward signature, which stood in stark contrast to the flowery words and ornate handwriting that comprised the rest of the letter. Sonea could not help but examine it closely, looking for something to indicate that this was either a misunderstanding or a well-done prank but found nothing.

"Maybe," Akkarin suggested, "he wants to thank you for saving his life during the Invasion. Without you, he would surely be dead."

"I don't remember that," she replied automatically, as she had done every time somebody had referenced the war around her. It was becoming a habit, one she would have to shed eventually if she did not want all of the Allied Lands to gossip about the Black Magician's terrible memory.

"That doesn't change the fact that it happened," Akkarin said firmly. "And Merin would never let something like that go unacknowledged. I daresay he means to get you the recognition you deserve."

"I don't deserve anything," she mumbled as she read the invitation a fiftieth time. She could hear Akkarin making an indistinct huffing noise but chose not to react; instead folding the parchment and stuffing it back into the envelope. The sun had found its way into their little, messy guestroom and she longed to feel it on her skin directly. "How about we start on that gentle exercising we were told to do?"

He hesitated, his gaze lingering on her legs. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. And if you won't accompany me, I'll go on my own, trip over a root and die of exhaustion somewhere on the grounds where nobody will ever find me. So, are you coming?"

For a heartbeat, Akkarin simply stared at her as if he could hardly believe that those words had just come out of her mouth. Then, slowly, he nodded, dropped his letters on the already rather overflowing table and held open the door for her as she scrambled through the room.

"We cannot go too far," he demanded, watching her. "It would not do if we both die of exhaustion."

She shot him a disapproving glance and headed for the stairs. "We'll find a bench and sit down for a few minutes. Then we can go back inside, if you want. But I need to get out of that room."

Despite her continuous assertions that she was not too tired and his own claims that he was perfectly fine they were both out of breath when they finally reached one of the stone benches scattered through the gardens. But the sun was shining, the wind was gently rustling the leaves in the nearby forest and the air smelled of summer flowers, they were together and Sonea felt as free as was possible under the circumstances. So she did not complain and turned her face up to soak up as much sunlight as she could and enjoyed a few moments of quiet.

"This was a good idea," Akkarin said at some point and gingerly intertwined his fingers with hers. "It was beginning to feel somewhat… stuffy inside."

"Breathing is nice, isn't it?"

"Very much so. And we should enjoy the weather while we still can – the heat wave will arrive within just a few weeks, I would say."

"Really?" Sonea frowned. "I didn't know we'd been gone that long. But I suppose my sense of time is not what it used to be. I wouldn't have thought that it's this late in the year already." She rested her head on Akkarin's shoulder, closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. The calm out here reminded her that she had only slept for a few short hours and not particularly well at that, so she was finding herself growing continuously more tired. In fact, she was just about to fall asleep when Akkarin interrupted the silence.

"You will have to find an escort if you are to go to Court," he said, and unfortunately he was right, so she straightened and regretted the fact that the invitation had reached her at all.

"Who do you think I should ask? Maybe I didn't pay attention very well but I have no idea who is responsible for our… safekeeping. Guarding. Whatever it is they're doing." She frowned and stared at her hands. It was true, they were being guarded even if it was not obvious at all times. Sonea was sure that their leaving their apartment had been noted and reported to whoever was in charge, and that somebody was probably watching them at this very moment. Not that it would be difficult to observe them; the bench they had chosen was situated in plain view of both the Magicians' Quarters and the University and any magician passing through the gardens would inevitably see them, whether they were actively looking or not.

Akkarin shrugged; they were sitting so closely together that she could feel the movement all over the side of her body. "I would assume Garrel to have the reigns in hand there but maybe you should ask somebody else. I would think him capable of not letting you go at all, royal invitation or no."

As it turned out, Garrel did not get the chance to deny Sonea her escort. Lord Osen had received not only a summons to the same event but also notice that Sonea had been asked to attend as well; he sent her a message that evening, inviting her to go in the carriage with him. He was apparently willing to act as her chaperon himself and she did not have the slightest problem with that. She much preferred the calm, sensible man over any of those silent, brooding Warriors who had guarded her before.

She met the Administrator by the stables on the morning of her audience. He greeted her very nicely and inquired about her health, and she instantly felt a lot less tense than she had before. The unknown territory of the day seemed a lot less frightening faced with somebody she knew, however fleetingly. When it came to get in the carriage, though, she was confronted with a whole new problem.

"May I help you, my Lady?"

Surprised, she looked up at the coachman, who had climbed down from his seat to offer her his hand. She took it with a sigh of relief. "Yes, thank you very much."

He handed her into the carriage with obvious experience, and asked her twice if she was alright despite her assurance that she was as fine as she could be. She could not stop smiling throughout the entire drive through the Inner Circle, and even more so when the man also helped her down when they had arrived.

She had seen the Palace before, from a distance. Its roofs and towers rose over every other building in Imardin and the golden glint of the tallest spire was ever-present to the city's inhabitants. Sonea remembered hearing the older boys in the youth gang boasting how they would one day climb all the way up and steal the gold right off. She also remembered her aunt chiding them whenever she heard those talks and telling her not to listen to this nonsense. But right now, standing closer to it than any of those boys ever had, that adolescent boast somehow seemed possible.

"What are you thinking about?" Osen asked quietly. He watched her, waiting for her to return back to the present so they could proceed up the unfortunately very impressive stairs and into the building.

Sonea shook her head. "Nothing important. Let's go."

It spoke in the Administrator's favour that he did not hurry her although she only made slow progress on the marble steps. She had practiced for the last three days, going up and down the stairs in the Magicians' Quarters until she had received suspicious glances, but that did not mean that it was not exhausting. She could manage the crutches well enough by now that she did not have to concentrate on handling them with every step, although she still cursed the blasted things with every breath. When she reached the top, every last bit of air had vanished from her lungs and her legs were on fire. She drew on healing magic so she could keep going and hated that it was necessary.

If the Royal Palace appeared incredibly massive from the outside, the entrance hall was simply enormous. Until then, Sonea had thought nothing could surpass the breathtaking magnitude of the Guildhall but clearly, she had been very much mistaken. The polished marble tiles surrounded a small fountain in the middle of the hall, and the walls were entirely covered in a mosaic of swirling colours, giving the illusion that the space was even larger. The ceiling, on the other hand, was almost disappointingly normal despite being so high that Sonea wondered if there was any room for the sky above.

A young man in uniform came hurried up to them and bowed very deeply. He was carrying a roll of paper which he quickly opened and skimmed, finally making a mark somewhere and giving a satisfied nod.

"Administrator Osen and Black Magician Sonea. Welcome to the Royal Palace. If you would please follow me; the King awaits you." Beckoning for them to follow, he turned and led them through an archway and a series of smaller – though not in the least less grand – reception halls. People in richly ornamented clothes and heavy, jingling jewellery stood in clusters, close to windows and courtyards to catch a breeze, while servants took rounds with trays of refreshments and courtiers hurried along with slightly haunted expressions on their faces.

All this Sonea noticed only fleetingly. Their guide obviously had places to be and schedules to meet because he rushed at a pace that was all but impossible for her to keep up with. But she managed and before long they reached the doors to the throne room, where they were told to wait for a few moments.

Osen lightly touched Sonea's arm. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she assured him. "I'm just a little out of breath, that's all."

"It is a little intimidating, isn't it? When I first came here, I could barely believe it was real."

She met his eyes. "That is what I thought about the Guildhall at first. I couldn't imagine how something so delicate could even exist."

Smiling, he nodded knowingly. "That is most visitors' reaction. Did it change when you learned how it's done?"

She laughed. "No, not at all. But I was never very good at that technique so I failed to believe that some people might actually have the skill. I have not tried it since, though; maybe things have changed."

His eyebrows rose in surprise. "How so?"

She shrugged. "Black Magic… changes one's perception. Don't worry," she added with a weak smile, "I won't say more."

The Administrator had gone visibly pale at her mention of the forbidden knowledge, mentioned so carelessly in passing. First, she wanted to think less of him for this fear. But he lost a friend to this war as well. And likely more. He wore the blue robes with more confidence than when she had last seen him, his posture overall straighter and less insecurity in his eyes but it was hard to forget why he held that office now.

He inclined his head to thank her, then swiftly changed the subject. "Have you thought about what you are going to do in the future? How you want to spend your time, I mean."

It was her turn to be surprised. "I hadn't, actually," she confessed. "So far, we – I mean, Lord Akkarin and I – have been trying to get ourselves back to life, so to speak; I did not really –" She trailed off as the magnificent double door before them began, with a screech, to open just wide enough to allow a glimpse of the room beyond.

The woman who beckoned them inside was almost as short as Sonea but carried herself with so much self-assurance that she might as well have been two heads taller. She wore uniform, too, but where their guide's had been elegant, but practical, hers was covered in intricate embroidery and even the occasional gemstone, all of this leading Sonea to imagine her trying to disentangle the various cords and ribbons every night, vividly cursing. She stifled her laugh and allowed Osen to beckon her onwards.

The throne room was not nearly as enormous as the rest of the Palace. If anything, it was almost cozy, relatively speaking. King Merin was seated not on the actual throne, but in an armchair at the foot of the pedestal, and currently speaking quietly to a woman by his side. When he noticed the two magicians' arrival, he gestured for them to step closer. Like almost everybody she had seen since the Invasion, Sonea thought he looked older.

The servant who had brought them in began to announce them but Merin cut her off.

"Thank you, Ella. You may go. Administrator", he said, inclining his head while Osen sank to one knee. "Thank you for coming. Please," he added, as Sonea moved to do the same, "don't trouble yourself on my behalf; I can see you are not fully recovered."

Sonea hesitated but settled for a very deep bow. She felt exposed here even though there were not many people with them in the room; every eye seemed to rest on her. "Thank you, Your Majesty," she said with as much confidence as she could muster. And thankful she was; it was very considerate of Merin, after all, but at this moment she would have given the world for a chair.

It seemed that this wish was not to be fulfilled, though. While Osen and Merin exchanged further pleasantries, Sonea focused on the wall behind the throne to occupy her mind. It was painted with bright, vibrant colours, depicting a typical view of Kyralian countryside. But there was something off about the image, something that she could not put her finger on at first. And then she noticed the mountains on the horizon, and the smoke rising behind them, filling the sky.

She shuddered. She knew what it was, now: The day the Sachakan wastelands had been created. Why would anybody want a painting of this terrible, horrifying moment, let alone a painting that covered a whole wall? Maybe somebody who has not seen the effects for themselves, she thought. The wastelands were, in her opinion, rather the stuff of nightmares than the subject of art.

"… But I must not keep you any longer. Thank you, again, for coming today. Lady Sonea –"

She looked up just in time to meet the King's eyes as he smiled at her, "I shall look forward to continue our acquaintance."

And with that, they were dismissed. The walk back through the Palace was a blur, and just a little more hasty than she would have liked. The coachman was expecting them and offered his arm to her before she could even say anything. When he handed her in he lifted her entire weight seemingly without effort, and she sank into the seat with an audible sigh.

The Administrator watched her for a moment before asking, "Are you alright?"

Sonea dismissed the question with a wave, unable to calm her breathing enough to speak. She sat, panting, for a few minutes, while the carriage jerked into motion and rattled along the cobbled streets of Imardin. "I'm fine," she said finally, warding off his concern. "Really."

"You look as if you are about to faint," he noted, and held out his hand. "If I could help…?"

Smiling, she shook her head. "That's very kind of you to offer but I'm really just a little exhausted. I haven't been active this much for some time, I'll get used to it."

"If you say so." He did not look as if he believed her, but thankfully dropped the subject. She was not in the mood to discuss her physical shortcomings right now, especially not since Osen was, all things considered, still virtually a stranger; she knew almost nothing about him and suspected he knew far too much about her to provide for casual conversation. Under these circumstances, she preferred to sit in silence.

So it was not until they had almost reached the Guild grounds that she said: "You asked me earlier what plans I had for the future."

He nodded, beckoning for her to go on.

"When I first decided to become a magician – out of my own accord, of course – I did it because I wanted to help the people in the slums. I wanted to be a Healer for those who can't afford to come to the Guild. Do you think I could still do that, even with… all things considered?"

The Administrator did not answer at first, only acknowledged her words and studied her closely. Finally, when they had just passed the Gates, he shrugged. "I don't see anything that would stop you, if you really wanted."

##

Wow, hello, nice to know you're still with me. This one is incredibly long (SEVEN pages, can you believe it?) and for some reason really difficult to write. I had planned this chapter very differently and then it sort of didn't work out so I had to change it. Anyway. I hope you liked it regardless of length and lack of action, I promise there's more of that to come in the next few chapters (which will hopefully happen sooner than this one did).

Thank you very, very much to all my lovely reviewers who stuck around for this long – special shoutout to , wonderful Sal, who never fails to encourage me and also happens to write the most terrific stories herself. All of you are the reason I keep staring at my screen, feeling guilty that I haven't updated for so long, until I finally finish something. You are awesome.

Love, Jojo