CHAPTER 7

It was late. Despite his fatigue, Khadgar warded his bedroom and cast a teleport. He stepped into his salvaged library of Karazhan. All was quiet. The books nestled on their shelves, tired. None came to greet him. He could understand why. Idira had been working hard. For the last eight days he had been caught up with the preparations for the next assault and hadn't had much time to visit her, but on the few occasions he had, she had been wrapped up in her work. But this was the first time he had arrived to total silence.

He considered teleporting back to his bedroom and falling into his bed for desperately needed sleep when he heard a low voice—a man's voice—coming from outside the library. His instincts sharpening, he edged toward the library's open door, a spell forming on his lips. He leant around the doorframe. The spell died on his lips. Standing in the hallway, outside the bedroom door, was himself, or at least a near perfect echo of himself.

Too stunned to react, Khadgar leaned back into the shadows. His echo murmured something too quiet for Khadgar to hear and walked into the bedroom. Khadgar followed, his skin prickling. He concentrated and connected with the raven he had given her, but when he looked out of its eyes, he realised he was looking out of the echo's eyes. Idira had created an echo of him from his raven. What . . . how—by the Light! Idira wore nothing more than a gossamer shift. It was see-through. He blinked and returned to himself, shaken. No. He wouldn't use the raven's vision. It felt wrong.

He moved down the hall, and stopped outside the bedroom door, his back pressed against the wall, and listened.

"Hold me," Idira said, soft.

Khadgar's eyes widened as he heard the rustle of material betraying the sound of the pair's embrace. A creak of leather, and one pair of footsteps crossed the flagged stone of the floor. He leaned past the door frame, and watched his echo lowering Idira onto the bed, his eyes tender. She reached up and touched his jaw.

"I'm tired, stay with me, and keep me warm," she murmured.

His echo caught her hand, and kissed her fingertips, slow. She smiled as he undressed in front of her, his eyes on hers, down to his leather breeches. Khadgar lifted a brow, impressed despite the incongruity of the situation. His echo's powerful body, identical to his own, bore the same scars of battle. He watched as his echo lay down beside Idira and pulled her into his embrace, pillowing her head on his shoulder. Soon, the sound of their deep, even breathing filled the room.

Khadgar slipped inside and watched the pair sleep. Exhaustion etched Idira's features and dark shadows smudged the skin under her eyes. She shivered and huddled closer to his echo, who responded, even in sleep, tightening his hold on her. Khadgar drew back, disturbed, both by the sight of himself laying in his bed with a beautiful woman while wearing only his breeches and by the sudden surge of jealousy that coursed through his chest. How could he be jealous of himself?

He turned to leave, guilt rushing in to accompany his jealousy. He had left her alone for too long, forcing her to create an echo to comfort herself. If she knew he had seen it, she would be humil—

A sharp intake of breath came from the bed. "Archmage?"

He closed his eyes. This was going to be awkward. He turned around. His echo was gone, thank the Light.

He cleared his throat, embarrassed. "I am sorry, I have intruded on your privacy." He turned once more, to leave.

He could hear her sitting up, he tried to walk faster without making it seem obvious.

"Please. Don't go," she said, quiet.

Something in her voice made him stop. She left the bed and stood before him, swaying with fatigue. "Stay with me."

He took a step back, trying and failing not to look at her in her shift. "Idira, it isn't right. You are my apprentice, under my care."

She laughed, hollow, and her violet eyes caught his. "I stopped being your apprentice days ago Khadgar."

He eyed her, noting the change in her demeanour, her uncertainty and timidity had melted away, replaced by confidence, power and knowledge, more than even he could fathom. He suspected she had read every book in his library, a feat he knew he could never accomplish, even if he had ten lifetimes. He glanced at the bed thinking of the echo she had made of him in perfect detail, as real as any person. He knew of no mage who could do that.

He nodded. "As you say. But still, I will not stay."

She swayed again, staggering to keep upright. He caught her and led her back to the bed. "You must sleep, you have worked so hard. Rest Idira. I will come back to you tomorrow."

Her hand caught his sleeve as he turned to go, holding him back. "Please, just sleep beside me. It's all I ask." She smiled, her eyelids drifting downward as she teased, "You don't have to undress, if you'd rather not."

Khadgar stood beside the bed and dithered. She was tired, he was tired. Nothing could happen, it was only sleeping, after all. He heard a voice inside his head mocking him, telling him if he believed that, then Arthas was the King of Lordaeron. He gritted his teeth. She shivered, and her eyes snapped open again, meeting his.

"I'm cold. The echo cannot warm me, but you can. Please." She patted the bed beside her hip, enticing him.

Khadgar felt the familiar clench in his chest he always experienced whenever he thought of her. He wanted this. He had thought of it often enough when turning into his bed each night knowing she was only a teleport away. How long had she been using an echo of him to comfort her? It didn't matter, all those times he had wondered if his feelings for her were reciprocated, he had no doubt of the truth now.

He looked down at her, able to see all of her in that incredible thing she was wearing. He bit back a curse, and looked away, certain his decision was going to come back to haunt him. He would stay, and worry about the consequences later. He had warded his bedroom in Dalaran, no one would know he was missing so long as he returned in time for breakfast with the Council.

He set aside his staff and pulled off his belt, shoulder collar and gloves, leaving them in a heap on the floor beside the bed. He would just sleep beside her and keep her warm, nothing more. Still wearing his tunic, he lay down beside her, and pulled her into his arms. She moved onto her side and huddled against him, her arm slipping up around his neck. Her fingertips brushed against his skin, beneath his ear. He started. She wasn't exaggerating. She was freezing. He took her hand in his and chafed it, warming her. It wasn't enough. He cast a spell and a blazing fire burst to life in the fireplace. He murmured another spell and a thick woollen blanket settled over them. He stroked the hair from her face, trying to ignore the soft curves of her body against his firm one. He was already starting to feel too warm, but at least she would be comfortable.

"Thank you," she murmured as she shifted and rested her leg on top of his. Her inner thigh pressed, light, against his groin. He could feel himself reacting. He tensed, fighting it, forcing himself to concentrate on sifting through the battle plans for flaws. She fell asleep almost immediately. Despite his fatigue, he lay awake a long, long time, unable to think of anything but the woman in his arms and how much he longed to make her his.

He woke deep in the night, sweating. The fire had burned down to its embers, bathing the bedroom in a dull orange glow. Idira had moved a little apart from him. Her blond hair spilled across her cushion, glowing in the faint light like spun gold. For a while, he watched her drift deep in the realm of sleep, her breathing even and soft. Unthinking, he bent to kiss her brow. He caught himself and pulled back. No. It was time to leave. He eased his arm out from under her shoulder. Cautious, so as not to disturb her, he edged to the side of the bed. He swung his legs over the side and bent down to pick up his things.

He heard her stir; caught the soft rustle of the blanket falling away as she sat up. "Khadgar?"

He closed his eyes, so much for his quiet escape. She moved across the bed and embraced him from behind, her cheek against the nape of his neck. Through his tunic he could feel her breasts pressing against his shoulder blades. He forced himself to think about demons.

"I didn't think you were the type to leave a woman in the night," she said, quiet.

He clenched his fists. Why did she have to make this so difficult? He blurted out the question, unable to stop himself. "Why me, Idira? I am almost twice your age. You could have anyone—"

She laughed, soft. "Age is nothing. Since I have come here and discovered my true power I feel as though I am thousands of years old. And this place—it is saturated with your essence. I have learned much about you, of your past, the trials you have overcome, and of your suffering. You have suffered much, and always alone. Yet you have always remained good—despite terrible ordeals—your strength, your courage, and your honour have never wavered. You are everything I could ever want. I have fallen in love with you, Khadgar. Your secrets are written in my heart, and I cherish them. If only you could—"

He didn't let her finish. His heart pounding, he turned and took her into his arms and lowered her onto the bed, his mouth covering hers, hungry. She answered him, leaving him in no doubt what she wished of him. Her fingers tangled with his, helping him as he struggled to pull off his tunic. He shed the thing, and knelt over her clad only in his leather breeches, panting. He had never slept with a woman before. What if he disappointed her?

She smiled up at him, and reached out for his hand, entwining her fingers in his.

"You are also my first. Let us find our way together my love."

Humming a little tune, Khadgar spread a fat dollop of jam across his breakfast croissant. He thought of Idira, still sleeping, naked and nestled in their shared blanket as he had dressed to attend breakfast with the Council. As soon as he was finished, he would return to her. They had work to do today, it was time for her to enter the font and read the wards in the tunnel. He took a few extra croissants, setting them on his plate to take back with him; they were too delicious not to share.

"You look like the cat that got the cream," Modera said, eyeing him over her coffee cup.

Khadgar bit into his roll, feigning nonchalance. "Do I?"

Kalec lifted an eyebrow as he reached for the platter of cheeses. "You do. Even I can see it."

"As can I," Karlain murmured from behind his daily tabloid, filled with Dalaran gossip, which he had long claimed was his only vice.

"Never in my life have I know you to hum," Ansirem said as he tipped a small amount of milk into his tea.

Suppressing a smile, Khadgar finished the last of his coffee and stood up. He collected the extra croissants into a white linen napkin. "I just slept very well last night. I'm going to take these for later if you don't mind."

He went to the door, sensing their bemusement. As he left he cast a small spell so his range of hearing would reach a little further. He couldn't help himself, he wanted to know what they were going to say.

Vargoth said, quiet, "I don't think those croissants are for him at all."

Modera scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous."

"A beautiful young woman with the power of Aegwynn, whom he is keeping someplace only he knows . . . Surely I couldn't have been the only one to see this coming?" Ansirem muttered.

"You weren't," Kalec answered. "The question is what will we do about it."

A rustle of papers as Karlain folded his tabloid. "Nothing. From what he has told us of Idira's progression, no one could call her an apprentice anymore. She is more than his equal, therefore it is none of our business what they do together. As for me, I am happy for him. It's about time he found someone."

"But she's half his age!" Modera spluttered, outraged. "It isn't fitting for the Leader of the Kirin Tor to behave like a . . . like a—"

"Healthy, red-blooded man?" Ansirem asked, dry.

Modera gasped, scandalised. Vargoth chuckled, though not unkindly. "Leave it be, Modera. The heart goes where it will. Let him be happy. He deserves this."

Khadgar had heard enough. He went to his office, and warded it. It was time to wake Idira. He cast the teleportation spell and followed his heart.

Idira hadn't moved since he'd left. She lay on her side, sound asleep, a small smile curving her lips. Khadgar sat on the edge of the bed and conjured a mug of coffee. It appeared on the bedside table, its rich aroma filling the air. Idira stirred, sleepy, and rolled onto her back. She smiled up at him.

"That coffee smells good."

Khadgar bent over and kissed her, before presenting the wrapped bundle with a flourish. He set it on the bed, beside her. She watched him as he opened it. The croissants tumbled out, their warm buttery scent mixing with the coffee's, making the bedroom smell like the interior of Dalaran's finest coffee house, the Legerdemain Lounge.

She sat up, her hair tousled. Her violet eyes shone, delighted. Holding the blanket against her chest, she picked up a croissant, and broke off a piece. He watched her eat, his heart aching with love. He had no idea he could ever feel this way. He almost couldn't stand it. Almost.

He held out the coffee to her. She blew on it before sipping.

Khadgar reached out to tuck a stray lock of her hair behind her ear.

"Today we must go into the font, so you can examine the tunnel and Gul'dan's wards."

She nodded and picked up another croissant. She bit into it, discovering the melting chocolate inside. Her face filled with rapture. She held it up, pointing at the croissant's dark, liquid centre.

"What is this?"

Khadgar shook his head, taken aback. "Have you never tasted chocolate before?"

She didn't answer, she was too busy devouring the croissant. He almost laughed when she began breaking the other ones apart, searching their centres for more chocolate. She found two more, her delight at her sudden bounty touching him.

He pushed himself back onto the bed and leaned against the bed's headboard, stretching his legs out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He conjured himself a mug of coffee, and settled back to enjoy it, so Idira could take her time savouring her first experience of chocolate. He made a mental note to make sure to bring her chocolate every day from now on. He wondered what else she had been deprived of during her upbringing in Westfall. He clenched his jaw and forced the thought away. That was in the past. From now on she would want for nothing.

Idira finished her breakfast with a satisfied sigh. Brushing the crumbs onto the napkin she folded it up and set it aside. Khadgar put his arm around her as she settled against him and sipped the last of her coffee.

"So, you are a frost mage, then?" Khadgar asked.

She smiled. "I have no idea how you were able to figure that out."

"A wild guess," he set his empty mug onto the bedside table. "Do you suffer much from it?"

She nodded, and bit her lip. Not that again. He took hold of her chin, and lifted her face to his. "That drives me crazy, just so you know." She bit her lip harder, teasing him.

He groaned and pushed himself from the bed. He held out his hand to her. "Come, the font awaits. We have work to do."

She took his hand and stepped out of the bed. Light wove up from her feet, wrapping around her, clothing her. Khadgar watched, fascinated. Her powers were beautiful to behold. There was not a drop of darkness in her. She was pure light. When she was done, she stood before him in a shimmering white gown, its neckline, waist and hips accented with glittering diamonds. Silver thread shot through the material, edging it with embroidered frost runes. A silver circlet, embossed with glowing violet runes wove through her upswept hair. Gone was the shy young woman from Westfall who had stood on his office's balcony in a threadbare linen gown. Now a woman far beyond his wildest imagination stood before him; a silver staff, crackling with power rested in her hand, its crown encircled with threads of white light. Ancient power emanated from her. He could see her breath as the temperature in the room dropped.

He knelt, overcome. "My Lady . . . I am not worthy of you."

She touched his shoulder. He came to his feet, feeling as though the tables had turned—he had become the novice and she the master. She looked up at him, earnest. "Never do that again. To you, at least, I must be Idira."

Her skin sparkled with frost, offsetting the brilliance of her violet eyes. He found her utterly breathtaking, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He nodded. "And so it shall be, my love."

She smiled, delighted at his choice of words. "Then let us do this thing. I am ready. Take me to the font."

Standing upon the top step of the font, Khadgar looked back at his and Idira's bodies locked in their embrace within the runed force field. It was her idea, and though he felt a little foolish at first, he obliged her before casting the spells. Now he could see why she had wanted to do so. He looked different than the last time he was here, determination and confidence had replaced his exhaustion and anger. Positioned in the casting stance, he held her protectively against him with one arm, while casting with his other hand. She rested her head on his shoulder, her hand against his chest, frost riming the front of his collar where she touched him. It was like looking at art. He was glad she had thought of it. He would never forget how they looked together, ever.

He had set the time for one hour on his watch, more than he hoped she would need. He touched the watch's face in his pouch. He was ready. He couldn't see her, but he could feel her. He squeezed her hand, held fast in his. Before they left their bodies behind, she had added an additional spell of her own, enabling them to speak to each other through their thoughts, something she had learned from one of Medivh's tomes.

Are you ready? he asked.

Yes.

Follow me into the font.

He stepped into the basin, lifting his hand up to steady her as she stepped over the basin's ridge. He felt the pressure of her hand against his, and then she was there, her body touching his. He pulled her against him. Her arms slid around his torso, and he sensed her apprehension. He could understand, the font was a thing that could be used for great evil. It was possible it could even harm her. He had cast additional wards, just in case.

Hold on tight. Do not let go.

He felt her nod against his shoulder, her grip on him tightened. He used his mind to cast the incantation and they entered time itself. Within its chaotic channels he focussed his mind on their destination. The centre of the tunnel between Hope's End and the Chamber of the Eye. Today. Take us there.

In a heartbeat, they were there, inside the damp, claustrophobic gloom of the tunnel. Fel torches dotted the length of it, pools of sickly green light stretching away into the distance. Already Idira was moving, pulling him towards the end of the tunnel leading to Hope's End. He followed her, sensing her urgency. They reached the rock face at the end of the tunnel. She stood still, her hand as cold as ice within his gloved one.

Can you take us back in time, slowly, over the past three days? she asked.

Yes, of course. He began to scroll back through time, stopping at various intervals whenever she asked him to. When she was done, she asked him to take them into the future, to the day of the assault. He did. They hit a wall. He couldn't take them any further.

Strange. He said, and tried again. He crashed against something solid, and a crushing pain, fiercer than anything he had never known before slammed through his torso. He clutched his chest, his heart felt like it was being torn out of him.

Idira cried out, distressed, sobbing. Go back!

He did. Idira sagged against him, shaking. It took her a long time to recover. He leaned against the tunnel's wall, waiting for the waves of pain to recede. His chest still ached but he shoved his discomfort aside, his concern for Idira rising. He asked her how she was, but she didn't answer. Instead, she stood, and pulled on his hand. Her progress was slow as they followed the tunnel to its opposite end. He sensed she was injured, and wanted to be left alone. At the tunnel's termination, she went to work again sensing and reading the wards, again she asked to go back in time, for three days. This time, though she did not ask to go into the future. As she worked, he touched the face of his watch, they were running out of time. He was about to say something when she turned to him, and wrapped her arms around his torso once more.

I have learned all I can. Please, take us away from this place.

He brought them back through the font, and led her down its steps back to where their bodies stood, immobile. They returned, enduring the searing pain of ice and fire as their spirits merged with their bodies. Idira remained in his embrace, shuddering, clinging to him. Blood dripped from her nose, mouth and eyes, freezing on her skin.

Alarmed, Khadgar swept her up and carried her to the bed. He lay her down, and conjured a bowl of warm water, along with fresh linens. He cleaned her, and held compresses against her nose and mouth, cursing with frustration as the linens began to freeze. He changed the compresses continuously, but despite the pressure he applied, she continued to bleed. He realised her injury wasn't a physical one, but magical. He cast in his mind for what could have done this to her, but could think of nothing. There was only the one event when he had tried to take them into the future and they hit a wall. He had felt it too, yet he had not been harmed as she had.

She lay so still, he shook her shoulders, fearing for her. "Idira, are you aware?"

Her eyelids flickered. Her eyes dull, she nodded, weak, and whispered a spell. The bleeding slowed, and finally stopped. She murmured another spell and her regalia disappeared, replaced by a simple robe, the frost on her skin melted away. He took her hand in his, even through his glove he could feel her chill. How could she stand it? He lit another fire, and covered her with the blanket. She shivered and curled into herself, her back to him.

Helpless, Khadgar stroked her hair. What had happened? She was so quiet, so withdrawn. He had never seen her like this before. Not knowing what else to do, he lay down behind her and pulled her freezing body against his, chafing her arms, trying warm her. She lay passive in his embrace, saying nothing, letting him do his work. After a long while, she roused and turned to face him, pale and drawn.

"I will be able to open the tunnel tomorrow without Gul'dan knowing," she said, quiet.

He nodded, and continued to stroke her hair, troubled. Something in her voice made his instincts prickle. She knew something. And whatever it was, it wasn't good.

"Won't you tell me what it is that is troubling you?"

He searched her face for answers. A veil dropped over her eyes, and he sensed her distancing herself from him. She closed her eyes, and a tear slipped free. He kissed it away, and waited for her answer.

"Just love me," she whispered against his neck.

His heart aching, Khadgar did.