part iii
she wants to know where i have been
When Cara woke she was met with the warm, soft body of the Mother Confessor. In all of the heartache and panic of the night prior, Cara had no idea that Kahlan too was bereft of any clothing—she had seen Kahlan naked several times between caring for her in Westland and her stint on the battlefield, but that had been different.
Kahlan's body had been a battered, pained, and infirm one. In these past few months, Kahlan had turned heel and become a weaponized, vengeful, rageful body.
But now? Now she was simply a woman curled up next to Cara with her sword-calloused hands slightly covering her face.
The thin light of early morning shone through the weaved fabric of the tent, and Cara looked over as it illuminated her blanket, and the bloodied spots all up and down the side. Cara felt something odd in her chest, a dark and wet feeling like sinking in deep water that she could not quite identify. She had felt it last winter when Richard had been ripped away from them. She had watched Kahlan fall to her knees into the snow in despair, warring with the idea of no longer having Richard by her side. Cara, too, had lost her purpose then—sure, she was meant to protect the Mother Confessor, the Lady Rahl, but without Richard this all seemed so hollow, as if they were doing it for show.
What was Kahlan to her, beyond an extension of the Rahl bloodline? Why did Cara really stay by her side last night? If there was one thing that was certain about Mord-Sith, it was that no one in all the Three Territories, or the Old World, looked to them for even a crumb of comfort.
"Cara?" Kahlan mumbled, turning over to see the Mord-Sith sitting up beside her. She looked as if she was recollecting the night and all its intricate pathways in order to determine why Cara was in her tent, naked, as was she. Cara could see the beginnings of thick bruises on Kahlan's generous breast as they escaped from beneath the blanket which, on account of Cara's blatant staring, Kahlan drew further up her body.
"I'll take my leave, Mother Confessor," Cara assured her. She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, gave a tightening tug to her braid, and headed towards the exit of the tent. Kahlan said nothing as she left, but that was to be expected. Last night was surely a misunderstanding, a simple cry for help. Cara had been a stand-in for Richard, nothing more.
When she at last arrived at her tent, thankfully avoiding anyone who would stop her and question why she was practically naked out in the cold, Cara sighed in relief to discover that General Meiffert had not overstayed his welcome. It felt good to pull her leathers back onto her skin, for they were the armor she had always welcomed. Even in those lean, cruel times under Darken Rahl's iron fist, Cara had worn her red leathers proudly. She would never give up her agiels or her red leathers, not for the world, because the suffering they caused was who she was; Cara was Mord-Sith through and through, and no matter how hard anyone tried or reasoned with her of how poisonous she had become, at least that could not be taken from her.
When she re-emerged from her tent, fully clothed now, Cara saw General Meiffert coming to approach her from a distance. It seemed that she had failed to escape him. Cara pulled her braid tighter and walked in the opposite direction, but the lack of attention only forced Meiffert to hurry his pace, the snow crunching beneath his worried feet.
"You should never try to sneak up on a Mord-Sith," Cara warned as his footsteps grew louder. They stopped, followed by his labored breathing.
"Mistress Cara, I need a word—"
"I know what you are going to say, General Meiffert," Cara interrupted. "I don't care about rumors."
"Then let me speak to you as Benjamin. As a friend. As someone who has grown to care for you… Cara."
Cara spun around, nearly whipping Meiffert in the face with the end of her braid. She looked him up and down as if she were assessing the thousands of ways she could end his life, right there in the harsh daylight.
"Mord-Sith are not to be cared for. We are meant to be trusted yet feared."
"It's been a new day in D'Hara for quite a few weeks," Meiffert assured her, then offered a boyish smile. "I think it's best that we leave some of the old ways behind, don't you?" Meiffert looked to her with supreme intention in his eyes, his harsh features softened by his gentle patience.
"All right, Benjamin," Cara finally ceded. "Speak to me as if we were… friends. Hypothetically."
Benjamin could not help the laugh that escaped him. Cara was not so prone to the same amusement.
"Hypothetically, if I were to inform you that your presence at the Mother Confessor's side at the wedding, then again last night and into the morning, was noted by several soldiers and ilk of our armies… how would you feel?"
Cara thought for a moment, trying to calculate whether or not Benjamin was trying to move against her. She concluded that notion was false, for he had several opportunities to usurp power over the years yet had never done anything to seize them.
"It all depends on the charge of the recognition of myself and the Mother Confessor," Cara said carefully. "I am her guardian, I was tasked by Lord Rahl to defend her. I am a Mord-Sith, therefore I am an authority on matters tied to absolute loyalty to Lord Rahl."
"The D'Haran soldiers, for the most part, understand that. Those from the Midlands, however, are having trouble finding a reason why you needed to be so… close to their Mother Confessor and queen," Benjamin said in a low voice as a few Galean soldiers passed by, their blue tunics bold and plain for all to see. "Marriage is sacred in their land. I know that is a concept unknown to Mord-Sith, but—"
"If you think I am out to destroy the marriage of my Lord Rahl simply by offering to be the Mother Confessor's solace in his absence, you are as ridiculous and childish as they," Cara spat, stomping away from Benjamin before her head exploded off her shoulders.
Cara thought it best to be among her own kind, so she sought out Rikka despite her fast-fueling rage. The tall, blonde Mord-Sith met her with a troubled gaze.
"Mistress Cara, you look as if you're about to tear the head off of a red dragon," Rikka mused, but her face devoid of any such enjoyment that had riddled her voice.
"I need to be away from these people," Cara grumbled, taking a seat on a log beside Rikka. Cara watched as the other Mord-Sith cut another piece of soft bread and held it out to her, holding it in her hands for under a second before stuffing part of it in her mouth and hungrily ripping it off.
"I do detest these soldiers, they're all so… stupid," Rikka noted, but Cara shook her head.
"They're not true D'Harans, they're absolute fools."
"Why do you say that?"
"They're questioning my loyalty to Lord Rahl."
Rikka filled the gap in conversation with a haughty laugh.
"You? Disloyal to Lord Rahl? I would never think to say such a ridiculous thing," Rikka told her. "You are his closest confidant. Not only did you travel with him all the way to Westland to heal the Mother Confessor, and you never gave up your agiel. This, and all the rest that you have done for him, should prove your loyalty tenfold."
Cara was silent, as she always wished to be, in the face of such accolades. But Rikka was right, of course, for at every turn Cara proved herself invaluable to Lord Rahl and all of those he held dear. So why did she care if her loyalty was in question from these lowly soldiers who knew nothing of her deeds and sacrifices?
"It's not that which upsets you though, Cara, is it?" Rikka said, hitting the mark dead on. Cara sighed and took another bite of her bread.
"We Mord-Sith know how we live, how we love, how we touch. No one understands what we have been through, so I don't expect anyone to understand how we behave," Cara told her. Rikka nodded in silent confidence. "I am here to make sure that the Mother Confessor is safe. If she asks me to dance, I will dance. If she asks me to stay in her tent, I shall do just that. I would do anything for the Mother Confessor, and for Lord Rahl. They gave me my life, and for that I am ever in their debt."
Rikka mulled over her words, silent for a long while. Mord-Sith did not mind the absence of words, so Cara knew she was in excellent company. When Rikka finally spoke, the words came as a surprise, for in the interim Cara had become lost in a labyrinth of her own doubt.
"But you were the one who asked her to dance, Cara, it was not the other way around. Therefore, it will always look as if you have done the deed, regardless of if she took your hand willingly," Rikka told her. "No one but Lord Rahl is meant to drink in the sights of Mord-Sith, and the Mother Confessor is unfortunately no exception. Old ways die a long death, and some still cling to these ancient ways as if their lives depend on it."
"I have done nothing wrong, Rikka."
"No, Cara, you have not. But you did emerge from her tent without clothes this morning. And a woman without clothes is a sight not long unseen by wandering, prying eyes."
Cara was busy chopping wood for the camp when Kahlan approached her, fur mantle wrapped tightly around her shoulders, the cool air hitting her breath and making clouds of vapor. Kahlan looked like a queen, but she walked with a gingerness that only Cara knew the reason for. Instantly, Cara looked away, desperately hoping that Kahlan was not about to question or chastise her for the night before.
"I haven't seen you all day," Kahlan remarked. Cara chopped another piece of wood. "Not even Benjamin knew where you were."
"General Meiffer is not my keeper. I come and go as I like."
"You're right. Richard gave you that choice long ago," Kahlan said diplomatically, and as Cara returned to her chopping she could feel the ice of Kahlan's eyes on her. "Are you all right?"
Cara brought her ax down hard on the wood again, then bent down to pick up another one. The pile was extremely tall and chaotic, the splinters of wood thrown down haphazardly on the ground. Some did not make it to the tarp that was meant to keep it off the wet, snowy ground, which was an oversight that was not like Cara at all.
"I am fine. Do not concern yourself with me," Cara told her, stopping her arduous task just long enough to notice Kahlan's gaze affixed onto her. She sighed, drove the ax into the tree stump, and crossed her arms. "I should be asking you how you are feeling."
"I've been better," Kahlan admitted. "And I've been worse."
Cara smirked. "You've always come out on the other side victorious."
"Thanks to you, twice over," Kahlan smiled back. They stood there quietly for a moment, Cara not wishing to break the wordlessness between them, it felt too much like a commitment to feeling something. "You know that I'm already aware of what is being said around camp."
Cara felt her heart catch in her throat, and she avoided Kahlan's eyes.
"I have been told as such."
"I don't care about it, you know. It doesn't matter to me what anyone else thinks about my life but me," Kahlan told her firmly. "They don't mind it when I take lives and wage war, but when I dance with my friend on a joyous occasion suddenly everyone is an expert on the scintillating personal life of the Mother Confessor."
"People who talk about others are stupid."
"People are stupid."
Kahlan crossed her arms to mirror Cara, then brought herself closer. "I wanted to thank you for what you did last night. You didn't have to care for me, or stay with me."
"I did, and I wished to. You were clearly not yourself."
"No, I wasn't. I'm glad you were there with me," Kahlan said, and Cara knew from the way Kahlan hung onto her words that she was not just talking about last night. It was about everything they meant to each other and all the trials and tribulations they had been through. "I don't consider you to be just a bodyguard anymore."
"Is that so?" Cara said quizzically. Her heart pounded without her wishing it to. She remembered the weight of Kahlan's head resting on her back as they rode through the mountains, the smell of her hair, and the warm sensation of caring for another person.
"I consider you to be a friend," said Kahlan, who reached forward to squeeze Cara's forearm. "My companion."
"Last night, when I said I wanted to talk about things…"
"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Cara. You don't owe me a thing, you never have. I want you to be by my side because you care for me, not because I am Richard's wife. I want you to stay with me because you believe in the world I see."
Cara gave her an honest smile, all weight and warmth, to show Kahlan that she was here.
"No one has asked me where I have been. Not in a long time."
Kahlan nodded and did not drop her hand from Cara's arm. "Considering how long we have been together, it only seems right. I would like to know, one day, where you've been."