part xi
your name clawed out of my mouth when there was nothing left in me
Cara ascended the stairs just in time to catch a secret glimpse of Berdine in the library. For a moment she anticipated seeing Raina there too, sitting beside Berdine and watching her read. She smiled at the thought of her old friend—they were friends, weren't they? It was so difficult with other Mord-Sith. It had been all bravado until Richard had arrived, and then they all had such differing opinions of how their lives should go. Berdine, similar to Cara, had been terrified of Richard at first. She too had been abused and assaulted by Darken Rahl, used like a toy and thrown away again and again. Cara felt a cold rush clamber down her spine at the thought of the cycle continuing.
"You should never try to sneak up on a Mord-Sith," Berdine mumbled, clearly still engrossed in her book. "Not even if you are my friend."
"I wouldn't have to sneak up on you if you weren't such a bookworm," Cara quipped in return, leaning on the doorframe just outside the vast library. "Do you ever get fresh air?"
"Not these days. Books are far superior to real life. In books, I can be anyone I choose," Berdine said, all of the humor gone away. She had suffered the deepest loss in the last year, and now her beloved Lord Rahl had disappeared from time. Cara could not imagine what it was like to lose the love of your life. "How did he die, Cara? Be yourself, spare no comfort for me. I have always loved your brutal truths."
"Kahlan ran him through with the Sword of Truth," Cara said, to the complete shock of Berdine. A hand flew up to her mouth not at the violence but at the surprise of the Mother Confessor having been the one to do it. "Accidentally, of course. By the time I got there, it was too late to save him."
"The Mother Confessor is a formidable enemy, but not to Lord Rahl."
"No, but what is done is done."
Berdine sat in silence as Cara moved to sit on the bench across from her at the table, the sound of creaking wood accompanying her.
"I have missed you, my Cara. Things are so different here without a friend. How is the Mother Confessor dealing with it?"
"In her own way, as I am," Cara said. She thought back to all those nights they spent wrapped up together, mourning Richard's death. "Berdine, can I ask you something about yourself? About you and Raina?"
Berdine seemed taken aback, straightening herself up before she spoke again. "I suppose, if I like the question."
"How did you know you liked women more than men? Or that you didn't like men at all?"
Berdine watched Cara carefully. "I have always been this way, have never known another way. With Raina, it was magnificent. It was home. It was light, truth, and happiness. Lord Rahl was always magic against magic so we could be steel against steel… but I swear I tasted magic whenever I lay with Raina."
"While I was gone… I had experiences that I now believe have led me to the conclusion that I am largely disinterested in men."
"Largely?"
"Not entirely disinterested. But I had an interaction with a woman. Well, more than one. And they were all more than anything I have ever felt. It was so much all at once. It felt like I had exploded."
"That sounds like love to me, Cara," Berdine smirked, her intelligent, blue eyes trained on Cara, hungry for a story. "I think you should follow your heart and not worry about which bodies are wrong and which are right. Life is too short to care about such trivial matters."
"Perhaps," Cara mumbled, but Berdine wasn't finished with her yet.
"You're going to leave me here, waiting with baited breath to discover who this magical woman is? You're not supposed to torture your sisters, Cara," Berdine smiled, pushing Cara on the shoulder, all to which Cara rolled her eyes.
"It is between me and her," Cara said as she stood up. "I cannot tell even you, Berdi."
Cara could see the wheels turning in Berdine's head—she was too smart to not understand what Cara was really saying. But voicing how she felt aloud and speaking the name felt like casting a spell.
—
The throne room was awash with the yellow glow of late afternoon. Kahlan Amnell, stunningly soaked in her white, silk dress, sat not on the imposing D'Haran throne but instead stood before it. Kahlan's hands were clasped in front of her as the Mord-Sith filed in one by one, standing on opposite ends of the long, red carpet that rolled up to the throne until they were all present. Then, as they had done so many times, each Mord-Sith knelt in the presence of Rahl royalty.
"Rise," Kahlan said, her voice no longer her own. Everything she was doing now had been steeped in hundreds of generations of tradition, of women who had been forced to decide who lived and who died.
Cara clenched her jaw and kept her eyes straight ahead. Kahlan wished, more than anything in the world, for Cara to look at her. Kahlan would give it all up for one more meaningful glance.
"Are you here to tell us that Nathan Rahl has taken the throne, Mother Confessor?" Rikka asked, her eyes flitting to meet Kahlan's.
"No. I don't intend to place Nathan Rahl on the throne," Kahlan said evenly. "He doesn't want it, and I agree with him. D'Hara does not need another Lord Rahl."
"Then you're putting yourself on the throne," Berdine answered, to which Kahlan shook her head again. "We would follow you, Mother Confessor. You were Lord Rahl's wife."
"No, not that either. I am already Mother Confessor and Queen of Galea. Although my decision comes down to much more than that," Kahlan said, and Cara could feel her eyes on her, all blue ice. But the Mord-Sith did not yield under Kahlan's attention, not even when she strode forward until they were eye to eye. "D'Hara is a broken country without a Lord Rahl and his bond. The Imperial Order is coming, and they are coming quickly. D'Hara will be the first to fall, not on account of weakness of her people, but because you all have been protected for so long by one man."
"So what will you have us do, then? We need someone to lead us," asked Rikka once more, impatience hissing under her breath.
"The Mord-Sith in this room have all suffered under the hand of Darken Rahl. You have all had to make choices that were never really your own. You have all had to pretend that allegiance to Lord Rahl was the only thing that made you intelligible. Although Richard Rahl was kind, he left you with few tools to build yourselves up again, and it has caused you to repeat your old lives, and you have learned nothing from his teachings except to follow exactly what he thinks," Kahlan said, her words cutting into Cara's gut. "The Mord-Sith have seen the darkest heart of D'Hara and lived to tell the tale. It only feels right to put all of you in charge of her future."
No one made a sound for the shock they all endured. Cara looked to Berdine, then to Rikka, and even though her heart was pounding, she clenched her fist.
"We should not be in charge of D'Hara, Mother Confessor," Cara tried. "It should be a Rahl. Mord-Sith are not fit to rule, much less all of us at once."
Kahlan turned around to face Cara, and she swore that all of the burning agony she had felt in these last few weeks turned to a smoldering ember in her belly.
"The Mord-Sith would command D'Hara fairly. I do not think it should be left up to one person. While Richard was one of the shining moments of your dynastic history, Darken Rahl was one of the darkest. If I can prevent the risk of D'Hara falling into terror again, I would like to."
"We'll need to hold a private council, Mother Confessor," Berdine said, to which Kahlan immediately nodded.
Kahlan moved out of the room with the ease of a ghost, but before she departed she made sure to catch the eyes of one, particular Mord-Sith who currently wanted nothing to do with her and yet wanted everything to do with her. For the first time since they had met, Cara felt a shiver shake down her spine under the careful attention of the Mother Confessor.
Thankfully, the door closed and broke the spell. Cara relaxed out of her attention position and put a hand on her cocked hip.
"Now… what the fuck do we do, girls?"
After hours of equally good and terrible talking points, arguing, shouting, and wrestling, the Mord-Sith were exhausted. It was how they negotiated, and some had done more than others. Rikka pulled her braid tight again as Cara wiped the blood from her busted lip. Berdine stood there and rolled her eyes, not a scratch on her. The other girls had tired of this long ago, content to sit against the walls of the throne room and resting their heads on the others' shoulders.
"So it's decided, then?" Rikka huffed, her voice gruff and unyielding. "I don't have a say?"
"You did, until I beat you just now," Cara smirked, shaking out her sore right hand. "You should have remembered how good I was at izkutul style."
"I became spoiled with my agiel and the absence of our fighting matches, Mistress Cara," Rikka said with a hint of irritation in her voice. "I don't think that the future of D'Hara, and of the Mord-Sith, should be left up to you two. Berdine hasn't seen a battle-field in years."
"You forget how many history books I have access to at the People's Palace, Rikka," Berdine said with the rise of an eyebrow. "You don't have to agree, but this is the best choice. Enough is enough. We all know what is done to make a Mord-Sith, and we all know it has to end. We cannot terrorize D'Hara anymore. We cannot make horrors out of girls."
"Mord-Sith are not horrors, we are soldiers. Warriors. Furies. We used to be different. It used to be an honor. We are losing our culture, Berdine, and you are spearheading the effort," Rikka snapped back, fire in her eyes now. Cara felt the hollow, empty chill of listlessness blow through her. What would they be once they were no longer Mord-Sith?
"The pain and the loyalty are the only things which make us Mord-Sith. There is nothing else within us beyond the suffering and obedience," Cara muttered, and the room went quiet. "What else is there to know?"
"Anything," Berdine said, turning to face Cara with big, wet eyes. "Everything. We could have the world, we could make a new D'Hara. We can be different, girls. We can change. We can have power."
"We have power, we're Mord-Sith. Lord Rahl gave us power."
"No, he didn't," Cara said, to which Berdine smiled sadly and moved to hold Cara's hand. The rest of the room's eyes went to their hands, but neither Mord-Sith seemed to care. "Richard gave us the illusion of choice. Mord-Sith cannot be undone, we can not become normal women. There was nowhere else for us to go but here, within the shell of what had been, of our former glory. We are neutered dogs. There is no glory in all your teeth ripped out and all you can do is gum your prey."
"So you propose we rule D'Hara together, as the Mother Confessor said? What business do we have? We don't have magic, we don't have Rahl blood, how would we rule?" asked Rikka, a sentiment which garnered a few nods around the room.
"We will earn back D'Hara and her people. We will do what Darken and Richard Rahl were too scared to do, we will listen to honest people, we will hear the folk and help them," Berdine answered bravely, and a few girls lifted their heads up to look over in interest. "The Mother Confessor is right, we have seen the darkest depths of D'Hara, we know what she deserves. We can lead together, if we wish."
"You simply agree with the Mother Confessor because you are weak, Cara," Rikka hissed. "I saw you two in the mountains, I know what you've done. You are no Mord-Sith, you are a pet."
Before Berdine could stop her, Cara dropped her hand and turned heel, burst through the double doors, and stormed out of the throne room. She was so tired of fighting against everyone's opinion of her, she was so tired of deciding who she was meant to obey. Cara needed something angry to take hold of, something to sink her teeth into, something to rid herself of all these evil, rotten feelings. Cara wished so badly that her agiels still rattled with power, she missed their touch even more than she missed Kahlan's.
"Cara?" came a voice from a room on the upper level of the palace. It was the last voice which Cara had suspected to have even the slightest invocation of concern. Nicci gingerly placed the book that she was reading on the large windowsill she had been curled up on. Cara stood in the doorway, adorned with all the closed fists, wide set stance, and firmly set jaw of a proper Mord-Sith as the late afternoon sun spilled out on the marble floor in front of her from Nicci's window.
"You can come in, if you would like to talk," Nicci offered, to which the Mord-Sith shook her head.
"I don't want to talk. I've done too much talking to last me a lifetime."
"You can come in and just be, then. So that you're not alone with yourself," Nicci told her in a gentle but firm voice, her pale, blue eyes watching Cara closely. Rather begrudgingly, Cara stepped inside the room and closed the door behind her.
"Do you want to sit down?"
"I'd rather stand," said Cara, crossing her arms over her chest.
Nicci gave a curt nod. "I'll keep reading my book, you can do as you like."
There were no more than two pages flipped, rather quickly, until Cara spoke again.
"I have been told what to do, how to act, who to be, and what I want for my entire life. I finally get the chance to take power… yet I am not so sure I want it. Everything has been foisted on me in the last year and I have not had time to pull myself up to the surface and take even one breath."
Nicci put down her book and watched Cara with apt curiosity, drawing a knee up to her chest as she did. In that moment, she was the beautiful nymph in a painting that Cara had seen many years ago, back when it was her job to ruin gorgeous art and divine women in service of the Rahl Dynasty. Her golden hair fell over her shoulders, but Cara had not forgotten what the sorceress had done. But Kahlan was not speaking to her, or rather, she was not speaking to Kahlan. What else was she meant to do, who else was there to go to? There was something comforting within Nicci that Cara could not contend with.
"There is time to settle with yourself and make a decision. I can say I know what it's like, but I don't. Not in the way you do," Nicci told her, to which Cara was silent.
"I don't want to settle. I want to feel something. But I don't know how."
"The only Mord-Sith I have met is you… and all you are is anger, Cara. Anger and hurt. There is more to life than suffering."
"Your life has only been suffering."
"You don't know that."
"I can see it in your eyes," Cara told her. "I know that look like the back of my hand. An artificial flame, one that has been snuffed out once and was relit. But it's not the same, is it? It never was the same after that. After whatever it was that broke you."
Nicci looked so small on the bed, now.
"They say the kindest girls make the best Mord-Sith. I think a kind girl lived in you, at some time. But those girls can't come back to us, not now."
"What do you want from me, Cara?"
Without a word, Cara was called to move toward Nicci with alarming alacrity. She burst into motion, gripping Nicci's wrist and pulling her up to stand. Their hips pressed against one another, Cara's eyes wild with pain and rage. She wanted to be big, she wanted to be powerful, she wanted to be agony. Cara wanted to take, take, take.
Cara slipped her hand down Nicci's side, watching with rapt attention as the sorceress' lips parted ever so slightly. Blue ocean met blue glacier as Cara's fingers grasped hold of Nicci's ass and squeezed hard. No sound but the pounding blood of adrenaline accompanied Cara's actions, she did not hesitate to pull Nicci closer until they were pressed up against one another, until Nicci had no way of escaping. Cara could feel herself grinning inside as she slowly lifted her knee and pushed up into the place between Nicci's legs. No gasp left Nicci's lips, but Cara only wanted more.
Cara's lips crashed into Nicci's, trying so desperately to look for that spark she had felt with Kahlan. That breath of relief, that warm feeling of being caught after a long fall. Something that made her stop trying to claw her way to the surface just to feel something. It was so exhausting to work so hard to feel a mere drop of what everyone else seemed to have in grand abundance.
But there was nothing in return, no feverish touches or squeezes or moans of pleasure. Nicci stood there as if at attention, her body for the taking but not giving an inch. Cara's hands carved out all the places on Nicci's body she wished to tear into and take a piece of for herself, gripping hard enough to leave bruises. Cara knew a thousand ways to leave marks on skin, especially so easily troubled skin as Nicci's, but she also knew how to stop herself from doing so. Usually.
Cara pulled back and held Nicci by the shoulders. There was a glassy, far off look in the sorceress' eyes that Cara knew all too well—she had, so many times before, been the cause of that look. It was a haunted way to live. All of the rage fell out of Cara as a tear streamed down Nicci's face, as if to put the final brushstroke on her altogether placid appearance.
"Look at me, Nicci," Cara said, trying not to succumb to the odd, shaky feeling in her chest. What had she done to upset Nicci, to take her anywhere but here? There was a sinking feeling that she had done something wrong, but Cara had no idea where to begin again. Cara's hands gripped Nicci's shoulders tighter, shaking her as she lacked any response. "Nicci, look at me."
The sorceress came to with all the shaking power of an earthquake, her eyes snapping into focus once again, taking in Cara's visage as if for the first time. Without warning, her hand shot up and took a fistful of the bottom of Cara's jaw.
"Take me, Cara," Nicci said in a low voice, for the first time looking Cara directly in the eyes, really looking at her. Cara's hand slipped into Nicci's hair and pulled. "Ruin me."
Nicci was so soft, so warm, so full of everything Cara wanted. It was so easy to push Nicci backwards onto the bed, her golden hair falling around her like a halo. It was so simple to yank Nicci's dress over her hips, pull down her smallclothes, and dip a finger in between her folds. They were so wet and moist for her that Cara was surprised—she had never known this feeling. The sorceress bit her bottom lip and bucked her hips against Cara's hand, the soft moan that fell from her lips hurled Cara into an even deeper frenzy. There were no more words, they could not break this spell. They both needed to keep going, they both needed to heal what had just happened. This would fix them.
This would fix everything.
"Take me, please," Nicci said, another tear running sideways down her cheek. Her hand grabbed Cara's and pushed it lower, down to the soft opening of her. "More."
Cara felt herself seize up, her muscles betraying her as her body went cold. The Mord-Sith's hand stopped, but Nicci grabbed her hand and slid her fingers deep into her wet-welcome pussy. Cara watched Nicci moan and relax on the bed. Nicci pushed Cara's fingers into her again, and again, and again, moving faster and faster until Cara sparked back to life. Something angry and vengeful took hold of her as she grabbed Nicci's small waist with one hand and fucked her with the other, the wet noises from her pussy becoming as enthralling as Nicci's sounds which grew deeper and more inhuman with each pulse.
"Tell me I can touch," Nicci breathed, and all Cara could do was nod against the rising tide between them. The sorceress pressed a rough hand to her clit, rubbing and rubbing until Cara was sure there was nothing left to feel. Cara watched on as Nicci's eyes met hers, and Cara saw two women before her—the Slave Queen, and Death's Mistress. Nicci was both the submissive and the dominant, the taker and the taken, and Cara found herself bobbing helplessly against it all.
"Oh, Cara," Nicci moaned, but Cara did not relent. In an instant, Nicci was grabbing Cara's wrist for her to stop as she shook and convulsed like a woman possessed. If she took even one breath, Cara was afraid that time would break in half. All she could do was soak up the feeling of Nicci's warm, wet walls clenching around her calloused fingers.
Cara felt herself come back to earth as Nicci rose up on the bed and pressed a rough kiss to her mouth, holding her attention for a moment. Cara tried to pull away, but Nicci kept coming back for her. The sorceress' hand slid down to unbuckle her belt, and Cara did what she always had—split herself in two. But it was so much harder since Richard, since she had become somewhat of a woman. Cara had a mind of her own, and it was dangerous, poisonous, to be a person who wanted something different than everyone else. It was so much easier to listen, to obey, to fall prey to a master. And so there was a fracture, one so infinitesimal that Cara herself could never have noticed it.
Nicci pulled off her belt and slipped off her tight, leather pants, but Cara did not help. Nicci laid her back on the bed and rubbed her wet clit, but she did not bend. Nicci, believing that Cara needed exactly what she had needed, slid her hand up over Cara's breasts, smiled, and took a firm grip of her throat. Cara felt something spark alive in her for a brief moment, remembering what it was like to struggle in the face of supposed danger. To wriggle and scream in protest against someone who only wished to hold her down and strip her of every shred of agency she hoped to have.
Nicci, believing again that she had done something right for once, slipped two fingers into Cara's soft, tight pussy.
Everything collapsed in on itself like a dying star. Cara's heart burst in her chest, fear leaking out of her, her vision going red tunneling in on Nicci's face. Lungs lit aflame with each new, panicked breath. The world swirled around Cara in broken pieces and there was nothing big enough or slow enough to grab onto. In that moment, all Cara could see was a flourish of white dress and a curtain of dark hair, and the sound of cavalry hooves over the hill that never showed their faces.
"Cara, come back," she heard Nicci said, and all of a sudden she was on the floor and gathered up in Nicci's arms. Cara immediately wrestled out of Nicci's embrace, knocking the back of her head into Nicci's chin. She got up onto her knees as she heard the sorceress grunt in pain, but Nicci was tougher than she looked, grabbing Cara by the upper arm and dodging another punch that came her way without warning. Cara could feel the tears coating her cheeks but could not find the words to tell her no. Her mouth was all filled up with sap.
"Cara, no," Nicci fought, pinning Cara's arms to her sides with a considerable amount of patience. Cara felt like a wild animal, grunting with effort as she tried to escape the touches. Nicci managed to gather her up again, holding Cara's arms tightly to her chest as the Mord-Sith took breaths in heaping gasps. "I can't let you go like this. You have to calm down."
Cara could not speak, there was too much going on. She was so angry and so hurt and so bewildered and so out of her mind that all she could do was wordlessly cry out. Nicci's hand came up to stroke her hair, pulling so gently on her braid.
"I'm sorry, Cara… I'm sorry," Nicci said, her lips pressed against Cara's ear. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"You… I…" Cara told her in the smallest voice. Her fingers grasped at Nicci's hand until it opened and let her hold it with a fearful grip. "You're the last person… I want… to hold me…"
"I know. I don't know what else to do."
Cara was quiet for a long time. The sun sank below the window and cast the sky into dark purples and oranges. When Cara had finally calmed herself down enough for Nicci to feel comfortable releasing her tight hold on the Mord-Sith, the two women resigned themselves to lie on the floor, Cara's head resting on Nicci's stomach while the sorceress lay on her back. There was nothing else to be done.
"I want Kahlan," Cara said softly, her real voice returning to her. "Why do I want her to see me like this?"
"I don't know. I think that sometimes, we want people to see the worst parts of us so that we know we are worthwhile to keep around. But I can't look into your mind and scry your feelings. But when you weren't yourself, you called out for her. When you were in the darkest depths of your mind, you called out for Kahlan," Nicci admitted, lightly pulling on the end of Cara's braid. "Do you want to talk about why—"
"If I told you, you would not look at me the same way. Let it be a privilege that you know so little of what is done to Mord-Sith." There was more silence that slit the throat of any further conversation on the matter. "Why do you care so much about what happens to me, and to Kahlan? We have both treated you so poorly."
"Envy. That's what drives me, what has always been at the core of me," Nicci said in a cold voice. "Envy."