part xiii

her voice sounded like cavalry hooves

The small village of Panderon was the final stop before the mountains which Rikka's scouts purported to have spotted a dragon hiding place in the last five years. Already, the people seemed to be renouncing the Rahl Empire, with half the village draped with red banners and half with green.

"The Little Nations," Cara informed her. "This village used to be Otemweh territory, if I recall correctly."

"The Little Nations, I remember reading about them a long time ago," Kahlan replied. "All of the sovereign nations that used to make up D'Hara before the Rahl dynasty. They lasted until Panis Rahl's rule."

"Yes. He sought to bring D'Hara under one ruler. Many did not care for a monarchy."

"I would hardly call the Rahl Dynasty a monarchy. A tyranny, perhaps."

Cara set her jaw and stayed silent.

"Giving the Mord-Sith power is how they would have done it in the old days," Cara murmured. "Perhaps that is always how D'Hara should have been."

"I don't think it is good to give one person nearly all of the power, regardless of how morally noble they are," Kahlan admitted, to which Cara's head snapped to the side so that she might face her.

"What does that say about you? And about Richard?"

Kahlan sighed and declined to speak. It was too much to say, especially while pushing their way through the bustling market crowd.

"We need to find donkeys to take us up the mountain," Cara said, always quick to change the topic to the task ahead.

"We should speak to some locals first, find our footing, and then find these dragons," Kahlan told her. "If there are any to find."

"I'll get donkeys, you get information," Cara nodded. "You were always better at speaking to strangers."

Kahlan wanted to say more, but when she turned around Cara had already gone. Kahlan wondered why she was spending so much time holding onto ghosts.

—

After a few hours of conversation with the locals, Kahlan determined that it was best that she find them a room to stay for the night, then begin their ascent up the mountain at dawn. There was no rush to find the perfect ingredient to unite D'Hara in the absence of Rahl rule, and Kahlan would much rather keep herself and Cara relatively safe—if that even was an option for either of them anymore. Besides, Kahlan enjoyed the slow life here in the little village: the people milling about and speaking to each other more than selling, buying, or making much of anything. It was as if they had all decided to savor the moment together, as the sun began to droop down below the vast mountain range which cast a shadow over the valley.

With Cara still not having returned, Kahlan took it upon herself to find them a room at the inn. Two rooms, she corrected herself quickly, knowing full well that Cara would likely rather sleep out in the stables than share a bed with her. Although they had gotten to talking it had been all business, there was still something awry between them. Kahlan wondered if it would always be this way.

"Two rooms and two hot meals, please," Kahlan asked the barkeep, a kind woman with a full figure. The woman nodded distractedly as she juggled several customers, but Kahlan did not mind—it had become tiresome over the years to be treated like the Mother Confessor. Sometimes, it was nice to be simply Kahlan.

When she was nearly finished with her dinner, a bowl of mushrooms and rice with a beautifully sweet glaze which Kahlan had never tasted before, Cara pushed through the old, tavern door and her eyes roved around the crowded room. Without much thought to whether or not Cara was looking for her, Kahlan smiled and lifted a hand in the air. Cara crossed the room as if she were in a hurry, looking this way and that as if there were danger lurking in every corner. When she came close enough for conversation, Kahlan felt a spark ignite in her chest, hoping to chase the warm feeling with Cara.

"Where are we sleeping tonight?" Cara asked curtly, to which Kahlan pushed the second bowl over to the other side of the table. Cara did not sit down.

"I got us two rooms on the second floor, the first two on the left of the stairs. This is dinner, you look hungry," Kahlan told her gently.

"I'm fine," Cara told her with a shake of her head.

"Did you get us donkeys?"

Cara nodded. "Of course I did."

"Sit down, Cara, please—"

Kahlan sighed as Cara walked past her and up the stairs, leaving her alone once again. Kahlan gripped the edge of the table and closed her eyes, letting the irritation and feeling of abandonment wash away as gentle as a summer rain. Until it was all gone she let herself melt into the wood beneath her feet and disappear between the cracks so perhaps she might know what it was like to feel like a person again.

—

Cara's senses came alive all at once, roaring and raging. She had not realized her eyes were already open until she found herself staring right at a shadowy form before her, its hands grasping at her arms and keeping her upright.

Cara, breathe—Cara, breathe, please.

It was a voice that Cara would recognize anywhere. There was no longer a shadow but instead the shining light that could only come from the woman she had held close in the night for so many long, painful hours.

It's all right—me. Just breathe—please—holding your breath.

Cara could barely catch Kahlan's words for all the blood and panic growling in her ears. But the more she listened and breathed, the calmer she felt. All she could focus on was Kahlan's fingers wrapped tightly around her upper arms.

"Why are you here?" Cara whispered, her voice sounded hoarse. The room was suddenly quiet, all of the buzzing and clicking all gone away. Slowly, so slowly, pieces of the night were returning to her. Kahlan's soft, green eyes looked over her with a pace quickened by worry.

"You were shouting in your sleep, I came over to make sure you were all right," Kahlan said in a voice no louder than a whisper. Her hand brushed up and down Cara's arm, with each touch the hardened Mord-Sith settled more and more. "You were having a bad dream."

"Mord-Sith do not dream," Cara mumbled.

"Then perhaps you are becoming a different sort of Mord-Sith," Kahlan chided. They were silent for a moment which felt like a year. It felt like old times again, when nothing needed to be said because everything was so easily understood.

"Cara… you were calling out my name."

Cara shrugged Kahlan's arm off her shoulder and dropped her eyes from the Confessor. But Kahlan came back for her, sliding her hand beneath Cara's chin and lifting it up.

"Why don't you talk to me anymore, Cara?"

"Everything has changed between us," Cara managed, these new, disgusting feelings boiling up inside her. "You changed things between us."

"I know. But I didn't mean to hurt you, I have never wanted that."

In the dark of night, it was nearly impossible to tell if Kahlan was being genuine. Cara had been so used to smiling teeth and cruel words that it took all her powers of perception to determine whether or not someone was lying to her.

"So why did you kiss me and look at me as if there was nothing more terrible than my face?" Cara asked, daring to say what she had not the courage to do before. To defy.

"I wanted to know what being so dangerously close to you felt like," Kahlan whispered, as if speaking any louder would ruin everything. "I wanted it more than anything I have ever wanted in my life. And I could not contend with it."

Darkness, darkness, only darkness. Then, Kahlan's hand reached for Cara's and squeezed it tight. It swept up all the rage away from Cara for a brief moment. Kahlan had that power, her voice sounded like cavalry hooves.

"Haven't you ever been scared, Cara?"

"I am only afraid of disappointing my Lord Rahl. And dying old and toothless in bed."

"Well, I'm scared. All of the time. I'm afraid of the Imperial Order, of disappointing my ancestors, of ruining Richard's legacy. But when I'm with you, that fear goes away. I'm not sorry I kissed you, but I am sorry I did it when we both weren't ready."

The nearness was suffocating and the candor was agonizing. All her years of suffering under an iron fist had not prepared her for such clemency. Cara's skin felt as though it were made of millions of moving little creatures, all bustle and bite.

"I am not looking for your forgiveness, and don't you dare coddle me," Kahlan said, her tone stern. "But I don't want to lose you over this. I don't want to lose you at all."

Everything in Cara told her to obey, to stay here with Kahlan, to rest her head on the Mother Confessor's shoulder and do exactly as she asked. Obedience came so much easier than defiance did, but where had obedience gotten her?

Cara was submissive to Darken Rahl and he beat her.

Cara had listened to Richard Rahl and he died because of her inaction.

So what was the point of following orders when there was no one left to follow? Why was Cara staying here even though Kahlan's touches felt like a blade fresh from the blacksmith's flame?

Cara could not contend with the roiling in her stomach. Though she wished more ardently than anything to reach out and grab Kahlan, hold her close, and crash their bodies together, at the same time Cara so badly wanted to cry and sob and bang her head against the wall while Kahlan held her hand. Cara wanted to feel everything there was in this world to feel, for all she had been allowed to feel since she was a young girl was pain and loyalty.

But she abandoned this dappled sunlight, this letting go, this rip in the fabric of everything she knew herself to be. Cara heard Kahlan's pleas to stay behind, but Cara shut them all out.

"Cara—"

"Duunthos," Cara hissed, to which Kahlan pulled back for a moment, as if at the sight of a snake. Kahlan understood enough D'Haran to be appalled. "Fuck you, Kahlan. You don't know anything about me."

"Cara, what are you talking about?" Kahlan asked again, her hands grasping for Cara in an effort to ground her, but Cara was already so far gone. She pushed Kahlan's hands off her and pushed her by the shoulders, forsaking the vow she had given to Richard what felt like a thousand years ago. Cara was reckless, and it was a part of her that she had sorely missed.

With a hurt that matched the Mord-Sith's, Kahlan held Cara by the wrists in an attempt to stop her. It only earned her a place on the floor as they grappled each other, Cara trying to throw fists while Kahlan could only deflect them. Cara writhed on the floor and shouted out as Kahlan straddled her hips.

"Cara, breathe—"

Cara howled and brought her head up to smack the front of Kahlan's so quickly that the Mother Confessor had little time to react appropriately. Without thought, she grabbed Cara by both hands and forced them above her head. Cara immediately went limp.

"Oh, Cara, no. Cara, no, I—"

It could not be undone, the wobbly feeling in Cara's stomach, the panic in Kahlan's bright, green eyes. The ghosts had come back for Cara, like they had when Nicci had crept her fingers close to where Cara had been hurt so many times.

She had to get out of here.

Cara nearly vaulted off the bed and tore out of the room, grabbing a fistful of her leathers, the wood floors gripping the soles of her feet as she turned heel and hurried down the staircase.

Anywhere but here.

Anywhere but here, where something was expected of her.

—

Kahlan awoke dreadfully alone in Cara's bed. She was sure the Mord-Sith would have crept back into the room with her, into her bed, and she would sigh and turn around with Cara snuggled up against her back. She wanted so badly to have back those long, quiet nights in the mountains, when everything was uncomplicated and simply just happened. After Richard had died, Kahlan wanted a lot of things that were fantastical and out of reach. Perhaps getting Cara back in the way Kahlan used to have her was another tale she told herself.

It was the worst she had ever slept; her skin felt crinkled and old and her throat was drier than the desert between Altur and Yanter'Rang, but she knew that if she spent one second more in bed she would go mad with her thoughts. When she pulled herself out of bed there was blood on the pillow, the only evidence that hers and Cara's fight was a small, horizontal scrape on her own arm. Kahlan brushed her thumb against it, feeling the dried blood left there and letting the pain hiss softly through her arm. Her thumb came up to meet her lip, the gentle sound of her bottom lip and the crumble of dark sanguine the only thing in her ears. There was a presentness to the pain, even this small amount of it, that made Kahlan understand Cara a little bit more.

Kahlan pulled on her brown boots and her worn traveling clothes, knowing she would not need such finery as her Confessor's dress while scaling a mountain for the next few days. Kahlan knew she could make the journey on her own if necessary, but that did not mean she wished to do it alone.

"Have you seen my companion? The Mord-Sith, blonde hair?" Kahlan asked the innkeep when she came downstairs to see about breakfast. The large woman shook her head.

"Not since she stormed out the door last night. Didn't think it wise to follow on the heels of an angry Mord-Sith," the innkeep said, laughing a bit at the last part. Kahlan could not blame her reasoning, especially with how terrifying Cara became while irate. "Breakfast, Mother Confessor?"

"Two, please. I'll be looking for my Mord-Sith," Kahlan smiled, patting the counter between them twice before turning away and heading to the door.

Outside, the din of farm work could be heard. Farmers called in their cattle with bells while others shouted at their sheepherding dogs. The methodical clank, clank, clank of a blacksmith with their tools. Kahlan pulled up the hood of her cloak as an unseasonably cold wind blew through. It seemed that the thaw of early spring had not given up just yet. Kahlan noticed not too far off that there was a rather frightened stable boy, who she had seen earlier, grabbing his father's sleeve and pointing to the stables. Curious, Kahlan approached them.

"What seems to be the problem?" Kahlan asked, and although they did not recognize her in her traveling clothes, the boy was quick to answer.

"There's a—there's a—"

Kahlan bent down to a squat and watched the boy closely. "Tell me, I will help."

"There's a Mord-Sith sleeping in the stables."

Kahlan found Cara face down on the stable floor with a fistful of hay in her sleep-rigid grasp. It did not surprise Kahlan to know that Cara had made good on her promise of sleeping elsewhere, but she did not expect the honorable Mistress Cara to be laying in old hay at the crack of dawn. Kahlan tried to not get caught staring at Cara's visibly round bottom, bare among all the detritus of the stable.

"Cara, wake up," Kahlan told her softly, not touching the Mord-Sith as she bent down and rested her hands on her knees. "It's morning."

Cara groaned and pulled her head up from the hay, spitting out a bit that had gotten caught on her lip. Kahlan bit back a laugh, putting on her Confessor's mask as quickly as she could.

Cara did not speak, but the confused look in her still-sleepy eyes told Kahlan everything.

"I wanted to make sure you were all right," Kahlan said quietly, aware of eyes on them. Having a Mord-Sith face down in their barn was likely the most entertaining thing that had happened in this sleepy little town all year. "I've gotten us some breakfast. Are you hungry?"

Cara nodded, running a hand over her hair to assess the damage to her braid. There were tufts of hair mixed with hay everywhere she felt, a discovery which earned a fateful groan.

"You can wash up before we leave, I'll give you the room to yourself. When you're ready, come back," Kahlan said, and although it pained her she did not lay a finger on Cara. Instead she rose to her feet, nodded once, and left the stable to return to the warm inn.

From the view of the small, thick glass window of the inn, Kahlan could see the pink sky of early morning shrouding Cara in effervescent light. The Mord-Sith had taken most of the hay out of her hair, but Kahlan was sure she would want something resembling a wash after spending a night among horses.

Kahlan declined sneaking a look at Cara as she wordlessly walked, with heavy footsteps, past her and up the stairs. Kahlan felt a little lighter, for at the very least Cara was accepting the help she was trying to give. Although all she could think about was what she had said to Cara last night, she needed to focus both on breakfast and their task ahead.

Halfway through her bowl of oatmeal and the first blueberries of spring, Kahlan saw a less hay-infested Mord-Sith quickly scale down the steps.

"You're still eating breakfast?"

"Yes, come and eat," Kahlan offered, to which Cara looked at the uneaten bowl on the opposite side of the table, scooped it up in her hand, and quickly shoveled the meal into her mouth. After giving Kahlan an incredulous look as if to say hurry up, Kahlan did the same and followed Cara out the door before the Mord-Sith would leave her at the bottom of the mountain.

—

It was two days of travel up the mountain to where, hopefully, a few dragons were hiding out. The several conflicting stories as to what sorts of dragons were living up Crizik Mountain worried Kahlan. Each dragon type had its own way of being, and while Kahlan was sure they would have warned them about a Black Dragon, the dragon which was most cunning and least interested in humans, but now her fear was obscuring her trust of the kind, D'Haran locals.

What made the trek even more excruciating was that, save for pointing out holes that threatened to twist their donkey's ankles or lifting a low tree branch for Kahlan to walk under, Cara barely spoke more than two words at a time. Kahlan had attempted to strike up conversation only once, but it was met with such blatant irritation and lack of interest that she had given up altogether.

"Let's make camp, it's growing too dark for us to see any longer," Cara muttered after a long day of silence. Kahlan was grateful for the rest and began to make preparations for camp, tying up her donkey on a nearby tree before setting up her bedroll and taking a few things from her pack.

She stopped at the sight of her blanket still splattered with her blood. Kahlan held it in her hand and could feel Cara's hands on her back, her bare breasts pressing up against her, the warmth of her skin. The sensations of care at what felt like the fraying ends of her sanity.

Kahlan heard the brush of boots against dirt and felt Cara's eyes boring into the back of her head. The silence between them was deafening. Kahlan wiped a tear from her eye and shoved the blanket back into her pack with her heart pounding.

"We should keep a low impact on our surroundings so as not to alert anyone to our presence more than we already have. We'll eat the jerky from our packs instead of cooking on the fire," Cara said rather diplomatically, to which Kahlan nodded. She could not tear her eyes away from the soiled blanket. It was a sordid reminder of what had been taken from her.

"Give me your blanket."

"No, it's—"

"Give me your blanket, Kahlan."

Kahlan obliged, and to her surprise Cara snatched up the blanket, took a small knife from her pack, and began to cut off the bloody edges. It tore with a satisfying sound, and when Cara was done she abruptly held out the gray blanket for Kahlan to take. Trying not to make a fuss, Kahlan rose and took the gift from Cara, their eyes meeting for a single, hasty moment.

"Now you don't have to look at what has been done to you every time we travel outside the palace," Cara told her, a proclamation to which Kahlan did not respond but instead simply bunched up the blanket in her hands.

There were thousands of things Kahlan wanted to say now that Cara had spoken to her again like they were friends, but the terror of breaking the magic held her tongue. Instead, she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders as the night came in cold around them, keeping her thoughts on chewing the tough piece of jerky and hoping that sleep would come soon enough.