Chapter 2

As the gong rang to signal the end of class, Sonea remained in her seat, taking longer to pack her bag than anyone else. It was their Freeday tomorrow, and the novices practically ran out of the classroom, talking loudly and animatedly. They have nothing to worry about but what to wear to the races tomorrow, Sonea thought. She felt miles away from all that was happening around her.

Tonight was the night that had occupied her thoughts since the evening in the library. Five days seem to have flown by, and yet she could barely remember the details. Every time she had gone to bed – having entered the High Lord's residence as silently as possible and disappeared into her room for the night – sleep eluded her.

She took and let out a long breath as she reached the doors of the University building. The sky was glowing pink, and the Autumn chill in the air was pleasant.

What am I afraid of? One time – over and done with – and I will have fulfilled my vow. I will then be entrusted with more magical knowledge than any other novice. Maybe I could even have special permission to visit the slums as I please. I would soon learn enough Healing to fix Uncle Ranel's leg, help Jonna's children…

Sonea tried to tell herself that this was a small price to pay for the special privileges that proving her faithfulness to the Guild could bring. It would ease so much in her daily life.

And it's not like I don't know what to expect. As she walked towards the baths, a face rose in her memories with a twinge of fondness. A few months before the Purge that changed her life forever, she had grown close to a baker's assistant. Kevan used to bring Jonna a fresh loaf hot from the oven every morning, and his cheeks would redden if Sonea happened to come downstairs, yawning in her night clothes. They had soon developed a friendship that had grown into a sweet, if clumsy, moment of intimacy. Though Sonea had seen and heard the act – it was hard to be naive for long when you grew up in and out of bolhouses – it had been her first time. Kevan had eventually moved nearer the marina to learn his father's shipbuilding trade, and that was that. Short-lived, pleasant, forgettable. Three years later and all of that felt like a world away.

The hot water helped ease her tense shoulders, and she indulged in some of the scented soaps available for the novices' use. As she took deep breaths of her favourite, the rose, she tried some of the mind relaxation techniques Rothen had taught her during their very first attempts to control her power. But the evening that loomed ahead kept Sonea jittery and anxious. It didn't help that two girls were giggling in the next pool about a boy who had asked one of them to the races.

Sonea gave up and reached for the linen wrap. I didn't expect to receive much attention from any boy after Regin and his gang had decided I was to be shunned, but I would have lived with that. She had, however, assumed that when she next lay with a man, it would be of her own choosing – whether novice, magician, or not. And it was a perfectly ordinary assumption to make. But nothing has been ordinary about the past year.

The chill had turned into a sharp wind by the time the High Lord's residence loomed in front of her, a slab of grey with pinpricks of light coming from the top floor windows. Was that Akkarin's bedroom? She tried to stop her thoughts before they began to leap ahead. Breathe. Breathe.

The wind cooled the damp hair at the nape of her neck and Sonea shivered, picking up her pace.

Reaching out, she brushed the handle of the door with her fingers. As always, it swung inward at the lightest touch. She stepped inside.

His tall, dark figure rose from one of the guestroom chairs. She felt a familiar twinge of fear and pushed it aside. A single globe light hovered above his head, casting his eyes into shadow. The half-smile that often greeted her was missing tonight.

"Good evening, Sonea."

She bowed. "Good evening, High Lord."

Akkarin extended a hand towards the staircase. "Let's not keep Takan waiting. I will explain how things are to proceed over dinner."

Sonea felt the twinge of fear turn into annoyance. How can he be so composed? Like this is just another duty to him, when I have hardly slept for the past several days…

Akkarin raised an eyebrow slightly, but Sonea was not sure if this was because he caught her annoyance, or because she was still standing there. Schooling her expression, Sonea nodded, set her bag aside and made her way up the staircase briskly. She thought she heard Akkarin chuckle quietly to himself as he followed, but his face was solemn when they entered the dining room and sat on opposite ends of the table.

Takan bowed to both of them, and served them Anuren Dark before leaving. His usual decadent dishes, fragrant and spicy, were missing. Instead, the table held a selection of small, cold dishes, much like the ones Sonea often had if she was up studying late: she recognised reber cheese, pachi fruit, and delicate slices of smoked gorin meat. There were also several richly scented, syrupy sweets.

"It took some convincing, but I requested that Takan prepare something a little lighter and simpler than usual. I hope this is to your liking?" Akkarin asked, his pale fingers resting on the rim of his wine glass.

"Yes, thank you," Sonea answered, relieved that she would not be disappointing Takan tonight – her appetite had fled somewhere between the baths and the front door of the residence.

They helped themselves to the elegant spread for a few minutes in silence. Sonea took large gulps of Anuren Dark in between tiny morsels.

Akkarin's half-smile returned. "This year's vintage is particularly strong – it's best savoured slowly, I find."

Sonea felt her face heat at how obvious her anxiety must seem. Pull yourself together. You've had countless dinners at this table with him. Except this one will end differently…

Akkarin clearing his throat brought Sonea back to the present. "Administrator Lorlen has been informed that your vows shall be completed tonight, as is custom," he said. "We are both to go to his office tomorrow after the morning meal to confirm it under oath, and your full privileges of unsupervised magic within and beyond the Guild grounds shall commence."

Sonea accidentally swallowed a cube of cheese whole, coughing. "The Administrator knows we… we will…?"

Akkarin floated a jug of water towards Sonea with magic. "Yes. Fortunately, the Guild discontinued the traditional practice a decade ago, which was to have the Head of Healers perform a mind-read to confirm the act had taken place. It could sometimes be quite public, early records show. Now, only the Administrator is notified, and he takes the… participants' word for it."

Sonea's eyebrows rose at the thought of stern Lady Vinara delving into that memory. "I'm glad to hear," she replied, a little more sardonically than intended.

Akkarin's lips twitched at the corners. "Try the mara fruit in syrup. It was my childhood favourite. More than one at lunch and it would become impossible to sit through my afternoon lessons."

Sonea couldn't help but smile a little at the mental image, and suspected Akkarin was trying to lighten the mood. Maybe it is the Anuren Dark, or the candlelight, but it is helping. She felt some tension leave her shoulders and bit into the rich, red fruit that was steeped in something like sugary, reduced raka. It was delicious, but a little overpowering.

Akkarin was gazing at her with an intensity that reminded her of the day she duelled Regin. Concentration, and something else – a slight hunger. When Sonea had delivered the final round of strikes that defeated Regin, almost breaking the inner shield Lord Garrel was holding, she had glanced at Akkarin for just a moment. She had seen that look on his face, then the arena erupted in cheers. Was he hungering for my power, imagining what adding it to his own would feel like?

Or was it something else? Her breathing deepened as a voice in her head dared to say – desire.

Surely not, she scolded the voice. Besides, he had not even spoken to her since the evening in the library. She felt her annoyance return. Just another little Guild matter demanding the attention of the High Lord. While, for me, it will be something I'll live with and remember for the rest of my life.

"Is the mara cold? Takan would have warmed it up before serving, but I dismissed him for the night. Its sweetness hardens when not tempered by heat," Akkarin said. His earlier expression was gone, replaced with – to Sonea – an infuriating neutrality.

"It's fine," she replied, her jaw set.

His eyes narrowed at the shift in her tone. Setting aside his glass, he gathered his black robes and rose out of his seat, gesturing for Sonea to do the same. "Let's continue," he said quietly, sending out magic to open the door.

Sonea rose and followed Akkarin into the corridor, their path lit by his globelight. She listened for Takan's familiar clattering about the kitchen, or her servant Viola's footsteps, but the residence was completely silent. Grateful for the privacy, she focused on her breathing as he led her through to the only room on this floor that she had never entered.

As she looked around, she felt a wry disappointment. The furniture was similar to hers, except for a large, four-poster bed of darker, better quality wood than hers. The paper screens that covered his windows were a dark blue, matching the border of a large carpet that covered most of the floor. The candlelight helped make it feel more inviting.

As she turned to look at Akkarin, she found he was watching her closely. He shut the door with magic, then stood there with his arms crossed over his chest. For the first time since she had met him, he seemed apprehensive. The silence between them stretched on.

Sonea looked at the line between his eyebrows, his clean-shaven cheeks, his slightly parted lips. She avoided his eyes: she knew her courage would falter there. Instead, Sonea's gaze took in the shadows cast by the candlelight on the curve of his neck and on his collarbone, until her sight was obscured by black robes. She looked at his crossed forearms, lean but strong, and at the red-jewelled ring glinting on one finger.

She was not sure if it was the wine, or her annoyance at his composure. She wanted him to show something – anything – that would suggest this was as significant an experience for him as it was for her. To be affected in some way by the thought of what they were about to do.

She stepped towards him and stood on the balls of her feet to bring her lips to his.