"I'll come back next week to see how he's doing – please, Jonna, get some rest yourself," Sonea said, hugging her haggard looking aunt. She had been steadily clearing up Jonna's baby boy's chest infection over the past few days. Today was the first time the one-year-old had shown signs of recovery, his little body finally co-operating with the healing magic Sonea was giving him. Her aunt, however, badly needed a full night's sleep.

"I don't know what we'd have done without your help, Sonea. Thank you. I'll make sure Jonna rests," Sonea's uncle Ranel reassured her with a smile.

"I only gave the little one the boost he needed – his body will do the rest now," Sonea said, clasping his hand. "Goodbye."

She smiled to herself until she reached the gates into Inner Circle, for what felt like the first time in weeks. It was finally beginning to feel like her magic was more than about book learning and practical conveniences.

She had been coming into the city unsupervised, visiting Jonna and Ranel first, then usually catching up with Cery and her old friends over a mug of bol in Harin and Donia's establishment. An oversized, threadbare cloak hid her short novices' robes just fine. Nobody stared, nobody cared. She would discreetly use her powers to help them with a task, an ache or a pain when needed. She had eased Ranel's limp, and now helped their son through a bout of illness.

Her newfound freedom could not have come at a better time. The Guild grounds felt like a minefield, where at any moment she may glimpse or run into the black-robed man that occupied her thoughts. The residence was even worse; it felt like the walls of her bedroom were closing in on her if she spent too much time in it.

Their weekly dinners had stopped. The Firstday following that night, Sonea had walked into the residence, ready to numb her feelings all evening. But Akkarin had not been in his usual chair, waiting for her. Nor the next Firstday, or the next. She had settled back into the mealtimes she used to keep before becoming the High Lord's novice, eating in the dining hall with her peers after the last evening lesson.

As she reached the Inner Circle, she removed her cloak. The guards at the gate changed their expressions from suspicion to polite respect upon seeing her novices robes, the High Lord's incal glittering in gold on one sleeve. But Sonea's mind was miles away as she made her way through the streets that would lead her back to the Guild gates.

No matter how many times she had sat down to process that night, there was always another memory, another sound, scent, or image that her mind threw up. As if to say, and what about this? And this, do you remember it? Also, what could this have meant? It was relentless. And exhausting.

Physically, she was fine – better than fine, because she finally had the freedom of movement she had craved since leaving the slums. Only the Higher Magicians knew what had happened, and their attitudes towards her had not changed; to them, it was a mere formality, now done. The younger novices had been looking at her in slight awe as she walked between the University and the residence with a shield of warmth around her. Her open use of magic outside class was not ostentatious, but it did mark her status as somewhere above a novice and somewhere below a full magician.

Do I regret agreeing to it? The familiar question arose in her mind yet again as she entered the Guild grounds and changed her direction towards the residence.

She could not truthfully answer that question without her chest feeling a little constricted. Emotionally, I know I am not fine, she thought. It was not that it happened; it was how it had happened.

The look in his dark eyes when I approached him. The sound of his breathing. The touch of his hair on my shoulder. Those long, elegant hands stroking my legs. Sonea took a deep gulp of the cold winter air and steadied her pace. And how he rejected my kiss, the coldness of his voice, the abrupt end, the curt dismissal.

Everything about that night had both hurt her feelings and left her with a deep longing. She shook her head at the overwhelmingly contradictory emotions that threatened to rise up into her throat. One thing was growing clearer every time she replayed the night in her head: Akkarin's face and body had said one thing, his words and actions another. She knew it. She had felt it. What she didn't know was why.

All I know is that it makes me angry. Blindingly angry. He did not have to have been so abrupt, so uncaring. He was an attractive man, if a little harsh and aloof. She had mentally prepared herself, and come to his bedroom hoping to at least try and make this a pleasant experience. She had made herself vulnerable by initiating a kiss.

But it really was just a duty for him – a symbolic act, wasn't that his words? Sonea thought. Her pride was hurt. She felt like a fool. So all those times he had caught him watching her with those piercing eyes, all those moments where something she said or did brought a half-smile to his lips, had not meant what she thought they meant. Am I that undesirable?

Snap out of it. Since when do you measure yourself by what men may think of you? Sonea thought, her anger now turning on herself. Whether or not she had misread Akkarin, what infuriated her the most was his actions had caused her self-doubt.

As the door of the residence swung open at her touch, Sonea froze. Akkarin was in the sitting room, a small globe light illuminating his face and the glass of wine in his hand. There were slight bags under his eyes. Sonea felt an inexplicable bit of concern rise within her, but it was swiftly replaced by the more familiar twinge of fear that this moment always evoked.

"Good evening, Sonea," Akkarin said smoothly, his voice showing no sign of the fatigue his eyes did.

"Good evening, High Lord." Sonea inclined her head instead of doing a full bow. Akkarin's left eyebrow raised slightly. She knew full well by now that this was Akkarin's equivalent of what would be a sharp word from most magicians: it always either meant 'I have noted this insolence,' or 'I will not dignify that with a response'.

"My weekly reports to the King have recently coincided with Firstday evenings," he said, setting aside his glass and standing up swiftly. "We haven't had a chance to dine and review your recent learning."

So he wasn't avoiding me, Sonea thought. Or rather, you thought you were important enough for him to avoid, she added darkly.

Takan had outdone himself for their first formal dinner in weeks, no doubt having grown bored of bringing trays of basic dishes to Sonea in the mornings. But the food sat like a rock in Sonea's stomach as she briefly answered Akkarin's questions about what her first month of advanced Alchemy, Healing and Warrior Skills classes had covered. Akkarin occasionally looked distracted, like he was also having a mental conversation with someone else during the silences between them. All throughout dinner, Sonea's mixed feelings had slowly given way to a growing, crisp anger.

Is this what the next two years will be like? Bottling up my feelings as I make small talk with a man who does not even acknowledge that we need to have a conversation about what happened? Waiting for an explanation from someone who clearly doesn't even think he owes me one? Sonea gripped her dessert spoon tightly, then set it down.

"May I be excused, High Lord?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"You may," Akkarin replied, as if returning from miles away. "Goodnight."

Sonea stood up stiffly and made straight for the door.

"Sonea."

She froze and turned slowly to face him. His eyes flashed dangerously as he rested his chin on his interlocked fingers. "I do not know why you seem to have forgotten the basic rules of courtesy in this Guild, but I will remind you that being the High Lord's novice does not exempt you from them."

All the things that are being left unsaid, and he cares about whether I remember to bow every time he graces me with his presence? Something snapped inside Sonea.

"I apologise, High Lord. Where I come from, respect is earned, not demanded. I must have forgotten."

Almost as soon as the words were out, she was stunned she had voiced them.

Akkarin's nostrils flared. "Go to your room," he hissed. "We shall discuss this insolence tomorrow."

Sonea didn't know what had taken hold of her, but hurt and anger was overtaking fear. "I may be your novice, High Lord, but I am not a child to be sent to her room."

They stared at each other in silence, neither pair of dark eyes backing down. A tentative knock at the door broke the tension.

"Would you like to retire to the library, master, my Lady? I have served some sweet wine," Takan asked as he entered, his eyes avoiding them both.

"Thank you, Takan," Akkarin replied, not taking his icy gaze off Sonea. "I think we will. Apparently, we have matters still to discuss."

Takan bowed and moved to one side. Akkarin strode through the door, his black robes billowing around his legs.

I went too far, Sonea thought, as she followed him down the stairs, through the guest room and into the library. Usually, this was her favourite part of the residence: smaller, cosier, lined with dark-wood bookshelves and comfortable armchairs to sink into and read for hours.

But as she looked at the two glasses of sweet wine on the table and the shadows cast about the walls, her stomach clenched. It finally looked like they were going to have a long overdue conversation, and her actions may have just turned this situaiton hostile before it could begin. Akkarin walked to a window and looked out into the dark gardens beyond, then swung around to face her and used magic to shut the door.

"Now, Sonea," he began, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an eyebrow. "If you have calmed down, perhaps you can tell me what's really going on."

It's now or never. "Don't – don't you know?"Sonea stammered. She drew in a deep breath, closed her eyes, then looked back at him.

Akkarin's quiet response was edged with displeasure. "Your surface thoughts were full of anger all evening, but no, I do not know what could have possibly happened in my recent absence to provoke such disobedience."

Sonea's jaw dropped slightly. "Are we… not going to talk about what happened?"

"And what happened?"

"We… we…" Sonea's face warmed and she looked down as the carpet. "We were… together, and you… haven't even acknowledged it, or spoken to me…"

She didn't know where she was going with this, but she knew she couldn't go about her days carrying around the turmoil and confusion of the past month. She glanced up in time to see lines on Akkarin's forehead.

"I do not know what you seek to hear, Sonea," he said, softer this time. "The purpose of the initiation was explained, and consented to, by us both. Your new privileges were then implemented, which was its only aim."

Its only aim. Sonea suddenly felt exhaustion wash over her. She wanted nothing more than to lie down and sink into the oblivion of sleep. I don't know what I was expecting.

She nodded once, her eyes downcast. She would have preferred her earlier anger to the rock that had now settled inside her chest.

"I understand. Goodnight, High Lord."

"Sonea – "

For a moment, Akkarin sounded almost entreating, but Sonea had already fled through the door before he could see the tears gathering in her eyes.