It was very late when Akkarin heard a tentative knock on the door of his personal study. He was reading by the light of a dim globelight. The half-drunk glass of Anuren Dark had been forgotten for the last few pages – he had been absorbed by the account of the Sachakan War that he had been pleased to find in Lord Yohan's Magical Conflicts of Our Time. It had been exactly where his research had suggested he might.

"Come in, Takan" he said, eyes glued to the page. It could only be his servant, here with some sumi and probably a reproachful look in his eyes that told him to get some rest for the night.

When the door opened, he glanced up and froze. Sonea was standing in the doorway. She had changed out of her novice's robes into the comfortable burgundy dress he sometimes saw her wear in her room after classes were over. Her black hair now just about reached her shoulders, framing her face – which was tense, as if entering a duel.

"High Lord. I'm sorry to disturb you so late – I saw your light. I had a question."

Akkarin closed his book and gestured towards the two armchairs in front of his desk. Sonea sat down with a straight back, wringing her hands. Akkarin refilled his glass of wine, inquiring with a glance if Sonea wanted one. He was surprised to see her nod – he had only seen her drink at dinner. Akkarin moved to the cupboard behind his desk, took out an identical glass to his and filled it. He floated it over to Sonea with magic, and carried his own with him to the armchair opposite her.

He took his time, taking a sip and placing his glass on the low table next to him. Then Akkarin steepled his long fingers and rested his chin on them, dark eyes focused. "How may I help you, Sonea?"

Sonea took a sip of her wine and, Akkarin was pleased to see, managed to allow her straight back to relax into the chair. Her hand went straight back to grasping the other on her lap, however, her knuckles white.

"I heard something today about… Guild rules, and wanted to verify if that was true."

"I'll try, but Administrator Lorlen may be better placed to answer – he keeps abreast of Guild laws and protocol much more than I do, I'm afraid," Akkarin replied, a half-smile dancing on his lips, as if sharing a private joke. His globelight had brightened to a warm glow that lit both of them now, but it was still at an angle that left the corners of the room dark.

"Ah – well – you see, it may not even be a rule at all, but the lack of a rule…"

Akkarin raised a brow, the half-smile still on his lips. You're enjoying this too much, he scolded himself. But what was the harm in enjoying what felt like almost a pleasant – compared to their latest encounters – exchange in the privacy of his study? Or enjoying how the light makes her dark eyes sparkle, how the shadows accentuate the curve of her cheekbones and her full lips… how the cut of that dress reveals skin usually hidden by brown robes…

Sonea cleared her throat. "I observed in the library today that… ah… Lady Lorana and Varlen, a final-year novice, are… together?"

Akkarin tilted his head to one side, considering. "I see. I wasn't aware of this, but then again, I haven't been to the Night Room for weeks. However, I don't think this is a matter that would concern myself or the other Higher Magicians."

"So it is permitted?"

Why the question? Does she have an interest in this Varlen? Akkarin wondered. The thought annoyed him. He didn't know any of the novices personally, but he had heard the name before. But where? Oh yes, Lord Yikmo had said this boy was less than impressive when we were talking about the cohort that had declared for the Warrior discipline this year…

"As far as I am aware, Lady Lorana and Varlen would not be breaking any Guild rules if they are in a relationship. Magician and novice intimacy is frowned upon, but it's more a social stigma than a punishable offence," Akkarin said, lifting his shoulders in a slight shrug. "It's more common than the Heads of Disciplines may think. Especially where there is little age difference between the older novices and newly graduated full magicians."

"I see," Sonea replied, taking another sip of the Anuren Dark. A drop escaped the glass and she quickly licked it off her lips. Akkarin's dark gaze sharpened and he clenched a fist. He quickly reached for his own wine glass to avoid drawing attention to the gesture, but it didn't help that the wine had now left a dull red stain on Sonea's lower lip.

"Does who this Varlen chooses to have… relations with… concern you?" Akkarin asked in what he hoped was a disinterested tone.

"No! No, High Lord," Sonea said quickly. She then composed her own tone into neutrality. "I was just surprised that no regulations existed." She shook her head softly and gave Akkarin a crooked smile. "Even after all this time, I still struggle to understand this place, I guess. The Guild can be so strict in enforcing the small things – not being allowed to wear anything in the city but our robes, for example – while accepting what feels like bigger things. In the slums, being with someone wealthier or more powerful than you was always a divisive issue." Sonea drained her glass of wine, he eyes taking on a distant look. "Some dwells stopped talking to them – they said forgetting who we are, and where we come from, is the price always paid in the end. Others couldn't wait for a way out, so they tried to… win the favour of their wealthy clients, hoping they'd be rescued from their lives," Sonea said.

Akkarin noticed this was more words than she had said in his presence for a month. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe the reason she had come was to finally end the cold war between them… Whatever the reason, it pleased him more than it should have. Akkarin refilled Sonea's glass, and she didn't protest.

"You're right," he said, impressed. "As with many institutions of power, it will never be without its contradictions." He was reminded again of Sonea's refreshing perspective.

Akkarin had long felt that his five dark years in Sachaka had created not just a magical chasm between himself and other magicians – an unbridgeable difference in skill and power – but also a personal one. After finally escaping Sachaka and making it back to Imardin, his outlook on life had forever altered. He couldn't bring himself to care about the things most cared about anymore, or even feel interested in political and trade discussions at court. And he certainly hadn't been able to stomach the petty intrigues of the Houses since. Since he had returned, Sonea had seemed like the first person in the Guild who sounded – and acted – like she knew a thing or two about life. It made him feel a little less alone.

Sonea's posture was more relaxed now, and her eyes had lost some of their anxious quality. She was looking at Akkarin directly, her brown eyes thoughtful. She had never held his gaze for so long, and the now dimmer globelight seemed to deepen and darken her gaze. Akkarin held her eyes steadily. He felt his body beginning to respond in desire.

"Have you ever, High Lord… when you were a novice?" she asked carefully.

"Been attracted to a magician? Of course," Akkarin answered, enjoying drawing out the moment. The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile and he raised his wine to his lips.

Sonea's eyebrows raised and she returned his half smile. "Oh?"

"I was always torn between Alchemy and Warrior Skills – my youthful arrogance and my power led me to choose the latter, even though I was clearly more of a historian. But I was a sub-par Healer in my final year. Let's just say it wasn't because I found the teachings difficult, but because I was very distracted by who was doing the teaching," Akkarin indulged in that memory from his youth for a moment.

Appreciative laughter sparkled in Sonea's eyes. "It's hard to imagine that, High Lord."

"As it is for me, now," Akkarin sighed. That confident, mischievous young man disappeared one year into my travels, never to return again, he thought.

They sat in companionable silence, looking at each other. Sonea set down her glass and leaned back in her chair, expression turning thoughtful. "I had one more question," she said quietly, and her eyes regained some of their earlier hesitation.

"Please," Akkarin invited, holding eye contact. The sense of ease and trust that the conversation seemed to have created felt as fragile as a spider's web: he didn't want to risk putting her off saying what she wanted to say. Maybe we can be civil – even companionable – to one another after tonight. It certainly feels like the hostility of the past month may be at an end, Akkarin thought hopefully.

"H–have you ever grown close to a novice during your time as High Lord?" Sonea asked quietly, tentatively.

Akkarin's half smile disappeared. Had anyone else so much as suggested such a thing, they would be on the receiving end of an ice cold remark. But he felt a hunger rise in him at the suggestion; he felt like a predator whose prey was playing with him.

"No, I have not." Akkarin said, boldly, almost lazily, allowing his gaze to roam her body before meeting her eyes with a challenge.

Sonea's irises seemed to glitter. "I see," she breathed.

The silence between them was no longer a comfortable one. Akkarin's half-smile returned. The warm globelight, the haze of the wine, the conversation, and now the unmistakeable proposition.

He had had time to think over the past difficult month, and his resentments had built. When it came to him abiding by Guild requirements, Akkarin had seen how heavy handed the Higher Magicians could be. He had acquiesced at every turn for the past five years, always careful not to make them feel threatened by his power. But when it came to his own requirements – no, mere requests – the Guild blocked him at every turn. Akkarin recalled his fruitless conversation with Lorlen that morning. One of many, across different subjects, over years.

No matter how many times I agree to the Guild's demands, I never seem to earn enough trust for mine to be considered, Akkarin thought.

Each instance chipped away at his willingness to sacrifice, yet again, his own desires in the hopes that if he just showed his obedience to the Guild one more time, the Higher Magicians would finally see that he was not going to use his power to overrule them. That if he just made one more sensible decision that ignored his own will – like forcing himself to turn that night into a hurtful and short ordeal – then maybe their suspicions would finally cease.

But here you are, Akkarin, still fooling yourself, he thought. The suspicion will never end, the demands will never stop. In one graceful movement, Akkarin set aside his glass and stood. He realised his facial expression must have been darkened by these thoughts, but Sonea did not look away in fear. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly. She was holding his gaze. Why refuse what is being offered so willingly? Haven't you denied yourself long enough?

Akkarin took a step towards Sonea, and was now towering above her. His mouth curled upwards at one corner as he reached out with a bejewelled hand to stroke her cheek. Sonea's lips parted slightly, and she didn't look away. Then Akkarin's fingers firmly grasped her chin, and he brushed his thumb across her lower lip.

"Sonea…"

"Yes, High Lord?" she breathed up at Akkarin, his thumb still resting on her lip.

"I believe we have some unfinished business, don't you?"

He gently increased the pressure of his hand on her chin to coax her up to her feet. Sonea's dark eyes were lidded as if in a trace. As her face approached his, Akkarin closed the distance between their lips himself – exquisitely, torturously slowly.