Akkarin woke from a dreamless sleep. The dim light seeping in from behind the heavy curtains of his room had the quality of dawn. For a moment, he marvelled at the sound of Sonea's steady breathing next to him, reliving the night before in his mind. It had really happened. Even replaying parts of it was already stirring his body into arousal, so he took a deep breath, calming his mind. He needed to think about what came next, before Sonea awakened.
Wrapping himself in a sound shield, he carefully slid out from underneath the covers, his naked torso tensing at the cold for a moment before he slipped on the black vest on a nearby armchair.
He looked down, and couldn't help but enjoy the sight in front of him. His eyes trailed across Sonea's dark eyebrows and eyelashes; her short hair fanning across the pillow, black with a mahogany sheen in the dawn light; and the pale, inviting curve of her bare neck and shoulders. He had never seen her so peaceful, even though this was not the first time he had watched her sleep.
He didn't think she knew, but Akkarin had once or twice given in to an urge, late at night, that had taken him to her bedroom. After each harrowing instance of killing one of Dakova's slaves in the city, he begun looking in on Sonea as she slept. Every time, he had imagined walking inside the room silently. Imagined waking her up slowly with caresses. Her eyes would widen in surprise as she realised she wasn't in a dream. "I want you," she would whisper, and take his manhood into her mouth, then into her body. But each time, Akkarin had played this scene in his mind then backed away from her doorway, heading to his bedroom for another sleepless night alone.
But he also watched her just to be reassured of her safety. Dakova was clever and ruthless enough to sacrifice a slave as a decoy to lure Akkarin away from the Guild, while sending another slave into his residence to murder Takan. And were a confrontation to follow, the slave would no doubt kill Sonea too… Returning to his residence only to find their bodies had been the stuff of his nightmares.
Akkarin shook the image out of his head and walked to the wardrobe for a set of black robes, then neatly tied his long hair with a black ribbon. Sonea twitched in her sleep but didn't wake as he walked out and shut the door silently behind him.
A dim light was spilling into the corridor from the open door of Sonea's bedroom. Akkarin silently cursed himself – the unoccupied room, and the clearly unused bed, may have been seen by Takan or Viola. Hoping that it was too early for even his servants to be up and about, Akkarin shut Sonea's door and headed downstairs as swiftly and silently as a shadow. The edges of the forest should be the last place he could possibly run into anyone at this hour, and he needed to walk.
The High Lord let the cold, dewy morning air make him shiver for a few strides. When he felt fully awake, he created a shield and warmed the air inside, walking towards the forest. The dawn light was starting to bring each tree into clearer view.
There was a stillness in Akkarin's mind that felt like a combination of relief, satisfaction, and grim determination. Of all the times I have defied the Guild, this is the only instance I have done so purely for myself. After years of endangering and isolating himself from everyone – even Lorlen – for their own safety, surely this was not too much to ask.
Ah, but both the burden and the consequences of that were only yours to bear, he thought. Now, I have complicated things in every way possible.
He knew he could still keep Sonea in the dark about his own risky decision to hold off the Ichani single-handedly. If they continued their enjoyment of one another – and Akkarin felt his magical power surge dangerously at the thought of being deprived of that – that could prove complicated. Especially as magical and mental barriers weakened when two magicians shared a bed. Perhaps I could tell her only a part of the truth. Hiding the Guild's lack of black magic has worked so far, but the fewer know this is a fatal error, the less likely it would be found out by the Ichani. It would only take one mistake, one mind-read for Dakova to see…
Arriving at the edge of the forest, he looked back at the deserted Guild grounds. The tip of the watchtower was beginning to glow pink in the morning sun, but everywhere else was still bathed in shadowy dawn light. Visually and magically checking he was alone, Akkarin turned and walked through the trees and into the forest, heading towards the spring.
He sighed and dragged his thoughts away from the familiar set of scenarios, strategies, and possibilities that arose. He had lost count of the hours he had spent over the past five years thinking of Sachaka, and of how to hold off the looming danger of Dakova's vengeance. You'll not come up with anything you haven't already considered on a few hours of sleep. And there is something of immediate urgence that you need to think about, Akkarin told himself.
The spring came into view. The cold overnight temperatures had frozen the water in parts, but with the thaw of dawn, a weak trickle of water was now flowing. Akkarin heated a flat rock and sat down.
He pressed a palm on its smooth surface, sensing the tiny amount of magic inside it. A memory flashed into his mind's eye. Zarala. She had drawn his attention to how natural elements stored magical power. The way she and her people – the Traitors – saw the world, and used magic, had been a revelation to the young man Akkarin used to be. She was Queen Zarala now. Akkarin allowed himself a half-smile at the thought, remembering the headstrong women in the society he had briefly been allowed into. I can imagine Sonea fitting in among them just fine, he chuckled to himself, then grew sober. I am glad I left her my blood ring – at least I know for certain that she and her people are still safe, for now.
His thoughts now turned fully to Sonea, the reason why he was sitting on a damp rock at dawn on a Freeday. Akkarin indulged himself for a moment, thinking of the previous night. She initiated it, but I was more than happy to oblige… The question is, will this continue, and what exactly is it?
Akkarin himself was far from sated. It was like a part of himself he had repressed for some time had reawakened, and it was ravenous. Last night was a mere taste; if her actions had been any indication, Sonea felt the same way. I've been waiting since that night, she had mentally told him. Her desire had been simmering below the surface for at least a month, as had his. She would be irrevocably lost to him if he pulled away now.
And I do not wish to, Akkarin thought, running a hand along the freezing cold trickle of water. Last night was the first time in a long time I took something for myself. Not because it was for the good of the Guild; not because my family, House Velan, or King Merin required it; not because it would help hide my knowledge of black magic. Since becoming High Lord, nearly all of his choices had been dictated by one of these three reasons.
Akkarin's lips curled into a smile. But being High Lord has its advantages. Few would dare question, or indeed even find exceptional, that a man of his power and status would take a young mistress. The thought intruiged him for a moment, and he savoured the thought of making no secret of the fact that he had claimed Sonea for himself.
But other considerations wiped the smile off his face. To others, he and Sonea were grotesquely unmatched. This could result in two, equally distasteful impressions. Some in the Guild would no doubt think, due to Sonea's low origins, that she was exchanging her body for special favours. Such rumours could undo all the ways in which she had proven those naysayers wrong with her talent, dedication, and work ethic. She could even be expelled from the University, and I can think of a few magicians who would be only too keen to see that happen, Akkarin thought, a cold rage rising in his chest.
Those who did not believe the worst of Sonea, on the other hand, could direct their disapproval at Akkarin himself, saying he had taken advantage of a novice. That this proved he was inclined to abuse his power. No doubt Lord Rothen, Lord Osen, and a few others may fall into that category. They could collaborate against him, and he would not submit to a mind-read, arousing further suspicion. If the Guild scrutinised his actions too closely, it would grow harder to conceal his black magic, his contacts among the Thieves, and the existence of the Ichani.
Akkarin stood up with a sigh, brushing lichen off his black robes. He glanced down at his reflection in the stream. The sun was now up, and the stream was more water than ice.
The answer was obvious, but it wasn't one Akkarin relished. Another secret to live with for now, then, he concluded. I cannot allow either of those two scenarios. And I will not be kept from Sonea's bed, so long as she wills it. Which meant he needed to talk to her about concealing their… activities. Conveniently, lesson that require Sonea to share her mind are already being worked around…
"Akkarin?"
Akkarin spun around, erecting a strong, invisible shield around himself reflexively. Then he relaxed somewhat. "Lorlen. What brings you here so early on a Freeday?"
The Administrator gave his face a searching look before shrugging and gesturing vaguely at the stream. "I come here early on some mornings to clear my head before Osen can bombard me with the day's agenda. I've not had the chance to all week, so I thought today of all days I wouldn't be called back before I'd had my fill."
"You need to delegate more, my friend. Lord Osen seems to have taken to his position well; isn't it about time you let him handle the less consequential tasks?" Akkarin gave his childhood friend a half-smile.
"What, and turn around to find our little family has erupted into total chaos because some signature was forgotten, or Lord so-and-so wasn't consulted?" Lorlen replied sardonically.
Akkarin chuckled, feeling some of the tension in his head ease. Moments like this with Lorlen had grown increasingly rare since he had read his friend's mind to confirm his knowledge of his practice of black magic. Akkarin knew that was a turning point in their friendship. Lorlen's trust in him would never be the same again. But despite forcing on him the blood ring, Akkarin had allowed himself some small hope when Lorlen had continued to speak to him, if reproachfully. Perhaps their friendship could be salvaged if the day came when Akkarin could explain his reasons.
"And how are things with your novice?"
Akkarin's thoughts snapped back to the present. His eyes narrowed at Lorlen. "What do you mean?"
Lorlen raised his eyebrows. "I mean do I still need to go about finding accommodation for Sonea, or have you two managed to clear up whatever your conflict was?"
"Ah, yes," Akkarin replied. For one tense moment, he had thought Lorlen had read his surface thoughts, but that was impossible. He knew no one but himself who could. He imperceptibly shifted his face into the inscrutable mask he was so practiced at. "I believe that last night we may have reached –"
Moments flashed in his mind. Sonea's legs parting; her back arching; her thoughts begging for his domination; her voice pleading for her release…
"– a mutual understanding," Akkarin finished, suddenly needing to clear his throat.
"Good," Lorlen replied, his gaze unnecessarily intent on deciphering Akkarin's face. "What she saw you do that night has already cost her friends, and the care of Lord Rothen. She shouldn't also have to pay for it by falling from the favour and attention of her teachers, if you were to demote her from High Lord's novice."
"I'm well aware, Lorlen. Rest assured that will not be necessary," Akkarin said smoothly.
Lorlen nodded, then looked around the spring. A pained expression crossed his face. "How different an experience it used to be, to sneak away here with you to plot pranks and play games. Now look at us, discussing nothing but duties and obligations," he sighed.
"Middle age, my friend," Akkarin smirked. Though Sonea is certainly no longer duty nor obligation.
"Speak for yourself!" Lorlen snorted. "That hairstyle of yours says aristocratic old patriarch."
"If it keeps the eligible young ladies of House Velan at arm's length, I consider it a success."
Lorlen shook his head and smiled.
–Administrator?
Osen's mental call echoed in both of their minds.
"I better go," Lorlen said, smoothing his dark blue robe and turning towards the forest path. He looked back at the black-robed magician. There was something about Akkarin this morning. Some kind of serenity that he hadn't seen for a while, so used was he to seeing a perpetually mysterious, dangerous, and calculating man.
"Come to my residence for dinner?" The High Lord suggested.
Lorlen raised a hand in acknowledgement as he picked up his pace back to the Guild. "Please ask Takan not to overdo it!" he called back.
Akkarin gave his own reflection in the stream a crooked smile, then strode back in the direction of his residence. And now for the most important conversation of the day.