Akkarin had tried to talk his way out of this. He had told Lorlen the custom was outdated, unnecessary; that asking this of Sonea could undo her hard-won trust of the Guild; that she was progressing satisfactorily and there was no need for further magical privileges. When all that had failed, he had tried to intimidate his friend, hinting that no magician in the Guild had the power to force his hand.
But Lorlen could be an infuriating stickler for the rules. It was in the Guild's laws; the tradition had already been greatly pared back to a much more dignified and private affair; the Higher Magicians would not approve the additional privileges in question without the completion of the High Lord's novices' vow in full. He wouldn't budge, insisting it was out of his hands.
As Sonea's lips touched his, Akkarin felt a jolt of fire run through his body. As much as he had tried to seem unaffected throughout dinner, her initiative had rekindled his hopes. He had resisted this duty until the last possible moment because it was not a duty at all. It was dangerously, inconveniently, all-consumingly, what he wanted. He had tried to fight it since Sonea's victory in the arena. But it was what he had imagined at every dinner together since, and every night he walked past Sonea's bedroom door.
And that is precisely why it needs to be no more and no less than a ceremonial act. I cannot risk it turning into anything more.
It took all of Akkarin's self-control to gently grasp Sonea's upper arms and move her lips away from his. Her gaze was questioning, and slightly hurt. "Please," he said, gesturing towards his bed with a hand.
Sonea walked towards the bed with wooden steps. She sat on the edge, looking stunned. Akkarin grimaced inwardly at his own coldness. If only you knew I want nothing more than to kiss and caress every inch of you, to give you nothing but pleasure… It felt like something was constricting his chest. Composing his face and steadying his breathing took gargantuan effort.
"Remove your robes and lie down," he said, forcing a hint of command into his voice.
Sonea's eyes were locked into the distance and her jaw was tense as she untied her novice's robes mechanically. Stepping out of the bottom half then shrugging off the top, she lay back on his bed in a simple white underdress. Gone was the tentative excitement he glimpsed in her eyes when she had initiated the kiss. They were now glassy, as if holding back tears.
Akkarin hated himself in that moment. He had sensed her willingness, perhaps even her desire. The realisation had thrown him into feelings of gratitude and hunger. To think his weeks of desperation may be reciprocated…
Would it be so wrong to allow himself to initiate what this night could be – instead of what it had to be? His body desperately wanted to make love to her, but that would change, and possibly destroy, everything. There were too many secrets he had to keep, and too many risks in bringing Sonea into his world. In allowing emotions free reins. Better that they remained High Lord and novice, even if he had to break her heart – and his own.
He untied his robes and let them fall to the ground, naked underneath. The shadows hid the strain on his face as he moved onto the bed, leaned over Sonea and slid up the nightdress no further than her waist. Keeping his weight off her, he steadied himself with one hand while gently parting Sonea's thighs with the other. Her eyebrows knit together in emotion, but she continued to stare unblinkingly past Akkarin's face, up at the ceiling.
The surge of desire Akkarin had felt earlier now wavered. But wasn't this exactly what he had intended – a scenario that could not possibly bring his true feelings to the surface, and provoke none in her? It did not take more than running his hand up Sonea's inner thigh and to the place between her legs for his body to co-operate. A sharp intake of breath escaped from her at the touch. Akkarin shaped and released a small amount of magic in the form of warmth and moisture inside her. His forearms strained with the effort of holding himself steady as he entered her as slowly as he possibly could.
Sonea's eyes closed and her lips parted slightly. Akkarin watched her face closely, ready to stop at any sign of pain. But she exhaled deeply and he felt her relax to accommodate him. The sensation almost pushed him over the edge. His lowered the full weight of his hips onto her as he let himself in as deep as her body allowed.
Every fibre of his being wanted to kiss her then, to wrap an arm around her waist, to touch his chest to hers, coax her legs around him – and slowly rock them both to ecstasy. As he pulled back then thrusted back in, more firmly this time, Sonea's back arched. A thin sheen of sweat glittered on her forehead, but she kept her eyes firmly closed. Akkarin knew that if he didn't stop right now, he wouldn't be able to.
In one swift movement, he withdrew from the warmth of her body and pushed himself off the bed. His body ached in protest as he stepped back into his robes and tied the black sash at his waist. He secured the loose strands of his long hair, and steadied his breathing before turning back to face her.
Sonea had propped herself up onto her elbows. Her cheeks and neck with slightly flushed with colour. Her confused eyes met his for one moment that seared his heart – then her face set into a hard expression. She tugged her nightdress back down her hips and stepped off the bed. Akkarin noticed her knees tremble as she quickly put on her brown robes.
"Your vows are complete," Akkarin said softly. "Please meet me outside the Administrator's office at midday tomorrow, where your new privileges will be confirmed." It took every bit of self-control he had left to keep his voice from betraying his inner turmoil, but numbing his emotions was like greeting an old friend; he had perfected it long ago in the wastelands of Sachaka.
Sonea looked straight ahead. "Yes, High Lord." She walked past Akkarin and out of the door without bowing, her chin trembling.
Akkarin listened to her footsteps fade away and heard her bedroom door shut. Then he sat on the edge of his bed and rested his forehead in one trembling hand. Another deed to add to the list of reasons why I will never forgive myself.
