His long, black hair tickled her as Akkarin placed soft kisses Sonea's bare lower back, making her shiver. She slowly rolled onto her back to look up at him, fitting snugly against his naked torso. The fire in his bedroom had died down to soft embers and she could barely make out his face in the deep red glow that illuminated the darkness of the room. Sated from their lovemaking, they enjoyed delaying the moment they would need to get out of bed and into the dining room to eat, plot and plan as they had done the previous night.

As the story of how the High Lord had chastised the fifth-years into showing deference to Sonea spread among the novices like wildfire, Sonea had sat through the remainder of her classes in a mixture of relief and nerves. She waited for the moment the effects of the incident would wear off.

But no – her classmates continued to avert their gazes and keep their opinions to themselves. By the third class, one or two were even nodding to her when they sat at the row she was in. By her final evening class, Sonea had definitely noticed that even the teachers who had given her cold looks the day after the Hearing were now, at least, acknowledging her raised hand.

As her nerves slowly relaxed at these subtle improvements, her mind had begun to replay Akkarin's "performance" at the end of the lunch hour, savouring the memory. Her stomach clenched in anticipation as she remembered how deliciously imposing Akkarin had looked and sounded.

By the time Sonea had arrived at the residence after her final evening class, she was strangely feeling as jittery as she had been that night of the "intimate initiation", now months ago. Finding Akkarin sitting at his desk absorbed in a book, she had shut the door behind her and began kissing him until he had given up on his book with a knowing chuckle and led her to his bedroom.

After the urgency of their passion, they lay in the warm and dark room peacefully. Sonea raised a hand to gently trace the half-smile on Akkarin's lips. "Sorry if I interrupted your work earlier," she whispered up at him, smiling a little sheepishly. "What you did today… Well, I just couldn't wait for the day to end so that I could get back here."

Akkarin raised a dark eyebrow and put on a mockingly serious tone. "That will not do at all. Perhaps I should set surprise tests to check if you were distracted in your classes." He caught the fingers that were tracing his lips and kissed them. Sonea felt her heartbeat quicken again.

"I'm… I'm serious," she breathed, locking her dark eyes with his. "I mean, do you think everyone will now just accept it?"

Akkarin gently put a strand of her wavy black hair behind her ear, his face thoughtful. "There will always be those who won't. But it's not only because of you, Sonea, or your origins. There are some in the Guild who have never thought me suitable for High Lordship – they didn't support my election years ago, and they continue to distrust me now." Akkarin's eyes narrowed slightly to emphasise his next words. "If anyone has a problem with what I did today, they will find that my actions followed precedent."

Sonea's eyebrows shot up at hearing this new information. "You found…?"

Akkarin's lip curled at the corner upon seeing Sonea's curiosity piqued. "This morning, Vinara showed me the records I wanted to check. About this High Lord Kavelan, elected three centuries after the Sachakan War. His Official Consort, Lady Galea, was treated with every honour. Partly because she was a magician almost as powerful as the High Lord himself, so everyone was a little afraid of her," Akkarin chuckled, looking at Sonea meaningfully. "But also, it seemed, because Kavelan and Galea tried and failed to marry. They were from rival Houses, who successfully petitioned the King to forbid the union. So Kavelan changed Guild law to create her a new position of high rank. Galea's legacy has mostly been buried by Guild historians who disapproved of her, but the rare manuscripts Vinara found show they lived out long years together, practically co-ruling the Guild."

Akkarin's dark eyes seemed to glitter red from the dying lit of the fire's embers. Sonea felt her chest tighten with emotion as she listened to this story.

"They must have been deeply in love," she said, following the shape of his bare collarbone with her hand.

"Or reckless enough to defy everything and everyone," Akkarin replied softly.

"Like I said, deeply in love," Sonea replied, a teasing smile lighting up her face.

Akkarin let out a low laugh, his eyes losing some of their melancholy. Sonea lowered her hand down to the muscles of his chest, tangling her fingers into the sparse black hair there. Then she dared to gently graze one of his nipples with her nails.

Akkarin's dark eyebrows knotted together at the sudden sensation and he breathed in sharply in pleasure. The playful look in his black eyes now turned into the smoldering, dangerous fire that Sonea had glimpsed earlier that day.

She felt that clenching feeling again in her lower belly as her chest rose and fell quickly with anticipation and desire. Akkarin reached up and firmly caught the hand that had just scratched his nipple. Dark eyes still locked onto Sonea's, he guided her hand down towards his groin until she grasped his manhood, which hardened in her grip.

"Attend me, mistress." The corner of Akkarin's lips curled up, as if sharing a private joke.

"Yes, High Lord," Sonea whispered in mock coyness, returning the smile.

––––

Cery threw the bones of the chicken wing he had just eaten into the fireplace, then picked up the half-finished glass of bol in front of him, downing it in one go. Gol sat in a shadowed corner, unobtrusively slicing and eating a pachi. But his eyes flickered up to his boss discreetly when he heard Cery's heavy gulps.

"Still need to report to the black mullock," Gol muttered, trying to imply that Cery should lay off the drink before their meeting. The mullock, a silent and swift nocturnal bird, was their code name for the High Lord.

"He can wait till I've had my fill," Cery replied, his tone sour.

Gol threw the peel of his pachi fruit into the fire and cleaned his knife carefully. His boss had been in a vile mood since their tags in the Guild kitchens had said the High Lord had declared Sonea his Consort. Personally, Gol didn't see why Cery's exotic new woman, the foreign magician, wasn't enough to fill his boss' eyes plenty. But he kept his opinions to himself, as any Thief's kin would.

A knock sounded on the door and the exotic woman walked in. Gol looked up long enough to take note of the number and kinds of weapons that were strapped to her leather belt. Though his boss now trusted Lady Savara, Gol always made a habit of noticing the weaponry on a person.

"Still here?" Savara asked in her melodic accent. She walked up to Cery and gently traced the stubble on his chin with her fingertips. "I thought you had a meeting?" Her warm smile didn't quite reach her alert and piercing almond eyes.

Cery shrugged. "Not much to report. No point in going, really."

"Or you'd rather not risk running into a certain person?" Savara asked knowingly, a dark brow raised.

Cery grasped Savara's wrist and pulled her down towards him for a deep kiss. "Why does everyone insist I've a thing for Sonea when I've shown where my interests lie?" He grinned a little tipsily.

Savara smiled but firmly disentangled her wrist from Cery's grasp, straightening up to her full height. "You'll be late if you don't leave now. His servant is at the door."

Cery sighed petulantly and stood up, yanking on his jacket and buckling the belt that held his matching pair of daggers. Savara smiled in relief at her lover, even though he'd been far from attractive recently.

It was imperative that Cery continued to communicate directly with the High Lord. It was the only way Savara could pass on vital information to Akkarin without breaking her promise to Queen Zarala that she would not reveal herself to any Guild magician or any Ichani. Both would have different but dangerous repercussions for her people, the Traitors.

But she knew her people also wanted the Ichani to be dealt a fatal blow. That and the fact that she had grown to quite like some of these Kyralians had helped her make up her mind. She could suggest Akkarin tactics through Cery. Neither of them needed to know who the ideas really came from.

Tonight, she had wanted to suggest, through Cery, that Akkarin increase his power. His lover and his servant were good sources for facing one Ichani, but Savara knew the High Lord needed to begin strengthening himself with numbers that matched what Kariko would be coming with. She had sensed a little magic in Cery when she first met him, and that had gotten her thinking about the masses of poor in this city.

Cery had washed his face with some cold water and now sounded more sober. "Well, I'm ready. But that doesn't change the fact that I still don't have much to report. No new killer magician, no new murders. Isn't no news good news?"

Savara grimaced. "I'm afraid not. Unless I'm mistaken, the spies have stopped coming because they are probably now readying themselves for an attack."

Cery's eyes widened. "Imardin's going to be attacked? Like an actual invasion? But don't all these heavies send ambassadors around to prevent exactly this?"

"The attack will not come from the king or armies of another land. It will come from a group of rogue magicians," Savara said carefully. "I cannot say more. But I do know your High Lord and his Guild cannot defeat them yet."

"The Guild cannot defeat them?"

Savara put a finger up to her lips, her eyes darting to the dark window behind Cery. "Go to your meeting. But before you do, can I make your High Lord a suggestion? So long as you don't tell him it comes from me," she whispered.

Cery raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. "I doubt he'll listen to me, but I'll pass it on. And he's not my High Lord."

Savara smiled and sauntered over to him, then whispered into his ear. "Tell him he would do well to look to the people his mistress comes from. There, he will find the power to strengthen himself for battle. And he should start doing so. Quickly."

"Wha– " Cery started out confused about Savara's message, but then realisation slowly dawned on his face. "Oh. Oh."

The Thief's eyebrows knotted in thought, then his mouth thinned in annoyance as he realised what this meant. "Savara, this is going to be a nightmare to set up in secret. We're talking hundreds of people. I've had my work cut out for me since I met you."

"Oh, don't say you haven't enjoyed it just a little," Savara replied saucily.