Author's note:
Thanks so much for the reviews – great to know, almost a decade on, there are still BMT fans out there enjoying this trilogy and its fanfic.
Another smut warning for this chapter. In the original, they barely got to enjoy each other before tragedy strikes, so I just didn't want them to face death without another night of abandon ;)
"Positions one to three are ready," Gol muttered as he entered the room and locked the door behind him. Cery looked up from the map of Imardin that lay open on his desk, and nodded.
"Four and five?"
"The black mullock instructs that he and his second will cover those," Gold answered.
Cery frowned. The forth and fifth locations where they had agreed to bait the Ichani were the Palace, and one of the grandest villas in the Inner Circle. It was likely the leader of the Ichani would venture to one of them, and Cery was not pleased to hear that the High Lord had assigned these locations to himself and Sonea.
"Good. If I know the Ichani, the stronger and more arrogant ones will not be able to resist looting the Palace. Better we leave those to the High Lord," said a musical voice at Cery's ear.
He leapt to his feet, then re-sheathed the dagger that had snapped to his hand. Savara blinked up at him with a smile that was slightly smug. How did she silently sneak up on him like that all the time?
"Thanks Gol. Pay Enka and the others now for their trouble, and pay them well. We don't want any of the younger lads looking to the riches instead of their tasks," Cery instructed. Gol grunted in the affirmative and quietly slipped back out of the door.
Savara's perfume enveloped him as she ran a hand through Cery's hair.
"And where will you be, my Lady?" Cery asked, trying to sound casual. He was too proud to ask her to lend a hand, but secretly wished she would. From what the High Lord had told him, Savara was more powerful than Akkarin himself, and that would be very handy if they found themselves in a tight spot in the work to come.
"I'm sorry, my little Thief, you know why I cannot do anything but witness the battle. I'm bound by the rules of my people. And our monarch has strictly instructed that I report on developments, nothing else," Savara replied, sounding genuinely apologetic for once. She bent down to give him a soft kiss. "But I hope your High Lord's plan works. For all our sakes."
"Not my High Lord. I'm a Thief, and damn proud too," Cery muttered.
–––––
"It sounds like everything is in hand. I will be in my residence if you need me, Lord Balkan," Akkarin said, standing up with a nod of thanks to the Head of Warriors.
Balkan raised an eyebrow, perhaps surprised the High Lord was not going to sit with them in the Guildhall and wait for news of the dawn ambush. "We have yet to go over your position, High Lord. You mentioned you intend to go into the city?"
Akkarin adopted that inscrutable mask that used to so infuriate Sonea after she had become his novice, when she was wracking her brains day and night for a way to expose his black magic without risking Rothen's life. Now, watching him and Balkan subtly from under her lashes while pretending to be occupied with the last of her meal, she was grateful for his excellent court face.
"Yes. I must liaise with my associate in the city." Akkarin paused and lowered his voice so that only Balkan, Lorlen, Vinara and Sonea, who were sitting nearest, could hear. "It would be wise to keep to a minimum what each of your Warrior units know of the positions and instructions of others. In the event of capture… The element of surprise is crucial, Lord Balkan."
Vinara grimaced when she understood what Akkarin was getting at: that anyone captured would be forcibly mind-read by the Ichani before being killed. Balkan nodded grimly, and asked no more questions. Once again, Sonea appreciated the Warrior's quick grasp of strategy. He would have made a good High Lord, too, she mused.
Akkarin's dark eyes flitted to her for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching like he held back a smile. "Until dawn, my Lords, my Lady," Akkarin inclined his head. Sonea took this as her cue to rise from the table and bow to the Higher Magicians. Balkan and Lorlen returned to a low-voiced conversation, but Sonea noticed Lady Vinara's piercing gaze was on her as she took Akkarin's outstretched arm and they walked down the dining hall to the door.
While Sonea had suggested that she go ahead to the residence and wait for him there, planning to avoid the silent scrutiny she felt ever since the night of the South Pass breach, Akkarin was stern about keeping her at his side. So she had taken to being a silent observer at these mealtimes. Even though Akkarin had openly stated to the magicians that he and Sonea had worked together on getting to know the enemy, it was clear that many did not think it appropriate for Sonea to be a hanger-on at strategy discussions. She had heard the displeasure of several senior magicians at the close involvement of someone they still saw as a half-trained novice.
But since Akkarin's declaration of martial law, they had not outright voiced any objections about her constant presence. It hadn't helped, though, that Sonea cut a conspicuous figure in her brown novice's robes in a roomful of full-robed magicians. Akkarin, perhaps reading this during the first of these meetings from Sonea's surface thoughts, had suggested that she now had another position in addition to Guild novice, and could dress as either, given lessons were suspended.
So tonight Sonea had donned the high-quality but plain black velvet dress Akkarin had gifted her after their 'little trial', as he liked to call the day the Higher Magicians had forced them to choose between the three options. At the time, she had felt emboldened and slightly bitter – she was risking her life for a Guild that barely tolerated her presence, so she would damn well look the part if the magicians needed a reminder she wasn't just a wayward novice. But she had regretted it almost instantly when the entire dining hall had stared as she entered in black, overtly mirroring the robes of the High Lord.
Not only that, Sonea thought, Lady Vinara is clearly not convinced that I'm only involved for my knowledge of the slums – and my little gesture seems to have made that worse. For the past day or two, she would catch the Head of Healers looking at her with suspicion, as if she could tell there was more to Sonea's involvement in the High Lord's plans than a loyal Consort's devotion. Put it out of your mind for now, Sonea chastised herself. She cannot possibly be growing suspicious of black magic. Nothing you or Akkarin have said or revealed could lead her to that thought.
"Vinara will not act on her suspicions at such a critical time," Akkarin murmured quietly as they stepped out of the University and onto the deserted grounds, making for the direction of the residence. The night seemed deceptively peaceful and quiet.
"Did you read her surface thoughts?" Sonea whispered back, even though they were quite alone in the dark grounds.
Akkarin's dark brows lowered as he quickly scanned their surroundings, but he did not slow his stride. Sonea, as always, had to walk very quickly to keep up.
"Occasionally. She thinks that I may have a secret plan or weapon, and that you play some kind of part in it. She is torn between disapproval that I am acting alone, and fear that if she shares her suspicions, she may sabotage work I may be doing to advantage us in battle."
Akkarin's pale face shone just enough in the faint moonlight for Sonea to make out his appreciative half smile. "Vinara has always been remarkably perceptive. And I'm glad she still has enough faith in me to consider the possibility that, whatever I'm doing, I am acting in favour of the Guild." He turned to look at Sonea and his smile vanished. "She's more worried, however, about you."
"Me?"
They had arrived at the door of the residence, which was a dark grey shape with no lights at the windows. Akkarin gently brushed the handle and it swung open silently. "She wonders if I keep you so close because you are with child."
"What?" Sonea exclaimed. "I'm not!"
"No, you're not," Akkarin said reassuringly. "I've been careful. And I'd have sensed it if you were, when our barriers are down."
Sonea breathed a sigh of relief, then blushed slightly at the memory of how their lovemaking felt whenever they dropped the skin-level barriers that concealed their powers.
The door swung shut behind them silently. The foyer slowly lit up with Akkarin's globelight.
"Either way, she thinks I will be putting you in the kind of danger you are not yet trained to face," Akkarin added solemnly, his jaw tightening.
Sonea frowned at the tension in his face and the distant look in his eyes. "Well, she doesn't know enough about me," she said firmly. "She doesn't know I have killed an Ichani with black magic. Or that I'm now at tenfold my natural power. Or that I've been handy with a knife since I was old enough to run with Harin's gang," she grinned, hoping to lighten the seriousness that seemed to have descended on the High Lord.
She was rewarded with a small twitch at the corner of his lips, but Sonea could tell that Vinara's suspicions had struck at something he seemed to be fighting within himself. She suspected it had to do with the residual guilt and helplessness she had sensed in his thoughts when she had earlier seen the image of the Sachakan girl in Akkarin's mind.
He made to reach for the bottle of wine on the low table in the foyer, but Sonea gently placed her hand on his arm to stop him. She locked her gaze on his troubled dark eyes meaningfully, and started walking towards the stairs.
Akkarin followed her silently upstairs, his gaze following the shape of Sonea's hips in her tailored dress, usually hidden under the loose fabric of novice's robes. A buoyant fire was already crackling in the grate of his bedroom, bathing the warm room in an orange-red hue.
Almost as soon as the door shut, he reached for her with a fierce hunger.
As Akkarin's long fingers encircled her waist and his mouth descended on hers, Sonea shook with building need. While he had shown no sign of it throughout dinner, absorbing the Arena's power must have had the same effect on Akkarin, she thought – of surging power, and a feral kind of arousal.
To think I'd have given all this up out of hatred for magicians, Sonea thought shakily as Akkarin's tongue demanded entry into her mouth, making her head spin. The extra power coursing through her body was nothing like any feeling she had tasted when she hadn't known magic. It was like being alive to every sense – touch, smell, sound – at a new level. She relished his masculine scent, combined with the smell of burning pinewood wafting from the fireplace.
Sonea matched his rough urgency, reaching for the sash at Akkarin's waist and sliding off the top half of his robes to reveal the black vest underneath. She didn't care about appearing so wanton, so desperate; this was the eve of battle, and she wanted to leave no sensation untapped, no desires unrealised.
Akkarin let out a low growl as she bit his lower lip hard enough to hurt. He pulled his mouth away from hers.
A dangerous light danced in his black eyes. "Sonea, you are playing with fire," he whispered silkily.
The next moment he had descended on her invitingly pale neck, biting the flesh as his hands expertly reached for the tight laces down the back of her dress. She moaned and pressed her chest forward towards him.
Finally, the dress came loose enough for Akkarin to roughly pull it down her shoulders and hips, the heavy, thick velvet crumpling to the floor around her feet like a pool of dark water.
Akkarin gripped her naked waist and turned Sonea around, then walked her a few steps forward until he was pressing the front of her body up against one of the dark wood pillars of his four poster bed. She gripped the carved wood, her small breasts crushed against it as she felt the length of the Akkarin's body pressed up against her, moulding into her back perfectly.
She felt his left hand snake around her throat, holding her in a light chokehold, as his right hand crept from behind to the place between her legs. Sonea threw back her head in abandon, exposing her neck to his hand and pushing her hips forward into his hand.
– Pleasure yourself, his commanding voice echoed in her mind, making her feel like his novice all over again.
Sonea could feel Akkarin's hard manhood, still clothed behind black silk trousers, pressing up against her bare buttocks as she began to rock her hips back and forth onto the hand he held steady between her legs. Her head spun as his other hand on her throat tightened to an intense, but not uncomfortable, grip.
Somehow everything touching her body felt heightened, her power throbbing through her veins. Akkarin groaned quietly in her ear; she could feel him on the edge of her thoughts, inside her mind, observing her building pleasure. She slipped her own senses behind his low mental defences and basked in the feelings that mingled there with her own – lust, possession, affection, and a dark desperation.
Akkarin's mouth was wandering all over the back of her neck and shoulders. Sonea's breathing grew shallower and faster and she moved her hips harder against his hand, seeking more, and more. A thin sheen of sweat began to form on her body, making her grip on the wooden bedpost slippery. It wasn't enough. She wanted to be possessed completely; wanted all thoughts of what could happen tomorrow to abandon her mind.
"Please, High Lord…" she whispered. Akkarin's grip on her throat loosened slightly and he leaned forward to hear her, his breath hot on her neck.
"Tell me what you want, Sonea," his low, gravelly voice sounded in her ear. "Tell me exactly what you want." His hand pressed between her legs, his powerful body keeping her trapped against the bedpost.
Sonea pushed her hips back onto his hard member. "I want to feel you inside m-me," she breathed shakily, her eyelids fluttering shut. "I want you to make me y-yours in every way you want."
Akkarin exhaled in need at her words, freeing his member from his trousers and pressing into her entrance. He took her hard and deep. Sonea gasped and gripped the bedpost until her knuckles were white, enjoying his roughness. She threw her head back onto Akkarin's shoulder as he gripped her hips tightly, pushing her up against the pillar again and again.
After a while, Sonea began to keen softly, the sensation of his hard strokes combining unbearably with the friction of rubbing up against the bedpost. But before she could climb to the heights of ecstasy, Akkarin withdrew with a hiss and grasped her waist to turn her around.
He guided her quickly to lie down on the floor on her back, the soft dark blue carpet surprisingly cool and soft against Sonea's bare skin. Akkarin looked down at her naked and sprawling form, his face in a rare flush from their standing exertions. He pulled off his black vest to reveal his chiseled torso, glinting with sweat in the golden hue of the fireplace. His black silk trousers were next to go. He stepped out of them with a feline grace, his eyes burning into hers.
Sonea sighed in contentment as she felt the weight of his naked body descend on hers, pinning her down as he re-entered her. Akkarin let out a low chuckle of pleasure at witnessing her abandon, enjoying the sensation of her slim but strong legs wrapping themselves around his lower back and her hips moving up in time to meet his quickening thrusts. Dipping his head down, he licked and kissed her nipples, her salty sweat more delicious to him in this instant than the rarest of wines.
Climbing to the heights of pleasure then languishing restfully in front of the fire, then moving onto the bed and building up their need for each other yet again, it was a long time before either drifted into a dreamless sleep. All too soon, the palest hint of dawn made the dark blue curtains glow.
