"Even the Purge fails to rid us of whatever filth is festering there. And now they're killing each other, like animals!" said King Merin in a tone of disgust, urging his white stallion to match the pace of Akkarin's brown one.
The King's hunting party had left at dawn, and the High Lord was invited, as usual. While a common pastime of the Houses, Akkarin had lost a taste for hunting since returning from Sachaka. The Ichani used to use their yeel to hunt down runaway slaves; the brutality that usually ensued would stay with Akkarin for life. But a King's invitation could rarely be refused.
The High Lord kept his face impassive, but Merin's contempt for the dwells often grated on him. He was hardly the picture of charity himself, but he found it weak leadership on Merin's part to be entirely uninformed and contemptuous of the poor in his realm.
"We have reason to believe the murderers are foreigners, actually," the High Lord replied.
Merin pulled on his reins and turned around in surprise. "And why hasn't my domestic advisor informed me of this?"
"The city guard is still trying to establish the facts, your Majesty," Akkarin replied in a soothing tone. "I'm sure they are gathering enough evidence to approach you with something substantial. Conjectures are a waste of your precious time at this early stage."
Merin frowned, his green eyes betraying a little agitation. Akkarin hadn't been close to him in his youth, even though they were similar in age. But since becoming High Lord, he had spent enough time at court both socially and officially to know Merin liked to think well of himself. Feeling like he was being kept in the dark didn't sit with his self-image.
The King pursed his lips and nodded. 'I expect you to share any developments that reach your ears, Akkarin. The Guild and Crown must work together in this regard, as in all other matters."
The High Lord inclined his head elegantly. "I wouldn't dream of otherwise, your Majesty," he murmured.
When Merin nudged his horse into a trot to catch up with the Queen, Akkarin kept his horse at a walk. He looked up to see the position of the sun: climbing high, but not yet afternoon. Uninterested in killing any quarry, he remained behind the hunting party. Being in a saddle felt natural and easeful; he hardly needed to do much to keep his stallion on route, and so he let his thoughts wander.
And wander they did, of course, to the night of the Midwinter Meet, now three days ago. Conveniently, Akkarin had been with King Merin and a select few courtiers in the forests of Sheel, south-west of Imardin, for the past two days.
It will give Sonea time to think, and anticipate my return, he thought, holding back a small smile. He had rolled the dice on the night of the Meet, and it was now her move.
Akkarin noticed a hawk above him and admired its shape for a moment. Would she take the bait? He wondered. She had seemed willing enough when he had kissed her in the garden path. The High Lord gave a low chuckle as he recalled how her lips had parted for him like the petals of that gan-gan she so favoured.
He knew he had her now – her body had swayed against him, trembling like a leaf. And it was hardly a chore for the High Lord, either. His long, elegant fingers tightened on his reins until his knuckles were white, exhaling at the memory of how her small, wet tongue had tentatively run along his lower lip; how that tiny, delicate neck had felt in his grasp.
And that dress… Akkarin adjusted his posture in the saddle as his body stirred even at the mere memory. He knew that ivory skin and those dark eyes would suit the black. But he hadn't expected to find the girl so blindingly transformed out of the brown-robed, diminutive figure he usually encountered.
Had his self-control not been long honed to a fine point, he would have used magic to tear that tight little black corset right down the front. And he would have dropped his heat shield to see the freezing winter air touch those nipples.
His proud favourite, brought to heel not by his word but by her own desire. It would be sweet, ever so sweet. And it would end, once and for all, any risk of his secret slipping out of her mouth. He would create out of Sonea a hostage who did not wish to be free.
She followed you out of concern, came the quiet thought to his mind suddenly. How many, in all these years, have done such a thing?
The High Lord scoffed and nudged his stallion into a trot to avoid falling too far behind the King's party. Concern is fine: concern is excellent, he told himself. I have her in my grasp. All that remains is to ensure she feels like she surrenders to me of her own will.
And yet there was a sensation of uneasiness inside him that he hadn't felt for a long time. His practiced ability to appear unmoved had served Akkarin very well on the night of the Meet. As his novice had approached him to speak the ritual words, the High Lord had not been able to stop himself thinking of how much of a lie his life had become, and how she was claiming her life, too.
With your guidance…
And exactly what guidance had he provided his novice, except to frighten her into submission?
Tread the path of the magician with honour….
What honour could Akkarin of Delvon speak of, when here he was, murdering slaves in the shadows? A leader who practiced the very magic that was taboo to his own order, and a man holding captive a woman thirteen years his junior?
Akkarin's inhaled strongly through his nose as his mood darkened. He had long done away with the useless emotion of self-loathing. But rage – cold rage was an ever present companion, ready to surface at the slightest jab. His anger at his past, and the unmet need for vengeance for all those years of torture and terror, were the only emotions he could accommodate.
What was killing in self-defence, when the Ichani had killed every day for no reason whatsoever? What was the manipulation of one girl into silence, when keeping his secret may save Kyralia?
There was no point to thinking he had ever really been, or could be, her guardian. Circumstance had dealt her into his life like a hand at cards. He hadn't wanted it. It was mere coincidence that the person who witnessed him perform black magic had also turned out to be someone too important to disappear. The first "natural" in a century, after all, could hardly go missing under the Guild's nose. Otherwise, Akkarin would have by now been living as before in his solitude and secrecy, having probably dealt with the witness – had they been a nobody.
The High Lord scowled and pulled on his reins, nudging his brown stallion into a canter back to the hunting lodge in Sheel. He would make his way back to Imardin from there and relay his excuses to Merin later, saying urgent Guild business had called him back before nightfall. There were some advantages to being the second most powerful man in the realm, after all.
—-
Sonea set aside her bar of soap and tried to relax into the hot water, leaning her head back on the edge of the marble pool. It was a very uncommon hour for a bath – just before dinnertime in the University dining hall – which was precisely why she was here.
There were two pools in connecting rooms for the use of the novices, one for women and the other for men. She was alone in her pool, but could hear a murmured conversation happening in the men's pool, which was separated from hers by a densely latticed wall. It let air circulate between the rooms, but gave both pools total privacy.
Classes would not resume for another week. It's just as well, Sonea thought, because I've been useless at everything for the past three days.
It felt like nothing, nothing, could ever be the same again. And yet the instigator of this shake-up was nowhere to be found for the past two days.
The morning after the Meet, she had slept in until it was almost midday. Her limbs felt exhausted; her mind numb with shock. It was like her body wished to stay unconscious for as long as it could to avoid thinking about the previous night. By the time she had whiled away most of the day in the library and returned to the residence for the evening, Takan had told her that Master was away on the King's business for two days, and would she like trays in her bedroom or the dining room set up for her in the evenings?
So the next two days had been reading, bathing, walks in the cold, and more reading over a tray of dinner at her desk. It turned out exactly to be the kind of rest and solitude she had needed so as to process that night.
Sonea closed her eyes and sat lower in the hot water to submerge herself up to her chin. It was almost scalding, just the way she liked it, and yet she still felt a little shiver go up her spine as she remembered the feel of Akkarin's fingertip on her jaw, her collarbone, and between her breasts. She remembered every detail of the expression in his eyes, as shadowed as they were in the dim globelight. They had smouldered with that same look she had momentarily seen those weeks ago when he had told her he could do what he will with what was his.
She sighed and closed her eyes, breathing in her scented soap. But her stomach leapt, just as it had the past three days, every time she replayed those moments in her head.
And then his kiss… that kiss. Sonea didn't have many others to compare it to, but it certainly was a world away from Dorrien's sweet, excited peck. It didn't ask; it took. But it also often drew back, making her come to him. Yet it then possessed completely, devouring. It was the kiss of an older man not only confident with women, but in his sexual prime. Sonea closed her eyes, transported in her mind.
The High Lord's kiss had made a mockery of those words she had managed to summon with the last of her courage those weeks ago: I am no one's. When Akkarin had pressed his hand to the back of her neck, pushing her face up towards his, and when he had trapped her very breath inside her with the force and subtlety of his mouth, her whole body had seemed to say: I'm yours.
Sonea's cheeks coloured, and not from the heat of the pool. She had no doubt that Akkarin somehow felt this that night, even if he couldn't hear her thoughts – at least, she didn't think he could. He knew he had undone her resolve.
From what felt like a great distance, she heard the sound of water splashing, and the murmur of the two male novices. Their voices soon grew further away, and Sonea heard the sound of bare feet on marble fading. She was alone. Her body hummed gently with arousal at the thought of the High Lord's touch, his kiss.
She didn't know when she had stopped seeing him as her captor. When had she stopped thinking of him as the remorseless black magician she would expose, if she could? When did she notice he was a man, and a relatively young one for a magician? When did she first notice his hands, his lips? When had she stopped seeing his authority as oppressive and that silent, gliding walk as unnerving – coming to instead see both as darkly elegant?
Long before the night of the Meet, the answer reluctantly came to her. She had repressed and ignored these thoughts before they could even take full shape in her head. But she had noticed, even when she still feared him. When he had discovered her hiding from Regin in the secret passages of the University, and ordered her to get out, she had felt his breath on the back of her neck and she had noticed his scent before her mind had given her legs the command to move.
Sonea sighed in relief as she began to feel the water was finally working to relieve the tension in her neck. Nothing but the gentle drip-drop of the taps that filled the pool could be heard in the empty, cavernous marble room.
What if, that day, the High Lord had not ordered her to get out of the passages? She had already disobeyed him twice by then. For one, she had almost thwarted his mind-read, throwing at him inconsequential information until he had needed to grip her head and send pain jolting through it to make her stop.
And second, she had discovered the passages, and used them knowing they were a secret. Sonea's breathing shallowed and she crept her hand under the water to the lips between her legs, brushing one finger against herself. What if, instead of letting her go, the High Lord had locked the way out of the passage – had trapped her in there, completely at his mercy? Sonea stroked herself again and breathed in deeply, pressing her lips together to keep quiet.
What if he had then slapped her across the cheek for her impudence, like he had in her dream, and then leaned down to claim her lips, like he really had three nights ago? What if no one had found or heard them in that dark passageway, and he had done with her whatever he wished? Sonea's head rested back onto the marble edge the pool. Her fingers flew between her legs faster and harder, her chest heaving up and down as she gulped in the steamy, dense air of the baths. Maybe the High Lord would have pressed her up against the wall of the passageway, pulling at the sash on her waist…
Sonea's eyes flew open to the sound of a door shutting some distance away. She yanked her hand away to her side and craned her neck to see the door behind her, but the noise hadn't come from the women's section. The sound of bare, wet feet from the other side of the lattice divider wall confirmed that another male novice had arrived to use the baths.
She waited for her heart beat to slow to its normal rhythm, then she used her hands to push herself out of the pool. Quickly reaching for the linen cloth she had hung on a hook, she wrapped herself tight, catching a glimpse of her bright eyes and reddened cheeks in the steamy mirror on the wall.
Unresolved tension lay coiled in her body, and it was uncomfortable walking back to the cupboard that held her belongings when her womanhood felt swollen with arousal. She pressed her thighs together, then quickly undid the magical lock on her cupboard. She patted herself dry, then put on her undergarments and brown robes.
The white marble of the Seven Arches looked a ghostly blue in the night when Sonea left the bathhouse and inhaled the freezing cold winter air with large, grateful breaths. Setting off in the direction of the University, she wished she could occupy herself by helping Lady Tya stack books in the library, but it was closed over the break.
Dinner in the crowded dining hall it is, then, she decided, hoping the change of setting would distract her from feeling like she was channelling a forcestrike through every inch of her body.
She threw a glance in the direction of the residence. It was a dark grey, ominous shape isolated to one edge of the Guild. Her breath caught in her throat when a dim, warm light flickered in an upstairs window. Was he back? Or was it just Takan?
Sonea dropped her heat shield to get a hit of the cold air on her face, then set off towards the University with a determined stride. She needed to find a way to understand what had happened – but the only way to do that would be by facing the High Lord.
—
– Master?
– Yes?
Takan hesitated, and Akkarin could sense through the blood gem connection that his servant feared his reaction.
– Takan, what is it? Akkarin sent, sternly.
– Sonea has not yet returned.
– And the Novice's Library is closed, the High Lord sent, guessing Takan's concern.
– Yes.
The High Lord frowned and set aside his glass of Anuren Dark, taking a seat in the comfortable couch in front of the fireplace in his study. His eyes narrowed in concentration, but his gaze was unfocused as it looked into the dying embers in the grate. He was sending his senses out across the Guild for that sea-like quality to Sonea's power.
The longer any sign of her whereabouts evaded him, the darker Akkarin's gaze became. Would she dare leave the Guild grounds without my permission? No doubt the events of the night of the Meet had shaken her, but had he miscalculated?
Akkarin stood and paced in front of the fireplace. No, he was sure she had hoped for, even anticipated, their… encounter… on the garden path. He gathered enough throughout their brief conversation from her surface thoughts to know Sonea was beginning to desire him. She didn't seem the type of woman to make an altogether stupid decision like running away, either – certainly not merely on a whim, even if her feelings were in turmoil.
– Shall I bring you anything, master? Your cloak? Came Takan's anxious mental communication.
– I will find her in a moment, Takan. Remain calm, the High Lord replied.
He took a deep breath and refined his senses in the same manner he did when he performed an unwilling mind read. He slipped, a presence with no personality or intent, through various minds all across the Guild grounds at this hour. He spent no time getting too deep a sense of who they were: he only paused long enough to see where that mind was, and what it could see.
Lorlen was still in his office… a Guild gardener was collecting some night-blooming flowers… the stable master was checking the door of the stables were locked for the night… various novices, all in the Novice's Quarters… one magician still at the baths… there!
Akkarin paused in this particular mind, ensuring he kept that light-touch presence that helped him go entirely undetected in another's thoughts. He saw Sonea through the eyes of the mind he was in; hair still slightly damp from an earlier bath, and a library book in her hand, she looked distracted and morose as she walked out of the University doors and into the dark grounds, taking the long route back towards the High Lord's residence.
Satisfied, Akkarin was about to withdraw his senses back into himself and await the arrival of his tardy novice when he stopped, his eyes unfocused on the book shelf in front of him. A thought, a malicious thought, formed in the mind of the novice he had just used to find Sonea's whereabouts. Akkarin checked that his presence was undetected, then delved deeper into the mind of this novice to determine who they were. He scowled as realisation dawned. Regin of Winar.
Yes, that little snake is quite obsessed, Akkarin thought as he slipped like a ghost through the thoughts forming in Regin's mind. A sense of anticipation, petty jealousy and lust hummed in the boy's mind, but his conscious thoughts were only self-righteous and smug. Teach her a lesson… all she's good for…
The High Lord abruptly withdrew his senses and made a decision. Waving a hand over the embers of the fireplace to raise them to full flames, he stood up and strode to the entrance hall briskly.
– I have found her, Takan. I'll be back shortly, he sent quickly before opening the residence door without a single touch. He stepped out into the cold winter night and strode towards the gardens with long strides that had his black silk robes billowing around him like a plume of dark smoke.
There was no need to send out his senses to confirm Regin and Sonea were still in the gardens somewhere up ahead. Sonea's power now glowed like a dazzling ball of sea-foam green in his mind's eye, almost blinding his senses; she was shielding. Oh, so she does learn, Akkarin thought with a flicker of amusement – he had pointed this out last time he found her subject to that little Winar snake's attacks.
But as he rounded a corner and saw both figures up ahead, any urge to smile vanished and was replaced by cold, sweet rage. That oh so familiar, dark rage.
" – think you can insult me so you can cozy up to novices from the Houses? There's only one thing the likes of you are good for," Regin spat, keeping up a steady volley of forcestrikes at Sonea at close range.
He stood with his back to Akkarin, and did not notice the quiet, black shadow that had stepped up to stand behind him with his arms crossed, watching the spectacle.
Sonea, however, did notice. She was concentrating on shielding instead of meeting Regin strike for strike. The forcestrikes she deflected made her shield glow, lighting up her pale face. At the sign of movement behind her adversary, her dark eyes slid for a moment to meet Akkarin's.
They widened to see him standing there silently, and Akkarin instinctively intervened a mere moment before she lost her concentration. As her shield wavered, he sent out his power to form his own inner shield around her.
One forcestrike went through her now patchy shield, and Akkarin felt it strike his own. Its strength was nothing to his own, but it should not have been hard for Sonea to deflect, either. Which meant she wasn't running out of power: she was distracted.
Regin was oblivious to the reason why. "And you certainly dressed the part for it at the Meet, didn't you, Lady Sonea, High Lord's novice?" He sneered, stepping closer to Sonea so that his strikes had to go almost no distance at all. "All the high and mighty titles in the world won't hide the common slut you are – "
Suddenly, Regin's shield wavered and a bright light flashed. He yelled out in pain, falling to his knees. For a moment, Akkarin thought he had somehow lost control and unleashed his own power at Regin, but all he was doing was continuing to maintain Sonea's inner shield. No, this was novice's doing.
Sonea's face was terrible and wonderful to behold as her shield flashed and flickered. But as her shield disappeared, so did the flash of vengeance in those black eyes. Instead, a tired and bitter expression weighed on her features now as she looked down at Regin, who was groaning and clutched his abdomen. The High Lord dropped his inner shield and quickly probed the boy's vitals, which were fine.
"Regin of Winar. Do you have no other classmates to practice your mediocre Warrior Skills on? My novice has quite enough to be getting on with," Akkarin said in icy tones, raising his voice so that Regin could hear him clearly over his theatrical groans.
The Winar boy looked back over his shoulder, paled, and scrambled to his feet. "High Lord," he mumbled. "I was only joking… then she struck me with a forcestrike…"
"Perhaps she assumed you were looking for a duelling partner," Akkarin cut him off in a low, sarcastic drawl.
Regin's ears turned red in embarrassment, and he threw Sonea an angry sidelong glance.
"Get out of my sight," the High Lord snapped, having had enough of this. Both Sonea and Regin jumped in surprise.
Regin's eyes flickered between Sonea and the High Lord in a strangely calculating way. Then he backed away, turned around, and all but ran in the direction of the Novice's Quarters.
"Come, Sonea," Akkarin muttered in irritation when he saw she was still standing there, quite still and wide-eyed with surprise. She lowered her gaze immediately, clutched the book to her chest, and fell into step behind his long strides towards the residence.
Akkarin said nothing until they were through the entrance hall of the residence and back inside his study, which now had a large, blazing fire going. He sent Takan mental confirmation that they had both returned, and that he could retire. Then he poured himself a glass of Anuren Dark from the decanter on the mantlepiece and took a sip.
Setting it down on a low side table, he turned on his heel, his black robes moving with him. Sonea was still clutching her book to her chest in a protective manner that grated on his nerves. As if he had been the one who had just attacked her and insulted her honour. Had she even noticed he had created an inner shield around her?
Akkarin's lips pursed in annoyance. "Put that book down," he muttered. Sonea slowly unclasped her arms from around it and leaned over to set it down on the low table nearest her, never raising her gaze to his.
"Well. At least you shielded this time," the High Lord said, crossing his arms over his chest. Sonea's black eyes finally rose up to meet his. One corner of Akkarin's lips curled up.
Sonea's eyebrows knitted together in what looked like confusion or distress. "But why – " she blurted, then checked herself and fell silent. Her eyes were indignant.
"Speak."
"You've known. But you do nothing," she said, looking daggers at him.
Akkarin's eyes narrowed at her bold tone. "Careful, Sonea. I have my reasons, and I do not have to share them with you."
She did not drop her gaze, and her chest rose and fell rapidly.
Akkarin stood tall to his full height, and looked down at those flashing black eyes that made his blood run hot. He sought to inject his voice with that cool disdain he so effortlessly tended to slip into. But seeing her in a moment of vengeance had, he had to admit, stoked his desire to proceed fast with his plan.
She was growing bolder, or she felt cornered enough to finally lash out. Today, it was at the Winar boy, who, admittedly, long had it coming. But tomorrow, it could be him. The sooner he turned this discomfiting set-up into a mutually satisfying situation, the better.
"Kneel."
"W-what?" Sonea asked in shock.
"Get on your knees," Akkarin repeated quietly, a threat hanging in the air.
Sonea's breath became shallow and fast as she felt an invisible pressure on her shoulders. Her knees buckled and she found herself kneeling on the floor in front of his black robed figure.
"Remove the top half of your robes," he ordered in a low and cold voice.
Sonea face was wracked with a cacophony of emotions. The old hatred for her captor mingled with new feelings of all consuming desire. Of her own accord, her hands went to the sash at her waist. She removed the silky brown fabric, followed by her thin black undershirt beneath that. Her cheeks reddened and her chest rose and fell quickly as she felt the heat of the fireplace on her naked breasts.
Akkarin's posture did not change at all, but the set of his mouth suggested he was pleased. The High Lord was affected by the sight in front of him – oh yes. The shapely but petite orbs were pale, dotted with two small, light pink nipples. His nostrils flared as he took in a deep but silent breath. Perhaps Sonea noticed that her body evoked a reaction in him, as she seemed to capture and hold his eyes for longer than she had yet managed to all night.
Akkarin slowly began to circle her like a black panther observing a kill. He reached down and let the tips of his fingers trace her pale shoulders, the back of her neck, then back around to her collarbone. His fingertips were cold, and Sonea sucked in a breath at his touch. A flush began to rise in her cheeks.
Akkarin then sat back into the couch, never taking his black eyes off Sonea's half naked form. "Come here," he demanded quietly.
The magical pressure on her shoulders eased. As if in a trance, Sonea stood back up, her body shaking slightly. She took two shaky steps forward, looking straight over his head and ahead to the bookcases at the back of the room. Her breathing was shallow as her naked torso approached his face, level with her chest. The next moment, in one swift movement, Akkarin leaned forward in his seat and close his mouth on Sonea's left nipple.
Her knees would have buckled had his magic not held her immobile again at that moment. She couldn't move her lower body at all, in fact, as the High Lord took his fill of her small, pale breasts. His magic creeped up her arms and pulled them behind her back, making Sonea's chest jut forward even more. She whimpered, still avoiding looking down at what was happening. But the forward motion of her body betrayed how she lost herself in the electrifying sensation of an expert tongue licking and suckling her nipples.
Suddenly, Akkarin pinched her left nipple, hard, while gently licking the other one. Sonea let out a soft moan; then hearing her own voice made her cheeks colour even more.
Akkarin lifted both of his hands to cup her breasts and rubbed them firmly, slowly, a smile playing about his lips as he looked up into her blushing face. "There is no shame in feeling desire, Sonea," he whispered. His voice was deeper, huskier at the sight of her half naked in front of him. Sonea's chest rose and fell in his expert hands as she took in shuddering breaths, closing her eyes.
The High Lord's long, elegant fingers trailed down the centre of her bare stomach, catching the waistband of her brown novice's trousers. He slowly pulled them and her underwear down her hips, exposing her down to her ankles. A hand returned up to trace a line down her bellybutton to the small mound of her womanhood, grazing the slit he could see through the black hair. He did it ever so gently, without parting her folds. Sonea inhaled quickly, her thighs trembling.
His hands fluttered over those next, then snaked around to hold her small and round buttocks in his palm. Sonea's eyes fluttered shut. "Beneath all that young rage, beneath all that raw power you don't yet know how to channel, you long to be possessed, don't you? You long to surrender to me," Akkarin murmured.
Sonea kept her eyes closed and bit her lip as the High Lord's hands exerted firmer pressure on her lower body, kneading her buttocks, then finally dipping a finger in between her pink folds to rub against the little nub of flesh hidden there. She breathed in sharply as her hips moved with a sudden jolt.
Sonea's eyes fluttered open to find Akkarin had sat back in the armchair, his arms draped over the leather armrests. His dark eyes were pools of black ink as they lazily roamed over the blush in her face and the shadows the fire created on her curves. All mine, Akkarin thought, feeling his body stir at the thought. But first things first.
He brought the finger that had parted her damp labia to his own lips for a moment, never taking his intense gaze off Sonea's eyes. Her eyes were half-closed with desire as she watched his gesture.
"You are dismissed," Akkarin suddenly said.
The click of the door told her that he had removed the magical lock.
Sonea looked like she was emerging from a trace. "H-High Lord?"
"I want you to think carefully, Sonea," he whispered. "I am giving you a chance to change your mind. So long as you keep what you know of my… magic… to yourself, I can stay out of your way, and you mine."
Sonea's reactions were hazy; her dark eyebrows slowly knitted together in confusion and longing.
"But if you wish to continue…" Akkarin made a languid gesture with one pale, elegant hand, so that the tiniest heatstrike flicked across the back of Sonea's bare, pale thighs. She gasped. "I expect you to temper that pride of yours. When in private, you surrender to me. And know that I am not gentle when it comes to pleasures of the flesh," the High Lord added, his black eyes glinting in the firelight.
Words seemed to have failed his bold novice. Sonea's body was trembling slightly, though Akkarin had deliberately kept his study very warm.
"Goodnight," he said abruptly, pointing to the door.
Still looking slightly shocked, Sonea barely remembered to bow stiffly. Akkarin watched her bend to the floor with trembling knees to pick up and put on her trousers and novice's robes.
As she hurried out of the study and up the stairs to her bedroom, the High Lord helped himself to another sip of wine. His lips curled into a half-smile as he deeply inhaled the faint smell of gan-gan she had left in her wake.