"Rothen and Dorrien send you their best," Dannyl said. "I dined with them last night. They miss you, but they know you're working hard, so they didn't want to disturb your schedule. Otherwise, they'd have loved to invite you."
Sonea gave him a small and somewhat preoccupied smile as she set down her dessert spoon. The syrup-coated piorres was usually her favourite out of Takan's dishes, but her mind was on the fleeting look that had crossed Akkarin's eyes just before he had excused himself from the table.
It had been so swift that Sonea did not know if she had imagined it. But for a split second, the High Lord's black eyes had flashed with something she had rarely seen in them: fear.
"That's alright, Ambassador. I have private lessons with Lord Yikmo on Firstdays anyway, so I wouldn't have been able to come. It's kind of them to think of me, though," she replied politely, aware that Lorlen's eyes were on her.
For a moment, Sonea suddenly remembered his fingertips digging into her naked hips, pulling her body towards his. She quickly took a sip of her dessert wine to clear the flashback from her mind.
The Administrator cleared his throat at the same time, pushing away his empty plate. "I am surprised the High Lord still insists on private lessons with Lord Yikmo. What need of it now?" He asked mildly.
"I must say, I agree," Dannyl said, leaning back casually in his chair. Sonea couldn't help but notice both men had relaxed a little when Akkarin had left the room, although Lorlen still looked tired and morose. "I don't think even our fifth-years would have given us the show you did in the Arena! Surely the High Lord is now satisfied with your Warrior Skills?" he asked, raising a brow.
Sonea stroked the rim of her wine glass absentmindedly. Lorlen's eyes followed her fingertips. She snatched her hand away when she noticed.
"I'm not sure. I suppose there's always more to learn. And the High Lord's expectations can be… very particular," Sonea murmured. She fervently hoped she wasn't visibly blushing. It didn't help that Dannyl, usually quick to respond, didn't reply.
Somewhat slouching as he sipped his dessert wine, his gaze flitted between Sonea's downcast face and Lorlen's strained expression. He was smiling politely as if nothing was out of the ordinary, but Sonea had the discomfiting feeling that Dannyl was observing a little too much. What sense he would – or could – make of them, she didn't know. She could only hope he had too little to go on.
At that moment, Takan entered. Lorlen and Dannyl ignored him, but Sonea quickly looked up at the servant. If anyone knew where Akkarin had got to, it would be him.
Was he really dealing with a messenger from the palace? Sonea wondered. She couldn't help but remember another abrupt ending to an evening, not long ago, when Akkarin had received a mental communication in the middle of their conversation about challenging Regin, and told her had a sudden meeting.
But what she saw in Takan's amber eyes made her blood run cold. The servant was visibly distressed. His eyes locked on Sonea's. They seemed to be filled with guilt momentarily, but fear then overwhelmed it. Sonea felt a jolt of dread in the pit of her stomach. It was almost like Takan's eyes were pleading with her to do something. Like he was keeping an agonising secret and asking for her help. But help with what? What was going on?
In the next moment, Takan schooled his expression into one of obedient attentiveness. When he spoke, it was his usual soft tones.
"My Lords, my Lady. The High Lord sends his sincerest apologies, but the message from the King's Adviser was an immediate summons to the palace. He hopes you will forgive his sudden departure, and bids you safe travels, Ambassador Dannyl," Takan said, eyes downcast.
"Oh, what a shame," Dannyl said, setting down his glass. He shot Sonea a good-natured grimace. "Well, I can't say High Lordship is as appealing as it sounds. Summoned to work at this hour! I could never."
"Yes, most unfortunate," Lorlen added quietly, almost with suspicion. His hazel eyes narrowed, he was looking at Takan's face carefully. The servant now betrayed no trace of the turmoil Sonea had glimpsed earlier.
Dannyl stood up. "Well. It's been a pleasure, Administrator, Sonea. And thank you for the delicious meal. Takan, was it?"
Takan bowed gracefully, and gestured towards the door.
"I'll walk you both out, Administrator, Ambassador," Sonea said, quickly getting to her feet. She wanted to be alone to ask Takan where Akkarin had really gone. She knew the servant's unwavering loyalty to the High Lord would mean he probably wouldn't answer her, but there was something about that look they had shared. It told Sonea something was wrong. Something was badly, badly wrong.
It took a lot of self-control to keep her pace slow and her responses to Dannyl lighthearted as the three of them walked down the stairs and across the dimly lit entrance hall.
The front door swung open at Sonea's touch, and she bowed to both magicians. "Have a pleasant journey, Ambassador."
"I'm sure I will, once I'm off the boat and onto solid ground," Dannyl said, waving with a smile. Lorlen nodded goodbye, his face uncustomary grim. Sonea could tell the Administrator was not convinced by Takan's excuse.
She breathed a sigh of relief when he followed Dannyl out, and the residence door shut. Sonea wasn't sure why – instinct, maybe – but she used magic to lock it behind them.
She turned toward the stairs, then froze as she heard a crash from somewhere beyond the other staircase. A muffled shout reached her ears, then the floor vibrated beneath her feet.
Something was going on below her, in the underground room. Something magical.
Her whole body went cold. Frozen, she considered what to do. Her first thought was to head back up to the dining room to shield herself and Takan. But if there was some kind of magical intruder in the residence, and with Akkarin gone to the palace, what if she alone did not have the power to protect them both?
I have to know what is going on, she thought.
Taking a deep breath, she moved to the staircase that led to the underground room. It descended into darkness, so the door to the room below must be closed. Slowly, every muscle tensed ready for a fast retreat, she crept down the stairs.
Reaching the door, she searched for a keyhole or some way to see into the underground room, but found nothing. A man's voice yelled something. A stranger's voice. It took her a moment to realise she hadn't understood him because he was speaking in another language. Who was he talking to? Had Takan gone back downstairs to confront the intruder alone?
The reply was spoken harshly, also in another language. Sonea gasped as she recognised Akkarin's voice.
He's here! And he's in danger! These were the only thoughts bellowing in her mind as her shaky legs took Sonea down the rest of the stairs. But before she could touch the door to the underground room, it flung open by Takan's hand.
He looked up at her and stopped. She didn't see his expression, however. Sonea's attention had been caught by the scene beyond.
A man in a heavy grey cloak had his hood thrown back to reveal features and skin colour very similar to Takan's. Sonea could sense, but not see, that this was a powerful magician; his shield was strong and large, like he couldn't care less about expending a lot of magic sustaining it.
Then Sonea's heart leapt into her mouth. Akkarin was standing with his own strong shield around him. The effort of the power he was expending was etched onto his face. Strands of his black hair were matted to his sweaty forehead, as if a battle had been happening down here for some time. His dark eyes flashed from Sonea to Takan. He looked daggers at his servant, as if to say, you should never have let her come down here.
Multiple things happened in the next second. The intruder laughed and released power in Sonea's direction. Sonea leapt in front of Takan and raised her hands to create a shield. And the High Lord let out a guttural snarl as he threw his own power towards his novice and his servant.
Sonea felt Akkarin's shield snap up around her before she could concentrate long enough to form her own. But even his fast reflex was a moment too late. The intruder's strike slipped through it.
Sonea gasped as she suddenly felt like she had lost command of her limbs. The stranger's magic was unlike anything she had felt, or been taught. It wrapped around her body like a tight, invisible cocoon. It snapped her legs together and her arms tight to her sides. She could do nothing but move her eyes and breathe as she felt herself float off the floor and towards the intruder, her body entirely beyond her will.
All she could do was catch a glimpse of Akkarin's face at the other end of the room. For a second, just a second, a flash of terror crossed his features, before cold anger returned to his face.
This was enough to delight the intruder.
"Ha!" He shouted with glee as he waved a hand to land Sonea down next to him, his magic still keeping her utterly immobile. "What do we have here?" He was now speaking Kyralian, but with an accent. "Does the Guild provide a pet to warm the High Lord's bed? I like them younger, but she will have to do," the magician sneered.
Sonea felt the cold edge of a blade press up against her neck as the magician released all but the magic keeping Sonea's arms tightly bound to her sides. She spluttered and coughed, drawing in short, frightened breaths while trying not to press her own skin against the dagger.
Akkarin pounded at the intruder's shield from all angles with varied, complicated and skilful forcestrikes of the likes Sonea had never seen.
"Stop this, now!" The foreign magician snarled, pressing his blade into Sonea's neck. She winced as she felt the stinging cut, and the warm trickle of a trail of blood. Akkarin's jaw set tight at the sight.
His eyes seemed to be trying to tell Sonea something frantically, but she couldn't figure it out. She stood stock still as she felt the tickle of her own blood on her collarbone. Akkarin stopped striking, but continued to keep up his own shield.
"You are outnumbered, Harikava," the High Lord said coldly and calmly. "You do not have the power to defeat us both."
"I will, once I cut and drain this little bird. A shame – your pet here has enough power to make her a prized source slave. But needs must," Harikava drawled.
While he replied, Sonea sent her senses into her own neck and willed the cut to heal completely. Akkarin noticed this, and relief crossed his features.
"Now, where were we…" Harikava sneered and Sonea saw the stranger's face near her own out of the corner of her eye as he stepped up close behind her. She then felt a wet, sharp tongue trace the trickle of her blood up from her collarbone to her neck.
A wave of revulsion rolled through Sonea as Harikava then buried his nose in her hair and inhaled deeply. He looked at Akkarin's face out of the corner of his eye, a smirk on his lips.
A muscle twitched in Akkarin's forehead and his black gaze was terrible, but he did not move or say anything as he watched.
"Maybe I won't drain her to death, after all, but just enough to have some fun," Harikava murmured cruelly.
"Let her go," Akkarin repeated coldly.
"What's this? Attached to your pet, Akkarin? Oh, this only gets better and better…" the intruder laughed, clearly delighted at the prospect of torment.
Think! Sonea ordered herself frantically. If she could distract him long enough for Akkarin to deliver a fatal strike…
When she felt Harikava press his hard, clothed organ into her lower back, Sonea knew this may be her chance.
Pushing aside the thundering disgust in her mind, she focused her senses. Remaining docile in his grasp, at the same time Sonea sent the smallest bout of magic up towards her own ear. With a tiny flex of her will, her magic clicked open the pin of one bronze earring and slipped it out of her earlobe.
As Harikava moved his hips lower, now rubbing his manhood between her buttocks with a soft chuckle, Sonea concentrated on her earring silently. Holding the object steady in the air for a moment, she put a sudden push of magic behind it. She aimed the sharp pin, meant to go through the earlobe, at Harikava's face.
"YOU WHORE!"
She knew it had pierced Harikava's eye when she heard his bloodcurdling scream.
He pushed her away, howling in pain and holding his face. The dagger clanged as it hit the floor. Sonea instinctively threw herself down onto all fours, out of his reach.
At the very moment she moved out of the way, she felt the heat and force of the strike Akkarin unleashed. It whooshed above her head and found its distracted, screaming target.
A sickening crack sounded in the room. She turned to see Harikava on the floor in front of the table, unconscious. The sharp corner of the table was bloodied, where he must have hit his skull.
"Move!"
Before she could understand what was happening, Akkarin leapt passed her in a blur of black robes and quickly grasped Harikava's unconscious head in both of his hands. Sonea heard the strange fluttering in her ears that told her black magic was being performed.
A second later, Akkarin let go of the man's head, and the dead magician slumped to the floor. Thin trails of blood were leaking from Harikava's closed left eye, and onto the stone floor from underneath his head.
For a moment, there was stunned silence. Then Takan rasped, "Master!" And ran across the room to the High Lord, helping him get back up.
Sonea got to her feel slowly too, and looked at Akkarin. Their gazes locked. A touch of relief crossed the High Lord's features, before his lips slowly stretched into a scowl.
"Take Sonea up to her room, Takan, then come back here," he said quietly, sounding annoyed.
"W-What?" Sonea exclaimed. She was struggling to catch her breath. "No! Tell me what's happening."
Akkarin watched her coolly. Sonea knew that mask, by now. It said, I alone ask the questions and make the demands around here.
Takan was standing by him, eyes entreating him for something. Any thoughts of decorum fled Sonea's mind from the shock and danger of the last few minutes.
"Who was he? Why was he here? And –" she suddenly realised she was flinging questions at him without so much as a "High Lord" in address. Sonea looked down and quietened her tone, but did not change the firmness in her voice. "And why did he try to… to kill you?"
The High Lord said nothing, still looking at her steadily, inscrutably.
"Master, please…" whispered Takan, holding out his bare forearm at Akkarin.
Takan, Sonea suddenly realised, was letting Akkarin lean some of his weight against him. Her stomach summersaulted in fear. Is he hurt? Is his power dangerously low? The desperate urge to throw her arms around the High Lord flared up in her chest, and she pushed it down violently.
Akkarin held her dark eyes for a moment longer, then sighed quietly, sounding uncharacteristically resigned. He nodded at his servant.
Takan made to kneel but Akkarin grasped his upper arm and kept him standing. The High Lord held his outstretched arm and used magic to make the shallowest little cut near Takan's elbow crease.
He gently placed his long fingers over the cut and Sonea realised what was to happen. It was a strange repeat of the exact same scene, in the same room, that she had witnessed three years ago from her hiding place outside the residence. Nothing about Takan's demeanour suggested it was a painful process.
Akkarin seemed to stand taller afterwards, however. When he lifted his palm off Takan's forearm, not a trace of the cut remained.
The High Lord nodded towards the prone figure of Harikava on the floor. "You know what to do," he murmured to Takan under his breath.
The servant nodded and, to Sonea's surprise, pulled a lever and slipped into a panel in the wall. She held back a gasp as she realised this was the entrance to the underground passages from the residence. She herself had explored them.
Now alone, the underground room seemed eerily quiet. Sonea pointedly avoided looking at the face of the dead man next to them. She turned to the High Lord to find him looking at her intently, some of the fatigue gone from his piercing obsidian eyes.
"That man is — was — an assassin. He was sent to kill me," Akkarin finally said.
"But why did he want you dead?" Sonea whispered, her eyes pleading with him for answers.
Akkarin exhaled strongly through his nose, frowning as his eyes focused on the spot on the floor where Harikava lay dead.
"He would be satisfied, indeed, if he knew the harm he has done by coming here and causing you to see what you have seen," he said softly. "I can tell you only this: the Sachakans still hate the Guild, but they also fear us. From time to time they send one of these, to test me."
Sonea frowned, her head spinning. Sachaka? All that word meant to her was from her history lessons. The nearest non-Allied land, which Kyralia had defeated centuries ago in a magical war.
"But… but why don't the Guild know of this? Why are you alone being targeted by Sachakan magicians?" Sonea asked, confused.
"I'm not," Akkarin explained. "The assassins have also been killing innocents at random in the city for months now."
"The murders!"
"Yes," he replied grimly. "They build up their strength before they face me. And the Guild cannot know because the only way to defeat these assassins is to match their strength. Through black magic." Akkarin's eyes roamed over the ruined bookshelf. "And that, as you well know, is banned."
His tone took on a bitter tinge as he looked at Sonea again, the sleeves of his silk robes billowing as he spread out his hands, palms up. "Yet here we are. Without black magic, we would be dead now. Despite your… resourceful trick." One corner of his lips curled up.
Sonea's chest seemed to loosen a little to see that familiar half-smile. But then her brows knitted in indignation as she considered the implications of this. "So you… you learned black magic for self-defence? What if you explained this to the Guild? Allowed a truth read?"
Akkarin let out a brief, derisory laugh. "You assume everyone has your adaptability, Sonea. Trying to change an age-old institution like the Guild is about as easy as disbanding the Thieves for good." Then his gaze grew haunted and distant. "And I cannot submit to a truth read. There is… much else I cannot reveal."
Sonea digested his words, remaining silent. Her hand went up to her neck absentmindedly, where the dagger had rested against her jugular for several terrifying minutes. She could feel the trail of blood had dried and flaked. Akkarin's black eyes glittered strangely as his gaze followed her hand. Then they looked at each other.
"May… may I hold you?" Sonea dared whisper, finally beginning to feel the weight of the night hit her.
Akkarin's nostrils flared slightly. Then he exhaled heavily and looked away, his face betraying nothing.
"I cannot come to your bed tonight. I must ensure this… is taken care of," he replied quietly, gesturing towards the body on the floor.
Longing with no outlet seemed to send up Sonea's body a certain hardness, a hollowness, a strain. "That's not what I meant," she murmured, dropping her eyes.
Akkarin neither moved nor responded. Sonea wondered what his face showed, but she did not dare raise her eyes to look. She could not bear it if she saw pity or indifference in his features. Better not to know at all.
"Come to my study immediately after your final lesson tomorrow. There are things we have to discuss. Much has now changed," she heard Akkarin say. His voice now sounded every inch the calm, authoritative tone of the High Lord.
"Yes, High Lord."
Sonea bowed without looking up at him and turned on her heel, walking out of the underground room and up the stairs. Her lip was trembling and her legs were shaking. She knew the events of the past hour would hit her hard in a few moments. But she willed her body to co-operate long enough to take herself up to the first floor, and into her bedroom.
Had she looked up at the High Lord's face before leaving the underground room, Sonea would have seen that it held both relief and guilt.