Author's Note:

Thank you so much once again for the thoughtful comments! It's such a pleasure to know I captured an appealing balance between original material and keeping to the story we all love. Things will wrap up and rejoin the trilogy's plot in the next few chapters, I think, as I've done what I was interested in doing with this fic. Hope you'll enjoy the last few! Thanks for reading.

Tania let Dannyl into his living quarters. Rothen smiled a little nervously as he looked up from his morning cup of sumi. "I didn't think you'd have time for a visit before you left!"

Dannyl flashed him his usual dashing smile and flopped onto the couch opposite Rothen. "Ships never leave on schedule. The captain has decided we'll be off at sunset instead of midday. He's still awaiting cargo."

Rothen gestured for his servant to bring Dannyl an extra cup for the pot of sumi on the table. "Well, Tania has some cakes that will make spending your precious last hours in Imardin worthwhile."

Dannyl smile turned into a grimace. "I'm… trying to eat light before the journey. Still haven't found my sea legs."

They spoke of inconsequential topics while Tania busied herself with the cups and plates. When she disappeared behind the door that led to the servant's corridor, Rothen cleared his throat and set his sumi down.

"And… how was your farewell dinner with the High Lord and Administrator?" Rothen asked quietly, his blue eyes narrowing.

Dannyl leaned forward a little, but kept his tone light. "You are right. Things have changed between the High Lord and his novice."

A glint of righteousness entered Rothen's eyes.

"By that I mean Sonea has come out of her shell, and Akkarin now seems a supportive, if a demanding, guardian," Dannyl continued firmly, to Rothen's surprise.

Rothen looked entreatingly into Dannyl's eyes. "Are you sure you observed them closely?"

Dannyl leaned back in his chair, holding his former mentor's eyes steadily. "Yes," he replied matter-of-factly. "Indeed, what was most interesting about the evening was the Administrator's behaviour."

"What?" Rothen said, surprised.

The Ambassador raised his eyebrows. "I think something has happened to drive a rift between the High Lord and the Administrator. And I think it has something to do with Sonea," he ventured.

Rothen's brow furrowed in concern, but not at this news. Obviously, Akkarin and Lorlen were friends no more, but captor and hostage, like him. Dannyl was hitting a little too close to home about one secret Rothen did not want him sniffing around. The consequences could be dangerous.

"Oh? Why do you think so?" He asked nonchalantly. Surely he can't have witnessed anything that could lead him to Akkarin's black magic?

Dannyl took a leisurely sip of his sumi before answering. "It's the strangest thing. The Administrator barely spoke unless spoken to. He did not once initiate conversation with the High Lord, or even look at him," he said thoughtfully. "So, if anything, the only interesting thing happening at that table was between those two."

Rothen frowned, now regretting sparking Dannyl's interest in this at all. The High Lord and Administrator had so far been doing a good job of interacting normally in Guild settings. Is Dannyl realising their "friendship" is now a carefully orchestrated charade? Rothen wondered.

"What made everything more interesting," Dannyl added, wiping cake crumbs off his fingers, "is that the Administrator was focused on Sonea all evening."

"If Lorlen is trying to check that Sonea's well, then he's doing his job," Rothen said grimly.

A strange hint of a smile played about Dannyl's mouth. "He seemed more… flustered rather than concerned."

"Maybe he is beginning to have doubts about the High Lord's guardianship," Rothen hinted heavily. Clearly, Dannyl's private correspondence with the High Lord throughout his Ambassadorial duties had given him a favourable impression of the black magician. It frustrated Rothen that he seemed determined to suspect nothing of Akkarin.

Dannyl raised an eyebrow. "Doubts? If anything, Sonea's little duel dispelled any doubts that Akkarin chose well."

Rothen waved a dismissive hand. "I don't mean Sonea. She is a worthy novice for any honourable magician in this Guild. I meant that perhaps Lorlen suspects Akkarin has been… remiss in his duties."

The Ambassador's eyes turned sympathetic. "Excellent midwinter exam results, private Warrior Skills tutoring… That doesn't look like a neglectful guardian, my friend."

Rothen's lips thinned in annoyance, but he shrugged in resignation. "Well. Perhaps you're right, then. Maybe the High Lord and Administrator have indeed quarrelled over something. And it made things a bit awkward just before you arrived."

"It could be," Dannyl said with a heightened inflection at the end, like it was an unanswered question. Then a curious glint shone in his chestnut brown eyes. "The Administrator is… unattached, is he not, unless I've been away too long?"

"Unattached?" Rothen frowned in confusion at the topic; his mind was nowhere near such musings. "Um, yes – yes, I believe so. I don't really know anything of his personal life."

"I see," Dannyl murmured, that glint still in his eyes, as if he was amused by his own thoughts.

A few seconds of silence later, he set down his cup jauntily and grinned at Rothen. "Well. My Ambassadorial duties resume right about now, so if you want me on any future missions, send me word." He winked, and Rothen rolled his eyes fondly.

After hugs had been exchanged and Dannyl had left for the harbour, Rothen sat down in his favourite chair overlooking the University.

The anticipation that the visit had brought slowly faded away, leaving him feeling more tense. Dannyl, usually so perceptive about social dynamics, seemed reassured that nothing was amiss.

That may be the case, Rothen thought darkly, but Akkarin has not suddenly become a devoted guardian. He is playing his part. Maybe he is even getting complacent – like failing to keep up pretences with Lorlen – because he feels certain of our continued silence.

Rothen sighed and stood up to wash his face, planning on spending the hours until dinner in the Magician's Library. He now wished he hadn't drawn Dannyl's attention to those three. All he had gotten were some irrelevant observations about the Administrator. And now he felt all the more uncertain about his suspicions.

—

Sonea sighed, shutting the books in front of her. The Novice's Library was almost deserted, as the dinner gong had just sounded. But she was due to eat at the residence with Akkarin later.

She looked down in frustration at the cover of the book in front of her. The Sachakan War, the embossed title read. It hadn't told her anything she hadn't already known.

And what she knew was as much as any other third-year novice. All novices studied the war between the Sachakan Empire and the Kyralian magicians. They were taught that the Kyralians had won the war by forming the Guild and sharing magical knowledge.

When she thought about it, it was not hard to believe that the Sachakans still hated the Guild. And since they were not bound to the agreement that all magicians must be taught and watched over by the Guild, that would explain the powerful magic Harikava had wielded.

As these speculations ran through her head, Sonea walked out of the University and down the familiar path towards the High Lord's residence, now dark and deserted.

Akkarin had said that the only reason he could fend off the assassins was because he strengthened himself with black magic. Her heart skipped a beat. That would mean the protection of the entire Guild depended on the High Lord not only continuing to use black magic, but hiding it.

What if he is caught doing black magic? Or what if he – he is killed by another assassin? A stone felt lodged in her stomach at the thought of either, which would have the same outcome. Death.

If what Akkarin told her was true, he was not only shouldering the Guild's protection single-handedly, but also that keeping her, Rothen and Lorlen silent had been for the good of all. That he had allowed them to think him evil.

Sonea could almost hear her guardian's cold, dispassionate voice saying: a small price to pay for the safety of Kyralia.

She had witnessed the toll it secretly took on Akkarin to trap Lorlen. The High Lord had been all cold command and subtle threat the night Lorlen had kissed Sonea and witnessed them couple. But Sonea knew that, in the days that led to that set-up, the High Lord had been especially moody and withdrawn. Like he was mulling over every other possible option to stop his former best friend from making a terrible mistake.

Her chest felt tight as the slate grey building of the residence loomed close. She knew he wasn't evil. Far from it. Cold, demanding, and aloof, yes. But not evil.

She saw how he treated Takan and Viola, and the stable boys, with the same respect he treated the Higher Magicians. She saw his disdain for the court's frivolities and the wastefulness of the Houses. And she had never heard him express disgust towards dwells, her kin.

For two days she had wondered whether he would give her an explanation. She had gone over and over what she had seen and been told.

Well, when I haven't thinking about… that other thing, Sonea thought, her breath quickening.

She could summon at will the feel of the High Lord's arms, holding her close to him in the tub, two nights ago. It was etched into her senses. It was, unmistakably, an embrace, with no other motive. He had held her.

And she had lain on him, in comfort, for at least a minute before they had disentangled their limbs and got out to dry themselves. Then Akkarin had quietly but firmly told her to get to bed. He had instructed her to rest until midday, and said that he would deliver an excuse to her morning class for her absence.

Sonea grazed her hand across the residence's door, and it swung open at her touch.

She stepped inside to see his tall, dark figure rise from one of the guest room chairs. She felt a twinge of yearning and pushed it down. A single globe light hovered above his head, casting his eyes into shadow.

"Good evening, Sonea."

She bowed. "High Lord."

That half-smiled played about his lips. He enjoyed their formalities, she knew. He enjoyed casting them aside unexpectedly, too.

"We have much to discuss. Dinner is not ready yet, but let us go upstairs," he said quietly.

Sonea's breath sped up. Had there been new developments about these assassins?

His pale hand gestured to the stairway entrance. Putting her case of books down, Sonea entered the stairway and started climbing. Akkarin followed behind her in a near silent swish of robes, and he remained silent until they were both seated in the elegant room furnished with a large table and several chairs. There were two books on one end of the table, one a lot older than the other. It wasn't like Takan not to clear away a table in preparation for dinner service, so they must be there for a reason, Sonea surmised.

Akkarin gestured with one hand and the books levitated into the air, then floated towards them, coming to rest in front of him.

"I gave you an explanation on the night of the break-in. But you need not take my word for it," he said.

He picked up the tomes in his long fingers and placed them in front of Sonea. "This is an old and… uncensored record of the Sachakan War. You won't find anything like it in the Novice's Library. I have brought an original as well as a copy. The original is deteriorating, so handle it only as much as you need to confirm the copy is true."

She reached towards them, then withdrew her fingers. "But how will these books help?" Sonea asked.

The question came out before she could stop it. She winced at the exasperation obvious in her voice. She had been hoping for more direct instructions on what he planned to do now, and how she could help. Akkarin's eyes bored into her own and she looked down.

"You want to know the truth," he said, an unfamiliar touch of resignation in his deep voice. But nor was it a question.

He was right. She may have learned many types of surrender at the High Lord's hand, but that was neither here nor there. Her need to know a challenge from all angles and face it had not changed.

Sonea reached down and picked the copy up, opening it at a random page. She felt a strange frisson as lines of elegant handwriting appeared. Akkarin's handwriting.

He was watching her closely. "You should not allow anyone to learn of these records," he said quietly. "Do not even allow Viola to see them."

She look down at the cover of the original. Record of the 235th Year, the cover stated. The book was over five hundred years old! Surprised, she glanced up at Akkarin. He nodded once, knowingly.

A flutter of nerves and excitement zinged through her body for a moment. This felt significant, somehow. Like he had come to some decision within himself and he had settled in favour of bringing her into his confidence.

To whom shall we turn for relief, if not each other?

Sonea closed and reopened her eyes slowly, willing away the memory of the High Lord's words. Are they not fitting, though? Asked that frustratingly hopeful voice in her head. He is beginning to let you in on the reasons for… all this.

She met his steady gaze when she looked up at him with wide black eyes. Try as she might, she couldn't inject that calm neutrality into her voice that the High Lord had perfected. "Will… will you visit me tonight?" Sonea asked quietly, tentatively. Her voice came out too vulnerable for her liking.

However, unexpectedly, she noticed the High Lord's dark eyes soften. He stood and walked around the table in two languid strides towards her chair, towering above her. A pale hand reached for her face and his thumb brushed across her lower lip.

"I must attend the Night Room this evening," the High Lord murmured softly. But before disappointment could lodge itself in Sonea's chest, the corner of his mouth curled up into a half-smile that reassured her.

She dared return his small smile. "I could wait."

The curl in his lip remained but Akkarin's dark brows lowered in mock disapproval. "I have run out of excuses to cover for your late mornings, Sonea. Any more and your teachers may question whether the High Lord's novice is taking her education seriously."

A soft knock on the door from Takan was followed by the smell of delicious dishes. Akkarin's black eyes swept over her one more time before he drifted back into his chair and willed the door open with magic.

As Takan laid the table, he continued looking at her thoughtfully.

"You've wondered why I do what I do since you first learned of it. Though I will not show you the how, I can show you the why. Someone should know, other than Takan and myself," Akkarin murmured.

The servant visibly started, hand poised in the air gripping a carafe of wine. Then a smile touched Takan's lips and his amber eyes glittered as if to say, finally. Akkarin's black gaze flickered to his servant's face and, almost imperceptibly, the High Lord rolled his eyes at his servant's smugness.

Sonea's heart soared, but some daring part of her wanted to hear more. "Why me?"

Akkarin's half-smile widened and his eyebrows raised slightly, amused. His expression seemed to say, I did not plan it this way either, and yet here we are. He paused, taking a sip of his wine before answering. "That will become clear, in time."

They ate a few bites in silence. Then Sonea's eyes dropped back down onto the books by her plate. Her mood sobered. "Do you think a new assassin will be coming for you soon?" she asked quietly.

Sonea caught the slightest hesitation in Akkarin's reply.

"Yes, but my associate is also locating them faster. The way to the residence is now impassable." His face darkened. "The next one shall meet his end in the city, not here."

She looked up into his eyes with a serious expression. "I want to come with you," she stated firmly, a little surprised by her own demand.

Sonea assumed a stern refusal, and was preparing her reasoning in her head when Akkarin surprised her. He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed and his gaze calculating. "Yes… Yes, I think you shall," he murmured, almost to himself. "Once I secure the… assassin, I will take you to him so you can see the truth for yourself."

Her eagerness must have shown on her face, because Akkarin's black eyes narrowed and bore into her own. "You will be reading an unwilling mind. Are you prepared to learn how?"

Sonea's mouth grew dry. "Is that black magic?" She whispered.

Akkarin's lips relaxed into a half-smile tinged with irony. "No. It is a… natural talent that I developed into a method. But it can be taught."

Then his face grew serious again and he leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the table and interlacing his fingers below his chin. "If the assassin's thoughts turn to a memory showing the use of black magic, I will stop your mind-read, Sonea. To break this law is no small matter that would earn you some menial task or withdrawal of favour."

How did he do that? To manage, somehow, to glean a sense of what even Sonea herself had not yet quite dared to voice – but had, undeniably, wondered at? She hadn't been able to help thinking just then, for a fleeting moment, whether Akkarin wanted her to take over killing the Sachakan assassins if he died. Whether he wanted her to eventually learn black magic.

"I understand," she replied, holding his dark gaze steadily.

"Good."

The High Lord looked at her a moment longer, then nodded and rose from his seat. "Duty calls," he muttered sardonically.

Despite the myriad questions running through Sonea's mind, she couldn't help but smile at his tone. What had felt like – so long ago – the High Lord's tendency to cold ridicule was, somehow, now a sense of humour she could easily detect.

He glided towards her and briefly brushed a finger across her cheek. When Sonea made to get up, Akkarin gestured with a pale hand for her to remain seated.

"Do not begrudge Takan his dessert," he said, his lips curling up at one corner. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, High Lord," she said, returning the smile.

She watched the back of his black-robed shoulders as he walked silently and swiftly to the door of the dining room.

Then Akkarin unexpectedly paused in the doorway, and looked back at Sonea. His black eyes were like two chips of coal as they reflected the candlelight in the room. That languid half-smile still on his lips, his voice issued a deep and quiet command.

"I expect to find you awaiting me in my bedroom upon my return, Sonea."

His bedroom. That was a first. It felt like heat flashed through her limbs.

"You shall, High Lord," Sonea promised in a whisper.