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Not since killing Dakova had Akkarin felt such satisfaction at ending a life.
Killing was a necessary evil, something he did because he had to – the men sent to murder him were poor sods, it was true, but that didn't mean Akkarin could afford to pity them. If he let them live, they would continue to prey on his people, would continue their attempts to assassinate him. And if he died, then all of Kyralia was doomed.
He usually went about this rather nasty business in a detached manner, unwilling to allow himself to feel. He didn't enjoy killing. It had, unfortunately, simply become part of his duties as High Lord of the Magicians' Guild.
Not so tonight. Akkarin felt nothing short of a vindictive satisfaction as he watched the light fade from his enemy's eyes, as he drained him of the last of his life force. That is, after he'd torn the man's mind apart, had dissected it for every bit of information that might be valuable to him, and had made him regret deciding to include Sonea in his plans.
Sonea! Akkarin let go of the dead man's arm and dropped his bloodied knife. He surged to his feet, spun around and hurried into his bedroom. Sonea was where he'd left her, still curled up on her side. She'd had the sense to flip her wrist over so she wasn't lying on the wound – a carpet wasn't exactly a sterile environment, after all. Her hair, which she had started to grow out after she'd officially joined the university, was hiding her face from view, and, given the way she was positioned, Akkarin couldn't tell if she was still breathing.
His heart beating too fast, Akkarin rushed to her side and fell to his knees next to her. She couldn't be dead, no, please, anything but that. With shaking hands, he brushed her hair aside, and pressed his left hand – the one that wasn't bloodied – to her jaw, sending his mind outward.
He sagged with relief when he found her life force – drastically diminished to the point that she had gone into deep shock. However, she was still alive, could still be saved.
Her magic was all but gone, which would hamper her ability to recover on her own. Akkarin tried his utmost not to panic as he took her vitals, assessed the damage the spy had caused.
Her skin felt too cool, and it was even paler than normal, her pulse too weak and her heartbeat irregular. Her breath came in shallow pants. Akkarin frowned, concerned. He had basic knowledge of how to treat shock, but had never actually done it before. He wasn't confident that he would be able to deal with this himself, but his options were sorely limited – ordinarily, he'd call Vinara for assistance, but he'd rather not explain why his novice was in his bedroom, drained of her magic.
He could call Lorlen, he supposed, but he'd also rather not do that. While Lorlen would know why Sonea had no magic left in her body, he'd also immediately suspect Akkarin as the one who had caused this. And Akkarin would rather not deal with that.
Akkarin sent his mind forth and deliberated what he should do first. Her heart seemed like a good place to start – he gently encouraged it to find a more natural rhythm, though he kept it slow for now – he wasn't sure if he'd cause damage if he forced her body to over-perform when it was in such a state. Once he was confident that her blood was flowing properly, he Healed the two cuts the spy had given her – they weren't deep, but any break in the skin, no matter how shallow, was a gateway for any number of harmful things. It also took some of the pressure off her system – her body had already been gearing up to begin healing these cuts itself, and it desperately needed that strength elsewhere.
Her breathing came easier now that her heart was working properly again, and Akkarin tackled her pulse next. He encouraged her blood vessels to tighten a bit to get the blood pressure up, which, in turn, normalised her pulse. Once he had her at a level he felt her body could safely handle, he poured some Healing magic into her. He didn't use it for anything specific, merely offered it to her body to use as it saw fit. And indeed, it quickly set to work and began improving on Akkarin's previous work.
Akkarin knew he could raise her vitals to the point that she would wake up, but deemed this too dangerous. It would be better to wait for her body to sort itself out, and keep an eye on her while she remained unconscious – for she might get worse.
Removing his hand, Akkarin sat back on his heels. She needed to be kept warm, and the closest warm place was his bed. Akkarin grimaced at the thought, but determined it to be the best option, especially since the corridor outside was a mess. The tiny part of his mind that was connected to Takan's told him that he'd already started cleaning – he was currently bundling up the body in a spare bedsheet, so he could dispose of it more easily.
Akkarin reached for Sonea before pausing to examine his right hand. The blood had, thankfully, dried by now, so there was no risk of staining Sonea's skin or nightgown – her nightgown! Akkarin froze at the realisation that she was barely wearing anything – obviously, since she'd been asleep when the spy had broken into her room, and people usually didn't go to bed wearing several layers of clothing. He kept his eyes trained on her pale face as he forced his mind to focus – this was not the time to consider the impropriety of the situation – he was quite certain Sonea would take care of that once she woke up.
If she woke up.
Akkarin resolutely pushed that thought out of his mind. He didn't like the idea of touching her without her knowledge or consent, but there was little he could do about that – he could only hope she wouldn't hate him too much for this – well, more than she already did, at any rate. With a sigh, he lifted Sonea into his arms. Unbidden, a memory rose in his mind – a memory belonging to Rothen, who had been Sonea's guardian before him. Rothen had been among the magicians who had cornered Sonea, who had managed to get her to trust him to the point where he'd been able to show her how to safely use up her uncontrolled magic. Once Sonea had fainted, he'd lifted her into his arms, noticing with dismay just how small and light she had been. He'd taken Sonea back to the Guild, back to his own quarters, where he'd handed her to his servant – a woman named Tania – and instructed her to wash Sonea. After that, Rothen had taken her to his son's old bedroom, and decided, then and there, that this fragile girl from the slums was now his. His daughter. He'd promised to himself to do everything in his power to help her get better, help her overcome her intense, but misplaced fear of magic, and the Guild.
And he would have kept looking out for her if Akkarin hadn't forcefully separated them, hadn't taken Sonea's guardianship for himself, and forced her to move into his residence.
Clenching his jaw, Akkarin once more forced himself to focus on the task at hand – this was not the time to wallow in regret. For now, he had to take care of Sonea. After all, if it hadn't been for him, she wouldn't even be in this situation.
Akkarin carefully laid her down on the bed, lifting her head so he could sweep her hair out from underneath her – he knew how annoying it could be to lie on one's own hair – and then pulled the blanket up all the way to her chin, making sure to tuck her in properly. He left her arms uncovered – she'd probably be disoriented when she woke, and it would be better if her arms weren't "restrained".
He touched the tip of one finger to her hand to check her vitals again, and found that they hadn't changed much – which was good, he supposed. She wasn't worse than she had been. Akkarin straightened and stumbled backwards before slumping to the ground, suddenly feeling exhausted in more ways than one. Not only had he used up quite a bit of magic to subdue the spy – and Heal Sonea – but the stress caused by the attack had also taken its toll. Not to mention that the spy had barely had any magic left by the time Akkarin had torn down his shield, meaning he had been unable to replenish much of what he'd lost. Then again, the thought of absorbing Sonea's magic – if unintentional and second-hand – was revolting, and Akkarin kept telling himself that the spy had used up all of her magic during the fight. Overall, this had been too close for comfort. Sonea had almost died, and he'd been unable to do anything about it.
He couldn't help smiling, though, as he remembered Sonea, barely conscious, telling the spy that she hoped that he would blow himself up with the power he'd stolen from her, or how she'd freed herself, made a lunge for the knife Akkarin had dropped rather than risk the spy making good on his threat – and then had offered it to him. He'd been amazed, astonished and touched, all at once.
Now, Akkarin was not going to fool himself into believing that she trusted him – she'd most likely chosen what seemed to be the lesser evil, the danger she knew – had decided that she'd rather place her life in his hands than in those of a man who had planned to make her watch as he killed him before having his way with her – the things he'd seen in his mind later, the plans he'd had for Sonea, had made him want to retch.
He stared at Sonea's still figure, her pale face, and felt completely and utterly helpless. He had brought her here as a hostage, yes, and he had been prepared to kill her, if necessary – although he had hoped, with all his might, that none of his three "enemies" would force his hand. It hadn't been Sonea's fault that she'd stumbled upon something she should have never seen, had acquired information she shouldn't possess. Still, Akkarin had had every intention to keep her safe under his "protection" as long as she – and Lorlen and Rothen – co-operated. Which they had, so far. The love Rothen and Sonea felt for each other was so strong, they would never do anything that would put the other in danger. Incidentally, it had been that mutual love that had saved their lives that fateful day – if Akkarin hadn't discovered this bond, he might have had to use more drastic measures to keep them in line, like he had with Lorlen – might have had to kill them, even.
He hadn't known, back then, how his feelings for Sonea would change. Had been unable to foresee how she would worm her way into his heart – his stupid, treacherous heart.
Akkarin had sworn to himself that he'd never grow attached to another person again after his harrowing experience in Sachaka – the fewer people he cared about, the better – but ultimately, it had proven futile. Still, he was at war with himself – ignoring and suppressing these unwanted feelings as much as he could.
He only noticed that Takan had, at one point, come into the room when his servant approached him holding Dakova's knife. Even thought it had been in Akkarin's possession for over five years, he refused to refer to it as "his" – refused to acknowledge ownership of a tool that had caused so much pain, suffering, and death.
"Master, you should take some of my strength", Takan murmured as he knelt next to Akkarin, offering him the knife.
The High Lord let out a soft sight, but didn't argue – he would need to rebuild his magic reserves in time for the next spy – there was always another one – and he might have to expend more magic to help Sonea recover.
Akkarin took the knife, and Takan flipped his right arm over, offering his wrist. Akkarin shifted slightly and closed his left hand around it to keep it steady before touching the blade to Takan's skin.
There was no gentle way to cut someone, no gentle way to draw blood, and Akkarin had to overcome his revulsion to hurt the man he considered something in between a friend and a brother every time – although Takan would probably be horrified if he ever told him. As soon as the skin's natural barrier was broken, Akkarin handed the knife to Takan and placed his hand on the wound, and became aware of the power stored inside Takan's body – power on par with what Sonea was wielding. After a moment of consideration, Akkarin proceeded to draw about a quarter of the magic stored inside Takan's body into his own. It felt sufficient for now; he could always take more later if the need arose. But Akkarin wasn't comfortable taking too much power at once. Both he and Takan had made bad experiences with that.
As soon as he was done, he Healed Takan, and thanked him softly. Takan hummed in response as he produced a damp cloth. He used it to wipe the blood off Akkarin's hand before cleaning the knife.
Akkarin slowly rose to his feet, his eyes immediately drawn back to Sonea's pale face. He resisted the urge to check her vitals again – she should still be fine, her breathing seemed normal. Takan rose with him, and clicked his tongue as he took in the still form of the young woman.
"How is she?", he asked in a whisper.
"It's bad", Akkarin replied in a low voice. "She was barely alive when I reached her side. She is slightly better, now, but I thought it best to let her rest, let her body take care of itself at its own pace."
Takan bit his lip. "She'll be fine, won't she?"
"I cannot say", Akkarin admitted after a short pause. "She might not wake again."
The shorter man sucked in a sharp breath. "Can you say how likely that is?"
"No. I only know basic Healing, so I dare not make any kind of prognosis. She seems fine for now, and her mind – while quiet – appears to be undamaged. Of course, prolonged unconsciousness always poses a certain risk. The longer she remains unconscious, the worse the outlook."
"She might wake again, but not be the same afterwards", Takan concluded.
"Indeed. Let us hope it will not come to that."
"Lady Sonea is far too stubborn to simply give up and die."
Despite himself, Akkarin let out a laugh – and immediately clamped his hands over his mouth, fearful that he might have disturbed his novice's rest.
However, Sonea showed no reaction.
Takan sobered, and frowned. "Would you like to keep the body, as evidence, should the worst come to pass?"
Akkarin's mind immediately shied away from considering that possibility, but part of him knew that Takan was right to ask such a question – they had to be prepared, had to plan ahead.
"No", he said at length. "The Higher Magicians know how to recognise the traces left behind by black magic. Even if I managed to pin the blame for Sonea's – her – her death – on the spy, they would still ask the question as to who killed him. And Lorlen knows that I can use black magic. I might just as well confess that I've killed using black magic before, sign my own death sentence. As of now, Lorlen is only suspecting that I might have done that.
"There is, of course, a chance that Lorlen – and Rothen – would suspect me of having killed Sonea, but without concrete proof, they can't accuse me – our laws work in my favour there. And I do hope that they won't think that I'd be stupid enough to do that.
"Dispose of the body – if the worst should come to pass, I will claim that I fought off the attacker, make it sound like he is still out there. That should work."
"I pray it will not come to that", Takan replied sombrely. "Lady Sonea deserves better than such a fate. As do you."
"Am I so transparent?", Akkarin whispered.
"I know you, master", his servant replied simply.
"Fair enough. I'll stay here and keep watch over her – I don't suppose you'd want my help with the cleaning."
"No."
Akkarin let out a chuckle. Takan bowed and took his leave, closing the door behind himself.
Unable to restrain himself, Akkarin went to check on Sonea again – and was pleased to find that her body was busy at work. Her skin no longer felt quite as cold, and colour was slowly returning to her face. Allowing himself a small sigh of relief, Akkarin withdrew his hand.
Not really knowing what to do with himself, he started pacing in between the bed and the door. This was his fault, he knew. He had been careless, had assumed that his residence would be safe, that a spy wouldn't actually dare to come into the Guild. He'd been wrong, and Sonea had paid the price for his arrogance.
From the man's mind, Akkarin knew he'd come in through the window – straight into Sonea's room, the one place she had considered "safe" in his home. Akkarin had gone to great lengths to make sure she never had cause to doubt that, had forbidden Takan from entering her room – unless she permitted it, of course – and had, himself, never stepped a foot inside.
And now, she'd potentially never feel safe in there again because this monster had invaded her little sanctuary. Akkarin increased his pace, his jaw tense. There was no other room he could put her in, she would have to learn to live with this – and, unfortunately, the only people who could help her with working through this mess were Takan, and himself. He couldn't just dump her on one of the Healers and expect them to treat the trauma she was sure to develop, as she'd be unable to tell them the cause – something he was sure Sonea would figure out on her own.
She would not be happy to have to accept help from someone she considered an enemy.
Akkarin stopped dead in his tracks as a thought occurred to him. There was something he could do to mitigate the damage caused tonight, something to prevent another incident like this from happening. He spun around to face the windows, and cast his mind outwards.
Wards flared to life outside, covering the windows, sealing them from the outside. It was still possible to open windows from the inside – and to jump out of the windows if need be – but no-one would be able to get in, at least not quickly. And Akkarin would know the moment something made contact with one of his wards.
Satisfied with his work, he resumed pacing at a more moderate pace, casting another look in Sonea's direction – she was still unconscious, and worry kept nagging at the back of his mind. Akkarin felt a sudden chill – and realised that he was still only dressed in his nightclothes. Biting back a curse, he hurried over to his wardrobe, and pulled out a dressing robe. He felt much better once he was bundled up in another layer, and made sure to tug his sleeves down all the way to hide his scars – something he didn't have to worry about with his robes, as the wide sleeves couldn't just ride up his arms. And he'd trained himself to avoid arm movements that would expose the scars when in the presence of other people.
Akkarin didn't like looking at his scars, didn't like to see the reminder of how foolish he'd been as a young man. He started pacing again, rubbing his arms. It wasn't that his scars were particularly ugly, he'd certainly seen worse ones – it was the memories that came with them that caused him pain and discomfort.
He'd hidden them mostly out of necessity – a magician with the ability to use Healing magic shouldn't have scars, after all. However, given tonight's events, he had an inkling that he would no longer be able to hide them from Sonea.
He bit back a whimper at the thought – he had no idea how she'd react. Would she be disgusted? Horrified? Would she scoff, and look down on him for allowing something like this to happen to himself?
Everything within him rebelled against the idea to expose himself like that, but if it helped him convince her of the truth – convince her that he wasn't a threat, that he was not the one she should be fearing – it'd be worth it, no matter how badly she'd react.
He'd bare the whole ugly truth to her if it won her to his side.
Akkarin took a shuddering breath, and tried to calm his racing thoughts. He dropped his hands to his sides – which took some effort – and reached out to Takan's mind to see what he was doing, as Akkarin couldn't hear him in the hall outside any longer. His servant was currently dragging the corpse down the hidden passage underneath the residence, cursing him in the foulest language he could think of. It was hard to get Takan this riled up – apparently, targeting Sonea did the trick. Not that Akkarin could blame him.
Takan knew, of course, that it had been necessary for Akkarin to terrify Sonea, to make her fear him – but that didn't mean that Takan was any less unhappy about it than his master. He had, time and again, tried to persuade Akkarin to tell her the truth, as he'd hated watching her live in constant fear – Takan had spent the majority of his life in that state, never knowing what would incense his master, what might trigger a punishment. He'd seen himself in Sonea, and the fact that her fear and terror were – technically – unwarranted had upset him deeply.
Akkarin was certain that, if the spy wasn't already dead, Takan would kill him with his bare hands for making Sonea's situation worse. When Akkarin had finally managed to wake him, and explained the situation, Takan had almost suffered a heart attack. He'd been on the verge of a panic, and Akkarin had been in the very unfortunate situation of having to get his servant to focus while also trying to distract the spy, and stall for time.
He'd been surprised – but eternally grateful – when Sonea had seized an opportunity to snark at her captor, keeping him occupied for a few moments.
Sonea might well be the most puzzling woman he had ever met. She was annoying, too nosey for her own good, and sometimes downright impertinent, but she was also kind, intelligent, and dauntless. That was not to say that she didn't have insecurities to battle, that she was completely without fear, but she was one of those people who didn't usually let fear stop them. She would always find a way to move forward, a way to reach her goal.
He was tempted to believe Takan's words that she was too stubborn to die from this.
This brought on a fresh wave of anxiety and dread when he remembered that he'd have to face her once she woke up. His mind was already working itself into a frenzy trying to anticipate every way that particular conversation might go, none of which were pleasant. Logically, Akkarin knew that he shouldn't be terrified of the thought of having to face a petite woman more than ten years his junior, one who was several times weaker than he was, and who was not the leader of the Guild. And yet, here he was, terrified.
It was a blessing that Sonea was unaware just how much power she held over him. He'd have to be exceedingly careful not to let anything on, at least not until he'd won her over. Once her loyalty was secured, he might be able to afford to lower his guard a little. Although that would depend strongly on how she'd react to hearing the truth.
As Akkarin turned around to face Sonea, he noticed a change in her breathing, indicating that she was about to wake up. His heart did something that was both physically and biologically impossible, and Akkarin just barely managed to keep himself from making a sound. He forced all unnecessary thoughts and emotions from his mind – Sonea was what mattered here, not his pathetic problems. He was her guardian, and it was his duty to take care of her – something he'd done a pretty lousy job at so far.
Akkarin composed himself as much as he could, determined not to let any of his emotions bleed through when he chose to speak. He'd give her some time first, to get her bearings. She'd notice soon enough that she wasn't in her own room, and it would not be a good idea to pounce on her while she might still be disoriented and confused.
Her eyelids started to flutter, although it took her several moments to finally open her eyes. Her breaths came deeper now, although they still seemed too shallow – she might need more Healing magic – and she lay absolutely still. Akkarin waited with bated breath, but moments passed, and yet she still showed not outward reaction. Worry set in then, worry that something might be wrong, that her mind had been damaged. Well, there was only one way to find out. Akkarin took a deep breath.
"You're awake."