LOTS - CARA/KAHLAN

Reality

seven_3_oh (Amanda)

Title: reality

Author: seven_3_oh (amanda)

Pairing: Cara/Kahlan, referenced Kahlan/Richard, Kahlan/P. Fyren

Fandom: legend of the seeker

Rating: NC–17

Word Count: 6090

Author’s Warning: m/f sex, quasi –non–con sex, and just angry angst happening all over the place. And itty–bitty plot! Oh yes. PLOT!

Summary: set at the tail end and after the episode 2.11 ‘Torn’. This is the sequel to ILLUSION ( http://seven-3-oh.livejournal.com/22334.htm ). While it may be helpful to read that first, as it is full of het–sex you may decide to avoid it. If you have seen the episode you may know enough about what is going on.

Disclaimer: “Legend of the Seeker”, its characters, and the situations depicted on the show are the property of ABC Studios, Disney, et all, as well as Terry Goodkind. This story cannot be sold or used for profit in any way. Copies of this story may be made for private use only and must include all disclaimers and copyright notices.

Author’s Note: Thank you to those who commented and asked for more, and thank you to my dedicated and gallant gf fosforito4 (baby you are so good to me), for reading, for beta–ing, and putting up with me. Also! I was naughty and added like 2 paragraphs in this since it was beta’d– all errors are my own.

Date: 08232010

Reality

seven_3_oh (Amanda)

As she stormed down the abandoned hallway, putting as much distance between her and that Mother Confessor, her mind wandered slightly, into the past, not long ago when the sun was falling outside the stone walls of Aydindril, and they had all stood inside the Council Chambers.

To look so very much the part, but to be so very different than the whole, would have seemed odd to Cara, but it instead made so much sense. After the time spent traveling with Richard and that particular half of Kahlan, it all slid into place for her. Watching as this one paced back and forth, her fingers twitching and then curling into fists. This too was a half of Kahlan. As the one in white walked past the one in leather, Cara could almost see the energy crackling between them. As if those two halves wanted so desperately to be whole again.

“It will take some time.” Zedd concluded to Richard. Cara didn’t care if it took a moment or a week, so long as it could be done, that the magic corrected.

“Tomorrow then.”

“Tomorrow?” The Mother Confessor complained. “And what, pray tell, am I to do until then? You have your minion watching me,” She flashed her eyes at Cara, “like a hawk. Is that what I can expect?”

“Yes. Cara will keep an eye on you. As she is the one best suited to combat any urges you may have.” Richard had said evenly.

“Fine. And you I am sure will watch over this one?”

“I had considered.”

A puff of air moved roughly from the Mother Confessor. “Mm. Yes. I am sure. Fine then, Seeker.” The Mother Confessor leaned closer to Kahlan, and whispered something quickly, and then backed away, her hands raised as Cara hovered the Agiel beside her neck.

“Back a step or four, please.”

At the time Cara had been more focused on the Mother Confessor, and her movements, keeping a particularly close eye on her weapons; her hands. But now Cara wondered what she had said to Kahlan.

Her gloved hand moved over her face in disgust. She knew exactly what she had said. Knew it with every bone in her body.

“Cara?”

She spun, glaring at Zedd who had just somehow appeared. She had been so involved in her thoughts that she had not heard him approach, “What?!”

“Aren’t you guarding the Mother Confessor?” He asked, looking as though he was about to begin juggling all of the scrolls and books he held.

“Was. Past tense.” She growled.

“Cara she cannot be left alone, you know what she is capable of.” He chastised her.

“Not much.” She scoffed.

“Meaning?”

“She is neither dead nor unconscious.” She mumbled to calm his unvoiced fears. “But a Rada’Han around her neck will keep her hands to herself.” Cara affirmed, crossing her arms.

Zedd had the audacity to sigh. A deep and long sigh. “There are still a dozen confessed people here in the palace, if not more. Any of whom she could control.”

“So?”

“You need to.” Zedd stressed.

Undaunted Cara snapped. “You do it!”

“Cara I am off to the Wizard’s Keep, to prepare for the spell I need to correct this anomaly.” He sighed and looked at her with that odd sense of affection and pleading. “Surely you can handle the Mother Confessor.”

“Surely. But perhaps Richard is better suited?”

“Ah, he has his hands full with Kahlan.”

Of that I have no doubt at all, she thought but merely glared.

“Such a small request. To look after the needs and welfare of your friends.” He said gently, but it still stung. He knew it, as did she. That was the intent.

A serving girl was approaching them, carrying the large tray that should have arrived some time before. Cara had requested it on their way to the Mother Confessor’s chambers. If it had arrived in an expedient fashion she perhaps would have been saved the Mother Confessor’s barbed tongue. If this was D’Hara the girl would be properly punished for her delay. But as it was not, Cara would be forced to hold back her hand. She had been forced repeatedly to hold her hand. And she was tired of being reined in. She watched the girl as she passed them with her eyes downcast in fear, before turning back to Zedd, her mind made up.

“If that is what is needed of me, then I will most certainly look after the Mother Confessor.” She offered and then began walking down the hall way.

“Cara? The Chambers of the Mother Confessor, they are the other way.”

“I know!” She called out not looking back. “There is somewhere I need to visit first.”

* * * * *

The door to the chamber closed softly, but from the way her body moved, Cara knew the Mother Confessor had heard it. She was appearing aloof, but the muscles of her body told a different story. Her back was straight as she sat at her desk, picking at some of the fruit on the platter. Cara noticed she was avoiding the cheeses, and even some of the small cuts of meat on the dinner platter. So very much like Kahlan, the Kahlan she remembered.

“Do you like to watch me eat? Oh. Right. Cara likes watching this body, this person do everything.”

Cara remained silent.

Her lips were plump with contempt and intent as they parted and her tongue slipped out, as she set the small piece of rare roasted meat on it. Her eyes sparkled like starlight on the tumultuous lake, and her nostrils seemed to flare as if she could smell exactly what her actions and expressions were doing to Cara. She watched as her mouth closed over the morsel, as her jaws began moving, chewing. As her pink tongue slipped over her lips, savoring the moment before she swallowed and then spoke. “You love to watch. Do you see exactly what you want? What you desire? Just sitting here. I have submitted to your will. Not once. But twice. How does that feel Cara?”

“How does it feel for you, Mother Confessor?”

“Painfully…frustrating.”

Cara didn’t need to speak; she knew her expression was clear. That was exactly how she felt.

“Your emotions are contradictory to your training, Cara. You were clearly affected by my words, when, as a Mord–Sith you should not be. You rushed from here as it I had…harmed your delicate sensibilities. Perhaps you have become…soft? Weak.”

“It is not the words.” Cara said quietly.

“Mm. The voice speaking them.”

Cara reached across the Mother Confessor, and her fingers snatched a small white slice of cheese. Slowly and deliberately she brought it to her mouth. The Mother Confessor watched, waited. Once she swallowed she spoke. “Softness. Emotion. Yes. You are right. They make one weak. I am far from weak. Perhaps I need a slight reminder… of my training.”

“Oh.”

“You think you could be the one to … help me.”

“I could.”

“You couldn’t.” Cara snapped. “She could. She who makes me feel. She who brought out those emotions. She could break me. She could cut my skin with the kindness in her eyes. But not you. Never you; a pitiful replacement. You are good. But you, Mother Confessor are not good enough.”

“Ironic.” She said as her eyes twinkled with the hint of annoyance.

“Excuse me?”

Ignoring the question, she presented one of her own. Cara watched as her body seemed to tighten, as one would before a fight. It elicited the echoed response in Cara’s muscles. “Why did you come back? I thought you had other things to attend to.”

“Apparently you need to be watched. Closely.”

“Ah. Would Richard not trade with you?” She laughed standing. “No, I doubt he would. Richard will be very busy this evening.”

“Because of your command.”

“Very good, Cara. That Kahlan is on her knees this very moment I am sure. Convincing him to take her in every single way he was ever dreamed. She will humiliate herself for his pleasure. He could beat her and she has been instructed to beg and writhe for more.” She smirked. “Richard will attempt to be noble, but he is a man. And she is the embodiment of his desire. He will take her. He will fill her full of his–”

Cara shoved her against the wall. She could feel her anger becoming provoked. She used the strength of her legs to press her body into the Mother Confessor’s, pinning her against cold stone. Her eyes searched the painfully familiar face. It was the eyes. The eyes held the slight difference. The hardness of blue steel.

“I can command her to be with you. I can. And she will say Richard who, and pleasure you Cara. She will be pliant and supple in your hands. She will be everything you wanted her to be. You can bring her to and over the edge of rapture without having to stop because of confession. You can have that moment that was stolen from you that night beside the fire.”

“I don’t want HER.” Cara pushed her to the point of pain as she spoke, and then she froze. “You… you remember?” It was a shocked whisper, punctuated by her stepping away.

“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

“She… she did not remember.”

“All this time?” Blue eyes searched her face, and Cara felt as though she had fumbled, that she had inadvertently allowed the Mother Confessor to have the upper hand. “You have watched her with Richard and she did not remember her time with you. Oh no wonder you’re so very angry.”

She stepped back further, putting distance between their bodies as she put distance between the feelings that were rolling through her stomach. She closed her eyes for an instant, willing the feelings away, locking them tightly inside of her chest, where they would not be able to gain the freedom to roam her body. “Why do you offer me her, but not you?”

The Mother Confessor’s jaws tightened.

“Why… if you remember, why don’t you want me to pleasure you?” Cara returned to her. To stand closer, to feel the warmth of her skin, and to swing her own verbal weapons. They were fighting. But in a much more violent fashion.

“Pleasure.” She scoffed.

“Pleasure. Which leads to feelings. Which you do not want.” Cara understood. This woman, this version of Kahlan was so very similar to herself.

“No I don’t.” She confirmed words pushed through clenched teeth.

“But you want me. You want to.” Her hands moved over her throat, leather touching cold steal. “You want to know what this? What you and I could be.”

“I think you are the one, Cara. That is aching for this dance. That is burning inside, to taste what I am offering.”

“Taste?” Cara laughed softly, and stepped away. The Mother Confessor’s body leaned after her for a moment, clearly expecting Cara to touch her. Instead she moved to the desk and the tray, keeping her back to the woman while taking up a small morsel of meat and popping it into her mouth. “I have had a taste. As you remember.” Her eyes moved over the desk, checking for any possible weapons. But there were none. No dagger, no long quills. Her eyes sputtered to a stop, as her eyes widened.

On the corner of the desk lay an Agiel. She felt her jaws tighten, and her nostrils flared with the spike of rage that moved through her body. Keeping her eyes on the Agiel she asked, “Where did you get that?”

The Mother Confessor stepped closer, she could feel the tension in her steps, and her voice. “The Mord–Sith that was in the dungeons.”

Cara turned sharply and glared. “She’s dead.” It was a statement.

“Yes. I confessed her.”

“What was her name?”

“She never told me.” The Mother Confessor shrugged. “She was blonde.”

“The majority of us are.”

“Nepotism?”

“Blood lines. Pure D’Haran.” She fought the urge to sigh, as she wondered of all the hundreds of Mord–Sith there where, which one had suffered the torment of confession. “Her body?”

“Burned.”

“Why keep this then?”

“A reminder.”

“Of?”

“Her death. It was. Spectacular.” The Mother Confessor said with reverence.

Cara reached for the Agiel. It was dull, quiet in her hand. She had not known it’s owner. Not intimately. Cara rolled it between her fingers, looking at it. It was well worn, used with ease and precision she was sure. She lifted it to below her nostrils and inhaled. Her eyes widened and then narrowed into slits of teasing.

“Why Mother Confessor. I see now why you kept this souvenir.”

The brunette turned away.

“Kept it to remember her death. You lie.”

“I was not lying! I did. I do. I. I do not have to explain myself to you, Cara.” She tripped over her words.

“You don’t need to explain.” Cara rasped, before pouncing on the Mother Confessor.

* * * * *

She was well aware that she should not want this. It was beyond what was required for her to live. It was neither needed to create new life, or to improve the one she was living, or would live until the Wizard undid the spell. Knowing and understanding were pushed aside by the way her body leapt at Cara. The taste of her lips and the angry possession of her mouth by the Mord–Sith caught fire to the fragmented memories in her mind and as they burned they glowed with intensity and in detail. They become living things, to the point that as her reason vanished, so did the room around them. The Mother Confessor smelt the wood smoke, and the thick wet earth, she could smell the crispness of the night air, as her back’s muscles trembled as strong gloved hands moved over them. With a gasp she pulled her kissing mouth away from Cara, when a hand grasped her sex.

The past collided with the now as her eyes opened and she stared into the determined eyes of the Mord–Sith who was working her fingers in a fast rubbing motion. The feeling was intense, but it could be more. If only her leggings were removed, if only Cara would pull off her glove. The Mother Confessor’s weakness whispered through wet lips, pleading for the touch that she could imagine; that she wanted to once and for all know.

Cara’s lips pulled into a thin line, denying the Mother Confessor the sound, her hand moved steadily; pressure applied against her increasingly wet center.

“Please. Touch me.”

“Where is your reason now?” Cara asked.

“Gone.” She confessed. “This body. Wants you.”

A slowly emerging smirk materialized, and as it became a full expression, Cara ripped down her leggings. They pooled around her booted ankles before Cara’s hands shoved against her shoulders, knocking her down on the bed.

Panting she looked up. Her reason told her this desire was a trick that it was foolish and would end not as she expected.

Desire was stronger than reason.

And it doubled in strength as she watched Cara’s fingers tighten around the shaft of the retrieved Agiel and step closer to her.

* * * * *

“Wait!” The Mother Confessor groaned; just ask Cara shifted her weight, to allow the Agiel in her hand to stroke, to reach forward for her entrance.

“No.”

“Will it hurt?”

“Yes. But not that way. You have put this weapon inside of yourself Mother Confessor. I can smell you on it.”

“But…”

“I have never been harmed by this Agiel. It is without power in my hands. Without…” She pressed the tip teasingly against the Mother Confessor’s opening. “Magic.”

Her head fell back as what felt like the entire firm length was shoved deep inside of her, but then her head snapped back up, as it all was pulled out.

Cara’s free hand moved across her neck, teasingly, as she licked her lips, watching the flush in the Mother Confessor’s skin. Leaning closer to her, wanting to kiss her but forbidding it, she felt the pressure of the metal collar under her forearm. Reminding her that she could take the Mother Confessor over the edge, take her beyond that place she had been denied in the past. She chastised herself. This was a copy, this was not Kahlan. This was not the woman she wanted. And still. The scent of her skin, and the expression in her eyes for one moment, as the Agiel reached deeper inside of her made Cara want to whimper. It seemed so very real. She began to work the Agiel rhythmically, efficiently and quickly, thrusting in and out of the tightening and very wet center. “This is what you wanted isn’t it.”

“No.”

“It is. You wanted me. You tortured her because you wanted it to be me. You confessed her because you wanted it to be me.”

“Yes!”

“You want to be the one holding me down, the one hurting me, taking me with this.”

“Yes.” The Mother Confessor pleaded.

“You can’t. You won’t.”

“Why not?” Kahlan with a surge of strength slammed her thighs closed, halting the movement and leaned up, her face a moment away from Cara’s. “Why can’t you be mine? Why can’t you leave things as they are? Stay here, in Aydindril, with me.”

“Tell me why.”

“I just did!” She hissed exasperated. The frustration on her face was beautiful, and it called to a long forgotten part of Cara.

“Tell me Mother Confessor, do you want me here because you love me, or because the idea of taming me appeals to you.”

She growled, her teeth gnashing in aggravation.

Cara rolled the Agiel in her fingers, that much she could do even with the Mother Confessor’s thighs closed. She knew she could feel it, moving deep inside of her, and grinned as the brunette’s hips bucked wantonly.

“We could be great.” The Mother Confessor hissed.

“You tired to kill me.”

“If you believe that.”

“I know that. It has nothing to do with belief.” Cara narrowed her eyes. “You are logic and reason. You are everything that is etched in stone. You are without empathy and mercy. And while I am admittedly very attracted to that? I cannot be tamed.” Cara captured her lips violently, her free hand grasping at Confessor’s hair and pulling her mouth against hers, loving the feeling of her lips as they parted. Forcefully she moved the Agiel, thrusting, reaching deep inside of her, and her body pulled it, wanting more.

The Mother Confessor seemed to shatter before her eyes, as she pulled her lips away, and her voice heavily panted, “Hurt me.” with her eyes wide and needy.

“Always.” Cara replied, her lips against Kahlan’s. She released the Agiel and stepped away from her. Slowly she walked backwards, wiping the back of her hand over her wet mouth. It took focus and strength to take each step away from the Mother Confessor. As her legs fell open, the released Agiel, slipped from inside of her, and rolled on the bed spread, her center glistening and swollen in the candlelight. It was beautiful, full, and rose in color, dripping with need. With want for more.

Her back pressed against the far wall.

“Cara.” Her voice pleaded again.

“Always.” Cara whispered, as she opened the door, and motioned. With the sound of ankle chains clanking Prince Fyren entered the room.

“Mistress!” He exclaimed.

“She is fine, little Prince.”

“If you hurt her.”

Cara smirked.

* * * * *

He tried to rush at Cara, but her boot connected with his lower belly and he stopped and bent over. Typical, Kahlan thought, as was the next onslaught, of Cara pulling free her Agiel with one hand, grabbing his hair with the other and applying it to the side of his neck with force and determination. His muffled cry sounded before his knees hit the stone floor.

“Enough!” Kahlan growled at them, and part of her was pleased as all eyes moved to her.

Though not to be overshadowed, Cara forcefully caressed his cheek with her Agiel, sending his neck snapping, and a line of blood appeared on his cheek. As if the Agiel, which was smooth, had been the thinnest and sharpest blade. Part of Kahlan quivered. One such object had been hilt deep inside of her, and she had forgotten the magic that an Agiel possessed. She wondered, as her eyes narrowed in on Cara, if the dead Mord–Sith’s Agiel was truly as powerless as she had led her to believe.

“Prince Fyren!” She said harshly, silencing his growl. Confessed he would push through any pain Cara bestowed on him, if he thought he was protecting her. “You will obey Mistress Cara as if she were me. Her words and her commands. Is that understood?”

“Of course my Mistress.”

She moved her eye back to Cara and smirked up at her, as if to ask if she was happy now.

“Mm. Good pet.” Cara murmured patting the top of his head roughly.

“If you cared for her, you wouldn’t do this.” Kahlan said evenly, reading the intent quite clearly.

“Wouldn’t I?” Cara growled. “You remember, don’t you? You remember the things I said to Kahlan, you remember the steps I took at her behest. She asked and I did. Because I cared. If you remember, even if you don’t feel the emotions that she may, or may not have, you do remember.”

“I do.”

“Then you know I am more than capable of doing this.” Cara took a slight step closer. “What did she tell me was the only thing keeping her from giving in to me?”

Kahlan blinked. She knew exactly what had been said that night, the darkness not able to hide the tears in Cara’s eyes as words were truthfully spoken.

“Your Mistress is in need of a child.” Cara chastised hastily. “She needs to continue the line of Confessors. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes.” Kahlan said through clenched teeth.

“Well then. Get busy, little Prince.” She kicked against his backside, shoving him towards Kahlan.

“And you will just watch.”

“Why not? I’ve watched Richard try. Let us see how this one measures up.”

Prince Fyren slipped onto the bed, and whispered to Kahlan. “I can kill her for you Mistress.”

“No. just. Do as she says.” She sighed.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes. But Prince Fyren. Do not be gentle.” She said rolling over and holding onto the edge of the bed, her eyes boring into Cara’s, “If she insists on watching, I insist on teaching her a lesson.” She grimaced as he mounted her from behind. “I doubt you can and will watch Cara. Because to see this face, this body, that you covet so very strongly being misused will be too much.”

“You were clearly asking the wrong questions of your captured Mord–Sith.”

Kahlan blinked.

“Harder Prince Fyren. Your mistress wants to scream.” Cara crossed her arms, and stood looking down on Kahlan. “Mord–Sith play this game for relaxation, Mother Confessor. You do not understand the lengths I will go to, to ensure that Kahlan, when she is returned? Is healthy and happy and has all that she could ever want.”

“You want her to want you.”

“I do. But I doubt she will. She shouldn’t.”

“Why? Because of some archaic need to please you Lord Rahl?”

“No. Because I want to hurt you. I look at your face and your eyes and I want to hurt you so very much. And I cannot allow that to happen. I cannot hurt her. “

“But you are.” Kahlan panted, trying to ignore the feelings rolling through her body. The physical and the emotional at being humiliated before this Mord–Sith.

“I always do.”

* * * * *

Her eyes seethed with rage, nearly dripping with it, but Cara kept her mask of indifference on her face. Inside Cara was screaming, drowning in her thick turbulent ocean of self hatred. She wanted to swallow it all down, for it to fill her lungs and kill her. She did not want to exist, not now, not seeing what she was capable of doing to the one woman who had made her truly open up and feel; care.

The Mord–Sith in her cheered with each of the Prince’s thrusts, laughed maniacally with every tremor in the Mother Confessor’s face. She was punishing her, for being the one who tried to allow Cara the woman to flourish, where it should only have been the Mord–Sith; who seethed and breathed flames of pain.

* * * * *

“Move.” Cara said nudging the kneeling Prince with her boot. He had climaxed into the Mother Confessor quickly and she had laughed with a false victory in her blue eyes. That laughter died when Cara ordered her stripped naked and commanded the Prince to take her again. Once he had finished his task he had dropped to his knees beside the bed. Cara had ordered him to push the Mother Confessor. To take her from the pleasure she was feeling and move her into the realm of humiliation and anger. The transformation seemed to exhaust her, and she hand crumbled, her fingers digging into the blankets and she pressed her face down, to take her eyes from those watching her.

“But my Mistress.” He argued.

“Is sleeping.”

“And vulnerable. I must protect her.”

“I will protect her. Did she not tell you to obey me? Obey as if I were her?”

“She did.”

She grabbed a handful of his hair and wrenched his neck back as she kneeled beside him.

“The Mord–Sith that was in the dungeon. What was her name?” She asked quietly into his ear.

“Why would I know that?”

“She was there by your order little Prince.”

“No. No Mistress.” His voice was lessened as her fingers tightened in his hair. “She was merely brought here.”

“Why?”

“To die.”

She punched him squarely in the face, his nose cracking easily. “Why was she captured? Where?”

“Skelwith. she had tried to capture the wizard who lived there. There were many of them. Only she was captured.”

“And.”

“That is all I know Mistress.”

Dissatisfied she let him go and stood. It made no sense, for villagers in a small town to be able to best a Mord–Sith. She should have fought to the death before allowing them to take her captive. Unless is was an ambush. Or if she no longer cared. Cara herself had been bested by simple villagers. Because she no longer cared, at the time, and her defenses had been down.

She felt a tentative hand on her shin, and glared down at Prince Fyren. His eyes were wide with worry, blood dripped from his nose.

“Shall I please you now?”

“You couldn’t possibly. Leave these chambers, and tell the guard outside that you are to be taken to your cell in the dungeon.”

“Yes Mistress Cara.” He pouted and slowly left through the door. She followed him and then set the strong lock. Cara moved around the room, extinguishing candles. Two on the desk she left burning, before she went to stand, to look down on the Mother Confessor as she slept. Her skin was still flushed from the abuse, but it would fade. It would all fade.

Cara pulled the thin bed linen over her naked body, before she kneeled beside the bed. Gently she set her hand on the edge of it, and her cheek upon that, and sighed.

* * * * *

Her breathing slowed, but only slightly. Kahlan knew she was a very light sleeper. She also knew that she was most assuredly asleep. Just as she had heard Cara whisper an apology before allowing herself to drift.

Slowly Kahlan opened her swollen eyes, stung as they were from the river of tears she had refused to allow to fall. Love was a useless emotion. It made one feel, and it made one hesitate, make mistakes, and above all clouded judgment. Reason and logic, cold as they seemed were exactly what the world needed. Not love. Not feelings.

The entire evening, every moment she would catch Cara’s eyes and she would see in them smoldering love. She would see that pain radiating inside creating a pathway out. As if what was taking place hurt Cara not Kahlan. And as she had been standing so very close to the bed, close enough that Kahlan could smell Cara’s arousal through her leather, close enough that she could have reached her hand out and caressed Cara’s strong thighs as the Prince serviced her, their eyes had met, and Kahlan watched as the pain and the love in Cara’s eyes burned out.

And in that moment she realized to her own pathetic horror that she did love Cara.

In her some way she did.

But none of that would matter after tomorrow.

* * * * *

“This is the last chance.” The Mother Confessor said to Cara as they were about to enter the Council Chamber. Her hand hovered over Cara’s arm, but she did not touch her. She knew better than to try, now that the Rada’Han had been removed from her neck. Cara held her Agiels in both hands, her eyes suspicious. “You can help me stop this idiocrosy.”

She blanched. They had been silent during the morning, neither beginning to speak. Instead the Mother Confessor had washed herself, and then dressed, preparing for what she knew would come. Cara had only hoped that Zedd had the time he needed, because she did not think she could stand idly beside the Mother Confessor for much longer. For her to look at her with wide blue eyes, and to suddenly act as though Cara had not treated her as she had, as if all that had happened the night before was swept aside confused her. “After all that I have done you still offer me–”

“A future. With me. Yes. I do Cara.”

“Why?”

“With you.” Cara watched as she paused, as if she could not find the words, or what may be more accurate, the Confessor did not want to offer them. She closed her eyes, “I know understanding.”

Cara shook her head. “No.”

Her eyes flashed open. “If that is your decision.”

“It is.”

Her lips thinned out angrily. “Remember then, that this was what you were offered. In the days and years that follow, when you are alone and full of the bitter taste of regret. Remember that I offered you the world. I offered to have you standing beside me, as my chosen one. My champion. Remember that you refused me.”

Cara knew that she would.

The guards threw wide the Council Chamber doors, and the Mother Confessor turned and marched inside, her white dress trailing behind her.

* * * * *

“I too could be pregnant, Mistress. I was with Richard. Many times. Many.” The weak version of her said proudly, and she smirked at seeing Richard’s thickening blush.

“Well.” Zedd huffed, before moving to stand before each of them, his palm flat. He moved from Kahlan to stand before her. She looked over his shoulder at Cara. She was standing somewhat back from Richard, but still her face held a smug expression. As if she was merely waiting to hear the announcement. “Neither of you is with child.”

“What?” Cara slipped and her eyes widened.

No one paid her exclamation any attention as Zedd continued. “It is impossible really. You are divided. A division could not allow life to be created.” He was pleased.

Cara’s face radiated horror, until her mask slipped back into place.

“Get on with it. If you must kill me. Do it.” Kahlan said angrily.

* * * * *

The magic moved over her skin like a faint breeze thickened by a mist, and in it’s wake, Kahlan, only one Kahlan, lay on the ground. Her expression was shock, and unease. Richard moved to her, offering his hand with a smile. Cara on the other hand watched very closely. For signs, for something to prove that the spell had worked, that this woman before them was the one true Kahlan Amnell.

“What… how did you all get here?” She asked, rising slowly, her eyes blinking as she looked around.

“You don’t remember?” Richard asked.

“Remember what?” Kahlan said, running her fingers through her hair.

Cara sighed, relief filling her as she pushed her Agiels firmly in their holsters.

* * * * *

The fog in her mind began to clear, as Richard and Zedd spoke and laughed. She smiled, and nodded, but as she listened, as she became acutely aware of eyes on her she stepped slightly to the right, to look over at Cara. Her green eyes swiftly moved to the floor.

“Cara?” When she looked up at her, Kahlan suddenly felt her mind grow dizzy, and her heart raced at the look of sadness in her friend’s eyes. “Cara, what is it?”

“Glad you are back.” She offered as a substitute for an explanation.

* * * * *

Nodding to the guards she moved to stand before the thick iron bars of the cell, looking in at the pacing man. His hair and clothes were disheveled, and stained, and as he turned the venom his heart produced red to color his cheeks.

“You.”

“Prince Fyren.”

“This atrocity will not go unpunished.” He rushed the bars, clutching them tightly in his hands. His voice was so enraged and loud spit flew from his lips, but she did not flinch. “You dared confess me. ME! A HIGH PRINCE OF KELTON.”

“It was adequate punishment for your crime.”

“The time of Confessors is over. Now is the time of Kings.”

“And you are merely a prince.”

“No! I will rule the Midlands. I will restore honor to our people. You abandoned us all; you are nothing but the Seeker’s concubine. And while I may not be allowed to kill you outright, not to extract my vengeance. A price will be set upon your head, and on the head of that red clad demon. I will ensure that you are tried and convicted for what you did to me, Kahlan Amnell. I will see you arrested, convicted and then burned alive on the pyre for your crimes. But oh. I will ensure that your whore is killed before your very eyes first. She will be drawn and quartered, and you will watch. She will feel more pain and torment than even a Keeper’s Minion like her knows. I will.”

Her hand grasped his and his voice silenced. The guards chainmail stopped rattling has he shifted nervously. The noise from above in the Confessor’s Palace ended, and there was nothing. There was nothing but Kahlan glaring into his eyes as she lowered the protective barriers around her power and released it into him. With a crash a hundred times more jarring than a lightning strike to an ancient oak tree, his eyes turned black, and then his face went slack.

“Command me Mistress.” He whispered his eyes wide with devotion.

“You will leave here and return to Kelton. You will act as the High Prince, as if nothing has happened. You were forgiven your crimes by me, the Mother Confessor. You will not tell or admit to anyone that you have been confessed again. You may even speak unkindly of me, if others do so.” She looked hard at him. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Yes, Mother Confessor.” She corrected.

“Yes, Mother Confessor.”

“Good. You hold nothing but respect in your heart for the Seeker, the Wizard Zeddicus, myself, and Cara. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mother Confessor.”

“Very well. Thank you Prince Fyren for your service to the Midlands, and to me.” She said evenly, before turning slightly and stepping away.

“Do you agree?” She asked.

Zedd stepped from the shadows, moving into step beside her. “What’s done is done for the greater good of all.”

“Mm.” She moved through the open doorway, which lead to the stone stairwell and up to the main palace. “The guard?”

“A little touch of glamour. To neither recall what was heard, or seen.”

“And all of this was because he would exact revenge.”

“Yes.”

“Zedd.” She stopped for a moment, and listened as the door was closed behind them. “What was he talking about?”

“I don’t know exactly. Perhaps only Cara knows.”

Kahlan’s reply was merely a nod of her head, as she began moving again, wanting to distance herself from the damp and the dark of the dungeons and the secrets it kept.

Part 2

“Well the food was good. That rendition of ‘Glory to the Seeker’ seemed a little overboard though.”

“Would that be the first time the minstrels sang it or the fourth?” Kahlan asked.

Richard laughed as they moved inside the halls of the Confessor’s Palace after spending the evening at Ambrosios. They had left Zedd there, surrounded by a handful of wizards as well as a contingency of those who clamored at the chance to hear tales of the Seeker from the First Wizard himself. Kahlan was tired, and had begged off soon after completing dinner. Normally the crowds and the gaiety would have been a comfort to her, but the throbbing behind her eyes reminded her that being spit in two and living two separate lives for a week was draining. Kahlan wanted very little at the moment that was beyond laying in her bed and sleeping in a comfortable silence.

Out of the corner of her eye she spotted the telltale color of blood.

Her hand pressed to Richard’s chest but her eyes tracked the hallway where Cara had disappeared to.

“Richard, will you excuse me for a moment?”

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“Nothing. Just. Cara didn’t come with us to dinner. I want to be sure she is alright.”

“Cara? Our Cara? How could you tell?”

Kahlan smiled and pushed teasingly on him.

He smiled softly. “I think seeing two of you bothered her.”

“I would imagine.” Kahlan said a little stiffly.

“She noticed right away that you were different. Whereas my judgment was a little clouded.” His cheeks colored again. They had been doing that every time he talked about or alluded to what had happened. “I will go wait in your chambers.”

“Richard.” She stressed his name. They had talked about propriety and how it would be viewed.

“Please? That bed is certainly big enough for us both to… be good.” He promised innocently, but his eyes still twinkled.

“I don’t believe you for a second. Nor do I think the staff would either.” She shook her head smiling.

“I will be waiting for you, just the same.” He kissed her cheek and then continued to walk down the hallway. Shaking her head and smiling, Kahlan verged to the right instead, her footsteps increasing as she attempting to catch up to the fast walking Mord–Sith.

* * * * *

“Cara? Cara wait.”

She stopped walking, but did not turn around. She had heard the murmurs in the Palace once Kahlan and Richard had returned, and had been trying to become preoccupied. Stalking the halls seemed the best thing to do, and she did get a slight sensation of joy every time she turned down one of the darker corridors to see maidservants or guards literally jump and scurry to get out of her way. Crossing paths with Kahlan on the other hand was not something that brought about feelings of joy. On the contrary, seeing her caused the acidic boiling of emotions to race from her stomach, coating her throat in bile. It was unfamiliar and disconcerting, these feelings of guilt and unease. She did her best to not turn, to not look at Kahlan when she called her name. Her instincts were to move quickly. To walk away. Yet she could hear the slap of the soft leather soled boots Kahlan favored against the stone floor, increasing as she practically ran towards Cara. Her shoulders stiffened as Kahlan walked around her, facing her.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Cara’s eyes looked everywhere but into Kahlan’s eyes. “No. You’ve been busy.”

“I am never to busy for.”

Feeling cornered her spine stiffened and her muscles all snapped to attention, tight and ready, her eyes glaring at Kahlan. “Can I help you with something, Mother Confessor?”

Fingers slipped around her forearm, almost gently caressing the leather before they tightened, vice like in their intent. As Kahlan pulled her further down the shadowed hallway, Cara growled. “Do you mind?”

“I do! I do very much.”

Cara pulled away from her fixed touch harshly. “You may not remember what happened. But I do.”

“Cara I need you to know.”

“I saw what I saw.”

“Damnit. Don’t. Let me speak.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

Air burst from her mouth as the cold stone granite collided with her back, and her ears for a moment rang with the impact of her skull. Her eyes widened, staring deeply into the churning blue that haunted Cara, and she knew, from the way Kahlan was looking at her that she could not hide. Not this time. Not in this moment. She was trapped, held and owned by those eyes, by their burning intensity, the force of the hands on her shoulders, and the lips that roughly pressed against her own.

She was caught off guard, and her whimpered moan startled her with its intensity, just as her arms reached up and around wrapping Kahlan in a fierce embrace.

* * * * *

The kiss was forceful and desperate. Kahlan felt the desperation burning through her veins. Too many moments had passed since she had felt Cara pressed against her, too many instances where she had been denied the flavor of her mouth. Releasing her bottled up desire Kahlan kissed her roughly and Cara did, for a moment kiss her back.

The fingers digging into her shoulders with intensity and need were suddenly pushing her away. Kahlan blinked, looking into Cara’s face, seeing her eyes closed painfully as she panted, “No. We can’t.”

“Why not?” Kahlan asked trying to pull Cara closer.

A leather gloved hand settled on her collar bone and pushed, until Cara’s arm was straightened, her elbow locked. The pain of the pressure had caused Kahlan to step back, and some of the desire which colored her vision dripped away.

“Didn’t he tell you? What was done?” Her eyes were still closed.

Speaking softly, wishing she would just open her eyes, just for a moment look at her Kahlan replied, “He did. And Cara I know,”

Those eyes did flash open suddenly. “Did he tell you how you looked at me with hate?”

“Cara.” She pleaded, reaching for her again, almost unable to stop her hands from touching leather.

“Please. I…” Cara turned away. “You don’t want me. And I understand that now.” She said and stormed away.

“Yes. I do. And if you weren’t so stubborn you would see that.” Kahlan mumbled under her breath, knowing it was pointless to push Cara. At least now. She needed more time. The guilt in her deep green eyes was too fresh. And nothing Kahlan could say would lessen it. Perhaps only time could.

* * * * *

Kahlan was sitting behind the desk in her private chamber; even more papers were staked there today than had been yesterday when Cara had peeked into the room, and certainly more than had been there when she had leaned against the table with the other Mother Confessor. Now, as Cara was nudged into the room by Zedd, she could see that Kahlan was nearly being consumed by a mountain of papers. Richard was pacing, trying not to appear as though he was, but Cara could read the tension in his shoulders. She looked to Kahlan and she too had a strained expression on her face. Once she had stepped two feet into the room she stopped. Zedd had asked her to come, but that did not mean she had to make herself comfortable by flopping down on the bed. In fact she wanted to set fire to that bed, rather than look at it.

“Cara.” Zedd whispered to her and she merely glared at him, and his shoulders shrugged.

A sigh filled the room, and Cara’s eyes met those of Kahlan’s. For a moment, seeing her sitting there in white Cara flashed to how that white material so easily bunched in her fist, how it held the Mother Confessor’s curves as she panted for breath. In Kahlan’s eyes there was that warmth, that glow that had brought out feelings inside of Cara. Gone was the steel cold, but for some reasons the things Cara had seen and the things she had done haunted her. Never had actions stayed with her, turning inside of her and becoming sour. Kahlan’s eyes flicked to the bed for a moment, and Cara watched. Blue eyes became unfocused, and a sad smile pulled on her lips, before Kahlan looked back to Cara.

It was as if she knew the visions that haunted Cara.

But that was impossible.

“There is too much.” Kahlan said softly, before her eyes left Cara’s and settled on Zedd as she smiled sadly. “Too many decrees too many summons. Dennee should arrive in a few days time, but as I was telling Richard, the quest is too important. We have wasted enough time as it is…merely because of me.”

“And I explained to her that we can wait a day or two more, if that means.” Richard began, and Cara watched as he smiled gently at Kahlan, but his fingers went around the hilt of the Sword of Truth.

“Will you explain to him that the longer I stay here, the more there will be to do?” Kahlan pleaded to Zedd.

“Well, the Midlands are in need of their Mother Confessor, Kahlan.” Zedd began. “I know you are going to say that the Seeker needs you more, and I dare say with what we are up against I believe you are right.”

“I won’t let her stay here to merely catch up later. Traveling on her own.”

“Cara could.” Kahlan started, and Cara’s head jumped up.

Cara could most certainly not! Her mind screamed.

“I think that the Central Council will be more than adequate to oversee daily requirements until Dennee arrives. I don’t see why we cannot begin the quest anew tomorrow morning.” Zedd smiled.

Cara’s shoulders relaxed.

“Do you think that best?” Kahlan asked.

“I do.” Zedd stressed.

“Tomorrow then,” Kahlan sighed and reached for another stack of papers.

“I’ll see to dinner.” Richard said smiling.

“Have it brought here; there is much that I should be doing before we leave.”

“As you command.” Richard said, kissing her forehead, “Mother Confessor.” As he walked by he bumped Cara’s shoulder, “Soon we can be back on the quest. I am sure that pleases you.”

“Pleases? Saving the world, versus sitting around here bored? I think it goes without saying.”

Richard laughed. “Come on. If she insists on working all night, you and I can see to supplies.”

Cara groaned.

“After we spar?”

Cara tried very hard to hold back her smile, but the idea of hitting someone was very appealing.

* * * * *

“There is something not right with Cara.” Zedd said softly once she left the inner sanctum of the campfire’s light.

“What do you mean?” Richard asked, the leg of rabbit hovering before his lips for a instant, as a perplexed look blossomed on his face.

“I don’t know. But I think one of all of us should get to the bottom of it. She has been acting strange since you all arrived in Aydindril.”

“Define strange.” Richard said with a mouthful and a chuckle.

Kahlan on the other hand, pushed her food around her bowl, her appetite gone. It had only been a day since they left the warmth of the Palace and city walls, but the chill coming off of Cara was palpable. And sitting around discussing Cara like she was something easily fixed made her appetite flee.

“Did anything odd happen when you were traveling? With the other version of Kahlan?” Zedd asked.

“Well. Some things happened.” Richard said softly, and even in the waning light she could see the color filling his cheeks.

“With Cara, Richard. Anything happen with Cara?” Zedd stressed.

“No. She was,” Richard shrugged, “You know, Cara.”

“Well something is not the same. We left Aydindril two nights ago, and she seems to be getting worse. I fear it may be.”

“Zedd. I am sure it has nothing to do with magic. Perhaps more to do with the feeling Richard keeps having, that we are being followed?” Kahlan pressed, changing the subject. She was still raw from her own ordeal with magic, plus she was quite certain she knew exactly what was bothering Cara. Though to admit it to these two was to admit to another long litany of things she was not in the mood to talk about.

“Could be.” Zedd said, eyeing her bowl of untouched dinner. Smiling she handed it to him. His own grin beamed as he took it. “Why thank you. Well.” He popped a piece of meat and onion into his mouth, “perhaps I can devise some sort of trap, to determine who may be following us.”

“Why don’t we hold off on that?” Richard asked. “I’d like to see if they make a mistake, before we resort to magic. I have a feeling that they are biding their time. It shouldn’t be too long now.”

* * * * *

She was curled into him, even though the reality was that Richard was not a man big enough to surround her, as they slept Kahlan’s body managed to curl into itself, in just the right way that Richard could easily shelter her from the cold breeze. She was watching them, as they both slept. The toe of her boot was close enough to Richard’s face that with each breathe exhaled it clouded her leather.

She knew that the instinct she was feeling to pull back and kick was not a honorable one, but she did not move away either. This was supposed to be Kahlan. The Kahlan. Two halves made whole again. Two halves that did not remember any of the events that took place, in separate locations with separate minds. Or was it one mind and one heart.

Perhaps that had been what had truly happened. Kahlan had wished to not leave, and so she had not. Her heart had not. It had stayed at Richard’s side, and it had earned everything it desired. Kahlan had known the love of her heart’s mate. Repeatedly. Their bond had grown stronger. And in her heart there had been only contempt, jealousy and hate for Cara.

She crossed her arms.

The words the Mother Confessor spoke were full of logic and of reason. She wanted to possess Cara and destroy her. And the Mother Confessor had remembered her. She had known that Cara was an asset to her.

As she looked down at Kahlan, the whole woman, she seemed to understand now. Those moments they had spent alone. Moments and whispers. Touches and sighs. Warm nights where the moon highlighted the sweaty sheen on their skin; Kahlan had spoken of feelings, but she was truly speaking of logic. With Richard away Kahlan had needed an ally. Needed to find someone to connect with, who would live and die to protect her. It was logical that she would choose Cara. Not because she was there, but because she was perfect for the task. She was built to serve and protect. Kahlan just went about ruling Cara with a velvet kiss versus and iron fist.

Cara would have preferred the later.

She took a few steps back, knowing that the Wizard was waking. His breathing had changed. She turned around and walked passed him, “All quiet.” Was all she said, before making her way to the other side of the camp, and her bedroll.

* * * * *

The compass was directing them north.

Kahlan stared at the blue lights moving along the small circular jewels, before looking out along the rolling hills to the south, and then back through the thick forests. It made no sense. Just that morning they had been moving towards the open plains but now. She looked back down at the compass sitting in Richard’s palm.

“Before…” Kahlan’s voice paused. “It was directing you south. Why has it changed now?”

“Should we even ask?” Zedd asked, patting Richard’s shoulder. “The compass is leading the Seeker where he needs to travel.”

Smiling Richard closed his hand and tucked the compass away. “Well that settles it then. We head north.” He looked over his shoulder. “Cara should be on her way back with those water skins.”

“You to go on. I will fetch her and we will meet up soon. I am sure there will be plenty of berry bushes to slow you down the further we get into the woods.” Kahlan said with a smile and Zedd mimicked it.

She had decided to sit on a small log, and wait for Cara, instead of hunting her down. It gave her a few moments to gather her thoughts. The things she needed to say had to be done quickly and succinctly, before Cara had time to close her mind, or rush away. Where Kahlan had failed when they were still in Aydindril she knew she could not fail again. There was too much Cara needed to know, to understand. There were all of these thoughts, and words floating through Kahlan’s mind, memories that haunted her now, as if they were surrounded by poison tipped spikes. Memories of Cara’s smile, hearing her laughter, the feeling of soft leather coated fingers brushing along her cheek, warm lips moving along her throat. Whispered memories of promise. And so much more, twisted inside of her heart, and slammed in her skull.

If she was direct. Fast. No hesitation then she could say what she needed to say.

Kahlan was ready, and looked up from the hands in her lap as Cara meandered through the trees, shadows making her leather appear black for a moment, as she carried the four water skins over her shoulders. All four were dropped at Kahlan’s feet.

“I would like to talk.”

“That surprises me.” Cara said off handedly.

“Really?”

“No, not really. Of course you want to talk. But I do not share that want.”

“Cara.”

Her teeth ground together.

“What you had to see? Was cruel. What you felt because of that version of me? Doubly cruel. I never wanted to hurt you like that.”

“Again with wanting. There is no want. There is what is. That is all.”

“I feel like we have taken a dozen steps back.”

Cara crossed her arms.

“We. You and I.”

Cara interrupted, “Richard loves you. He loves you more each day.”

Kahlan stepped back as if struck.

“He looks at you and hope grows in his eyes. Hope for the life the two of you can have together. Once the quest is done.” Cara leaned closer. “You. You were the one who told me that this? Us? Could not be.”

“I didn’t. What I meant was.”

“Nothing has changed.”

“Everything has changed!” Kahlan said exasperatedly.

Cara’s brow twitched.

“Cara I–”

Her hands instinctively moved to her face as something brushed violently against her. Kahlan could feel the rough whisper of it across the backs of her hands, and pulling at her hair. A low growl filled the air between them, and looking up in shock she could hear the hiss of the Agiels in Cara’s hands, and watched as a faint black shadow moved away from them. Cara took a step, her back pressing against Kahlan, guarding her.

“What in the Spirits name?” Kahlan asked, reaching for her daggers.

“Not Spirits. It was that!” Cara growled pointing towards the thick trees and brush, as suddenly a man, in filthy rags tumbled out of them. “Well not that.”

“Mother Confessor? Is that you?” The man asked, trying to gain his footing, while waving his arm over his head. His face was bruised and filthy, leaves stuck haphazardly in his hair. His eyes though were wide and wild, flashing a pale color that was neither green nor brown. They almost seemed to glow from the dark filth of his face. His clothes were in no better shape. The tunic dark and torn, a belt missing, and his leggings or pants ripped along one side. He appeared a beggar, but under the filth his clothes were fine linen, and his boots were thick black leather under dried mud. Kahlan noticed his was favoring one arm.

Kahlan stepped around Cara her daggers still tight in her hands. “I am. Who are you, and what was?”

“Did you see it too?” He asked.

“We did.” Cara snaked around him, eyeing him suspiciously. “Not your doing?”

“Oh no! No. That… that bird just came out of the sky and pecked my head.”

“Hmm.” Cara was still watching him, her body ready to strike.

“Cara, it’s all right.”

Ignoring her, Cara moved behind him, close enough that he looked very concerned, eyes wide and jumping from Kahlan to each side trying to see Cara. She stayed just outside of his view, and leered her voice commanding, “Who are you and why are you here?”

Kahlan could see his hair moving due to Cara’s voice. That was how close she was.

“I’ve… I have come from the village or Larkham. We need you, Mother Confessor.”

“Be that as it may, but the Mother Confessor is on a quest.” Cara said, moving around him, her Agiel moving to hover before his nose.

“Cara!” Kahlan ordered her, and with her eyes narrowed she did step back from the man, if only slightly. Shaking her head Kahlan looked back to the man, “What is the nature of the problem?”

“We have a murderer locked in the constable’s cells. Who swears that they are innocent. They have been convicted by the elders, and it has been declared that they will be put to death.”

Kahlan sighed, “I see no need.”

“The killer is a child.”

“Come again?” Kahlan stumbled with her words.

“It… is my daughter. I cannot let them kill her. She is innocent.”

A pinch of tension settled between Kahlan’s eyes. A child. “If I have to confess her, to learn the truth…”

“I would rather that, than her swing from the gallows.”

* * * * *

“Richard?” Cara asked.

He looked up from the map.

“I think the best way to proceed into that village is for the Mother Confessor and the Wizard to head in first, alone.”

His brows furrowed.

Cara looked over her shoulder again, to the man who was sitting, his wounds, apparently from crossing paths with some road thieves and not having any coin, and were being attended to by Zedd. Kahlan was sitting close to him, as he again told her the ridiculous tale of his sweet innocent little daughter, who had somehow managed to murder three grown men.

It wasn’t that Cara didn’t believe him, she did believe he was a father in grief, not understanding how his little precious miniature human could have killed others, it was that she thought it foolish to run into a village to prove to him that even young children can be merciless. She had killed her own father at a very young age. It was more than possible for it to happen. For their quest to be sidetracked was one thing, but to be sidetracked into the village of Larkham was something else all together.

“A Mother Confessor always travels with a Wizard. If they are to enter together, without us, they will be welcomed into the village. No one will suspect anything is amiss. We can then follow them in later, disguised of course.”

“Because this village?” He did not understand. Nor did she expect him to. He may be Lord Rahl, but Richard was many moons away from understanding exactly what that meant.

“Has been a village where Mord–Sith take children.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Much like Stowcroft, which produced a great many Mord–Sith, this village is much the same.” Cara thought for a moment, before lowering her voice, “They will not take kindly to my entering into their gates. And I will not allow you to go in without me.”

“Cara, I am sure that we could go there, and talk to them. By now they have heard of the Seeker and this quest.”

“Perhaps. Or they could be sympathetic to Darken Rahl and those rogue generals of the Thirteenth Infantry.”

“The what?”

“Richard.” She squatted down to look him in the eye. She worried her bottom lip before continuing, “This village is near the border with D’Hara. Many children have been taken, to be either Mord–Sith or trained to in the service of the Dragon Corp or the Thirteenth Infantry. This means that as compensation the previous Lord Rahl provided stipends for the village elders.”

“He would do that? Pay them.”

“Yes.” She said bemused that this seemed odd to him.

“Well we cannot allow Kahlan to.”

Cara interrupted him, “The Mother Confessor and a First Wizard? They will be fine. Even if the village is loyal to D’Hara? It is in the Midlands and under her command. They will respect that.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“It’s logical. It is how things have been done for hundreds of years.” She saw that he was considering her words. “Go to her. Tell her this idea as if it were your own. I bet you she will agree.”

His eyes twinkled slightly and Cara knew she had convinced him. “What do you bet?” He grinned.

“I’ll let you cook for a week.” She smirked.

* * * * *

The small village was bustling, productive and seemed harmonious as Kahlan walked the hard packed earthen street. The hood was up, the white setting her face in shadow and allowing her the privacy to look with her stern eye at the men and women as they bowed and moved away. There were some whispering as she, Zedd, and Jerran, the father, walked passed. It was very evident why she was in their small village.

As they approached the building that was set apart from the others, she noticed the royal flags of both D’Hara and the Midlands raised on poles from the roof. Both were snapping lazily in the half breeze of the afternoon.

The hair on the back of her neck rose and swayed with apprehension.

A town in the Midlands loyal to D’Hara. It was uncomfortable, but made sense. When the boundary was up between the two kingdoms, it had been a mile to the west, cutting off this town from the Midlands. There had been rumors during her studies that a wizard who lived in Larkham at the time of the boundary had purposefully pushed it west, and weakened it. There had been a small crack in the boundary to allow for movement between the two kingdoms. Never enough for an army, but enough for one or two blessed with luck individuals to make the journey.

Richard and Cara would continue the journey north; moving through the thick forests of the foothills surrounding Larkham, and would meet them just beyond the city in a day’s time. The plan Richard had approached her with was logical and smelled of Cara. The villagers were bristling seeing the Mother Confessor and First Wizard, to see the new Lord Rahl and a Mord–Sith would have them rushing for their swords. This was a distraction, certainly, but one that if handled correctly would be just a slight delay. Slight was good, lessening the reality of what she was here to do was something all together unavoidable.

Confessing a child was not unheard of; it was merely distasteful and heart wrenching. To confess someone who deserved it, who had been tried and convicted, was one thing. It would either ease the minds of the villagers or would find the defendant innocent. But in innocence there was a death sentence. Death of free will, of the spark of independent thought that made one human. To do that to one so young made Kahlan sick to her stomach.

“This way, Mother Confessor.” Jerran motioned to the small building that was sitting at the end of the street.

Kahlan sighed.

“Your duty compels you to do this Kahlan, but if your heart protests, we do not have to.” Zedd offered her, not for the first time.

“What would you have me do?” She asked, turning to him and speaking in a whisper. Jerran opened the door and slipped inside the small building. “I could have denied him before. But…what compels me, what has me here is that this is a child. These people are going to hang her, if I don’t do something.”

“If she is guilty?”

“She is a child.” Kahlan stressed.

“Age does not denote ones compactly for evil. There is not a milestone in one’s life that once passed they are susceptible to the whispers of the Keeper.”

“I know that.”

“This child is what? Nine? Ten? The age Cara was when she.”

“Zedd. Please.” Kahlan stressed. Her mind could not be allowed to step from the path she was on now, onto that rocky trail that was Cara. “This is different.” She corrected. In her mind it was. She was under no illusions. She was well aware of Cara’s past, and her deeds. Kahlan had heard of them first hand, during Cara’s trial. Some things had been expanded upon, explained in calm and whispered voices over the course of the journey, as Cara opened up to her more. This child was different, in some way. She had not been taken from her home. She had not been beaten and tortured. She had not been mentally manipulated, pushed to breaking. This was a little girl who killed three men. The child Cara had been then was becoming Mord–Sith.

“What is it dear heart? That has your eyes so sad?” He asked fatherly.

How do you explain to the grandfather of the man who loves you that each day that passes you feel yourself slipping away, as you walk the path of an old life preordained when all you desire is on the path untraveled that is beside your own, but is moving further away? Kahlan swallowed; because that was not something she could say. She could not find the words, even if she wanted to say them, to explain that she had once glimpsed what her life could be, and that could be was slipping away from her.

“Are you worried that your power is still not.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I feel it. Inside. As strong as ever. I’ve confessed… after you put me back? Made me whole? I have confessed, and I know that I can now. It is…” Kahlan stood straighter, determination moving through the muscles of her back. “I’ve not confessed a child. I am… uncomfortable with this.”

Zedd nodded. “One never knows what the future may bring, Kahlan. There could be another solution.”

* * * * *

Evening would soon settle around and inside the thick evergreen forests, with the quiet that night brought, and Cara had left Richard to start a fire. All part of the bet, she would hunt and he would cook, which in her mind was the perfect arrangement. One she had masterfully cultivated during their quest to battle the Keeper. Each and every one thought that her cooking was horrid, and when it was her time to prepare a meal they were now quick to suggest otherwise. All part of her grand plan. Part of being trained, of becoming a Mord–Sith was being assigned to a temple, and being a slave to the desires of your Mistresses. If your Mistress woke in the thick hours of predawn wanting spiced soup, you would make it, and make it perfectly for her. Roasted quail? The same. Cara knew how to create at least one dish from every region of D’Hara and do it with precision and perfection. To fail your Mistress was to invite punishment. As a young woman, Cara had done all she could to avoid punishment. It was not until she was older and had evolved to the place of understanding where she would tip the scales purposefully, to be granted punishment. It was one of the many secrets as to who she was that she kept locked inside of herself, which was not shared with the others. While she would find herself annoyingly forthcoming at times, especially when pressed by the Mother Confessor, there was still much of herself that was kept in silence. For her and her alone.

And that was comforting to her. It offered power. Control.

As she stood stiffly beside a sap sticky cedar tree, the bow in her hands pulled taught she waited for the slightest shift in angle of the rather large rabbit across the thicket her mind stopped drifting towards thoughts of Kahlan. They had been tickling the back of her awareness all day as they traveled. Curiosity, wondering what would have been said if not for the interruption the day before. There had been intensity in Kahlan’s blue eyes, a determination to speak. Cara’s mind had been slipping through the myriad possibilities of what was almost said to the point of near chaotic exhaustion. If only the ill timed arrival of that man had been pushed back a few moments more. If only there had not been that.

“You.” Cara whispered, as her eye moved away from the tawny rabbit and his twitching nose, to a low hanging branch near it, where there sat a large black bird. Her brows furrowed as she very slowly lowered the bow, and released the tension of the twine holding the arrow. Her eyes did not leave the bird, which in turn cocked its head to the side. It was regarding her.

* * * * *

The smell of blood and sweat mingled with that of mud and feces in the basement of the constableship. In the corner were bars, creating a small cell. The bars were rusted and Kahlan was confident that anyone with average strength could knock them lose from the hard packed red clay ground.

The constable and the elders had been waiting when she walked into the large room above. News traveled fast in a small village, and they all knew for what reason the Mother Confessor was in their midst. To call it arguing would be stretching the truth, the words and sounds from the three well dressed elders was more a pathetic whining demand that she admit that they were in the right to sentence the child in the basement to death by hanging. Kahlan had not given them the satisfaction. She had not said much to them beyond demanding to see the child. Zedd was the one who explained why she was there, and that the elders could not stop her from doing what it was her duty to do.

Kahlan watched as the small child who had been crouched in the corner slowly stood, keeping her back to Kahlan. The once robin’s egg blue dress was torn and stained brown. Blood. The lace and crinoline edges were unraveled, missing or torn. Short hair, as was the custom in the Midlands, was knotted and clumped like that of a wild animal. Kahlan pressed her palms together, and watched as the girl slowly turned, as liquid brown eyes shimmered up at her from the face that was bruised on one side beneath the thick lines of filth. The eyes were not young, but not old either. They were haunted. Was this child even capable of killing three grown men? Slicing one’s artery in the upper thigh, another’s throat, and stabbing the weapon; a long kitchen knife; through the heart of the third.

Slowly her lips pulled into a bright smile.

It made Kahlan’s heart sink and beat with nervousness.

Yes. This child was capable of that.

Kahlan was able to breathe again as the girl’s smile faltered and she spun around, her back hunching slightly, as Zedd and Jerran came down the stairs behind her.

“Can you see now, Mother Confessor? How wrong those men are? My sweet little Nessa could never do those horrible things.” Jerran professed.

“Zedd. If you please.” Kahlan did not bother to respond to the father, who was grieving and who could not see what Kahlan had seen. What had caused her heart to beat like that of a rabbit once spied by the hawk.

Zedd moved forward and opened the door to the cell, and waited as Kahlan stepped inside. Her heart slowed, calmed down, and for the slightest instant she felt the tickling breath on her neck and the mocking tone of Cara’s voice, telling her that she should never fear a child. At least not an unarmed one.

Instantly she felt the desire to have Cara here. Not to protect her, but merely because her presence calmed that part of Kahlan that she could not describe. She closed her eyes for a moment, forcing thoughts away, locking her erratic feelings for the blonde into a safe place. When this was finished, she was not going to waste more time in letting Cara push her away. She would force her if needed. She would slam her stubbornness into the firm determination Kahlan had to make her understand.

Centered and calm she stepped closer to the girl. “You know who I am, and why I am here.”

The girl turned to face Kahlan but her shoulders were hunched, her head down.

A groaning sound came from Jerran.

Kahlan ignored it. As her hand hovered over the girl’s shoulder a low voice came from behind the veil of matted and bloody hair.

“If you touch me, Confessor, it will not be the outcome you expect.”

Kahlan’s hand remained still. The voice, though a child’s was unexpected.

“What do you mean child?” Zedd asked.

Slowly her head lifted, and Kahlan pulled her hand back, and it rested on her lips to cover her gasp. Standing this close she could now see that it was not dirt, but blood streaked across her face. Those light brown eyes looked out at her, twinkling with wisdom. They were eyes that held a far deeper life than they should. Than eyes of a child ever should.

“If she confesses me? I will die.”

* * * * *

The burlap sack came down as quickly as she could manage, and was quick enough to capture the bird, who was not at all pleased by the screaming and the jumping it was doing. With a triumphant grin Cara secured the sack and walked back into camp.

After a few moments, where Cara was fairly certain the bird was going to snap it’s own neck with the violence of it’s struggling it settled and felt like a heavy weight in the bottom of the sack. The darkness had fallen around them, but was held back by the warm glow of the fire Richard had licking the bottom of the small iron pot. She could already smell the herbs in the boiling water.

As she stepped into the light she announced, “I captured.”

“Dinner?”

“No. One of those that have been following us.” She said triumphantly.

Richard, who had been squatting by the fire, stood, with a grimace. “And you just brought the head.”

She shook her head and opened the bag, just enough to grab talon feet and pull it out.

“A crow? You think we are being.”

“Richard. This is not a crow. This.” She shook it and it almost growled in response. The dark eyes looked at her with clear annoyance. “Is a Mord–Sith.”

“No.”

“We travel, in the inky black guise of a carrion bird. Yes it is.” She looked at it, and it rolled its eyes at her.

“Well, if it is.” He looked at it. “Change back.”

“Oh.” Cara bit her tongue. “We can’t just change at will. We change when we are with the Lord Rahl.”

“Well I am the.”

“No. Richard. Just no. When Darken Rahl was killed, she was in this form. And has been so since.” Cara lifted her arm higher to peer into the birds face. “What I wonder is why in the worlds she has not just adapted and accepted her new freedom. It makes no sense.”

“Well how can we undo it?”

“We need magic of course.”

“Zedd I am sure will know what to do.”

“I agree. Be good.” she said to the bird and let go. It landed on the ground, and hopped a little putting space between it and Cara, before squawking twice at her, before it fluttered its feathers. But it did not leave.

“We can take her with us then.” Richard said, crossing his arms and looking down at the bird, who looked back at him.

“Remember when I said the village did not take kindly to Mord–Sith entering?”

“Yes.”

“They kill crows on site.”

There was a fluttering sound and then amazingly a second crow landed with a hop, and moved to flap it’s wings at the one who Cara had captured. It looked very much like a reprimand.

“Another one.” Richard said.

“Seems so.” Cara sighed.

“Ah. Well.” He looked at them again and then Cara. “Can it talk?”

“Richard it is a crow. A Mord–Sith in the form of a crow yes, but no it cannot talk. Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Well I heard dragons can speak.”

“Dragons are always dragons Richard. They have the anatomy to speak. A crow… shrieks. Annoyingly.”

* * * * *

“If I don’t confess you, how can it tell if you are speaking the truth.” Kahlan asked the child who was clearly not merely a child.

“What reason do I have to lie? They have sentenced me to death. There is no logic in lying.”

“Did you kill those men?”

“I did.” A faint whisper.

“Why?”

“They deserved it.”

“No one.” Kahlan began to disagree.

“There are some who most certainly deserve to die. All those men and women you have killed. They deserved it.”

Kahlan replied, “In self defense.”

“Exactly.”

Kahlan turned to look at Zedd who was standing close by watching with an interested expression on his face. “Zedd?”

“That is not a child.”

“How astute.” The child, Nessa, snapped.

“I see your aura. You do not belong in there.”

“I do not disagree.” The girl crossed her arms and seemed to sigh. “Not that it matters.”

* * * * *

Cara’s brow furrowed with annoyance. She had heard them coming through the forests. Feet snapping twigs, crushing leaves. She knew the sound, the gait of Kahlan’s steps. Knew them as though they were a scent on the wind. But what made her concerned were the additional sounds. There was Kahlan, and the slow drag of Zedd, and more. She stood up, ignoring the small logs she had been about to put on the fire, and stepped towards Richard. Silently she pushed him with her boot.

“Whaa?”

“Get up. There is a problem.” She hissed, and was impressed at how fast sleep left his face and he rose, the Sword of Truth ringing in the dark.

The crows, just the two, bounced on the limb overhead. Not much help if all they could or would do was squawk. Her Agiels were a comforting burn in her palms as Kahlan pushed through the shadows. Her white gown seemed to glow, making her skin ruddy with a slight blush; her lips open as she breathed heavily.

“What happened?” Richard asked, moving to her side.

“We need to.” Kahlan began, but Cara’s eyes grew enraged as Zedd, the bumbling father and a small little girl stepped into the light.

“Are we suddenly nursemaids now?”

Above the two crows were suddenly making sounds that sounded far too much like laughter. She felt the urge to poke one or both of them with her Agiel. But didn’t. This time.

“We couldn’t leave her there.”

“Well a child on a dangerous quest is so much better than her home with her family.” She glared down at the child. “Children do not belong in the wild. They do not belong anywhere near.”

“Cara?” The girl’s voice asked softly, plaintively, and then there was a small soft thing wrapping it’s arms around her waist. Cara’s arms went wide holding the Agiels far away from whatever this miniature person was doing.

“Who is this?” Richard asked.

“Perhaps it is a long story. Is there dinner?” Zedd asked.

Cara peered down just as wide brown eyes looked up at her, filling with tears. “Oh Cari I never thought I would see you again.”

Cara blinked. “I don’t.”

“Cara, look. Look at me. Spirits you look more beautiful and vibrant than ever. Your eyes still move like the waves of the Forbidden Sea against the black sand shoreline. I have missed you.” The child tightened her arms around Cara’s waist, and pressed her face to her stomach.

Swallowing roughly Cara whispered, “Dahlia?”

…tbc in futility…