LOTS - CARA/KAHLAN

Her Hand Brings Sorrow

vanchidel

Title: Her hand brings sorrow

Author: vanchidel

Pairing: Kahlan/Cara (eventually)

Fandom: Legend of the Seeker

Rating: G for General (for now)

Warnings: Some spoilers, but not much really ;)

Beta: khalleb

Summary: Years after defeating the Keeper, things are quite different and while the past holds secrets, the future brings new dangers…

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: Title comes from Within Temptation’s song “Hand of sorrow”; the lyrics somehow seemed to fit all three main characters in this story ;) Also, English is not my native language, and even though my brother corrected some of errors, I’m sure there is some more… so feel free to let me know if you find any (but also have mercy on me. I’m doing my best ;)) Written under strong influence of wonderful stories written by dark_kurai and seven_3_oh nad I thank them for inspiring me to try writing fanfiction in English :)

Her Hand Brings Sorrow

vanchidel

Dayna walks, her steps echoing the long marble hallway of Aydindril, her long dress following her feet, gliding silently over the cold floor; its black color strongly contrasting white walls and colorful tapestries. Her back is straight, chin lifted up proudly and blue eyes cold and lacking in emotion as much as her pretty young face.

The kitchen maid rushes past Dayna, bowing her head respectfully, and although Dayna notices respect and admiration in the maid’s eyes, she is not blind – respect hides fear, admiration covers up the fact that this simple woman is feeling uncomfortable in the Dayna’s mere presence. It is not something Dayna, not even fifteen years old, is unused to. She nods slightly to the woman and not a single shadow of a smile touches her face.

Her Confessor face remains intact.

She stops in front of a large dark door and her hand touches the wood carved with remarkable, wriggled lines whose paths shape the face of a long haired woman. The guard standing next to the door bows his head and politely moves few steps away. Dayna’s hand glides toward the doorknob, but shouts muffled by thick wood that reach her ears from inside stop her from opening the door.

“I shall not submit to another of your vague prophecies!” an angry, strong female voice is yelling. The other woman’s voice is much calmer, although slightly elevated.

“All my prophecies about you proved to be correct,” she says, and there is something dangerous, almost threatening in her slithering tone. “If you had believed me before, you would have saved yourself from considerate amount of suffering.”

“Perhaps I would, then, but now are different times. I refuse to believe something so… so incredulous!”

“Believe what you want, Mother Confessor. But she will betray you. And you shall know you are walking on that path as soon as a visit from past appears in your sight.”

“That would be enough!” anger in the Mother Confessor’s voice becomes cold, even more threatening than the voice of the other woman. “Leave now. And never return to Aydindril.”

“I will leave. But believe me, you shall seek my assistance, and even comfort, when the time comes. You’ll scream my name to the skies and cry tears of blood before we meet again.”

Dayna quickly moves away from the door and just as she steps aside, the door opens and a woman with flame–red hair walks out. Her eyes are old and wise, but cold as ice, and the young Confessor shudders under that penetrating gaze. The woman then turns from Dayna and calmly walks away. Her long, white fur coat rustles with her every move – and just a blink of an eye later, she is gone. Dayna gasps in surprise; the only wizard she knows is in the Wizard’s Keep, and even he was never good at vanishing.

She sighs and walks in the large room filled with bookshelves. The Mother Confessor is standing behind her large work desk. Her head is lowered and her long, dark hair streaked with thin silver strands is falling down her shoulders, hiding her face. Her hands are on the desk, gripping some of the papers lying there, as if she is steadying herself.

“Mother Confessor?” Dayna asks, unsure if she should enter or leave her alone. She raises her head and Dayna almost gasps again, as Mother Confessor looks not only troubled, but almost tortured inside. “Are you all right?”

“I will be,” the older woman smiles slightly and stretches her hand towards Dayna. “Come, sit down.”

Dayna approaches the large, soft chair in front of the desk. She still feels unsure about the tone in which she should speak to her superior. It always seems a problem to her and she always has to watch Mother Confessor’s face carefully to recognize whether the conversation is going to be formal or not. Now, her smile widens and Dayna sits down, relaxing visibly.

“Mother, who was that woman?” she asks, abandoning formalities and etiquette. “And what did she want? You sounded really upset.”

A loud sigh escapes from the other woman’s lips as she sits down in her throne–like chair. Her hand moves to remove few strands of hair from her face and then she smiles almost sadly.

“Her name is Shota,” she answers. Her face, now without the Confessor mask, betrays a long history behind that name – a history filled with bad memories. “She is a witch–woman. A sorceress.”

“A sorceress, here in Aydindril?” Dayna doesn’t hide her surprise. In her whole life, she never witnessed such a person of magic visiting Aydindril – or the Mother Confessor.

But then again, she is still just a child, immersed in her studies, and well aware that many things happen between those walls without her even dreaming about them, let alone knowing them.

“I used to know her years ago”, her mother explains. “She is not to be trusted, although I must admit her prophecies turn out true more often than not. I haven’t seen her since…” she swallows and it seems to Dayna her mother is feeling uncomfortable, but that fleeting moment passes away in seconds. “Since you were born. She visited me that night and warned me about some things I should consider during your upbringing.”

“Such as?”

“Your intolerance to mushrooms, for example. That kind of things. At the time I thought she was telling me those small but important pieces of information to help me raise you, as a peace offering of sort.”

“Your discussion with her didn’t seem peaceful,” notices Dayna and her mother looks at her a bit strictly.

“You really shouldn’t eavesdrop, Dayna,” she reprimands. “It will get you in trouble someday.”

“What was it all about? She had another vision, a prophecy?”

Mother Confessor’s face suddenly changes, and before Dayna can say anything else, the Confessor mask is on.

“I will not discuss it with you,” she says, and then her face softens a bit. “At least not yet. I should get going to the great hall, the petitioners are waiting. Will you accompany me?”

“Of course, Mother Confessor,” Dayna nods and stands up, crossing her hands in front of herself in the same manner her mother – and every Confessor before her – always does. The Mother Confessor approaches her and touches her hair, now reaching almost to the middle of Dayna’s back, and smiles slightly. Her eyes seem uncharacteristically wet although she has her Confessor face on and Dayna almost feels worried.

“You are almost grown up,” Dayna’s mother says, her voice filled with pride and sadness. “The passing of time is so cruel… I didn’t spend enough time with you during all these years. I am sorry for that, my child.”

“You are saying that as if I was leaving,” Dayna shifts her weight uncomfortably, trying to understand. “Or as if you were leaving. You are not leaving, mother, are you?”

Her mother’s hand caresses the back of her head and tears in those sky–blue eyes accompany her sad smile. Dayna, although used to her mother’s occasional emotional oddities, cannot help but feel almost scared, as if something horrible is going to happen and her mother knows it. Maybe she really does know, Dayna thinks, maybe she believes the witch–woman even though she drove her out of her office like that.

“We cannot know what future brings to us”, Mother Confessors sighs and blinks sharply to chase away tears that threaten to fall down her face. “We can only try to choose the right paths. Now let’s go, my daughter, let us be what we are meant to be.”

“Confessors,” Dayna nods, knowing it’s time for duty. And with that, the Confessor mask is back on both their faces and they walk out of the room, dressed in snow–white and night–black, side by side.

* * * * *

The great hall is large and almost impossibly high, with large carved marble columns stretching to the ceiling from which the stern eyes of Magda Searus, the first Mother Confessor, are watching. Kahlan Amnell, the current Mother Confessor – and by the public opinion, more than a worthy successor to the Midlands throne – doesn’t look any less serene while she is sitting in her large chair, upright and dignified, with the white hood of her dress covering her head. Her eyes are calm, her Confessor face expressionless and the corners of her lips twitched in the slightest hint of benevolent smile. That small smile, accompanied by a slight nod, is a reward for two men standing in front of her whose dispute over land she has just solved to their mutual satisfaction. They bow their heads, thanking her in unison, and then leave toward the large door guarded by members of the Aydindril Home Guard.

Dayna is standing next to Mother Confessor’s chair as usually, her heart once again brimming with pride at the sight of her mother’s wisdom. This is another part of her training as a future Mother Confessor of the Midlands; to stand beside the highest moral authority of the land, to watch and learn matters of just and wise rule.

And to practice Confessor behavior, of course. Although Dayna’s back is straight and her Confessor face doesn’t falter for a second, she can feel an ache in her spine, the stiffness of her shoulders and the numbness of her face. It’s no wonder, for she is standing there for two hours now, motionless and not changing her expression a single bit.

When she was younger, Dayna used to feel cheated by fate that withheld from her everything other children had. She didn’t have any friends of her age, just guards and maids who, although respectful, were afraid of her. She studied hard ever since she could remember, preparing from the very first day of her life for the role destiny designated her with – the role of one of two remaining Confessors and, one day, the role of the Mother Confessor herself.

Dayna used to be angry at destiny for the injustice she suffered, and would sneak away, evade her lectures, in futile attempts to explore what freedom feels like. But she would always come back, be it in the hands of guards sent to find her or by herself, feeling ashamed for letting her mother down once again. The Mother Confessor would look at her with that sad smile of hers, eyes filled with understanding and compassion, and Dayna would feel the need to become like her mother, strong and dedicated to her people, but also compassionate and kind.

Now, when she is almost grown up, Dayna understands her destiny more and is not so angry at it anymore. Her first Confession showed her that she is not born to be ordinary and that with great power and heritage also come responsibilities far greater than her selfish desires.

Dayna still wants to be like her mother, especially when she is watching her performing her duties as the Mother Confessor. She knows Kahlan is not happy with that kind of life and she is aware she, too, will never be happy, but personal happiness shies away before grateful looks in the eyes of people filling the great hall, people who love and respect their ruler almost as much as they fear her.

And now, Dayna’s attention is drawn to the small group of people that enters the hall. Four women, all dressed in tight red leather, and four men in D’Haran uniforms. The red–clad women are marching first, heads up and faces emotionless almost like Confessors’, their hair dark and braided in long, tight braids – all except the woman who is leading them all, whose hair is golden and falls freely, barely reaching her shoulders. Her face is beautiful despite few thin wrinkles and her body slender and strong.

Dayna shudders. Although she knows a lot about them, thanks to her studies, she never saw a Mord–Sith. The war between Midlands and D’Hara is long over, and every single D’Haran returned to their homeland and Dayna never dared to imagine the mistresses of pain walking the halls of Aydindril once again. She wonders what this means and glances to her mother, whose face is still calm and neutral, but whose eyes sparkle with surprise and recognition.

Mord–Sith and D’Haran soldiers reach the throne and stop.

“We greet you, Mother Confessor,” they all say in unison and bow their heads.

“And I welcome you,” she answers evenly. All D’Haran heads remain bowed except the head of the blond Mord–Sith. She raises her green eyes and her gaze penetrates Mother Confessor’s as if they were equals. Something unspoken passes between the two women and even though their expressions remain flat, Dayna is somehow sure her mother knows this woman – and knows her well.

“We bring greetings to you, Mother Confessor, and to your land and people, from our master, Lord Richard Rahl of D’Hara, the Seeker of Truth” the blonde starts to speak. “Lord Rahl regrets the number of years that passed without any formal visitations from Midlands to D’Hara and vice versa. He wishes to deliver his invitation to you, Mother Confessor, and your respected daughter Dayna Amnell, to visit D’Hara and be his royal and respectable guests in the People’s Palace.”

Although Kahlan’s face remains unchanged to every eye in the hall, Dayna knows her mother. She can see different emotions running in her eyes; she can even notice the barely visible twitch of her lips and slight movement of her eyebrows. Kahlan is not just surprised, but also confused and worried.

Dayna knows about Richard Rahl’s history. She knows he was the first true Seeker in thousand years, she knows he defeated Darken Rahl and stopped the D’Haran invasion of the Midlands, after which he defeated the Keeper himself and prevented the literal end of the world. She also knows her mother stood next to him while he was achieving all of that, fighting by his side as his Confessor until he accepted the D’Haran throne and she returned to Aydindril to perform her duties as the Mother Confessor.

But Dayna also knows her mother loved this Richard Rahl deeply until something happened between them that tore them up irretrievably. What it was, she never found out. Kahlan Amnell’s lips were always sealed when it came to talking about that.

“I thank your Lord for his kind invitation,” Mother Confessor says calmly. “My daughter and I shall consider it. You are welcome to stay in Confessor’s Palace as our respected guests until we make our decision.”

“Thank you, Mother Confessor,” blonde Mord–Sith bows her head slightly, her eyes not leaving Mother Confessor’s. Then she turns away and starts walking towards the door, followed by the rest of D’Harans.

“Mistress Cara?” Dayna hears slight tremble in her mother’s voice, and apparently does the blond Mord–Sith too, because she stops and turns as if she’d been waiting for it.

“Yes, Mother Confessor?”

“I would wish you to join me in my office after my petitions are over. There are things to be discussed.”

“Of course, Mother Confessor,” another slight nod. “I would be honored.”

And with that, she leaves the hall, followed by the other D’Harans.

So this is the Mord–Sith Cara, thinks Dayna, remembering stories not only from her history lessons, but also from winter nights when her mother would sit with her next to the fireplace and tell her stories about her travels with the Seeker. As much as her mother’s personal relationship with Richard Rahl, some things about Cara are still clouded in mystery and no matter how hard Dayna tried, she never managed to make her mother tell her everything.

And despite her mother’s constant warnings about eavesdropping, Dayna promises herself she will get all the answers before the day is over.

Chapter 2

Kahlan Amnell stands in her office, staring through the window. Her fingers nervously knead the long sleeves of her dress, wrinkling the white fabric. She barely forces herself to stop before she manages to tear the sleeve and, trying to find something for her hands to do, she starts wrapping strands of her dark hair around her fingers. The night is falling over Aydindril and thanks to all the candles in the room and flames in the fireplace, she can see her reflection in the window. She is still slender and curved in all the right places, although remnants of her pregnancy can still be barely seen on her waist. She can still consider herself beautiful and her hair is still dark as a night, but the night is now streaked with occasional silver stars. And there are few wrinkles on her forehead and around her eyes that haven’t been there fifteen years ago.

The door opens and Kahlan hears steps approaching. She closes her eyes for a moment and lets herself drift back through time, when she had learned to know those steps by heart and associate them with comfort and kindness instead with efficient killing dressed in red.

“Mother Confessor,” she hears Cara’s voice and turns towards it.

The blonde Mord–Sith is standing in front of her, proud as ever.

“You may leave us,” Kahlan says to the guard and he seems surprised.

“Mother Confessor, are you sure?” he asks. “Being alone with a Mord–Sith…”

“I am sure,” she interrupts him. Her gaze then glides back to Cara and she smiles. “Besides, this is not just some Mord–Sith. This is my friend.”

The guard bows his head and leaves, closing the door, and Kahlan is left alone with Cara, in silence interrupted only by the soft crackling of logs in the fireplace.

They are both watching each other, gazes trying to catch every single detail. And Kahlan must admit that Cara looks even better than she did all those years ago. The only obvious difference is that she seems more like a true Mord–Sith now, all stiff and sharp, as if she developed some new kind of emotional armor stronger than one she had before.

“Many years have passed,” Kahlan offers gently. Cara carefully nods.

“Too many, Mother Confessor,” she answers. Kahlan shakes her head, frowning a bit.

“You are going to address me by my title even now, when we are alone?”

“I…” Cara lowers her blond head, letting hair cover her face. “I wasn’t sure what kind of conversation this was going to be. I thought you wanted to talk formally.”

“Spirits, Cara!” Kahlan sighs, forcing herself not to break in a hysterical laughter. Some things never change, she says to herself. “I haven’t seen you for so many years and you think I want to talk formally?”

Cara raises her head and Kahlan almost gasps, seeing her face contorted with emotion, and suddenly she cannot stop herself from dashing towards her and grabbing her in a tight hug. Cara is stiff for just a moment, and then her body recognizes the familiarity of Kahlan’s arms and she relaxes, raising her arms to Confessor’s back. Then she sighs heavily and when she speaks, her voice is thick with emotion.

“I missed you, Kahlan.”

Kahlan feels tears rolling down her cheeks as she smiles.

“I missed you too.”

Then they slowly separate, Kahlan holding Cara’s face with both her hands, and Cara gripping Kahlan’s waist as if she will never let go. Cara’s eyes are brimming with emotion as much as Kahlan’s brim with tears. And they both smile widely, before Kahlan lets go and extends her arm towards two large, soft chairs in front of the fireplace.

“Come, let’s sit down and talk a bit.”

Cara nods and they sit in the cozy chairs, their faces lighted both by the fire and the joy of their reunion.

“So how are you?” Kahlan asks, not sure how to begin a talk with someone whom you haven’t seen for fifteen years.

“Remarkably well,” the Mord–Sith smirks and the bitterness in her voice doesn’t go unnoticed by Kahlan. “Lord Rahl gave me the command over all Mord–Sith in D’Hara. That includes the training of new Mord–Sith.”

Shock widens Kahlan’s blue eyes.

“Didn’t Richard give freedom to all Mord–Sith?” her voice cracks. “You’re saying he continued training… breaking little girls… That’s horrible!”

Cara blinks in surprise.

“News from D’Hara don’t travel to the Midlands?” she asks. “I am surprised to hear that.”

“Some do… But not about this.”

“So you believed all the Mord–Sith in D’Hara are the same women as fifteen years ago? That none of them died without being replaced?”

“I suppose I hoped… I believed in Richard’s honesty and integrity.”

“Even after everything that happened? After you yourself noticed how he changed when he had accepted his birth right to the D’Haran throne?” Cara shakes her head in disbelief. “You will never cease believing in the good in people, will you?”

“Maybe you are right,” Kahlan sighs and leans back. “Maybe I will never stop being naïve.”

“Richard became the Lord Rahl. His Rahl blood was awaken and he saw the advantage of having Mord–Sith around, just as his brother – and every Lord Rahl before him – did. So when he says ‘Cara, make more Mord–Sith’, I do it. You know very well I have no choice.”

Kahlan looks at Cara intently. Although her old friend has all new layers of Mord–Sith emotional armor around herself, and a Confessor never could read a Mord–Sith, she can clearly see Cara is torn between her loyalty to Lord Rahl and her own sense of moral judgment.

“That means he is using the bond to its maximum, if I understand you correctly?”

“You know the answer to that, Kahlan,” Cara’s voice is suddenly again thick with suppressed emotion. “Do you really think I wouldn’t be here years ago if he wasn’t using the bond? And now it would probably be even harder.”

“The bond is stronger?”

“It is stronger than before and certainly stronger than the bond that tied us all to Darken Rahl. The reason probably lies within the Zorrander blood in his heritage, but I believe it also has something to do with the Sword of Truth, that its power is somehow fueling the usual Rahl power.”

“So, Richard became a powerful wizard, it seems,” Kahlan says thoughtfully. “That news did reach my ears. Zedd taught him well.”

Cara simply nods and both women stare in the fire for few moments, revering the memory of the bony, wise wizard with whom they had all traveled for a long time.

“You know,” Kahlan breaks the silence, her voice somewhat hurt. “I’ll never forgive him for not letting me know when Zedd died.”

“I know,” Cara simply nods. “I tried sending a word to you, I truly did. But… Somehow I didn’t know what to write. Words didn’t seem… sufficient.”

“They never did,” the Confessor adds gently, understanding they are not talking only about Zedd’s death. “I tried writing to you as well. But I didn’t know how much of Richard’s trust you had retained and didn’t want to risk him reading my letters.”

“It did take a while. He trusted no one at the time.”

“I know,” Kahlan sighs heavily. Fifteen years old guilt blossoms in her chest as much as any time she would think of Richard. Cara understands that well and therefore continues talking in even, calm voice.

“But under Zedd’s guidance he did become a wise and righteous ruler. I don’t think D’Harans ever spoke their devotions as honestly as they do now. With him on D’Haran throne and you as the Mother Confessor, this world can finally enjoy long years of peace.”

“Then why does he want me and Dayna to come to D’Hara?” Kahlan rises from her chair, upset, and starts walking around aimlessly. “Fifteen years without a word and now he suddenly wants me to come there? Why, Cara?”

“I wish I knew,” Cara answers honestly. “But I do not. I am the leader of his Mord–Sith, not his trusted advisor.”

“Oh, and who would that be?”

“Nicci.”

Kahlan stops frozen, eyes wide in shock.

“Nicci?” she utters through clenched teeth. “Richard is having Nicci for an advisor?”

“He’s having her for much more than that,” Cara snorts with disdain. “She is his… well, the official term these days is ‘royal consort’. But yes, he also includes her in most of his decision making.”

“This is all hard to believe,” Kahlan mutters. “The more you tell me, the more worried I become.”

“And why is that?”

The Confessor sighs and returns to her chair. Her fingers find their way to the long strands of her hair.

“Shota came to me today,” she answers. “She warned me of horrible things, of dangers that would make Darken Rahl look like an innocent child. And she warned me I would be betrayed on the path that awaits me. ‘You shall know you are walking on that path as soon as a visit from past appears in your sight’, she said. And then you appeared in Aydindril.”

“And you believe her? Kahlan, Shota is known for her duplicity and she cannot be trusted, you know that!”

Now it’s Cara’s turn to get up and stand in front of Kahlan, hands crossed on her chest. Kahlan glares up at her, her eyes all flames.

“She was right about every thing she ever prophesied about me, wasn’t she?” she almost growls, her voice dangerous and challenging. “I did betray Richard and he did give the Stone of Tears to the Keeper which made me kill him, which in turn made it possible for me to create new Stone with my own tears. And did you already forget I did give…”

“We don’t have to talk about that,” Cara interrupts and lays her gloved hand on Kahlan’s shoulder, squeezing gently. The touch is so comforting, even through the leather glove, that Kahlan’s anger almost immediately starts melting down. “I know you are worried, it could as well be written on your face. But you have no choice but to go to D’Hara. Lord Rahl made it clear to me that he would be willing to start another war if you refused his offer.”

“He would bring another war on the Midlands and D’Hara? Is he insane?”

“He is a Rahl,” Cara shrugs. “He hardened a bit.”

“All right, I’ll accept his invitation, go to D’Hara and make it a diplomatic mission. But I refuse to let Dayna be dragged in something that could as well be a trap.”

“He wants you both there.”

“Why?” Kahlan nearly screamed, throwing her hands in the air, exasperated. “What could he possibly need my daughter for?”

“I don’t know, but Kahlan, I know Richard Rahl. He is not going to hurt either of you. Knowing him, he probably believes you would never respond to the usual formal invitation. I’m telling you, he is a Rahl. Rahl family does everything their own way, by their own rules. Besides,” her voice trembles a bit as she pulls and takes off her right glove and then returns her now naked hand on Kahlan shoulder. The warmth of Cara’s hand brings out so many Kahlan’s memories that she can only sigh quietly while reaching for it. “Kahlan, I would never let anything happen to you or to your daughter.”

Their fingers intertwine in the strongest of all grips; the one belonging only to the people who ached for closeness for too many years.

“Unless your Lord orders you to,” Kahlan reminds as gently as she can, but Cara’s hand twitches immediately and just a moment later, she is pulling her leather glove back on. “Cara, I didn’t mean…”

“No, you are right,” Cara says evenly, her face expressionless again, her Mord–Sith emotional armor quickly closing around her. But before the Mord–Sith shell can completely shut down, Kahlan jumps to her feet and throws herself on Cara, hugging the Mord–Sith tightly, sinking her fingers in golden hair and pressing her lips on Cara’s with such haste and hunger even she herself is surprised. Cara responds immediately and her hands wrap around the Confessor quickly as the lightning. Then Kahlan’s lips find her eyes, cheeks, neck, and it seems she will not stop until there is not a single place on Cara’s skin that hasn’t been kissed.

But then she does stop, pressing their foreheads together and sighing loudly. Her fingers caress Cara’s face while their eyes are locked in a gaze that says everything words fail to.

“I have missed you for so long,” Kahlan whispers, her voice slightly trembling. “I couldn’t bear you shutting me out now.”

“You know I would do anything to break the bond were it possible,” Cara answers with passion and sadness, green eyes brimming with emotion. “Lord Rahl will never let me… abandon my loyalty to him.”

“I know,” Kahlan nods sadly and then slowly kisses Cara again, this time allowing everything she feels to flow freely in the kiss. She lets her hands glide over Cara’s neck and then across her chest and waist.

“Well, Mother Confessor,” Cara purrs in that intimate, provoking tone Kahlan almost forgot all about. “I can see you have grown bold during these fifteen years.”

The Confessor laughs heartily.

“I’ve had some practice,” she informs the Mord–Sith almost deviously.

“Really,” Cara steps back a bit, watching her intently. “You do have a beautiful daughter now. I am surprised there are no other little Confessors running around this place… Haven’t you managed to find another suitable mate in all this years?”

“Well,” Kahlan swallows, searching for the right words. “I did try, but…”

And then, the muffled sound of something colliding with the door interrupts her. They quickly separate and Cara pulls her Agiels from their holsters. Kahlan’s quick strides take her to the door in an instant and she opens them without hesitation.

And her eyes meet with the shocked, disbelieving gaze of her daughter.

Chapter 3

“Dayna?”

Young Confessor is sitting in the chair, her face completely expressionless and her gaze fixed on flames in the fireplace. Kahlan is standing next to the chair, nervously trying to decide would a hand on the shoulder now be the appropriate comfort for her daughter. Cara stands nearby, leaning on the large Mother Confessor’s desk. Although her Mord–Sith mask, devoid of any emotion, is back on, her eyes show concern and it is obvious to Kahlan that her blond friend is feeling incredibly uncomfortable right now.

“You are not going to fuss about me eavesdropping again, mother?” asks Dayna suddenly, the sarcasm in her voice making Kahlan wince.

“Perhaps I should,” she answers cautiously. “I would prefer telling you about these things by myself.”

“These things? You mean, about how your relationship with Richard Rahl ended because you had a crush on this Mord–Sith? No wonder you never wanted to tell me about it.”

“It is not that simple,” her mother sighs, rubbing her forehead in the desperate need to find the right words.

To Cara, it seems almost as if Dayna is the mother and Kahlan the insubordinate daughter. The Mother Confessor, ruler of the entire Midlands, squirming uncomfortably in front of her honey–haired fourteen year old daughter.

“I would tell you,” Kahlan says, trying to keep her voice calm. “When you get old enough to understand.”

“And that would be when, mother? I am almost fifteen!” Dayna’s voice increases to the pitch of any typical, stubborn teenager arguing with the parent. “Today you said I was almost grown up!”

“Almost, Dayna,” Kahlan reminds gently. “I really did intend to tell you, and quite soon, considering the circumstances.”

“What circumstances?” Dayna shots a glance towards Cara, whose face remains completely unchanged.

“Well, we are accepting Lord Rahl’s invitation. We are going to D’Hara.”

Despite Kahlan’s attempts to remain calm, Dayna notices slightly nervous twitch of her lips and a quick glance sideward. It almost makes her forget about her mother’s apparent affair with the dangerous red–clad woman that stands behind them. And when she adds this midday’s visit of the strange sorceress to the equation, one thing becomes clear.

“But you don’t want us to go because of the warning you received from the sorceress,” Dayna offers, and then snorts with annoyance at seeing her mother exchange glances with the Mord–Sith. “Then why are we going?”

“Lord Rahl wishes to see you both so strongly he’s willing to start a war if you don’t come,” Cara explains evenly. Dayna glances at her again and her eyes are sharper and angrier this time.

“I was talking to my mother, not to you,” she growls, resembling Kahlan so much Cara can only smirk in wonder.

“Dayna!” Kahlan reprimands her sharply. “I know you are upset and we will talk about it, but not until you start remembering what manners are required of the future Mother Confessor - and of any Confessor for that matter!”

Dayna pouts for a moment and then sighs.

“I am sorry, mother,” she says apologetically. “Please understand how shocking this is for me.”

“If you really want to know everything, you will have to handle stronger shocks than this one,” Kahlan warns her and Dayna’s eyes become wider with bewilderment. She ponders it for a moment, and then nods.

“I do want to know everything.”

“All right,” Kahlan eyes shoot towards Cara. “But Cara and I will tell you the story together.”

“I’m not really something of a storyteller, Kahlan,” Cara tries to oppose her, but one pleading look from Kahlan is enough for her to give up. She sighs. “All right then.”

“We’ll tell you everything together,” Kahlan repeats, her gaze falling to the cracking logs in the fireplace. “And then I shall tell you both things neither of you knows.”

* * * * *

Years ago

The Keeper was defeated. Cara revived Richard with the Breath of Life, Zedd healed the blindness imposed on him by Nicci and announced Richard was so devoted to Kahlan that not even the Blood Rage Confession could hurt him, and everything seemed right with the world.

But not to Cara.

When Richard and Kahlan kissed happily and he hugged her tightly, Kahlan’s eyes met Cara’s and her gaze was half confused, half warm. Cara almost felt guilty for not being confessed by Kahlan’s Blood Rage when she pushed the wizard aside to protect him from Confession.

Looking at Kahlan in Richard’s arms suddenly became too much to bear and Cara turned her gaze to the other side, only to be met by Zedd’s knowing, worried eyes. She cursed silently to herself and walked away to be alone with her thoughts.

So now Kahlan and Zedd knew how she truly felt about the Mother Confessor. Her most hidden secret was no more a secret. Now Kahlan would certainly stop being so insistent in all those small touches and warm smiles and Cara wouldn’t have to fight the urge to grab her and kiss her to death every time Confessor’s fingers touched her. And it wouldn’t hurt anymore. To Cara, one of the strongest and most iron–willed Mord–Sith that have ever lived, Confessor’s touch would stop bringing pain and sorrow of the kind no Confessor should ever impose on a Mord–Sith. It was the kind of pain Cara was not used to; the kind that made her chest constrict and flood with liquid fire.

But as she was clenching her teeth and staring in the wilds from the top of the Pillars of Creation, Cara knew well she was lying to herself. She needed those small touches, painful as they were, as much as she needed the air to breathe. And now Kahlan, who has always been off limits because of Richard, will completely belong to Lord Rahl as his wife and queen.

Something constricted again in Cara’s chest at that thought and she blinked furiously to stop her eyes from watering.

“Are you all right?” the wizard somehow appeared next to her and she cursed herself for being so reckless.

“Yes,” she tried to keep her voice even and bored. “I came here to stand guard until those two lovebirds grow tired of the sunset and get ready to go.”

“And the wind must have made your eyes…”

“Yes,” she interrupted, not daring to look at Zedd, who nodded emphatically.

“Cara, I know what you are feeling. We both know Kahlan wasn’t able to confess you.”

“Well, wizard, the Mother Confessor knows that too and honestly I see no point in talking about it.”

“You are a Mord–Sith. Bonded to the Lord Rahl and loyal to Richard as your friend.”

“I am.”

“And I believe you would do nothing to jeopardize his happiness.”

Cara shot him a glance.

“Of course I wouldn’t,” she growled. Zedd nodded and patted her shoulder.

“I am truly sorry you are hurt,” he said honestly, his eyes warm and kind. “But this is something you will have to live through. Trying to… act accordingly to what you are feeling would simply complicate things and probably destroy Kahlan and Richard’s happiness. And I believe you care enough for both of them not to let that happen.”

Cara could only nod numbly, wondering how in Keeper’s name she would ever be able to extinguish the flame that burned in her so strongly it kept her safe from Confession.

Zedd smiled, patted her shoulder once more and then returned to his happy grandson and his soon–to–be wife. And Cara was left alone, staring emptily in nothing and trying to rebuild the walls Kahlan so swiftly managed to collapse during the last year.

They set off to Aydindril the next morning. Cara efficiently avoided almost every Kahlan’s questioning gaze and managed to prevent spending a single moment alone with the Confessor during the entire journey. She missed Kahlan’s small touches and the pain that followed it, but gripping the Agiel again proved itself as the almost efficient substitute.

Kahlan, for her part, seemed blissfully happy whenever Richard was near her, which was almost all the time. But even when she was with him, she was occasionally casting worried glances towards Cara.

And during the night before they reached Aydindril, while Richard and Zedd were soundly asleep and Cara was pretending to be sleeping while her head was spinning with chaotic thoughts, Kahlan simply got up from the bedroll she was sharing with Richard and came to Cara’s. She sat down next to Mord–Sith’s outstretched form, grabbed her upper body with both her hands and forcibly turned Cara over until she was on her back. Then she shook her not at all gently.

“What is wrong with you?” the Confessor hissed and Cara winced, surprised by the amount of anger in those sky–blue eyes that were looming over her.

“Why would something be wrong with me, Confessor?” Cara asked defiantly, not bothering to remove Kahlan’s hands from her body. They were warm and soft and strong - and it hurt wonderfully to have them touching her.

“You have barely spoken to me since we left the Pillars!” Kahlan was keeping her voice barely audible, but somehow she managed to sound as if she was yelling loudly. Cara rolled her eyes.

“You are the talkative one, not me,” she snorted. “Besides, I didn’t know you cared so much about talking with a Mord–Sith.”

“Come on, Cara, what is going on? You are avoiding me for a month now!”

“You seemed like you might need some extra time to spend with Lord Rahl,” Cara shrugged, seemingly uninterested. “I was merely acting like any loyal Mord–Sith would. I gave Lord Rahl what he needed and wanted.”

Kahlan lowered herself over Cara, pinning her to the ground with her body, their faces coming closer until they were just inches apart. Cara kept her face empty and expressionless as much as she could, but such proximity to Kahlan was something entirely new for her and it made the heart in her chest beat faster. She swallowed under Kahlan’s inquiring, intent gaze.

The Confessor stared deeply in Cara’s eyes for couple of long moments before she spoke again.

“I cannot read you,” her voice vas suddenly soft and warm. “But I know you well enough, Cara. We are friends. You can’t lie to me.”

The Mord–Sith said nothing, drowning in those two blue depths above her. The urge to reach up and kiss the Confessor was becoming more and more overwhelming with every second that passed.

“This is all very… confusing,” Kahlan continued. “Not only for you.”

“I am not confused,” Cara’s voice was rough and barely above whisper.

“Then why are you avoiding me?” Kahlan’s hand reached up to touch the blonde’s face and it was more than the Mord–Sith could take. Her hand caught Kahlan’s halfway to her face and she pulled her down, at the same time raising her own upper body up. Their lips met in between, crashing almost furiously. Confessor’s lips were still at first, but when the brunette recovered from the initial shock, she responded hungrily, deepening the kiss.

But when Cara’s teeth violently bit her lower lip, Kahlan moaned in pain and tore herself away from the Mord–Sith. She looked down at Cara and touched her bitten lip with a finger, shocked to find it bleeding.

“Cara,” she begun to speak, but Cara was already grinning madly and pushing her away.

“Now you know why I’m avoiding you, Confessor,” Cara’s voice was dangerous and threatening. “Now go back to Lord Rahl. You belong to him.”

And with that, she turned away from the confused Confessor whose hurt was already painted all over her face. Cara stared in the darkness, listening to the breaking of her heart as Kahlan sighed heavily and returned back to Richard’s bedroll.

As they were approaching Aydindril, Kahlan was trying to figure out what was wrong with her. Instead of being excited about returning to her home, happy about finally being able to properly be with Richard and content about finally defeating the Keeper, she was worried and couldn’t stop thinking about Cara. The revelation of the extent of Cara’s devotion to her was quite surprising, but the stubbornness with which the Mord–Sith avoided her infuriated her during the entire journey. Kahlan wanted to talk with Cara about it, she wanted to tell her how everything would be all right and that their friendship was not endangered by anything, but between Richard adoring her and Cara completely ignoring her, it was simply impossible to find a single moment for that discussion.

So she decided to approach the Mord–Sith during the night. And now she had a swollen lip to remind her of that failure. She told Richard she had bit her own lip while sleeping and she was already feeling guilty for that lie.

And although Cara tried to scare her away with the kissing, biting and the entire “mad Mord–Sith” act, Kahlan refused to believe it. There had to be a way to keep Cara as a friend without losing anything.

The people in Aydindril welcomed them with thrilled cheers and flowers were being tossed over them during the entire walk to the Confessor’s Palace. Kahlan walked absent–mindedly and barely registered the ecstatic roar of the gathered crowd when Richard took her hand at the large Palace door and announced that he, Lord Rahl of D’Hara and the Seeker of Truth, is going to take the Mother Confessor to be his wife and queen.

For some reason, all Kahlan could think about was that clumsy, angry kiss from the night before. And Cara was standing behind Richard all the time, not even bothering to look at her. Somehow, Kahlan felt hurt by that more than by Cara’s mad act whose purpose was to drive her away.

But then the Aydindril Home Guard was suddenly surrounding her and everybody was kneeling in front of her and Richard, and Kahlan heard herself saying the formal “Rise, my children” without even knowing she was doing it. Then the sudden strike of nausea hit her so hard she almost lost her breath, and she knew without any doubt: only one month after making love to Richard for the first time, she was already pregnant.

Chapter 4

“So you finally decided to accept your birth right,” Kahlan asked, watching Richard intently. He nodded and smiled, although she could see his smile hid insecurities and fears of becoming the very same figure he had learned to hate.

They were sitting in the large, soft chairs in the Mother Confessor’s office. It was one of the rare moments they were given to spend together; Kahlan’s duties in Aydindril took away the most of her time. Even though they shared the same bed in the Mother Confessor’s huge, royal chambers, Richard missed her so much she had to make an official appointment for the Lord Rahl in her office.

“Cara explained the bond to me,” he said. “There are few aspects of it; the feeling of connection and loyalty to their Lord Rahl, the compulsion to do whatever he orders them to do even if they don’t want to do it, the ability to locate their Lord wherever he is… Darken Rahl is now alive and most certainly will try to take over the D’Haran throne again, and if there is no one to fill that throne, he will succeed without any real difficulty.”

“But he controls the bond too, doesn’t he? I mean, that is the reason some D’Harans still obey him as their Lord Rahl.”

“Yes, but the bond is stronger in me because my Han is in my own body. Darken took a new body after a considerate time spent in the Underworld and it has weaken all his powers and thus his bond. The same happened to Nicci when she took my Han; it was weaker in her than it was in me.”

Kahlan remember the tremendous amount of power Nicci displayed and shuddered from imagining such power now again residing in Richard. The Stone of Tears, when placed on its rightful place in the Pillars of Creation, somehow returned Richard his Han. When they asked Zedd how it was possible, he mysteriously said it was powerful magic.

“So, when I reveal myself as their new Lord Rahl, in the People’s Palace which fuels all powers of the Lord Rahl residing in it, they will accept me,” Richard continued. “Then I shall seek for those who still hold Darken’s side and when I defeat them – and him, of course – I shall return here for my lovely bride,” he smiled again and reached for Kahlan’s hand, which she allowed absently. “I want to take you to a new, safe and beautiful D’Hara, Kahlan.”

“When are you leaving?”

“In a day or two. The sooner I leave, the sooner I’ll return and then we’ll have a proper wedding in a world of peace.”

Kahlan was pondering all he said for a moment, and then looked at him. His face was honest and warm, although a bit insecure and sad for having to separate from her again so soon. She smiled and patted his hand.

“Well, I know what could make you hurry up,” she said almost mischievously and Richard raised his eyebrows, his gaze becoming questioning. “You will return not only to me, but also to our child growing inside me.”

Pure happiness lighted up Richard’s face as he jumped on her feet, grabbed her and lifted her up in his strong arms, laughing heartily.

“Oh, Kahlan!” he sighed happily as he hugged her tightly, breathing in the scent of her hair. “How long have you known?”

“For two weeks, since we’ve arrived to Aydindril,” Kahlan smiled, sharing his happiness. “I didn’t want to tell you before I was absolutely sure. I asked Zedd to check it out today, he confirmed it.”

“That is wonderful!” Richard exclaimed and kissed her warmly. Then he cupped her face with his hands and looked at her, eyes filled with love and devotion. “Then I shall postpone my journey to D’Hara. I’ll go when our child is born.”

“Richard, no,” Kahlan shook her head. “It’s almost eight months. Can you imagine what horrible things Darken Rahl could do if given so much time?”

“But I want to be by your side during your pregnancy,” Richard said earnestly. “I want to protect you and make sure you have everything you need.”

“Eight months, Richard,” Kahlan reprimanded him. “Darken Rahl could not only take over the throne, but also raise an army and attack the Midlands again. Is my pregnancy truly more important than the peace?”

“Well, you do have a point, but…”

“We have just managed to achieve some peace,” she was starting to lose her patience. “Can’t you see that? How can you put your selfish desires before the common good?”

Richard frowned, suddenly looking like a lost puppy, so Kahlan caressed his cheek and continued in softer voice:

“Besides, I will be safer if Darken Rahl doesn’t get the chance for another war. Don’t worry, Richard, I’ll be all right.”

He was considering her words for few moments, and then sighed.

“Fine,” he said. “I will need Zedd and his magic for this, but I’m leaving Cara here to watch over you.”

Kahlan’s heart skipped a beat. Now Cara wouldn’t be able to avoid me anymore, she thought and smiled.

“I’m sure I will be perfectly safe with Cara,” she answered and kissed him.

* * * * *

The morning Richard and Zedd left was cloudy and rainy. Rain poured from the sky as if it would never stop and it was colder then it should be in the middle of the summer. Kahlan insisted they took a dozen of the Home Guard’s best soldiers to accompany them on their journey and they stood behind Richard, beaming with proud for being able to assist the Seeker despite the heavy rain and the cold.

Saying their goodbyes felt somehow awkward. Richard patted Cara’s shoulder and said something about trusting her to watch over Kahlan as if she was the Lord Rahl and Cara mumbled something inaudible, trying not to show any emotions whatsoever. But Kahlan watched her carefully and even though Cara’s face showed nothing, her eyes brimmed with worry and – what shocked Kahlan most – with fear. But before she could even begin analyzing why Cara would be afraid, she was already in Richard’s arms.

He hugged her as if he would never let go, whispered sweet nothings in her ear and kissed her gently, with warmth and love that made her chest constrict somewhat painfully. Then he laid his palm on her still flat stomach and promised to return as soon as possible.

From the corner of her eyes, Kahlan noticed Zedd was quietly saying something to Cara and Cara’s gaze sank to the ground. The blonde then nodded and Zedd smiled, squeezing her hand. Then he approached Kahlan and Richard, hugging them both.

To Kahlan, it all seemed somehow blurred, as if her senses were not so sharp as usually, or as if she was dreaming. Perhaps it was another symptom of the pregnancy, she thought, or the consequence of another oncoming wave of nausea.

Richard hugged her again and held her for a long time, held her so tightly she was beginning to worry her increasing nausea would make her vomit all over him, but luckily he let go before that happened.

And then they were gone, leaving Kahlan and Cara standing before the large gates of the Confessor’s Palace.

Kahlan shot a glance towards Cara. The Mord–Sith’s face was still showing nothing and the fear was gone from her eyes.

“What did Zedd tell you?” Kahlan asked. Cara visibly twitched, but she didn’t turn to look at the Confessor, her face unchanged.

“He reminded me of the promise I once made,” she answered evenly. Something inside Kahlan made her want to scream and shake Cara wildly until her walls crashed down – but instead, she remained as calm as Cara seemed to be.

“What promise?”

“That I would protect your and Richard’s happiness.”

Few moments passed in silence. Cara was staring straight in front of herself, Kahlan was staring at Cara.

“Is there any reason you wouldn’t?” Kahlan asked cautiously. The blonde shot her a glance, not answering. The Confessor waited for few moments and then sighed. “Perhaps you would like to discuss this inside?”

“There is nothing to discuss,” Cara growled.

“Only the matter of me not being able to confess you.”

“I do not find that relevant enough to discuss it.”

“Come on, Cara,” Kahlan sighed, irritated. “You are avoiding me for almost two months now. You can’t push me away forever. Not now when you promised Richard to…”

“We should get inside,” Cara interrupted, trying to keep her voice calm even though it trembled. “It’s cold. You might get sick.”

Kahlan kept her gaze on the Mord–Sith for few more moments, but when the blonde shot her a nervous, almost pleading glance, she sighed and nodded.

“All right,” she said. “Another time, then. Let’s go inside.”

They walked in the Palace together, but instead to the Great Hall filled with petitioners, Kahlan led Cara to her office.

“Why are we here?” the Mord–Sith asked, but instead of answering, Kahlan ran to the bathroom as soon as the guard closed the door, abandoning every ounce of her usual Mother Confessor dignity and serenity. Cara scratched her head, frowning in confusion while the most unladylike sounds of retching and coughing were reaching her ears.

Then she sighed, remembering her own morning sicknesses from years ago and walked towards the bathroom.

“Kahlan?” she asked as her gaze fell on the Confessor who was half sitting, half crouching next to the toilet seat, her hands fitfully gripping the wooden boards on the toilet and her hair sprawled all over it. She was coughing violently and short, heavy breaths were tearing off her throat, and Cara’s heart constricted in that odd kind of pain only Kahlan could provoke in her.

“Are you all right?” she asked as gently as she could. Kahlan took few deep breaths to stop the coughing and nodded.

“How long will I have to endure this?” she asked shakily, her voice rough from the vomiting. Cara noticed that the Mother Confessor’s hands were trembling so she bent down and hesitantly held Kahlan’s upper arms to help her get up.

“Morning sickness usually happens during first three or four months,” she answered, shocked to find the entire Kahlan’s body slightly shaking. The Confessor was pale and seemed completely exhausted. “But you don’t have them only in mornings, do you?”

“Few times a day,” Kahlan murmured and Cara unsuccessfully tried to hide her surprise.

“That often? Kahlan, that is not good. It could exhaust you too much.”

“It won’t,” the brunette managed a small smile. “I eat more than enough.”

“That’s true,” Cara chuckled, remembering Kahlan’s growing appetite which made watching her eat as fun as watching Zedd. “Come on, washing your face with cold water will help a bit.”

The Mord–Sith poured some fresh, clear water from the bucket in the washbowl. Kahlan washed her face and rinsed her mouth while Cara was holding her waist to steady her trembling form. Then suddenly the Confessor leaned back with a loud sigh and Cara’s heart started racing while the familiar pain burned in her chest, fueled by the warm, shaking body pressed to hers. She swallowed and let her hands wander to Kahlan’s abdomen and gently caress it.

A thousand thoughts passed through the Mord–Sith’s head. Kahlan was the only person in the world that made her feel the need to be gentle, the only person that gave her that special kind of pain. Somehow, it was much more difficult to keep the Mord–Sith walls up when Kahlan was near her and it was like that ever since those walls crashed down during their forced stay in that cursed tomb. And the strange emotion built of admiration, care, desire and respect was growing inside Cara ever since, exuberating now so quickly it seemed to fill her entire soul.

Suddenly, holding Kahlan in her arms and feeling her warmth along her own entire body became more important than breathing the air, even more important than her loyalty to Lord Rahl. It became all Cara wanted to do for the rest of her life.

So when Kahlan’s hands met hers and their fingers intertwined, Cara let herself breathe in the scent of Kahlan’s hair, allowing her head to fall on the Confessor’s shoulder.

“Are you feeling better?” she asked, her voice so impossibly soft it seemed almost foreign to her.

“Yes,” Kahlan breathed and Cara noticed she stopped shaking. But even though the Mother Confessor didn’t need Cara to steady her anymore, she continued leaning on the blonde for few more moments. And Cara somehow knew Kahlan needed this to be able to endure long hours of taking petitioners that awaited her.

Only after someone’s voice called for her from the office did Kahlan move away, looking at Cara somewhat sheepishly.

“Thank you,” she whispered and smiled.

“Any time, Mother Confessor,” Cara nodded, rising up her Mord–Sith walls.

Kahlan quickly arranged her hair with her fingers, took a deep breath and got out of the bathroom. Cara heard her talking with the maid about the petitions and when she joined them, Kahlan already had her Confessor face on.

But when they walked to the Great Hall few moments later, the dangerous, unreadable Mord–Sith and the equally dangerous and perhaps even more unreadable Confessor, there was a new kind of bond between them – the bond born in sharing a moment of weakness.

And for the first time in her life, Cara thought there might be some strength in allowing the weakness to be shown.

Chapter 5

Days passed in a well rehearsed monotony. Cara became the Mother Confessor’s shadow, accompanying her to all of her duties, intently observing anyone who would come near her, one hand always on her Agiel. She was prepared to strike everyone who would try to inflict any harm on the Mother Confessor or show any intent of doing it. She would stand next to Kahlan’s chair during the petitions, keep her silent company when she was working in her office and sit next to her at meals.

During nights, Cara would stay in Kahlan’s bedroom, sitting in the big chair sheeted in soft fur, only occasionally allowing herself to doze off for an hour or two. She would watch Kahlan sleeping for hours, admiring the innocent look on her face while she was dreaming of who knows what. And while watching her, Cara was constantly fighting her own desires and unattainable dreams, gripping the Agiel to prevent herself from approaching the large bed and touching Kahlan’s soft, porcelain skin.

But one night the Mord–Sith did lose the battle raging inside her and touched Confessor’s beautiful face with her trembling, naked fingers. Kahlan shifted, murmuring something inaudible, and Cara jumped away, heart beating as crazy and fear of being caught in an inappropriate act making even her knees quiver. She reprimanded herself instantly for losing the battle against her emotions, repeating the promise she had given to Zedd in her mind and reminding herself of the duty bestowed upon her by Lord Rahl. She spent the rest of the night gripping both of her Agiels so strongly that her fingers were dark with welts for next two days.

Indeed, nothing could happen to Kahlan with Cara constantly around. Everyone in Confessor’s Palace, even though they feared the deadly Mord–Sith and felt certain unease about her spending nights in the Mother Confessor’s chambers, knew it.

And then there were Kahlan’s morning – or midday, or evening – sicknesses. Every time she would throw up, Cara was there, helping her in more or less the same way as that first time. One constant aspect of that help was the warm hug, in which they would stay as they did the first time, Cara’s fingers soothingly caressing Kahlan’s abdomen and their fingers then intertwining tenderly. They never talked about this unusual routine, but they both slipped into it so naturally it felt like there had never been a time when it had not been normal for them to stand like that, Kahlan leaning on Cara with Cara’s head on her shoulder.

And every time, things would change a little. Sometimes Kahlan would slip her fingers in Cara’s hair, sometimes she would glide her fingertips over Cara’s hands in a fleeting caress and sometimes Cara would dare to rise on her toes and barely touch Kahlan’s neck with her cheek. But every time, it seemed their wordless hug lasted a bit longer and Kahlan seemed more and more reluctant to leave the warmth and comfort of Cara’s body pressed behind hers.

But Cara didn’t notice her loss of control over the entire situation until one stormy night, about three weeks after Richard and Zedd’s departure. The storm raged outside, flashes of the lightning illuminating the room and the chill so strong even Cara found herself shivering a bit. She curled up in the chair, wrapped in the soft blanket, and watched Kahlan with worry.

The Confessor’s sleep was restless, disturbed by the loud cracks of thunder and nightmares that were tormenting her ever since she fell asleep. Her head was snapping from side to side, her hands gripping the blankets, sweat glistening on her forehead and painful moans coming from her throat. Her murmur was incomprehensible as usually when she would talk in her sleep, but louder, and occasionally Cara could make out Richard’s name in her incoherent chatter. It made her grip her Agiel in order to shut down the now familiar Kahlan–pain, but it also served as a reminder of the destiny Richard and Kahlan shared, destiny in which her only role was to serve as a protector.

And then Kahlan suddenly screamed and sat up, shaking uncontrollably. Cara was there in few quick strides and gripped her arms.

The Mother Confessor was staring in nothing, shivering, hands pressing her abdomen. Tears ran down her face and her eyes were filled with fear.

“Kahlan!” Cara shook her. The Confessor blinked, but didn’t look at the Mord–Sith.

“My child,” her voice cracked. “I had a dream… I gave birth to a boy.”

“It was just a dream, Kahlan,” Cara soothed firmly. The brunette turned her disheveled head toward her. The utter panic and horror on her face shocked the Mord–Sith.

“Shota once said Richard and I would conceive a male child,” Kahlan uttered, her voice barely above whisper. “What if it was true?”

“It was not true,” the blonde replied assuredly. “Shota also said you would betray Richard, didn’t she? And yet you didn’t do it.”

“I did betray him,” the Confessor whispered shakily. “When Denna captured him…”

“You told me that betrayal was simply one interpretation of that situation. Everything Shota says can be interpreted in more than one way.”

Kahlan nodded absently, but she still didn’t seem assured, so Cara continued.

“Did Shota tell you that your and Richard’s first child would be male?”

“No.”

“So perhaps she was talking about your second, or third, or tenth child.”

Kahlan chuckled at the thought of having ten children and Cara smiled.

“Don’t worry about the things you cannot influence, Confessor. Does your child feel like a boy?”

The Mother Confessor thought about it for a moment.

“No, it doesn’t,” she answered.

“If you had married Darken Rahl, you would have given birth to a boy. I’ve seen that world, remember?” Cara reached for few strands of Kahlan’s hair that fell over her face and gently tucked them behind her ear. “What are the chances for that happening twice? And besides, you yourself said it was unheard of to happen twice in the same generation. And your sister gave birth to a boy.”

“I suppose you are right,” Kahlan sighed. “But Cara, the dream… It was horrible.”

“I know,” Cara’s hand was still on the Confessor’s face, cupping it gently. “I’ve seen it. I know what a male Confessor would mean for this world. You dreamt about it because you fear it could happen. But you would fear it even if Shota said nothing about it. Dreaming about what you fear is perfectly normal, Kahlan, and it means nothing.”

Another loud sigh escaped Kahlan’s lips and she squeezed Cara’s hand with pleading look in her eyes.

“I cannot bear to be alone now,” she said. “Stay with me.”

“You are not alone,” Cara glanced to her chair. “I’m here all the time.”

Kahlan shook her head.

“No, I meant… Sleep next to me.”

Cara looked at her, stunned, and her hand fell from Kahlan’s face.

“I don’t think that is a good idea,” she managed to say, desperately trying to quickly restore her Mord–Sith walls. But after such conversation, and with Kahlan’s scared face illuminated by the lightning, her imploring, needy eyes and soft fingers wrapped around hers, lifting the walls up was close to impossible.

“I need to feel I am not alone,” the brunette explained in a small voice. “I feel like I’m frozen inside. I need… someone’s warmth next to me.”

Cara pondered that for a moment, and then sighed.

“All right,” she replied, trying to sound bored. “But only for tonight.”

Kahlan’s face was lighted up by a small smile.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Cara grunted, her heart beating like crazy, and crawled beneath the soft blanket warmed by Kahlan’s body. The Confessor readily snuggled next to her, pressing her body impossibly close to Cara’s, until their faces were an inch apart. Then Kahlan lifted her hand and caressed Cara’s cheek, looking at her so honestly and gratefully it made Cara’s chest constrict with a whole new layer of Kahlan–pain.

“You might want to turn to the other side,” the Mord–Sith muttered huskily, her voice shaky, as her hands were twitching and trying to break away her self–control and start wandering over the beautiful, slender body next to her.

“Why?” Kahlan asked, her whisper half daring, half sleepy. Cara sighed helplessly.

“You know why,” she answered earnestly, Lord Rahl’s voice blurring in her mind more and more with every second spent in such close proximity to Kahlan. “Please, Kahlan, turn to the other side.”

Kahlan stared at her for few long moments and then nodded and turned away, grabbing Cara’s hand and pulling her along until Cara was pressed to her back, her hand on the Confessor’s abdomen, almost mimicking their usual after–vomiting comfort hug. Cara sighed, letting her body follow Kahlan’s soft form, tucking her face in the Confessor’s neck and inhaling deeply the incredibly sweet scent of the dark hair sprawled all over the pillow. The pain was screaming in her while her fingers were entangling with Kahlan’s.

Instantly Cara knew she won’t be able to sleep at all; the night was going to be spent in restless, agonizing chaos of thoughts, desires and divided loyalties. And compared to that, being tortured by all the Agiels in the world seemed like a child’s game.

* * * * *

Kahlan woke up to a beautiful morning and the chirping of birds, and stretched in the bed, her hands unconsciously searching for someone even before she was completely awake. And then the events from the previous night suddenly came to her mind and she froze, her eyes snapping open.

“Spirits!” she exclaimed and sat up, looking around. She was alone; the bed was empty, and Cara was nowhere to be seen. Kahlan covered her face with her palms and sighed deeply.

She barely remembered anything from the nightmare she had had and now it seemed impossible she had reacted to it the way she had. Although Kahlan was compassionate and emotional, she was always trying to be as reasonable as possible. Being the Mother Confessor, her reasonableness was even more of an ally than her compassion.

And last night she behaved like a scared child, abandoning all reason and insisting on sharing her bed with a Mord–Sith just to satisfy her selfish desire to be comforted. She briefly wondered did the pregnancy make her so weak and dependent.

On the other hand, her selfish desires were not just the result of her weakness; they also originated from the strange need to provoke Cara, to push her, make her break. Two months of avoidance were more than Kahlan could take and although Cara ceased to avoid her in order to be able to protect her the entire time, it was obvious she was desperately trying to keep her walls up. And Kahlan, for some reason, couldn’t stand the thought of having any walls separating her from the stubborn Mord–Sith. She had shown her weakness so many times, with all the nausea and vomiting and pregnancy moodiness, and Cara was still trying to ignore the fact they became connected in a way they had never been before. Sometimes it infuriated Kahlan – and sometimes it just made her incredibly sad.

In only three weeks, she developed such dependence on Cara and began relying so much on her it was becoming entirely impossible to imagine her life in Aydindril without the loyal Mord–Sith. She was becoming more and more dependent on Cara’s warm touch and comfort with each day that passed.

And at the same time, Kahlan was almost obsessed with the need to make Cara talk about the fact she hadn’t been able to confess her. Although the Confessor knew well enough what it probably meant, she wanted to be sure. Perhaps the protection from Confession could also come from emotions such as friendly devotion, nut just from complete, passionate love, she thought. After all, she had once entered Con Dar not for Richard, but because of her sister, so perhaps there was more than one way to be protected from Confession. Kahlan simply had to know the truth.

But the previous night firmly shook her beliefs. Not only did Cara’s reaction to the snuggling betray more than friendly devotion; it also shook Kahlan to discover her own desire to kiss the Mord–Sith when they were lying together in her bed. She could attribute their hugs and touches to her own need for closeness and comfort increased by the pregnancy, but this was something entirely different.

Kahlan wanted to kiss Cara, she wanted to touch her and feel her skin on her own in ways and for reasons that were just starting to unfold in her mind. And the mere comprehension of that made Kahlan feel confused and guilty. After wall, she was betrothed to Richard, she was caring his child under her heart and she did love him deeply. Then how she could feel that odd longing for Cara, she wondered anxiously.

The small, reasonable voice inside Kahlan’s head whispered she should let it go, stop provoking Cara and forget all about those inappropriate desires in order to be able to fulfill the role destiny designated her.

But Kahlan’s greatest flaw as a Confessor was the fact her reason sometimes drowned under the weight of her emotions.

So she got up, quickly washed her face and combed her hair. Then she dressed and left her chambers with firm intent to find Cara and clear all this up once and for all.

She didn’t have to search for long; the Mord–Sith was standing next to the door, exchanging suspicious glances with the guard.

“There you are,” Kahlan said, closing the large door. “Why are you here instead in my chambers?”

“Mother Confessor,” Cara slightly bowed her head, her face expressionless. The guard’s bow was much deeper as he stepped aside. “I have been reconsidering the matters of your security and made some changes in order to make it more efficient.”

“And how is leaving me alone going to make keeping me safe more efficient?” the Confessor asked sharply, but Cara didn’t even twitch.

“I was considering prince Fyren as a satisfactory replacement. He is confessed, therefore he can be trusted more than anyone. If you order him to…”

“You would leave Fyren in my chambers during the night?” Kahlan interrupted, her voice rising with anger. “Even when I am betrothed to your Lord? What do you want my people to think of their Mother Confessor? That she took two mates at the same time?”

Cara pondered that for a moment, shifting a bit uncomfortably, and it was obvious to Kahlan she hadn’t taken this into consideration. Which meant the blonde was just looking for an excuse to keep her distance, and that infuriated Kahlan.

“I cannot stay awake and alert for so many nights,” the Mord–Sith tried. “Even Mord–Sith need a full night of rest every now and then.”

The Mother Confessor snorted, clearly showing what she thought of that explanation.

“You do need sleep,” she replied. “But you sleeping anywhere but in my chambers would make me less safe. You would be defying Lord Rahl’s direct orders.”

“Lord Rahl didn’t order me to sleep in your chambers,” Cara growled, staring at her with defiance. “Nor as close to you as you would want me to.”

Kahlan swallowed the anger that boiled inside her at the implication and glanced towards the guard who was trying not to look at them, obviously feeling uncomfortable.

“Some of our discussions are not for everybody’s ears,” she warned and motioned to Cara to follow her. “We are going out of Aydindril for a ride so we can continue this discussion more privately.”

“How many Home Guard soldiers do you wish accompanying us?” Cara asked evenly as she followed her through the long hallway.

“None. We are going alone.”

“And how is that going to improve your safety, Confessor?” the Mord–Sith’s voice was filled with sarcasm. “Your need to have some unnecessary private discussion with me makes it more difficult for me to follow Lord Rahl’s orders regarding your security.”

The tone of Cara’s voice fueled Kahlan’s growing anger until she had enough of the blonde’s defiance and stubbornness. She stopped abruptly and grabbed Cara’s upper arm.

“Do you dare to disobey me?” she snarled, not paying any attention to the surprised gazes of the two maids passing by them.

Cara’s eyes went wide with bewilderment.

“Kahlan…” she tried, but the Confessor didn’t let her finish.

“Do you dare to disobey me, Mord–Sith?!” her voice rose with the authority and strength that used to make kings and queens shiver in fear and her eyes flashed with dark fury. “Shall you abandon your duty and disobey the Mother Confessor of the Midlands?! Fail to serve me loyally and unconditionally as your Lord ordered you to?!”

The Mord–Sith watched her in shocked wonder, her defiance shrinking before those cold, threatening eyes. Somewhere deep inside, her admiration for the Mother Confessor, now showing exactly why everyone respected and feared her, increased. And somewhere even deeper, the Mord–Sith obligation of obeying the strongest mistress, deeply etched in her personality, turned on.

In an instant, Cara was harshly reminded of how dangerous and powerful Kahlan Amnell truly was. It scared her, hurt her, excited her in all ways possible and almost made her completely forget her loyalty was to the Lord Rahl.

“No,” she bowed her head, submitting. “Mistress.”

Kahlan stared at her for few intense moments, squeezing her arm so hard it hurt wonderfully, and then nodded.

“Good,” her voice was even and her face cold, but when she turned and marched down the hallway, she couldn’t help but smile. The Mother Confessor, who had won many battles of will in her life, managed to win this round against the stubborn Mord–Sith.

They reached the stables without a word and their horses were prepared incredibly quickly, thanks to the fear Kahlan’s strict, angry face invoked in her servants. Then they galloped through Aydindril’s busy streets and out of the city, towards the large forest nearby. It was not until they were surrounded by trees that Kahlan turned to look at Cara, who followed her silently.

“There is a spring nearby,” she said, softening her voice a bit. “We will go there.”

“Yes, Mother Confessor,” Cara nodded. Kahlan barely resisted the urge to smile warmly, but she knew that overpowering Cara in her Mord–Sith game of dominance was the key to getting her to talk about the things the Confessor wanted to discuss. So she kept her face stern and her eyes cold.

They soon reached a small rocky hill in whose foothill lay a pool of spring water. The water was gurgling, flowing from the pool to the sinuous, thin spring and the birds were happily chirping in the treetops. Stone columns of a man’s height were surrounding the pool, forming a wide circle.

“It is called the Confessor’s Meditation,” Kahlan explained as they were getting off their horses. “It is believed that Confessors gain important knowledge and wisdom when they stay in the stone circle. I hope it works on Mord–Sith as well.”

If Cara noticed a hint of provocation in Kahlan’s voice, she didn’t take the bait. She silently led their horses to the stream, where they started drinking, and then turned to Kahlan.

“So what do you want me to do?” she asked quietly.

“Come with me,” Kahlan took her hand and led her inside the stone circle, passing between two columns. They stopped when they reached the pool and Kahlan sat down on a rock, took her boots off and dipped her feet in the cold, clear water.

“Sit next to me,” she ordered and the Mord–Sith obeyed. “Now talk.”

Cara sighed.

“You are not going to give up, are you?” she asked. “You just can’t let it go.”

“No, I can’t,” Kahlan replied honestly and Cara sighed again, her shoulders slumping wearily.

“Why?”

“Because I feel things that confuse me. Because I need to know exactly what I’m dealing with here and how to handle it.”

“No, I meant…” Cara scratched her head and then lowered it. “Why do you want to talk about it when you already know all the answers?”

“I was thinking…” Kahlan gazed at her hands. “Maybe there is another explanation for your immunity to Confession.”

“Which would be what?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping you can help me answer that question.”

Cara laughed sharply.

“What could possibly a Mord–Sith tell you about Confession, Mother Confessor?” she asked bitterly. Kahlan frowned.

“There is really no reason for you to address me by my title when we are alone,” she said somewhat sadly. The Mord–Sith shrugged.

“But that is what you are,” she replied. “Being the Mother Confessor is the role you are destined to fill, as much as you are destined to be Lord Rahl’s wife. It is as inevitable as the fact I will always be Mord–Sith Cara, the mistress of the pain. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“That is not true,” the Mother Confessor sighed. “You mean so much more to me than that.”

“Perhaps I do. But that is who I am.”

Kahlan glanced at her.

“You say you are the mistress of pain,” she pointed out. “But aren’t Mord–Sith also the mistresses of pleasure?”

“Is that what this is all about? Pleasure?” Cara’s voice slightly trembled. “I can give you pleasure, if that is what you need. But Kahlan, we both know it would be wrong. You belong to Richard.”

The brunette sighed heavily and slipped her fingers in the long, dark hair, rubbing her temples.

“That’s just it,” she replied sadly. “I don’t belong to anyone but to my people and myself. You and Richard are making the same mistake, believing I belong to him. I’m not his property.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. But you are betrothed to him, you are carrying his child, and there is nothing either of us can do to change it,” Cara’s voice was thick with suppressed emotion even though she tried to keep it calm and even. Her face was almost tormented, as if talking about this brought her immense pain, and her hands were twitching. Kahlan’s heart ached at seeing the proud Mord–Sith like that and she laid her hand on Cara’s.

“I’m not saying I want to change it,” the Confessor almost whispered. Cara looked at her earnestly, allowing herself to lightly squeeze those strong, delicate fingers.

“I have sworn my loyalty to Richard,” she said quietly. “And I have promised Zedd I would protect your and Richard’s happiness. I will do it, even if it means protecting it from myself.”

“You don’t understand,” Kahlan breathed. “You are so weighted by your promises to Richard and Zedd and the only thing that matters to you is keeping those promises and fulfilling their wishes. What about what I feel, what I want?”

Cara looked at her, her eyebrows slightly raised.

“What do you want, Kahlan?” she asked cautiously, her body tensing as if she was preparing for a fight.

“I’m not sure anymore,” the Mother Confessor replied desperately. “I knew for sure before. But now… I don’t know. Something has happened in me, but I cannot pinpoint what exactly it was. I have these… urges and desires and emotions I have never experienced before. I don’t even know how to explain them.”

“Maybe it’s the pregnancy…” Cara started, but Kahlan interrupted her with a wave of the hand.

“It is not,” she dismissed assuredly. “The pregnancy does make me more moody and it does increase my need for closeness, but this is different.”

“Different how?” the Mord–Sith still had all her muscles tensed and when Kahlan gently pulled her right glove from her hand, Cara visibly twitched.

“What are you doing?” the blonde asked, panic growing in her eyes only to be met by Kahlan’s warm, disarming smile.

“I’m showing you,” the Confessor whispered, removing the glove and gliding her fingers softly over Cara’s skin. The long, slender fingers trembled while barely touching the bronze skin sprinkled with goosebumps, caressing every knuckle on their way, and then danced around the wrist to meet the soft, tender skin of Cara’s palm. The Mord–Sith shivered, mesmerized by those light, soft touches.

“This is what I long to do,” Kahlan leaned closer, whispering almost in Cara’s ear, while her fingers somehow found their way up to Cara’s neck, then slipped into her hair and started traveling down her face, continuing their slow, light dance. “I have this strong urge to touch you… to feel how your skin feels under my fingers. I don’t know why that is or what it means, but Cara… That is how I feel.”

The fingers settled on Cara’s cheek, thumb lightly caressing her lips. The Mord–Sith swallowed.

“Your touch brings me an odd kind of pain,” she said shakily, trying to tear away her gaze from Kahlan’s. “Your hand brings me pain and sorrow.”

“I’m sorry for that,” the Confessor raised her other hand, gently cupping Cara’s face.

“You do realize that every time you do something like this, it gets harder for me to maintain self control,” the Mord–Sith’s voice was husky and her gaze involuntary fell on Kahlan’s lips.

The brunette smiled faintly.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t,” she replied softly. “Perhaps I need to indulge this… this hunger I feel in order to set all my emotions to their place. I need to understand this confusion inside me.”

“And if it only gets more confusing?” Cara’s hand finally broke away from the chains of her self control and sneaked in Kahlan’s hair, caressing her cheek. The brunette pondered that for a moment.

“One way or another, I shall learn the truth,” she concluded. “And whatever that truth might be, it is far better to know it than to live in a lie.”

Something almost magical was enveloping them, as if the world outside the stone circle ceased to exist. There was nothing except two pools of radiating light, one pair blue as the sky and the other green as the forest, and soft light skin touching the bronze one. Even the chirping of the birds and the gurgling of the water vanished in the loud beating of their hearts. Every touch seemed to burn, every motion was blurred in the magic of the moment.

And when she saw Kahlan’s gaze fall on her lips, Cara decided to give in and forget about the consequences, even if it was just for few small stolen moments. And she let her lips touch the Confessor’s, pouring everything she felt in that kiss.

Their lips moved together in tender, soft touches and every one of them seemed like a sparkle of magic. Cara gently nibbled Kahlan’s lower lip, letting herself drift to the world where nothing else existed, and Kahlan sighed contently, pulling the Mord–Sith closer until they were entangled in a tight hug, their hands roaming slowly through hair, gliding over their neck and fingers occasionally intertwining.

The magic was singing around them, harmonizing the rhythms of their hearts, pouring from their souls and returning there, binding them together in a way neither was able to fully comprehend. For Cara, the feeling was more beautiful and serene than even the birth of the Nigh Wisps. For Kahlan, it was inimitable to anything she had ever experienced.

And when Cara deepened the kiss, she was welcomed by the warm, soft tongue and Kahlan’s another content sigh. She smiled and the Confessor replied with a smile of her own, moving her tongue over the blonde’s lips. As their tongues danced together, exploring and caressing, their embrace grew tighter until they were pressed together with only their clothes in between. Hands started gripping more firmly, touches became more demanding and sighs grew louder until they turned into moans.

But Cara managed to stop only when she suddenly saw her own hands untying the laces on Kahlan’s corset without even being aware of doing so. Next thing she realized were Kahlan’s fingers on her back, working with the laces that held her leathers together. And then she became aware of Kahlan’s flushed cheeks, dilated pupils and rapid breathing.

This had to stop until it was too late to go back.

“Kahlan, stop,” she managed to say between her own erratic breaths. Instead of answering, the Confessor continued to kiss her neck, so Cara took a deep breath to steady herself and moved back a little. “Kahlan!”

“What?” the brunette asked breathlessly, visibly displeased.

“Kahlan, we cannot do this,” Cara said firmly. “It is not right.”

The brunette looked at her as if not comprehending, confused and aroused at the same time. Cara shook her lightly and then she blinked as if waking up.

“Oh,” her hand went to the half–untied laces on her chest and she blushed furiously. “Did we almost…”

“Yes,” Cara nodded, a bit confused as well. Something felt strange, as if something vital was torn away from her. The magic in the air was gone, she could clearly feel it. She looked around, everything seemed normal.

“Kahlan, did you feel something… strange?” she asked worriedly, glancing at the Confessor who was tying up her laces and regaining her breath.

“Yes,” Kahlan nodded, still blushed. “Is it always like that with you?”

“I don’t know,” the Mord–Sith replied, her promise to Zedd starting to echo in her head. She gazed at the Mother Confessor firmly. “But we are not going to find out. Kahlan, this experiment with… indulging your longings must not go further from this. Something was not right here.”

For a moment it seemed Kahlan was going to protest, but then she sighed and nodded.

“You are right, something definitely felt strange,” she said, looking at the pool of clear, almost sparkling water. Her insides were in turmoil. “But this doesn’t change the fact that I need you. Continue spending nights in my chambers, be my comfort in difficult moments like you were so far.”

Her eyes rose up and her pleading gaze met Cara’s. They stared at each other for few long, intense moments and wordless emotions flew freely between them. Then the Mord–Sith nodded.

“As you wish, Mother Confessor.”

Chapter 6

The Agiel was an incredible tool. It served as a powerful weapon, as an instrument of torturing and submitting someone to you will, as a toy that could bring unbelievable pleasure and as companion that could ease all your troubles and clear your mind when needed.

But now, the two Agiels Cara was gripping served only to inflict pain in an attempt to destroy her emotions.

The pain poured from the red rods, twitching Cara’s muscles as it traveled through her arms to the rest of her body. If gripped the right way, the Agiel could hit the entire body with the flaming hot waves of pain and Cara was now doing exactly that, in order to erase the memory of Kahlan’s kisses and touches.

“Master Rahl guide us,” she murmured through her gritted teeth, while the pain traveled through her veins. “Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us,” her entire body shook slightly as her fingers wrapped around Agiels’ tops. “In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled,” the pain was making her teeth clench so tightly it seemed they might break and every nerve in her body was flooded with it. “We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.”

Cara repeated the devotion countless times, visualizing Lord Rahl, his honest eyes and warm smile, and then his rage in the battle. She tried to overwhelm herself with the pain and devotion to her master, strengthen the bond that tied her loyalty to him and then put it safely to the place in her heart which was currently occupied by Kahlan. She had done it few times in her life, before she met Richard and Kahlan, and it had always worked.

But now, all her attempts were futile; Kahlan simply refused to be exorcized from Cara’s heart. The connection Cara felt towards her was different than anything she ever felt before; founded in that odd night they had spent in a tomb, when Cara had allowed a hint of her feelings to be shown, born in the first hug brought by Kahlan’s nausea and fueled by every such moment since, it somehow resembled the bond towards the Lord Rahl, although it was different in a way Cara could not yet comprehend. And since their talk at the Confessor’s Meditation – and the following encounter memories of which was Cara now trying to erase – the connection grew stronger.

It is probably what people call love, Cara thought, sighing, and gave up, returning her Agiels to their holsters. She would have to find another way to stop herself from reliving those memories in her mind.

It’s been a week since that day, and Cara was constantly plagued by the thoughts about Kahlan, her kisses and touches, the way her hair fell over her face when she was kissing Cara’s neck, the feel and scent of her skin… She was well aware she would probably never get another chance to do all those things with the Confessor, so she was repeating it constantly in her mind until it was etched in her memory. And the pain it brought her, along with everything else she felt, was giving a whole new meaning to Kahlan–pain, how she got used to call it in her mind.

During their return from the Confessor’s Meditation to Aydindril, neither had said a single word. They haven’t talked about it since, and the Mord–Sith was grateful for Kahlan being able to leave things alone for once. They did slip in their usual routine easily, though, with Cara spending nights in Kahlan’s chambers and shadowing her wherever she went. Kahlan didn’t ask Cara to sleep next to her again, but her nauseas still resulted in those comforting hugs.

And the tension was there, palpable and fueled by the evolving connection between them. Kahlan felt it too, Cara saw it in her eyes and somehow felt it in all those small, casual touches they both pretended were not being exchanged. She also knew that she had to be the strong link here, the one able to prevent anything inappropriate from happening again. And that is why she was trying to destroy her feelings towards Kahlan; the more she indulged them by reliving every touch and kiss, the need for doing it again was greater. Accordingly, so was the risk of committing the most horrible betrayal by bedding Lord Rahl’s future wife.

Not that Kahlan would mind. Cara was now sure that the Confessor reciprocated at least some of the things she felt and as much as it made her feel joy, it brought her even more pain and sorrow.

They both belonged to the Lord Rahl, one way or another. And acting in accordance with what they both felt would be a pure treachery. So Cara tried to erase her memories, destroy her feelings and close the door to her heart Kahlan managed to open.

Somehow, she failed. And to make things worse, she wasn’t not nearly enough angry at herself for that failure.

The door opened and Kahlan exited her chambers, followed by the wave of alluring scents and a herd of giggling maids. Some of her hair was lifted up, held together by few tiny braids that also circled her forehead, resembling a thin, but tasteful crown. She was, as usually, wearing her white dress and Cara instantly remembered those days when the Mother Confessor wore her traveling leather. Since they had arrived to Aydindril, she saw Kahlan only in that white dress and, during nights, in her nightgown. Though, she now knew the secret to keeping the official Mother Confessor clothes perfectly clean – there were at least two dozens of identical dresses in Kahlan’s wardrobe.

Kahlan greeted her with a wide, warm smile.

“I can see you too have prepared for today,” she said, her gaze quickly roaming over the Mord–Sith’s red leathers. Cara shrugged.

“Well, I did clean and oil my leathers,” she replied, seemingly uninterested, eyes fixed on the Confessor’s ear. “Earrings, Mother Confessor? I don’t recall ever seeing you wear any kind of jewelry.”

Kahlan reached for the long, thin silver braiding sprinkled with tiny blue jewels that hung from her ear.

“They were my mother’s,” her reply was soft. “I wear them in the occasions such as this one.”

“Can you tell me again why we have to walk the streets and then have a party?”

“It is the end of the summer,” the Mother Confessor explained, dismissing her maids with a wave of her hand. “The leaves are changing their color and it is time to thank the Creator for another fruitful year. So we are having a celebration to honor the twilight of another cycle of life.”

“In D’Hara, we usually just get drunk,” Cara smirked, twisting a strand of her hand with her fingers, and was rewarded by Kahlan’s heartily laugh.

“You can do that here too,” she patted the blonde’s shoulder.

“Not while I’m responsible for your safety. The risk is highest when there is a crowd surrounding you.”

“Well, I guess that means we’ll have to celebrate in your way sometime when we are alone,” the blue eyes sparkled mischievously.

“Oh, Confessor, don’t dare to challenge a Mord–Sith when it comes to drinking,” Cara warmed half threatening, half joking, making Kahlan chuckle. “Now come on, your entourage awaits.”

They walked down the hallway, soon reaching the large marble stairway that led to the front yard of the Confessor’s Palace. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, a dozen of Home Guard soldiers, wearing their ceremonial fervent red tunics with golden and black fringes over their polished breastplates, were waiting. One of them was holding the reins of Kahlan’s snow white horse, whose mane was combed and braided in dozens of long, thin braids.

“I will be leading your horse,” Cara explained while Kahlan was mounting. “Home Guard will be surrounding us. If anyone wants to inflict any harm on you, he will have to come through all of us to get to you.”

“I still think this is too excessive,” the Confessor objected. “I don’t think any one of my people have any reason to want to harm me. Especially now when I’m pregnant and they all know that another Confessor is coming into the world.”

“May I remind you that you are betrothed to the Lord Rahl, master of the land which was until recently trying to conquer the Midlands,” Cara said sharply.

“But Richard is the Seeker. He had ended that war and saved the entire world from the Keeper.”

“To some people, it is not as important as the fact he is the Lord Rahl. They might perceive your betrothal as the surrender to D’Hara.”

“Then how will they perceive a Mord–Sith leading my horse?” Kahlan asked a bit roughly and Cara smirked.

“Hopefully, as a proof of your dominance over me.”

Kahlan’s face softened a bit and she smiled briefly before the Confessor face hardened her features. Cara grabbed the reins and led the horse towards the large ornamented gates. Home Guard soldiers surrounded them, the gates were opened and their small procession was welcomed by loud cheers of the gathered crowd.

They slowly moved through the streets of Aydindril for the next two hours; it seemed every inhabitant of the city was out on the streets, cheering happily and celebrating the season. Some people sang, many laughed, and children tossed flowers over the Mother Confessor who nodded benevolently and smiled slightly to every person who would reverently touch the hem of her dress.

Cara was scanning the surroundings for the entire time, looking for any possible threats, but there seemed to be none. She did notice how people were gazing at her, though, with fear and trepidation or even hate, but also with some kind of proud victory, as if she was some kind of wild animal tamed by their mistress.

Perhaps that was true, the Mord–Sith thought and turned her head to look at Kahlan. The Mother Confessor was simply breathtaking; upright and strong, her raven hair falling on her shoulders under the white hood and the corners of her lips twitched in a hint of warm smile, she looked powerful and serene at the same time. The brilliant white of her dress, accentuated by the afternoon sun and the white horse, enveloped her in the otherworldly, sublime glow. To many, it seemed as if the Creator herself descended from the spirit world to bless her children.

And Cara, enchanted by the magnificent sight, couldn’t disagree. The Mother Confessor invoked admiration and devotion as much as she invoked fear. And Cara could think of nothing she would find more attractive.

So she allowed herself to watch Kahlan with complete adoration for few moments. And that was the biggest mistake she ever made.

At one moment, Kahlan was sitting upright, enveloped in the magnificence of being the Mother Confessor, and only a second later, she faltered towards the horse’s neck, an arrow protruding from her back, blood pouring from the wound making scarlet patterns on her white dress. Loud, scared screams replaced the cheers and before Cara even managed to scream Kahlan’s name, her eye caught the hand holding the bow vanishing from the window of the building they just passed by.

Everything seemed blurred as the Mord–Sith ran towards the building, both Agiels in her hands, loudly issuing orders to the Home Guard. Six of them followed her through the wailing crowd that moved to let them through, the others taking care of the Mother Confessor who was slipping from the horse, bleeding and half conscious. But Cara had no time to fear for Kahlan’s life; the cold rage that fueled her strength was enough for now. She had an assassin to catch, and she wouldn’t stop until she had him in her hands, punishing him with her Agiel for spilling the blood of the Mother Confessor.

They reached the building just in time to see him run through the door. He was middle–aged, his long hair grizzled, and the look on his face completely enraged Cara; it was the look of pure hate.

She chased him in the narrow street, splitting from the Home Guard soldiers who ran the other way in the attempt to intercept him. The man wasn’t a match for a Mord–Sith and she caught up with him at the same time guards appeared on the other side of the street. Both Agiels hummed and hit him at the same time, fueled by Cara’s anger, and the man collapsed, moaning painfully. Cara pressed him to the ground with her boot and pushed her Agiels down to his stomach and neck, causing him to scream in pain. Then she thrust the Agiel in the man’s ear and held it there until his screams stopped and his ear started bleeding.

“Get him in the Palace’s dungeon,” she ordered coldly when the guards approached her, swords at the ready. “And don’t let anyone near him until I order otherwise.”

They obeyed without a word, tying his hands firmly and dragging him away. Cara breathed deeply, calming her anger, then sheathed her Agiels and followed the guards to the main street filled with people scared for their ruler’s life.

This time, their gazes were filled with something else beside fear – gratitude. The Mord–Sith caught the man who tried to kill the Mother Confessor and although it did not wash away all her sins from these people’s minds, it gave her at least some credit.

Kahlan was already taken to the Confessor’s Palace and by the time Cara got there, the entire Palace was bustling with activity. Servants and maids were hurrying around, abandoning their usual tasks in order to participate in this sudden crisis any way they could, which mostly consisted of aimless wandering around in scared tears.

Cara grabbed one maid’s upper arm and shot her a requesting glance.

“Where is the Mother Confessor?” the blonde asked sharply, the demand so strong in her voice that the maid probably even didn’t notice it was a Mord–Sith talking to her.

“In her chambers,” she answered, her voice trembling with fear and confusion. “Home Guard is with her, so are the healers. What happened, mistress? Who attacked her?”

Cara dismissed her, not bothering to answer, and rushed up the stairs. She reached Kahlan’s chambers in no time and when one of the Home Guard soldiers who were standing there tried to stop her, she snarled at him, grabbing her Agiel.

“I am the Mother Confessor’s personal guard,” her voice was so threatening it made the guard wince. “I spend my nights in her chambers to make sure nothing happens to her and I just caught the man who tried to kill her. So if you don’t step aside and let me in, I will give you such pain you’ll find yourself wishing you were never born.”

She emphasized her words with the humming of her Agiel pointed at the man’s face, and the guard swallowed, bowing her head.

“I am sorry, Mistress Cara,” he said apologetically. “I didn’t mean to insult you. It’s just, the healers are with her and they ordered us not to let anyone in.”

“I am taking my orders from the Mother Confessor or the Lord Rahl,” Cara growled. “Not from some healer fools.”

With that, she returned the Agiel to its holster and opened the heavy door. She passed through the anteroom in few quick strides and entered Kahlan’s bedroom, where three healers, two older men and a slightly younger woman, were tending to Kahlan’s wound. The Confessor was conscious, sitting on her bed silently, her expression blank, only the fingers that tightly clenched the material of her dress betraying she was in pain. The broken arrow, all bloody, was lying on the table, and Kahlan’s bare chest revealed the output wound right above her right breast.

If circumstances were any different, Cara would welcome the opportunity to gaze at Kahlan’s naked breasts, but now she barely registered the Confessor’s nudity. Her eyes met Kahlan’s while she was marching to the bed. Don’t worry, I’m all right, said those two blue pools and Cara allowed herself to briefly squeeze Kahlan’s hand before turning to check on the wound. One look told Cara everything she needed to know, and she thanked the Creator for making the assassin’s arrow so imprecise.

“The Mother Confessor was lucky,” one of the male healers said, cleaning the wound on Kahlan’s back. “The arrow went straight through. It seems to be some damage to the lungs, but it is not serious. She did loose a considerable amount of blood, though.”

Cara glanced on the bed; there was some blood on the sheet and Kahlan’s dress, now torn, was soaked in it. She swallowed.

“The pregnancy is most likely not at risk,” the female healer, who was cleaning the wound on Kahlan’s chest, added. “But we will have to wait for a couple of days to be completely sure this trauma hadn’t damaged the child.”

“Did you catch him?” Kahlan asked, turning her head to look at Cara.

“Yes,” the Mord–Sith nodded. “I ordered the guards to take him to the dungeon. I will deal with him right away, I just wanted to make sure you are well.”

“I wish to see him. He needs to be questioned.”

“Mother Confessor,” the oldest healer reprimanded her. “You have lost quite enough blood and you are pregnant. You need to rest.”

“I’ll take care of him,” Cara repeated assuredly and Kahlan sighed.

“That’s what concerns me,” she murmured, managing a small teasing smile. Then she looked at the healers. “Are the dignitaries gathered in the Great Hall?”

“We don’t know, Mother Confessor,” the female healer replied.

“Well then, send a guard to find out.”

The healer bowed her head and left the room. Kahlan shot a glance towards the other two healers.

“Three healers and my wounds are still not bandaged?” she asked humorlessly. “Can you please hurry up? I need to get to the Great Hall and assure everyone I am well.”

“Mother Confessor,” one of the healers opposed. “You should rest and not wander around the Confessor’s Palace. The dignitaries can wait.”

“The people of this land had just had their hope restored,” the Confessor sighed heavily. “I must assure them they haven’t lost it again. Besides, we still don’t know who was behind the attack. If this is the result of some political game, I want every one of those hypocritical dignitaries to see that it takes much more than a simple arrow to kill the Mother Confessor.”

“But…”

“Bandage my wound,” she shot him a warning glance. “And then leave. Mistress Cara will help me dress.”

The healers exchanged a quick glance, then bowed their heads with respect and quickly bandaged the wounds on Kahlan’s back and chest. Then they left, passing by the female healer who returned with the information that the Great Hall was filled with concerned dignitaries. Kahlan thanked her and the healer bowed her head and exited the room, leaving the Mother Confessor alone with Cara.

Only now did Kahlan became aware of her naked upper body and blushed furiously, pulling the blanket over her breasts which only made Cara smirk.

“Why so modest all of the sudden, Confessor?” she asked cockily, crossing arms on her chest. “There is nothing to see there I haven’t already seen before.”

“Just go to the wardrobe and bring me a dress,” Kahlan lowered her head, unable to look at the Mord–Sith who seemed to have fun intimidating her. “Please.”

“If you insist, Mother Confessor,” Cara said evenly, still smirking, and walked to the large wardrobe in the other corner of the room. She opened it and took one of the identical white dresses. “But you know, I will have to help you dress. So you will have to uncover yourself sooner or later.”

Kahlan’s head snapped up.

“Stop it, Cara,” she hissed. Cara’s eyebrows shot up.

“Stop what?”

“Stop hiding behind this entire intimidation act and pretending this is not as awkward for you as it is for me.”

The Mord–Sith gazed at her, bewildered. She thought about the all witty, sharp remarks she could make now, but the expression on Kahlan’s face clearly said she would see right through anything the blonde said. So she sighed and surrendered once again.

“You’re right, it is a bit awkward,” Cara admitted, approaching the bed with the dress in her hand. She sat next to Kahlan and looked at her. The Confessor’s eyes were warm, although a bit tired, and she was paler than normally. “Why didn’t you ask for one of your maids who usually help you dress if this is so awkward for you?”

“I don’t know,” Kahlan admitted sheepishly. “I suppose I didn’t expect it to feel awkward. I can call them now, if you want.”

“I’ve helped numerous Mord–Sith dress,” the blonde sneered. “I think I can handle one Confessor.”

But when Kahlan let the blanket slip down, all Cara’s defensive sarcasm melted away as she could only stare for what seemed an eternity. Kahlan watched her intently as if she was waiting to see what would the Mord–Sith do. And then Cara swallowed and it took a lot of effort to raise her eyes and meet the Confessor’s gaze. They stared at each other for few long moments, communicating without any words and the air became thick with tension; but this time, Kahlan was the one to break the spell.

“I need to get to the Great Hall,” she said, reaching for her corset lying behind her. She pulled it on, wincing when it pressed the wound, and Cara tied the laces that held it together at Kahlan’s back. When she was done, she let her fingers rest on the soft, porcelain skin of Kahlan’s shoulders, and Kahlan shivered slightly from that simple, gentle touch, not daring to raise her eyes and look at the blonde. The Mord–Sith then gently pulled the torn dress down the long, muscular legs, swallowing tensely when more of the porcelain skin unraveled before her eyes. Her hand hovered above Kahlan’s leg for a long, tense moment, and the Confessor held her breath, for a moment completely forgetting about the sharp pain in her shoulder blade. But then Cara withdrew her hand, not even looking at the brunette, took the white dress and helped Kahlan pull it on, gently removing the long raven hair from the collar. The Confessor sighed and started tying up the laces on her chest, but Cara’s hand gently stopped her.

“Let me,” the blonde said softly. “I cannot be the one to untie them, so let me be the one who will tie them up.”

That was almost too much for the brunette; she breathed Cara’s name and reached for her face, but Cara stopped her, grabbing her hand.

“Kahlan, no,” she said firmly. “You need to forget all about that. And so do I.”

If it was possible for the Confessor to get any paler, she did. But she said nothing, lowering her head while Cara returned to the task of tying up the laces of the dress. When she finished, she got up and extended her hand.

“Now come,” she said calmly. “You need to address your people.”

Kahlan stared at the Mord–Sith for few moments, contradicted emotions floating over her face, and then she accepted the offered hand and stood up, all weakness vanishing from her face. Wounded or not, even in emotional turmoil, she was still the Mother Confessor. And yet another duty awaited her.

* * * * *

The Great Hall, now filled with long tables bending under the weight of various meals on them and decorated with flowers and banners of every land in the Midlands, was swarming with people from various lands dressed in their ceremonial traditional outfits. Cara didn’t recognize any, but Kahlan could tell what land was a person from just by looking at their attire. They all talked nervously, awaiting news of the Mother Confessor’s condition. And when the Mother Confessor entered the hall, followed by her Mord–Sith shadow, people started cheering and thanking the Creator their mistress was alive.

It took only one gesture from Kahlan to silence them all and they fell to their knees, bowing their heads before her.

“Rise, my children,” she sad formally and they obeyed as one, so she continued in a clear, strong voice. “Kings, queens and dignitaries of all lands! I welcome you all to the home of all Confessors before me, where I reside as your humble representative. I welcome you to the celebration of the summer’s end, when we thank the Creator for all her gifts we have been blessed with during this fruitful year.”

She took few steps towards the middle of the hall, her pale face stern and serious, without even a hint of her usual benevolent smile.

“But as you have certainly heard, these festivities were disturbed by the most traitorous event,” her voice rose, filling with cold anger, and her eyes flashed dangerously. “Anyone who would wish to inflict harm not only to me, but to the line of Confessors and the very title of the Mother Confessor, must be considered a traitor and therefore, punished accordingly to the Aydindril law.”

She turned and extended her hand towards Cara. All gazes fell on the Mord–Sith and it took a lot of willpower for Cara not to sneer at them.

“Mistress Cara, my loyal protector and dear friend not only to me, but also to the Seeker, captured the assassin. He will be subjected to a trial and then punished as is required by our laws. Meanwhile, let it be known; the line of Confessors lives on.”

Cheers once again filled the air and Kahlan’s lips twitched in a barely visible smile. Then she walked to the table placed in front of her throne–like chair, followed by Cara.

“Bring another chair to my table,” Kahlan ordered to the servant and he rushed to fulfill his order. “Mistress Cara dines with me.”

This caused a surprised chatter among the gathered people, but Kahlan didn’t pay attention to that. She sat in her chair, lifting her hands in a generous gesture, and invited them all to take their places so the feast can begin. Then, when another chair was brought and Cara seated next to her, Kahlan allowed herself a barely audible sigh.

“I hate this kind of gatherings,” she muttered, glancing at Cara. “And I hate this act I have to pull off every time I’m surrounded by these so called dignitaries who can’t wait for the chance to stab each other in the back.”

“Well,” Cara smirked. “You should see the political games at People’s Palace. I wonder how D’Haran nobility even manage to walk through the door with all the blades protruding from their backs.”

Kahlan’s lips twitched, but she concealed the giggle perfectly, her Confessor face not faltering a single bit.

“You shouldn’t joke,” she warned half seriously. “You sitting next to me on the feast is a precedent in itself, but Mother Confessor bursting in laughter would be too much for this occasion.”

Cara gazed at her carefully, worry sneaking on her face.

“Are you feeling all right?” she asked. “You are horribly pale.”

“My wound hurts,” Kahlan’s gaze fell to her chest, but only for a moment. “And I do feel a bit dizzy. We shall stay here for the first course and then leave.”

“Then I shall visit the dungeon after I see you to your chambers,” the blonde nodded and picked up a piece of meat even though she wasn’t hungry. “And I promise you, we will know why that man tried to kill you before morning.”

Chapter 7

Screams echoed through the dungeon halls when Kahlan, followed by two guards, entered the long hallway which led to the chamber in which her assassin was being held. She was still feeling a bit weak, but two long nights of solid sleep, compared with two days of rest and healthy food, drove away most of her fatigue. The wound still hurt, but thanks to the herbal unguent her healers applied to it, it was quite bearable. She even didn’t feel nauseous since the attack and was grateful for the opportunity to keep all food she ate – although, she was already starting to miss the comfort of Cara’s hug that managed to calm her stomach every time.

Another loud scream reached her ears and the Confessor shook her head in bewilderment. She probably should feel sorry for the man who was being subjected to the Mord–Sith torture, but somehow she wasn’t. She was able to feel empathy for almost anyone – but this man didn’t just try to kill her, he tried to extinguish the line of Confessors by attempting to kill her unborn daughter. And Kahlan couldn’t make herself feel any compassion for such horrible design.

Cara was down here with him for two days now and the whole Palace whispered about the persistence with which the Mord–Sith devoted herself to discovering his motives for trying to kill the Mother Confessor – and punishing him with unimaginable pain for that act. Even though Kahlan should have been horrified at those whispering gossips, she couldn’t help herself; it made her smile in her privacy. To her, Cara’s determination only spoke about her devotion to the Mother Confessor and her unborn child.

They stopped in front of the door which concealed the screaming man and Kahlan motioned to the guards to wait for her outside. Then she entered the dark chamber, closing the door behind her.

The chamber was small and lit only by few torches on the walls. Chains hung from the ceiling, binding the wrists of the assassin whose feet were swinging limply, not touching the floor. The man was naked and covered in blood, his hair slick with it. His body was dark with bleeding welts, shaking so furiously it made the chains clatter.

“Please, mistress,” he begged, his voice cracked and rough from screaming. “No more, please… I have told you everything I know.”

“You haven’t,” Cara’s voice was cold, low growl. The Mord–Sith stood before him, her leathers coated in blood, gripping both her Agiels. She glanced to acknowledge Kahlan’s presence, eyes brimming with such icy anger it made Kahlan shiver in trepidation, and then returned her attention to the man. “You failed to tell me about your mistress.”

“You are my mistress,” the man whined, which earned him a strong armored fist punch straight to the face. His head cocked back, fresh blood pouring from the newly broken nose.

“The other mistress,” Cara growled, and the low, dangerous vibration of her voice made Kahlan’s spine tingle with the most unexpected combination of fear and excitement. There was something primordially attractive about the Mord–Sith now, when she was showing her most dangerous face, and the realization made the Confessor’s eyes widen. She took few careful steps to get closer to the red–clad woman and her victim. Cara ignored her, still staring at the man. “You know, the one you had mentioned before, while both your legs had still been in one piece.”

Kahlan’s gaze fell on the man’s legs; they were obviously broken few times, distorted bones straining his blooded skin. She looked at Cara again – the Mord–Sith was emanating such power and force it made her gasp, swallow and then gasp again, while some strange kind of heat rushed through her entire body. She wondered why she was reacting in such unfamiliar, atypical way; was it the pregnancy making her feel strange again, or was it Cara and the way she generally reacted to the blonde, blood on her leathers or not.

“I told you, mistress,” the man panted. “I don’t remember.”

The Agiel hit him in the stomach and his scream filled the chamber, accompanied by dark red welts spreading over his abdomen. The blood started dripping when the welts reached his crotch and he screamed even louder, voice breaking to cracked cough and head falling to his chest.

Cara grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head up, forcing him to look at her. The man whined something incoherent, pierced by Cara’s penetrating, threatening gaze.

“You will remember,” she hissed. “I can kill you countless times and each and every time when I bring you back to the land of the living, I will make the Keeper’s wrath seem like a lover’s embrace.”

The Mord–Sith shot a glance towards the Confessor and Kahlan’s throat instantly went dry from seeing Cara’s dangerous, almost provoking sneer. She has never seen Cara like that and it turned on something primal, almost animal in her. She couldn’t stop staring at the Mord–Sith, following her fluid, catlike moves with her eyes, fighting the sudden urge to shove her fingers in the slick blond hair, to glide them over the wet, bloody leather.

Kahlan bit her lip, clenching her fists. Cara’s gaze penetrated hers, bringing complete chaos to her mind, making all coherent, rational thoughts drown under the weight of primal desires. Not breaking the eye connection, Cara shoved the Agiel to the man’s neck and her lips twitched in a challenging smile, pain and pleasure painted all over her face. Kahlan shivered again, waves of heat almost making her scream along with her assassin. For a second, she believed she could feel the pain as if she was the one holding the Agiel, but that moment passed so quickly she didn’t even have the time to gasp painfully.

What is happening to me, the Confessor wanted to scream, but her voice seemed paralyzed by Cara’s predatory gaze which seemed to turn more and more passionate with every second that passed.

And then the screams echoed into the silence as the man passed out, and some magnetic, overwhelming force pulled Kahlan towards Cara and Cara towards Kahlan. The Mord–Sith’s eyes pierced the Confessor’s very soul, desire and passion in Cara’s gaze quickly melting away the threatening Mord–Sith sharpness she was expressing only a moment ago. Kahlan drowned in those eyes, enchanted by the incredible mix of emotions she could see there even in the restless light of the torches.

Eyes never leaving Cara’s, Kahlan let her fingers slip in Cara’s damp hair, barely noticing the blood that painted the blonde’s hair in red rust. Her fingers moved almost involuntarily, although the Confessor couldn’t think of any reason why she should stop her curious, demanding hands from touching what they wanted to touch the most. Somewhere deep in her mind, a small voice screamed Richard’s name, but it was silenced when Cara’s hungry lips claimed hers, gloved hands letting go of the Agiels and encircling her in a firm grip. Then her back hit the wall and Cara was all over her, hands roaming over her entire body, squeezing and gripping in all the right places, lips challenging everything Kahlan ever believed in their harsh, passionate travels over her skin.

And Kahlan moaned loudly, letting go of her conscience and forgetting about anything that didn’t have blood in the hair and the red Mord–Sith leather on. Her hands glided over Cara’s back, and when she squeezed the red–clad hips, a knee suddenly pressed between her legs, making her gasp. The heat she was burning in was escalating quickly, throbbing almost painfully in her very core, so when Cara’s hands untied the laces of her dress and she felt the Mord–Sith’s teeth on her sensitive flesh, Kahlan understood with incredible clarity how pain could bring pleasure.

She kissed Cara’s neck, tasting the blood from her skin, the blonde’s shaky moans only fueling her own, then gripped the back of Cara’s head and sneaked the other arm around her waist, pulling her impossibly close. The need to feel the Mord–Sith’s skin on her own was immense; Kahlan feverishly wanted to let their skins melt on each other, she wanted to become one with the blonde until they both burn in the flames of oblivion. Everything else was gone; she didn’t have a single coherent thought in her mind, only the devouring need to be like this forever, united with Cara in the consuming, never before experienced passion.

Her trembling fingers started working on the knots that held the red leathers together and when Cara responded by sneaking her hand under the Confessor’s dress and gripping her thigh firmly, she loudly gasped for air and then crashed her lips on Cara’s, letting her tongue fight with the blonde’s. Cara’s hand moved closer to Kahlan’s throbbing center and the Confessor felt her power swirling furiously, painting her eyes black.

And then, a loud, insolent laughter ripped through the silence disturbed only by their heavy breathing. They both instantly froze, listening to the roaring sound for few lifetime long seconds, and then separated, turning to the man who was hanging from the ceiling. He regained his consciousness and was now laughing with ferocity.

“The Mother Confessor of the Midlands,” he sneered and spat blood towards them. “Whoring with a Mord–Sith. You really don’t deserve to live.”

Cara was there in few quick strides, grabbing her Agiels, and landed a series of quick, forceful blows on his chest and shoulders. He screamed again, but the scream was now rugged with hysterical laughter. The enraged Mord–Sith pushed the Agiel in his ear, trying with all her power to destroy every last shred of laughter in him, and it worked; he screamed and shook until Kahlan, who barely managed to regain herself, ordered Cara to stop.

The Mother Confessor covered herself and tied up the laces on her chest while the man was gasping for air, coughing violently, and then she approached him, not bothering to hide her anger behind the Confessor mask. Her hand wrapped around his throat and she easily released the power that still boiled right under the surface. The silent thunder shook the air, the black from her eyes filling the man’s as she poured every ounce of Confession in him.

“Command me, Confessor,” he said reverently, eyes filled with the complete, unconditional adoration. Kahlan faltered, suddenly feeling weaker than after any Confession she ever took, but Cara was there, firmly steadying her.

“Are you all right?” the Mord–Sith asked worriedly, still a bit breathless.

“Yes,” Kahlan nodded, squeezing her forehead in the attempt to clear her head. Her wound started throbbing again. “It’s just… It took more of my strength then usually. I’ll be all right.”

They both glanced at the man. Blood dripped from fresh wounds, but he didn’t seem to notice it. His world now consisted only of pleasing his mistress.

“What did you learn from him?” Kahlan asked and Cara cleared her throat, regaining her composure.

“He said he hated you for giving up the Midlands to D’Hara,” she explained, stepping away from Kahlan. Although her lips still stung from the kissing and her body ached to be pressed next to the Confessor’s, it was business time now. “He is from Kelton, apparently there are lots of people there who believe your betrothal to Richard is nothing more than surrender to D’Hara.”

Kahlan’s hand flew to her chest at the mention of Richard’s name, but her expression didn’t change.

“So he decided to kill me because of that?”

“Well, it doesn’t seem to be so simple,” Cara scratched her head. “It appears he was somehow pushed into making that decision. I wasn’t able to determine more than the fact it was a woman. It is as if something is clouding that part of information even from his mind so I cannot extract it. I believe it is a spell of some sort.”

“A spell?” Kahlan looked at the man. “What is your name?”

“Norman, mistress,” the man answered with the eagerness of the Confessed.

“Is it true? What Mistress Cara said?”

“Yes, mistress. I am very sorry, mistress, I should have never tried to harm you in any way, I beg you to forgive me…”

Kahlan waved her hand impatiently and he stopped talking, eagerly waiting for her next question.

“Who told you to kill me?” she asked.

“A woman, mistress. I don’t know her name. She came to my village, said she was traveling and stayed for couple of days. She talked to many people about you and the Seeker, how he is no different than his brother Darken Rahl, and how you are betraying the Midlands by becoming his wife and bringing the next Rahl into the world. Then she told me she had picked me for a very important task, and somehow I felt she was right, I had to kill you to bring the peace to Midlands.”

Kahlan’s jaw was clenched and so were her fists.

“How did she look like?” she asked through gritted teeth.

“She was young and beautiful,” Norman answered earnestly. “Long blond hair, longer than the Mord–Sith’s. She was dressed in black. Somehow felt very… powerful.”

Kahlan and Cara exchanged surprised glances.

“Nicci,” Cara uttered angrily. The Confessor shook her head.

“But it’s impossible,” she replied. “She is dead. You killed her.”

“Any Mord–Sith might have brought her back to life,” the blonde tapped her upper lip, thinking. “Perhaps Darken Rahl found her and had one of his Mord–Sith revive her. He doesn’t have all his powers in his new body, right? It would be just like him to use a powerful sorceress for his own bidding. And obviously, he considers Richard’s heir a threat.”

“Nicci doing Darken Rahl’s bidding?” Kahlan seemed unsure. “She hates him as much as we do.”

“Maybe his Mord–Sith broke her,” Cara offered.

“Then why not attack me directly? She is much more of a threat herself than any pawn she might send to shoot an arrow.”

“I don’t know,” Cara shrugged, worry creeping more and more over her face. “And why did her spell stop working after you confessed him?”

“Confession is a very powerful magic,” Kahlan explained. “It goes to the greatest depth of a man’s soul, deeper than any other magic.”

She looked down to her dress, noticing bloody stains all over it, and then gazed at Norman.

“You will forget about our conversation and about anything that you witnessed here,” the Confessor said firmly and the man nodded, happy to please his mistress.

“Yes, mistress.”

“Kahlan,” Cara interrupted. “If Nicci is trying to kill you, we can expect more attempts. We should notify Richard about it.”

“There is still no word from him,” Kahlan sighed, suddenly looking tired. “I don’t know where to send him this information. We have no journey books in Aydindril and there is no wizard who could inform Zedd by using magic.”

“Either way, you are in danger. We should reconsider you taking petitions and otherwise appearing in public. And you shouldn’t leave my sight even for a second.”

“Well then,” the Mother Confessor nodded. “Let’s continue this discussion elsewhere.”

“Where?”

“In my chambers, of course,” Kahlan’s eyes sparkled, amused by Cara’s surprised expression. “I need to change the dress. This one is all bloody.”

With that, she smiled and walked towards the door, leaving Cara agape. The Mord–Sith glanced towards Norman, then touched her lips and smiled briefly, and then followed the Mother Confessor.

* * * * *

They entered the Mother Confessor’s chambers and Kahlan, after ordering the maids to prepare a hot bath and bring some food, dismissed the guards.

“Your people must think you are awfully trusting,” Cara smirked, once again seeking refuge from her raging emotions in sarcasm. “You are always unguarded when spending time in your chambers with a Mord–Sith.”

“No one could protect me better than this Mord–Sith,” Kahlan replied softly, smiling. “Come, let’s go to my office until the bath and the food are ready.”

Cara swallowed at the mental image of Kahlan, naked and wet in the steaming water, and followed her through the long hallway which connected the Mother Confessor’s private chambers with her office.

“From security point of view, having your chambers connected to your office is not smart at all,” the Mord–Sith pointed out, trying to force herself to stop thinking about their passionate exchange in the dungeon. But seeing the blood stains on Kahlan’s dress only served as a reminder – and so did her own bloody leathers and hair. Only moments ago, they had been pressed tightly to each other and Cara had had the opportunity to touch Kahlan in places she had never dared to imagine possible, and the memory of that still seemed impossible, like a dream. She was still feeling the incredibly strong longing for the Confessor’s touch, for the taste of her lips, for the softness of her skin and the trembling of her thighs around her leg – but the guilt already begun to thrive inside the Mord–Sith and she was already silently reproaching herself for giving up to her desires so quickly.

But Cara knew exactly why her self–control had failed her. She was a Mord–Sith, after all; inflicting pain on someone that deserved it brought her pleasure and Kahlan had entered the dungeon chamber at the very moment the pleasure had been at its highest. It had been practically impossible for the blonde not to indulge her desires at that moment; it would have been impossible for any Mord–Sith.

And Kahlan watching her with such obvious arousal and longing certainly hadn’t helped. So when Cara had grabbed her and kissed her and pressed her to the wall, she had been merely following her own primal instincts. At the moment, they had been much stronger than her self–control, and apparently Kahlan had had no objections, for her reaction had only made the flame inside Cara burn more strongly.

But now, when at least some of the magnetic force that had pulled them unrestrainedly to each other wore off, Cara was starting to feel more and more guilty. She had betrayed Lord Rahl, failed the wizard and was rapidly making Kahlan’s life more and more complicated with each such encounter.

But when Kahlan would touch her, or smiled at her, or kissed her and slipped her fingers in Cara’s hair, the Mord–Sith’s heart would start racing like crazy, her soul would sing and she would feel more pure than she had ever thought she deserved. She would gladly surrender herself to the Confessor, bleed for her and be gentle to her as she had never been to anyone – but then she would remember that Kahlan belonged to Lord Rahl and her heart would almost die in the most unimaginable pain and sorrow.

The Agiel was nothing compared to the gentle, warm touch of Kahlan’s hand.

Cara had to admit; she was rapidly losing the control over the entire situation and over herself, and it scared the Keeper out of her.

When they reached Kahlan’s office, the Confessor offered Cara to sit in the soft chair before the fireplace and poured some wine in two cups. Then she lolled in the other chair, gave Cara her cup and took a small sip from her own, sighing contently.

“Wine and pregnancy do not go well together,” Cara frowned, making the brunette chuckle.

“Well, after the events of the previous two days, I believe I deserve few sips of wine,” she replied, her eyes sparkling. “Besides, my healers say that my daughter is well and that few sips of wine a day might help me regain my strength after losing a fair amount of blood.”

“Does your wound hurt?”

“A little. But,” the Confessor’s cheeks blushed furiously and she suddenly seemed incredibly shy. “I didn’t even notice it while we were… well, in the dungeon.”

Cara stared at her, the battle between the love and desire she felt for the brunette and her loyalty to her Lord Rahl raging inside her.

“Kahlan…” she managed shakily, but the Confessor interrupted her with a hand laid on the blonde’s arm.

“Not now,” her voice was soft, but resolute. “We’ll talk about it later. After the bath.”

Cara shifted uncomfortably.

“You don’t expect us to… bathe together, do you?” she asked, her words coming out more insecurely than she wanted them to. Kahlan’s eyebrows shot up and confusion painted her face in even deeper red.

“Well, I…” the Confessor stammered. “I somehow assumed… But if you don’t want to…”

“It has nothing to do with what I want,” the Mord–Sith growled, suddenly irritated. “When will you at least try to understand the torture you are putting me through? I am not your plaything, Kahlan.”

Kahlan’s mouth opened in bewilderment as if she was trying to find the right words, but she remained silent, her expression becoming sorrowful. Then she turned her head and stared at the restless flames in the fireplace.

They sat in uncomfortable silence for few long moments, both lost in their thoughts, and then Kahlan cleared her throat, changing the subject.

“You really think that the woman who convinced Norman to kill me was Nicci?”

“Yes, I believe so,” Cara nodded, grateful for the change in their conversation. “And the man was spelled, not merely convinced. I could feel the magical wall in him.”

“I still don’t understand why she would do such a thing. She could have been more successful if she had tried to kill me herself.”

“I am with you practically all the time,” Cara reminded. “I could easily deflect any magic she would use to harm you.”

“That’s true, but why would she send an ordinary peasant when she could spell a skilled warrior? This man didn’t even know how to take a proper aim.”

“And let’s be grateful for that,” Cara took few long gulps of wine, almost emptying the cup.

“I am grateful, of course,” Kahlan sighed. “But it just doesn’t make sense.”

“Either way,” Cara said firmly. “We need to do everything possible to minimize the possibility of further attempts for your life. You should send scouts to follow the mood of your people and learn timely if there is any trouble that could result in another attack. You need to know what your subjects think and feel about you, Kahlan. That way, if there is a growing dissatisfaction somewhere, you can send messengers to reassure them and restore their loyalty to their Mother Confessor.”

Kahlan sighed again, rubbing her temples.

“What you are suggesting makes complete sense,” she replied. “But it requires a lot of time and you have seen how much responsibilities I already have. My days are filled with petitions and administrative work. I fear to think how much of it has accumulated during these two days of my recovering.”

“Then authorize me to do it. Or give that assignment to one of your generals.”

The Mother Confessor tapped her still bloody fingers on her forehead, considering it.

“I would feel much better knowing you are the one dealing with this,” she admitted. “I shall inform the generals and the Home Guard about your authority over this matter tomorrow, when I return to my duties.”

Cara nodded.

“I shall not disappoint you,” she said assuredly and Kahlan smiled.

“I know,” the brunette responded and took another sip of wine.

“Isn’t prince Fyren from Kelton?” the Mord–Sith inquired. “He had tried to usurp your throne. If I understood correctly, there are quite a few people in Kelton who are unhappy with your rule.”

“That’s true,” the Confessor agreed. “Kelton has always been… well, a source of trouble for the Mother Confessor. I can only imagine their dissatisfaction now when their prince remains confessed.”

“Perhaps they were hoping you would at least take him as your mate,” Cara smirked and Kahlan replied with a soft snort.

“Perhaps I would consider it if the situation was different,” her smirk matched Cara’s.

“Well, the fact you had chosen Lord Rahl instead of their prince probably made those already dissatisfied people in Kelton quite angry. Maybe that’s why Nicci had chosen one of them.”

“Maybe,” Kahlan nodded. “I’ll talk about it with Kelton’s ambassador tomorrow.”

She got up, her gaze quickly gliding over Cara, and put her half–full cup on the desk.

“We should go back to my chambers,” she said evenly. “I would really like to get all this blood off my skin.”

The Mord–Sith nodded and followed her quickly, her insides once again warming over the mention of Kahlan’s skin. They walked back through the hallway in silence, and when they entered the Mother Confessor’s chambers, the large dining table was set up and filled with various kinds of food.

“Feel free to eat while I bathe,” Kahlan motioned towards the table, her hand slightly trembling. “I won’t be long. And I am sure there is enough hot water for both of us, so you can take the bath after me…”

The brunette’s expression seemed as if she had swallowed the “since you don’t want to bathe with me” ending of the sentence. She blushed a bit, shook her head, quickly grabbed one of her dressed from the wardrobe and vanished behind the bathroom door, leaving Cara once again with the most vivid mental image of the Confessor’s naked, wet body. The Mord–Sith sighed, for a moment allowing herself to consider following Kahlan and giving her exactly what she wanted.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts…, Cara’s mind screamed as waves of heat splashed over her entire body, and it took a lot of willpower to move her legs towards the table instead to the bathroom door. She lifted a piece of meat and took a bite, the act of eating a poor substitute for sating some other kind of hunger.

She couldn’t understand why Kahlan was so persistent in her attempts to provoke her. Yes, there was the undeniable mutual attraction and the strange bond they had begun to develop, and there was the pregnancy that was most certainly making Kahlan more emotional and tactile, and there was definitely the fact that the Confessor was left without her betrothed very soon after becoming intimate with him; but still, Cara found Kahlan’s behavior, as flattering and arousing as it was, completely inappropriate. She was betrothed to the man she loved, after all, and the fact that that man was Lord Rahl himself only made it more difficult for Cara to deal with.

There was nothing Cara wanted more than to be with the Confessor in every way she could imagine, but it was simply impossible. And she had to make Kahlan understand that before things got even more out of control.

Her hand gripped the Agiel, once again trying to find some comfort in the most familiar of all pains – but no matter how hard and for how long she was gripping it, the Kahlan–pain was stronger. Cara was desperately trying to lift her Mord–Sith walls up, but she only succeeded to cover up her pain and sorrow with a flat face. And when Kahlan left the bathroom, dressed in the most pure white, her skin still glistening with tiny drops of water and her wet hair falling down her shoulders, Cara barely managed to storm beside her and shut the bathroom door without grabbing the beautifully scented Confessor’s body that was so painfully, impossibly close.

Once she was alone, the blonde breathed heavily, her head spinning with the irresistible need to feel the Confessor’s skin on her own. She tried to find some comfort in Mord–Sith rituals of taking off her leathers, cleaning them, then pouring clean water in the bath tub and immersing herself into it – but it only served to increase the heat she was burning in, knowing it was Kahlan’s body that was lying there just moments ago. She washed herself methodically, forbidding herself to touch her own body in the way that would bring her at least some release, trying to punish herself for the inappropriate thoughts and longings even in that way.

And when the water cooled down, the Mord–Sith discovered some odd kind of panic crawling through her. Suddenly the thought of having to end the precious moments of solitude seemed impossible and it fought furiously with her need to be close to the Mother Confessor, be it for her protection or her mere presence.

She, Mistress Cara, one of the most frightening Mord–Sith that had ever lived, was terrified of having to face the woman she was so desperately in love with. And when she realized that, Cara instantly knew what she had to do.

The only way to stop herself from betraying the Lord Rahl was to leave Aydindril and never lay her eyes on the Mother Confessor again.

“Kahlan?” Cara’s voice trembled. Kahlan was standing next to the window, staring thoughtfully over the roofs of Aydindril, the afternoon sun illuminating her in a surreal glow. Cara’s voice almost betrayed her when those beautiful blue eyes met hers, but she managed to continue even though her sight blurred a bit.

“Kahlan, I cannot do this anymore,” her voice cracked and the Confessor’s forehead furrowed in confusion. “You don’t understand what you are doing to me.”

Kahlan took few careful steps towards the Mord–Sith and when the blonde didn’t step back, gently took her hands, her fingers lightly caressing Cara’s.

“I understand,” she replied softly.

“You bring me the kind of pain I’ve never known before,” Cara wanted to pull her hands from Kahlan’s, but somehow she couldn’t. “I thought I would be able to resist it… to resist you… But with every touch, it is becoming more and more difficult.”

“I feel the same,” the Confessor whispered, her eyes watering a bit. “You are not the only one torn between loyalty to Richard and what you feel.”

Cara shook her head furiously, her hands still refusing to leave Kahlan’s.

“But you love him,” her voice was coarse, filled with fierce emotions. “How can you love him and desire me at the same time? You are toying with me in the cruelest way.”

“I am not toying with you,” now Kahlan shook her head, her fingers intertwining with Cara’s. For a moment, she seemed lost in thought, love and despair flying over her face. “I do love him. But is it impossible… to love more than one person at the same time? In the similar, yet immensely different way?”

Silence fell on them as Kahlan’s words echoed in Cara’s head. The warmth and love in the Confessor’s eyes was more than enough for the Mord–Sith to begin drifting away from her responsibilities and loyalties, Lord Rahl once again blurring to unrecognizable, vague image in her mind, her bond to him somehow fading away along with her guilt.

Impossible, Cara thought absently, drowning in two blue depths before her, nothing could blur the bond to the Lord Rahl except the newborn loyalty to his successor.

And then a thought hit her; the connection she felt towards Kahlan might have at least partly originated from the next Rahl growing in her womb. It felt as if a heavy burden was lifted from the blonde’s shoulders; the fact she was feeling all those things towards Kahlan might not entirely be called betrayal, at least some of it might merely be the development of bond–induced loyalty to the Lady Rahl who would come in the world in about seven months.

But in Cara’s mind, sharing passionate moments with the future wife of her current master and the mother of her future one was still painted by treacherous colors.

So when she noticed Kahlan’s gaze falling and her head slightly moving closer, she released her left hand and pressed her forefinger lightly to the Confessor’s warm lips, stopping her.

“This cannot be,” the Mord–Sith sighed, her thumb gently caressing Kahlan’s chin. “If I stay here in Aydindril with you, we will both lose every shred of self–control. And we will betray Richard horribly.”

“I know,” the Confessor’s voice trembled with sadness, her hand rising to entangle in Cara’s damp hair. “But I think it’s already too late for that. If what I feel for you is betrayal, then my heart has betrayed him long ago.”

“Impossible,” Cara shook her head, refusing to believe it. “The Stone of Tears you had created… It wouldn’t be possible if your love for him wasn’t pure.”

“The Stone is created through great guilt, love and sorrow,” Kahlan reminded quietly. “And I did feel all those things at the time. But I feel drawn to you since I first met you. It took a while to realize it was not something born entirely in hate. And since the tomb… and especially since that time at the Confessor’s Meditation…” she leaned forward and touched the corner of Cara’s mouth with her lips in a light, barely perceptible kiss that instantly sent shivers down the Mord–Sith’s spine. “I feel like we are two halves of the same soul, as silly as that sounds.”

“It doesn’t sound silly at all,” Cara whispered shakily, slowly running her hands down the Confessor’s body. And when her lips finally met Kahlan’s in full, passionate kiss, the Mother Confessor sighed with content and pulled her close until they were pressed tightly to each other.

Lips met warm skin, fingers traveled through wet hair and breath teased gently, and somehow it felt as if they were at the Confessor’s Meditation again, enveloped by the surreal, magical feeling of finally surrendering to each other. No words were needed as hands glided over the cloth and leather, for content smiles and warm, loving gazes said everything in the language only the two of them understood.

Cara wanted to explore every inch of Kahlan’s skin, imprint every small detail, every light freckle in her memory forever, so she touched her reverently, feeling every beat of the brunette’s heart beneath the soft skin of her neck, kissed her eyes, cheeks and lips, touched her hair with adoration. And Kahlan took Cara’s fingers and kissed them one by one, her lips lingering, her gaze not leaving Cara’s, making the Mord–Sith feel, for the first time in her life, how her heart might explode from pure joy. Everything Cara felt was so strong, so overwhelming, that she found herself sobbing softly, tears freely falling down her face. Kahlan wiped them away with her soft, warm lips, smiling as her heart felt wide enough to hold the entire world, flooded with such deep emotion she herself wanted to cry.

The world around them vanished and everything ceased to exist as they gave themselves to each other completely, letting their souls entwine as firmly and purely as did their fingers and their breaths, in a bond so strong and devoted it had to be eternal.

And as happened at the Confessor’s Meditation, suddenly their breaths become hot, their bodies started craving for more and their fingers begun to untie the laces on their clothes. Cara was faster and Kahlan’s dress fell on the floor, leaving the Mord–Sith gasping at the sight of the Confessor’s naked, gloriously beautiful body. Even the bandage hiding the wound didn’t impair the perfection that was Kahlan.

“You are so beautiful,” she breathed, running her hands over the light, delicate skin that hid firm, strong muscles. Kahlan smiled, blushing a bit, and laid her hands on Cara’s shoulders, turning her around gently. She untied the laces that held the red leathers together and pulled them down, peeling them from the Mord–Sith’s bronze skin that seemed almost golden in the setting sun, then glided her palms over Cara’s back, touching every little scar she found there.

“You have the skin of a warrior,” Kahlan whispered, pressing herself to the blonde’s back and kissing her shoulder. Her hands traveled over Cara’s sides, hips and then over the firm, muscular abdomen, where they lingered, insecure should they continue up or not. Cara gently laid her palms over the Confessor’s hands and moved them slowly to her breasts, feeling Kahlan shiver when her palms touched the Mord–Sith’s hard, erected nipples. The blonde then turned around, skimming her own hands over Kahlan’s breasts, squeezing tenderly, which made the brunette gasp.

The next kiss was deeper, almost aggressive in its hunger, and Cara’s hands roamed over the entire Kahlan’s body, her leg sneaking between the Confessor’s thighs and rubbing her wet, pulsing center, which earned her a loud, shivering moan from the mouth she was kissing. Kahlan’s fingers slipped in Cara’s hair again as she pressed herself to the blonde’s body even more tightly, pushing her own knee to Cara’s groin. The world swirled around the Mord–Sith at that firm touch and she tugged Kahlan’s hands, pulling her towards the bed. They fell on the soft linen almost not separating at all, as if they were one body as much as they were one soul, and shifted a bit until they were entangled perfectly, Cara on Kahlan, skin on skin and erratic breath on breath. Even their hair tangled, the raven and the golden strands both shading their faces.

Cara kissed Kahlan’s breasts, her abdomen, shoulders and hips, leaving wet trails with her tongue, and Kahlan responded by doing the same, marking her Mord–Sith with small, passionate nibbles. Their gazes then locked, love and passion and everything burning in them, and Cara’s notice of the moist wetting her thigh that was still steadily rubbing Kahlan’s center was confirmed by the black swirling growing in the Confessor’s eyes. So she trailed her hand down the flat, pale abdomen and lower, replacing the pressure of her thigh with her fingers. Kahlan gasped and moaned, her hips elevating instinctively, and when Cara slipped two of her fingers in the Confessor’s wet, hot inside, Kahlan dug her fingernails in an already scarred, tanned back, bringing Cara the sweetest pain of her life. She kissed the brunette hungrily, the wonders she was doing with her fingers making Kahlan’s hips rock uncontrollably.

The Confessor’s hand shot to the back of Cara’s head and held her close after the kiss ended, hot broken breaths crashing on both faces. The blue in Kahlan’s eyes was now completely covered in black, dangerous swirls.

“I want,” she managed through the gasps, “To watch you.”

Cara nodded and turned her fingers a bit, bending them slightly, which made Kahlan writhe, the black in her eyes almost exploding.

And when Cara felt the contraction of Kahlan’s inner muscles that announced the arrival of the release, she stared deeply in her black eyes, silently swearing her eternal devotion. She knew the Confession wouldn’t hurt her, she felt the truth of it deep inside herself, but if she was to die one day, this would be the most perfect way – entangled in the lover’s embrace with the woman she loved more than anyone, ever.

“I love you,” she breathed as the silent thunder hit her, shaking her entire being and filling it with the ecstatic feeling of the most serene, overwhelming, unconditional love. For a moment, Cara saw the radiant glow illuminating Kahlan’s skin, felt its warmth enveloping her soul, and grateful tears filled her eyes.

And then it was over, leaving them still pressed to each other, breathing heavily, reluctant to separate. Cara lazily planted one slow, content kiss to Kahlan’s lips and rolled over, leaving her hand on Kahlan’s abdomen to caress it gently.

It took few moments for Kahlan to regain her breath and then she looked at Cara, eyes wide in astonishment.

“Spirits, Cara,” she said, bewildered. “This was… incredible.”

Cara smirked mischievously while her heart screamed with happiness.

“As you yourself once said,” she replied, snuggling closer to the body that was still inviting her. “Mord–Sith are mistresses of pleasure as well.”

Kahlan chuckled, rolled to the side so she could be face to face with Cara and started playing with the loose strands of the blond hair.

“Indeed,” the Confessor murmured, smiling. Cara’s fingers touched the bandage which now seemed a bit looser than before.

“Does it hurt?” she asked. “Did I hurt you?”

“Not at all,” Kahlan’s smile widened as she caressed the Mord–Sith’s cheek. “I am really glad to see you are still not confessed. It didn’t even occur to me that perhaps…”

“It couldn’t have happened,” Cara assured her, kissing the thumb that glided over her lips. “You know that. But it did feel wonderful.”

“Really?”

“If I knew that is what Confession felt like, I would have let you confess me when we first met.”

A giggle escaped Kahlan’s lips and she kissed the Mord–Sith deeply, letting her hands follow where her knee used to be.

And their dance began again.

Chapter 8

The darkness of the night was battered only by the golden light from the fireplace, shadowing everything in a soft, bleary glow. Kahlan was lying next to Cara, her head resting on the blonde’s chest and her arm over the Mord–Sith’s middle, fingers slowly drawing patterns on her side. Aware of the slow, lazy movements of gentle fingers playing with her hair, Kahlan listened to the beating of Cara’s heart and the soft crackling of the logs in the fireplace.

Hours of pure passion and happiness, the Mother Confessor thought with melancholy, wishing they could remain in the warm safety of her chambers forever, protected and hidden from the reality which was now, after those incredible, overwhelming few hours of unobstructed love, threatening to crash over their perfect, magically unreal world.

“Do you feel guilty?” Cara’s soft voice broke the silence and Kahlan sighed, planting a little kiss on the bottom of the Mord–Sith’s neck.

“A little,” she admitted, snuggling a bit closer. “But not as much as I probably should. You?”

“The same,” Cara shifted, turning to the side so she could look at the Confessor. She stared deep into the brunette’s eyes. “Somehow I feel as if my connection to you is stronger than the bond towards the Lord Rahl. Even though such a thing should be impossible, it does reduce… the sense of betrayal.”

Kahlan’s fingers slipped in Cara’s hair and traveled down her face, caressing it slowly.

“This all just felt so right,” she whispered, kissing the Mord–Sith gently, and then corrected herself. “Feels so right.”

“It does,” the blonde agreed and smiled, making Kahlan’s heart brim with joy. She had never seen Cara so relaxed, so open, so lacking of any walls and masks. “So what do we do now?”

“Now we sleep,” the Confessor chuckled. “Even though I would love to continue with our… activities, I think we really should get some rest.”

“You know what I meant,” Cara reprimanded her, voice suddenly very serious, and the brunette sighed.

“Yes, I know,” she replied, the weight of her responsibilities suddenly returning to her shoulders, and stared thoughtfully at Cara. They were both silent for few long moments, still entangled in a hug, lost in thoughts about how their future would look after they had allowed their feelings to lead them into this situation.

And then Kahlan sighed again and spoke with reluctance.

“I will marry Richard, you know.”

“I never dared to expect otherwise,” Cara’s words were soft and filled with understanding, but pain flew over her face, unable to hide itself in the moment of such closeness.

“It is not just… because of love,” Kahlan was searching for the right words, her heart screaming in pain partly for herself and partly because she knew she was hurting Cara. “This marriage has… a huge political significance. And he is the father of my daughter.”

“I know all of that,” the Mord–Sith said quietly, her eyes lowering as if she wasn’t able to look at the Confessor. Kahlan gently cupped her face and lifted it, meeting her gaze and caressing her cheek.

“But I don’t want to lose this,” her eyes were honest as much as were her words. “At least not yet.”

“If this doesn’t end here and now, Richard’s return will break both our hearts,” the blonde noted sadly. “I can live with that; I knew that’s how it was going to be ever since I have found myself attracted to you. But Kahlan, I don’t want you to be unhappy. So let this be our goodbye. You will get over it in no time.”

The Confessor shook her head.

“I already know this kind of pain,” she replied softly, her fingers lovingly moving to Cara’s lips. “And if being unhappy one day is the price I have to pay for the chance to be with you like this, I gladly accept it. Every happy moment in life has a price, Cara. Should we stop being happy altogether simply because of fearing we would be hurt? I’d rather experience this, experience you for the briefest of time and then be sad afterwards, than not experience it at all.”

Cara’s hand slipped under the thin blanket covering their naked bodies and glided along the Confessor’s body. It was not a touch that invited for another explosion of passion, but the one reassuring and comforting, at the same time seeking comfort and warmth. Kahlan recognized that and softly kissed Cara, her lips moving slowly, sealing her words with a silent promise and confirmation of love.

This small, beautiful world she shared with Cara would end after Richard’s return, Kahlan knew, and it would be the most painful end she had ever experienced, but she couldn’t fight her emotions any more. At least those feelings were not confused and in turmoil anymore; she now knew it truly was possible to love two people at the same time and it brought her some odd sense of peace.

So she allowed herself to drift to sleep pressed to Cara’s warm body, entangled in a tight hug, knowing that at least for few brief, thrilling hours, everything had been right with the world.

* * * * *

Cara was standing next to the Mother Confessor’s chair, her eyes scanning over everyone who entered the Great Hall. Her hand on her Agiels, she was, as usually, ready to strike anyone who would dare to try any kind of attack – although, after that first attempt during the summer’s end festivities, nothing even similar had happened. Was it due to the long, threatening talk Kahlan had with the Kelton ambassador, or to the now fully developed network of scouts and messengers learning about any possible turmoil in the Midlands and then calming it down, or perhaps to Cara overshadowing Kahlan at all times, she didn’t know. But the memory of Kahlan falling down from the horse with an arrow in her back was still too fresh in Cara’s mind. And she was not going to let it happen again.

The Mord–Sith almost shuddered, remembering Norman’s execution. He had been standing in the middle of the large square in front of the Confessor’s Palace, on an elevated plateau so everyone could have seen him, guarded by few soldiers to prevent the revenge of Aydindril’s people, enraged at the man who had tried to kill their mistress. Large masses had gathered that cold, windy day to see the execution, and when Kahlan had stood on the balcony to greet them as a true ruler, they had all erupted in cheers. She had silenced them with a wave of her hand, her face somber and serious, and had said that cheers had been required for happy occasions and not for someone’s death.

Cara had been standing next to her and when silence had enveloped the gathered crowd and Kahlan’s hand lifted to point at Norman, she had been so beautiful, her face stern and calm, dark hair and white dress flapping in the wind, that Cara had almost lost her breath.

And when the Mother Confessor had dryly ordered her assassin to die, her cold and dangerous voice making Norman shake and fall dead on the spot, the Mord–Sith had found herself so fascinated and in awe she had almost fallen to her knees before the dark haired woman.

The memory of the love making that had followed made Cara’s lips twitch in a small smirk. It had been so similar to the Mord–Sith way of loving that it had surprised and shocked Cara deeply.

A strange change, she thought, her peripheral sight aware of the snow falling from the grey sky that made the numerous torches necessary, the Great Hall not lighted enough as it was during the summer days, when sun would reach through the large windows. Kahlan had seemed so hard and cold that day; and later, in her chambers, she had been not nearly as gentle and kind as usually. And the months that followed marked a strange change in both of them, Kahlan becoming a bit rougher and Cara softer. It was a subtle change, but they both noticed it and wondered did the cause lie in the bond that connected them.

The Mord–Sith looked at Kahlan, who was sitting in her chair and listening to the petitioner before her. The Mother Confessor was stern as usually, her face expressionless to anyone who watched, but Cara knew Kahlan well enough and could see the small, tired wrinkles around her eyes, the tension in her shoulders and the way her hand was laid over her now visibly enlarged belly.

Kahlan was exhausted and the line of petitioners didn’t seem any shorter than few hours ago.

Luckily, the pregnancy had taught the devoted Confessor at least something about the limits of endurance, so after dismissing the last petitioner, Kahlan stood up.

“That is enough for today,” she said evenly, not allowing her fatigue to show. “You are all welcome to return tomorrow, or leave your petitions in the admitting office where they will be sorted and brought to my attention.”

Her words were accepted with a wave of mass bowing and she left the Hall, followed by Cara and two guards.

When they reached the Mother Confessor’s office, Kahlan allowed herself a loud sigh.

“This is becoming more and more difficult,” she said tiredly, rubbing her belly. “It’s almost impossible for me to sit still and remain calm when this girl is kicking all the time.”

Cara chuckled, opening the door and nodding to the guards, who were already well accustomed to remaining outside instead of guarding their Mother Confessor inside the office.

“Perhaps she finds the petitions as boring as I do,” she offered teasingly, but then seriousness returned to her voice. “Really, Kahlan, you should rest more and work less. The pregnancy is exhausting you more now that your child has grown.”

Kahlan sighed and sat in the large chair, letting her Confessor face fall completely, leaving the tired, pale expression behind.

“My healers say she is too big for this stage of pregnancy,” she said, rubbing her eyes. Cara approached her, laying her hand on the Confessor’s shoulder, and looked at her pronounced belly. It did seem as if Kahlan was near birth instead less than seven months pregnant. “And I tire too quickly. Not just from the petitions, but everything.”

“I noticed,” the Mord–Sith said softly, her fingers rubbing Kahlan’s tense shoulders. “I don’t think anyone would mind if you quit the petitions for the time being. Your people certainly wouldn’t want their Mother Confessor collapsing from exhaustion before bringing her successor in the world.”

Kahlan glanced to the large stacks of papers on the work desk and sighed.

“There is so much work to be done,” she murmured. “Petitions, trade papers, treaties, construction requests… If I don’t do it, no one will.”

“Then how was it done while there was no Mother Confessor in Aydindril?”

Kahlan shot her a look.

“It wasn’t,” she replied dryly. “That’s why the chaos here made it possible for Fyren to seize the rule.”

“And the Council? Shouldn’t they…”

“They don’t know how,” the Confessor interrupted impatiently. “When the Mother Confessor is absent or otherwise incapacitated from performing her duties, she is temporary replaced with the Confessor that is in the greatest consideration for becoming her successor. That is how we learn what it truly means to rule Aydindril and the entire Midlands.”

“Well it is a stupid and the most inefficient way,” Cara huffed.

“It’s how it has always been done,” Kahlan snapped. “It never seemed possible there would be only one Confessor left so there was no need to establish some other way of doing things.”

“But now there is,” the blonde replied firmly, not allowing herself to be dragged into Kahlan’s bad mood. “Someone will have to fill in for you when you give birth anyway, so why not teach them now, while you are still able?”

Kahlan pondered that for a moment, anger leaving her face as quickly as it came.

“You’re telling me to teach someone to perform as the Mother Confessor in only two months?” she asked in disbelief.

“Or to divide your duties between the members of the Council. They are not doing anything useful anyway.”

“That is not true,” Kahlan objected. “The Council convenes whenever there is an important decision to be made, such as war or a treaty between lands…”

“Did the Council have to make any such important decision since you have returned to Aydindril?”

“Yes, to approve my marriage to Richard as a way of uniting Midlands and D’Hara in peace.”

“That was months ago,” Cara waved her hand. “Any other important business for the Council?”

“The Council is in session once a month, convened by me,” Kahlan seemed to be losing her patience again. “You know that, Cara, you were there every time, as my protector.”

“I was,” the Mord–Sith smirked. “And all I have seen is you briefly summarizing the events of the previous month and them reporting they had nothing to report. So I wouldn’t call that important business. As I said, they do nothing useful.”

Kahlan threw her hands in the air, exasperated.

“Why are we even talking about this?” she exclaimed. “You cannot change the centuries of tradition!”

“No, but you can,” Cara replied decisively. “You are the Mother Confessor, your word is law. And you are pregnant and in need of more rest. If your people, your Council, really look forward to this extension of the Confessor line, they will gladly obey.”

“All right, all right, I will think about it,” the Confessor sighed, obviously giving up so she wouldn’t have to talk about it any more.

“I am sworn to protect you, Confessor,” the blonde warned, her voice almost threatening. “If you continue to endanger yourself and your child by exhausting yourself this much, I will be forced to tie you down to your bed.”

Kahlan stared at her and for a moment it seemed she would snap, but then anger vanished from her face and she chuckled.

“Oh, Cara,” she stood up, reaching for the blonde’s gloved hands, still smiling. “I can always count on you to make me smile.”

“I wasn’t joking,” the Mord–Sith said matter–of–factly, but allowed herself a small smile as Kahlan’s fingers touched her face.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” Kahlan said earnestly, the warm and loving look returning to her eyes. “I feel so nervous lately, my mood switches so quickly it sometimes scares me.”

“Yes, I have noticed,” Cara grunted. “Sometimes it gets difficult to follow you, let alone understand you.”

“Well,” Kahlan’s eyes sparkled mischievously as she leaned closer. “Perhaps I would be less moody if I spent less time during the nights sleeping.”

“Perhaps,” Cara’s voice switched to a seductive tone and she kissed the Confessor’s neck, trailing her tongue over the soft skin, which earned her a soft moan, “if you would work less and rest more, there would be no need for sleep during the nights.”

Kahlan laughed, eagerly trailing her hands over the Mord–Sith’s back.

“What a way to convince me into accepting your advice,” she said as she moved back a little to look at Cara, her voice half joking, half wistful. “Would it really ease your worries if I did what you suggested?”

“It would,” the blonde replied honestly, lowering her hands until they rested on Kahlan’s belly, feeling the tightness of the skin and the small movements under it. “Not just my worries for you.”

Kahlan sighed, laying her hands over Cara’s.

“It does make sense,” she pondered. “You are a good advisor, you know.”

“I am good at many things,” the Mord–Sith purred meaningfully and pulled the Confessor in for a passionate kiss. The mere movements of Cara’s lips over her own made some of Kahlan’s tension and fatigue go away and she sank into the sensation, slowly battling her tongue against Cara’s.

“Mhm,” she murmured against Cara’s mouth. “How about I call the members of the Council right now so we can continue this as soon as possible?”

“I would love to,” Cara smiled and stepped back a bit. “But the business time is not over yet, Mother Confessor. You need to hear my report as well.”

Kahlan nodded and, after glancing to Cara with longing, returned to her chair.

“So what do you have to report?” she asked, watching Cara put few more logs to the fire and then sit in the other fur–covered chair. “Any news of Richard’s return?”

It was the question she always asked with trepidation, fearing the day Cara would inform her of Richard’s return. They did manage to learn about some of his movements, thanks to the scouts Cara had sent through the Midlands, so they heard of him arriving to the People’s Palace with a small army of D’Haran soldiers, and how he presented himself to the people there as their new Lord Rahl. They both knew most of the people in the Palace had acknowledged him as their new ruler and given him their devotions, but ever since they learned about his departure in order to find the fugitive Darken Rahl and his few loyal followers, there was no news whatsoever.

“Not really,” Cara shook her head and Kahlan felt the odd mixture of relief and disappointment. “I do know he is in the Midlands, though; he followed Darken Rahl through Galea.”

“Galea?” Kahlan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What would Darken Rahl be doing in Galea?”

“It seems Richard is pressing this manhunt so hard Darken Rahl has no time to plan anything but a quick runaway from one land to another.”

“Then I suppose he turned towards Tamarang or Kelton. Queen Milena was always crawling with the need to please him, and in Kelton he would be able to find more than enough people not inclined to help the betrothed of the Mother Confessor.”

“As the second part of my report says,” Cara continued with obvious content. “The public opinion about you and the Lord Rahl has changed dramatically in Kelton, partly due to the efforts of all those messengers I send there, but also to the news of Lord Rahl’s tireless hunt of the dictator they all hate and his noble deeds achieved along the way. And the messenger from Tamarang said Queen Milena was now crawling with the need to please you and the Seeker.”

“Milena,” Kahlan shook her head, her voice filled with disdain. “Always licking the boots of a winner. So where did they go from Galea?”

“Apparently, towards the Rang’Shada mountains.”

“In the middle of the winter?” the Confessor was in disbelief. “Has Richard gone insane?! Those mountains are impassable when covered in snow and ice, and the air gets so cold it can freeze a person to death!”

“He has Zedd with him,” Cara reminded. “He can keep them warm with magic.”

“When was all that?”

“Richard left Galea almost a month ago. The messenger that brought the news returned to Aydindril this morning.”

Kahlan sighed, covering her face with both hands and Cara was there in a blink of an eye, kneeling before the Confessor, her hand reassuringly on the white–clothed knees.

“Kahlan, my Agiels are still working,” she said soothingly. “And the bond, even though it is silent, is not gone or transferred to the next Rahl in line. He is all right.”

“It’s not that,” Kahlan lowered her hands and stared to the fire, her face contorted with contradicting emotion. “I want him to capture Darken Rahl and rid the world of his evil once and for all, I truly do. But at the same time… Cara, this is horrible… I wish this manhunt of his would last for years so I can have more time to spend with you. I loathe myself for having such selfish desires.”

“Don’t,” Cara’s voice was soft and her fingers gentle as she intertwined them with the Confessor’s. “I feel the same. It’s normal.”

“I am a Confessor. It is not normal for a Confessor to wish for the delay of justice just for selfish reasons.”

“It is not normal for a Confessor to bed a Mord–Sith either, and yet you have done it,” the blonde murmured. “I was trained to hate your kind and loathe your mere presence, yet I don’t. I love you even though it is not normal for a Mord–Sith to feel love. We are only human, Kahlan. You don’t have to be a perfect Confessor by all the rules and traditions in order to be a perfect person.”

Kahlan stared deep in the serious green eyes before her, pondering the amazing ability of the blonde Mord–Sith to always make her feel better.

“You do realize you have just said you loved me,” she replied with a soft smile. Cara shrugged.

“So I did,” the said in her even, calm Mord–Sith way even though here eyes spoke in a different voice. “Does it really matter?”

“You are right, it doesn’t,” Kahlan nodded, her heart once again so filled with love it seemed impossible she had been feeling so tired and moody only moments ago. “The words don’t matter. The actions do.”

She rose up, pulling the Mord–Sith along, until they were an inch apart.

“But if the words did matter,” the Confessor continued, her breath tickling Cara’s lips. “I would want you to know that I love you as well.”

“I already know that,” Cara smiled and kissed her deeply, hands sneaking down to the Confessor’s breasts, heavy with pregnancy. As her fingers started untying the laces of the white dress, she nibbled the side of Kahlan’s neck, whispering invitingly. “And if your tiredness can take it, I will give you a taste of what awaits you in your chambers tonight.”

“I don’t think I’m tired anymore,” Kahlan breathed, reaching for the laces on the Mord–Sith’s back, but Cara stepped away, smiling mischievously, her gaze predatory, and pulled her towards the two large chairs.

“Lean back,” she purred and continued untying the laces on Kahlan’s chest as the Confessor did as told, gripping the chair with trembling fingers, the warmth of the fur on her back. The dress fell on the floor and Cara quickly set to the task of removing the corset as well, which she did in few brief moments, thanks to the fact the corset was tied less tightly now that Kahlan’s pregnancy was advancing. Her lips followed her fingers and when the corset was gone and the soft, hot lips enveloped her nipple, Kahlan moaned loudly, grabbing Cara’s head and pulling her up for a heated kiss. Cara’s hands encircled Kahlan, leaning on the back of the chair for support, as she lowered her head back to the Confessor’s breasts. She pulled her nipple gently, sucking it and flicking her tongue over it, and after doing the same thing with the other one, kneeled before the brunette who was breathing heavily, her back leaned on the high back of the chair.

Cara removed her gloves and touched Kahlan’s round belly reverently, her fingers fleeting over it in irregular patterns, and than traveling lower to brush over Kahlan’s pulsating, wet center. Kahlan groaned as Cara trailed wet kisses over the bulge of her abdomen and down her groins, and when the hot tongue flicked over the center of all her pleasure, Kahlan’s fingers dug in Cara’s hair, grabbing it so tightly Cara almost moaned in surprise. But she recovered quickly, letting her tongue explore the familiar folds of Kahlan’s intimacy and then thrusting it deep into her in desperate need to taste and feel the Confessor completely.

The air around them grew tight with the well known electricity of the approaching Confession and Cara squeezed Kahlan’s hips, preparing herself to welcome another wave of magical, ultimate ecstasy.

But then, suddenly another strong wave hit her, the one so familiar and yet already forgotten, freezing her insides.

The bond was on.

Cara broke away from Kahlan, stumbling while she was trying to get up, and Kahlan looked at her, eyes completely black.

“Cara?” she asked breathlessly, her voice brimming with worry. “What happened?”

“The bond,” Cara stammered, feeling all blood leaving her face. “It’s awakened, Richard is using it…”

“What?” Kahlan grabbed Cara’s upper arms. The Mord–Sith raised her eyes and Kahlan gasped at the strange look she saw there.

“Lord Rahl is coming,” the blonde’s voice was barely above whisper and the Confessor’s arms fell down.

The cold realization made the black from Kahlan’s eyes vanish instantly.

Chapter 9

The Mother Confessor sat in her chair, pale and expressionless as always, her gaze fixed to the large closed door guarded by two pairs of Home Guards. The Great Hall was half–empty; she allowed only the highest of dignitaries to witness the return of the Lord Rahl to Aydindril. The Council members were there as well, waiting for the most curious event of their mistress’s reunion with her betrothed, after which she would lead them to the smaller hall in the back, where the Council usually convened.

Cara stood next to the Mother Confessor’s chair as usually, her hands on her Agiels and her face as empty as Kahlan’s was, and the Confessor felt the Mord–Sith’s unease as much as she felt her own. There was nothing in the world Kahlan wanted more than to touch the blonde, grab her hand, anything just to feel the comfort and calm her touch would bring instead of this horrible, gnawing mixture of fear and excitement that was crawling inside her. She glanced to the Mord–Sith and their gazes locked for the briefest of moments. Although both their faces remained calm, eyes said everything – this was the end of their perfect little world. And the few months they had spent together suddenly seemed too short, like a small, fleeting moment in time.

The pain that shot through Kahlan’s heart at that thought was so strong she barely managed to keep her Confessor face up. She laid a palm on her belly, trying to find some comfort in the quick, nervous movements of her daughter. It didn’t help; the touch merely served as a reminder of all the times Cara’s hands were caressing her abdomen, reverent and devoted, silently promising her loyalty to the unborn child. The brunette blinked and breathed deeply, forcing her eyes to stop the threatening wave of watering.

Focus, she mentally ordered herself, this is the joyful return of the man you love.

But somehow, her eyes kept trying to return to the woman she loved.

And then the door opened and the group of six D’Haran soldiers and two Mord–Sith entered, followed by anxious looking Zedd and led by Richard.

Kahlan almost gasped in surprise. Sure, she knew Richard had taken the title of Lord Rahl, but she didn’t expect him to return to Aydindril wearing the bloody red royal Rahl outfit. The long coat suited him perfectly, wide sleeves making him look more like a wizard, and the dark fur cloak was falling heavily down his sides, accentuating the strength with which he walked. His hand was on the hilt of the Sword of Truth, his hair seemed a bit longer and his face, unshaven and tanned by the months of travel, was serious and dignified.

What shocked Kahlan the most were his eyes. Even though they brimmed with the unhidden joy of seeing her again and his usual kind expression was still there, there was also something new and unsettling about them. But before she even managed to try to determine what, his expression changed to the pure, almost childish happiness, and he stormed towards her, exclaiming her name with jubilance.

She stopped him, raising her hand in a sign of withheld permission.

“I see the title and the throne have yet to teach Lord Rahl some of the etiquette required to approach the Mother Confessor,” her voice rang, cold and distant even though her insides shook violently. Richard froze, confusion painting his face. Kahlan’s eyes pierced him, trying to make him remember at least some of the things she had tried to teach him when explaining the role of the Mother Confessor.

After few long, unpleasant moments of silence, Richard finally understood what was required of him and bowed his head.

“I, Lord Richard Rahl of D’Hara, greet you, Mother Confessor,” he said evenly, his entourage following his example and bowing a bit deeper. Zedd frowned a bit, but bowed his head as well.

“And I welcome you, Lord Rahl, and your people,” Kahlan replied. “I am glad to see you alive and well. I take it your arrival means that your manhunt for Darken Rahl has proven successful?”

“Not quite, Mother Confessor,” Richard said, raising his head to look at her. “Darken Rahl and few of his remaining followers evaded us in Rang’Shada mountains and I have reason to believe he’s trying to return to D’Hara.”

“You think he might be in Aydindril?” the Mother Confessor inquired, not allowing her voice to tremble a single bit although some of the present dignitaries started murmuring in shock.

“No,” Richard assured. “We have a tracking cloud on him. He passed Aydindril’s north and is now moving towards the mountain border to D’Hara.”

“I assume you will continue following him to your empire,” Kahlan half stated, half asked.

“That is something I was hoping we could discuss in private,” he thought for a moment and then added, “Mother Confessor.”

“Of course, after the session I have scheduled with the Council. There are chambers prepared for you and your entourage and also some refreshments in the smaller dining hall,” the Confessor instructed in the most proper, but even voice. “You are most welcome to rest from your long journey until the Council’s session is over.”

Kahlan stood up and everyone in the Great Hall, including D’Harans and Zedd, responded by respectfully bowing their heads.

But not Richard. He seemed as if he didn’t see the point in bowing twice before her and she shot him a dangerous, reprimanding look before she motioned for the Council members to go to the small hall. They obeyed without a word, vanishing behind the door on the left side of the Great Hall, and Kahlan’s gaze returned to Richard, silently asking him to give her the proper respects. Richard merely shrugged and winked, which made the Mother Confessor’s insides boil with anger.

Cara was still standing next to her, her face not showing anything as she slightly bowed.

“My Lord,” she said, her eyebrows slightly elevated and her voice indifferent. “If you permit, I will accompany the Mother Confessor to the Council session as her protector, as I have been doing so far.”

“Yes, of course,” Richard waved his hand impatiently, still staring at Kahlan as if surprised she was keeping her Confessor face and the rest of the Mother Confessor appearance while in such close proximity to him. “But we have much to discuss, so when you are done with it, join us right away. Both of you.”

It was all it took for Kahlan to completely lose her patience. Her hand shot instinctively and her fingers wrapped around Richard’s neck, making him gasp with surprise as he suddenly found himself before the very angry, black–eyed Mother Confessor.

“No one orders the Mother Confessor,” she hissed and the Hall suddenly rang with swords being pulled out of their scabbards, Home Guard quickly surrounding the D’Harans to prevent the attack on their mistress, and with the humming of the Agiels in the two Mord–Sith’s hands, joined by the humming of Cara’s own weapons; the blonde Mord–Sith holding both of her sisters on arm’s length, her eyes shooting a dangerous threat.

Kahlan ignored all that, squeezing Richard’s throat so tightly he almost lost his breath.

“Even though you are my betrothed,” she growled, “you have no authority over me in my own home. You are merely a temporary guest in Aydindril, as your predecessor was. Remember that, Lord Rahl.”

And with that, she released him, allowing the power to swirl in her and paint her eyes black for few more moments. Richard coughed and waved to his soldiers to lower their weapons. The swords were sheathed again, Home Guard stepping back a bit, but still carefully eyeing the D’Harans. Both Mord–Sith stared at Cara and her eyebrow once again went up, her smirk daring them to try overpowering her.

“All right,” Richard grunted, his pride hurt more than his throat. “We will wait for you in the dining hall… Mother Confessor.”

Not even daring to look at her again, he turned around and stormed out of the Hall, followed by his soldiers and the bewildered looks of every dignitary present.

Zedd opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but Kahlan shot him a warning glance so he sighed, nodded obediently and followed his grandson.

Both Mord–Sith sheathed their Agiels and slightly bowed their heads, still gazing at Cara.

“Nice to see you again, Mistress Cara,” the taller, blue eyed one smirked.

“Berdine, Raina,” Cara nodded, allowing herself a small smile. “Nice to see both of you as well.”

* * * * *

“How dares he?! Humiliating me before my own people, in my own city?!”

Kahlan was pacing angrily through the small room adjacent to the hall in which the Council awaited her. Cara was leaning to the wall, arms crossed on her chest, and carefully watched her.

“Lower your voice,” she warned. “The walls are not thick enough to prevent the Council from hearing your yelling.”

“Let them hear!” Kahlan turned to her and Cara almost winced. The Confessor was so furious it seemed she was one step away from the Blood Rage. “Let the whole Midlands know that the Mother Confessor shall not allow even her betrothed to neglect showing the proper respect towards her!”

“He spent most of the time traveling, not in People’s Palace. It’s a wonder he managed to learn any etiquette whatsoever.”

“I had explained it all to him before he left!” the brunette growled and started pacing again, her hair and dress flowing around her. “I explained what kind of approach is required of him, the master of the land who was until recently trying to conquer the Midlands! I thought he was aware that, would he show a single sign of disrespect towards me, it could be perceived as a sign of hostility!”

“You are overreacting, Kahlan,” Cara tried to bring the Confessor to reason. “Richard is not just Lord Rahl, he is also the Seeker. Your people cheered when he appeared in Aydindril.”

“Did he present himself as the Seeker or as the Lord Rahl today? For Spirit’s sake, he didn’t even look like the Seeker!” Kahlan’s quick strides brought her to Cara as she sneered at the blonde. “And besides, have you already forgotten the arrow that might have killed me few months ago?!”

“No,” the Mord–Sith swallowed, gazing at Kahlan with mixture of defiance and hurt. “I haven’t forgotten. How can you even ask that?”

“You yourself said there were many people who hadn’t accepted me marrying the Lord Rahl. So does he have to come to Aydindril looking like a Rahl and then refusing to show me the proper respect?!”

“No, but…”

“Then how can you say I am overreacting?!”

“Oh, and threatening to confess him even though you know you cannot wasn’t overreacting?” Cara, as much as she had more patience for Kahlan than for anyone else, was now starting to lose it. She grabbed the brunette’s upper arms and pulled her closer until she could feel her breath on her face. “What has gotten into you, Kahlan? This is not how you normally react!”

“I am the Mother Confessor,” Kahlan hissed threateningly. “In Aydindril, I react how I find appropriate.”

“No, you don’t,” Cara replied firmly. “You react properly. And this, Confessor, is not a proper reaction. So get a hold of yourself, because there is a dozen of Councilors in the next room, convened by their calm, self–controlled Mother Confessor, not by this walking fury!”

Kahlan’s jaw clenched, her eyes flashing with rage, and for a moment it seemed she might reach for her daggers, but instead she pulled the Mord–Sith closer and kissed her with such ferocity it took a moment for Cara to recover from shock and respond. Their tongues fought a wild battle for few long moments, until Kahlan relaxed a bit and the kiss became gentler.

“I’m sorry,” the Confessor breathed, pulling away a bit, letting their foreheads touch. Her eyes became clear and regretful, not blurred with anger any more and Cara sighed with relief.

“These mood switches of yours…” she replied softly, but not without reprimand. “They truly are becoming impossible to endure.”

“I just got so angry at him,” Kahlan’s voice was dangerously close to whining. “Coming here and behaving in the most improper way…”

“You got angry at him for coming here, period,” the Mord–Sith corrected her gently and stepped back, releasing the brunette from her embrace. Sorrow flew over Kahlan’s face as she reluctantly let go. “We mustn’t do this anymore, Kahlan, now when he is here.”

“I know,” she nodded sadly. “But it’s… difficult.”

“I warned you. You said…”

“I know what I said,” Kahlan interrupted, absently rubbing her belly, not able to continue this particular conversation after such outburst of rage. “You are right, the Council is waiting. We should go and join them.”

With that, she pulled her Confessor face back on and walked towards the door, leaving Cara to follow her with a bitter taste where the Confessor’s lips have been just a moment ago.

* * * * *

When Kahlan and Cara entered the small dining hall, Richard, Zedd and the two Mord–Sith were standing around the tall tables filled with food, eating and drinking the sweetened Aydindril wine. As soon as he noticed her, Richard approached Kahlan cautiously.

“Is it all right if I greeted you now as your betrothed should?” he asked softly, his attentive gaze searching for any sign of permission on her tired face. The Confessor nodded, managing a small smile, and it was all he needed to collect her in his arms and kiss her deeply, with all the longing accumulated during past five months. Kahlan responded dutifully, raising her arms and resting them on Richard’s shoulders, and Cara, forcing herself not to look at them, walked towards one of the tables and picked a piece of cheese as if nothing was bothering her, completely ignoring the discerning looks from Zedd and the two Mord–Sith.

“What was that all about?” Richard asked, pulling back a little so he could look at Kahlan. “I expected a different kind of welcome from you.”

Kahlan sighed, letting all the fatigue she felt show on her face, and stepped back, laying her hands on her belly.

“Didn’t I warn you about the appropriate conduct required from you?” she shook her head. “I had to ensure the belief of my people that their Mother Confessor wouldn’t allow the Lord Rahl, even if he is her betrothed, to subdue her in any way.”

“But your people know we are in love,” Richard still seemed confused. “So why hide it behind the mask of formality?”

“Oh, Richard,” the Confessor sighed. “You have much to learn about the opinion of people over which you rule. It can change on daily basis.”

“We have an organized network of scouts collecting information from the entire Midlands,” Cara explained, adding a piece of corn bread to the cheese already in her hand. “Even though the public opinion of you and the Mother Confessor has changed lately, up until recently there were many people who had believed your betrothal had simply been the surrender of the Midlands to D’Hara. Surely, some people still believe that.”

“Really?” he sounded surprised. “I had no idea.”

“Of course, Lord Rahl,” Cara smirked, not bothering to hide her sarcasm. Richard ignored her, turning to Kahlan again and laying a loving hand on her belly.

“How is our child?” he asked softly and Kahlan sighed again, rubbing her temples.

“She is all right,” she replied. “But I am quite exhausted. My healers say she is a bit bigger than she should be at this stage of pregnancy, so it drains a lot of energy from me. That is why I had to convene the Council today, to divide my responsibilities among them so I can rest more.”

“And did they take it well?”

“After arguing for half an hour, the Council agreed with my and Cara’s suggestions,” the Confessor said evenly. Richard glanced at Cara.

“So I take it this means Cara is your advisor now?”

Kahlan’s gaze met Cara’s and the silent, sorrowful pain flew through their connection.

“That is one way of putting it,” Kahlan replied softly. “Leaving Cara here to protect me was possibly the best thing you could have ever done.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Richard smiled, not noticing the almost suspicious look in Zedd’s perceptive eyes. The wizard was surprisingly silent and it made Kahlan approach him and envelop him in a tight hug.

“I’m so happy to see you, Zedd,” she said honestly. “I’m sorry for being so distant earlier, but you of all people surely understand the importance of the Mother Confessor not acting like this in public.”

“Of course I understand, child,” he nodded assuredly, patting her back, then pulled back and eyed her carefully. “But explain to me, why take such untraditional and unusual course of action with the Council? Why not simply asking your sister to take over until after the child’s birth?”

Kahlan and Cara exchanged glances again.

“Of course, you don’t know,” Kahlan replied gloomily. “We’ve received word from Denee two months ago. She lost almost all her Confessor’s powers.”

“What?” Richard’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “How is that possible?”

“We believe it happened due to her soul not being in her body. The powers faltered until the ability to confess was completely gone. She can still read people, but cannot confess them.”

“It does make sense,” Zedd pondered, tapping one finger over his upper lip. “The new body cannot hold such power for long, so it needs to discard at least some of it.”

“It is what happened to Darken Rahl as well,” Richard shrugged. “The bond was apparently among the first things faltering in him, but the other powers followed. That’s why he needs Nicci.”

“So Nicci follows Darken Rahl?” Cara asked, looking at the two silent Mord–Sith. “I assume that means he had her broken?”

The shorter Mord–Sith nodded, her dark eyes showing only cold contempt.

“That is correct,” she replied. “Darken Rahl found her dead body, had Garen revive her and then break her. It took longer than usually, due to her powers and knowledge of torture, but eventually she relented.”

“Were you there, Raina?” Cara’s eyes pierced into her and she bowed her head in obedience.

“I was, Mistress Cara. It took some time for me to realize the bond was much stronger to the Lord Rahl than to Darken.”

“Actually, she still wouldn’t be aware of it if I haven’t pushed her into realization,” the other Mord–Sith grinned. “Unfortunately, we were highly outnumbered at the time, so there was no possibility to rescue the sorceress.”

“Be honest, Berdine,” Raina corrected her dryly. “We didn’t really want to rescue her, just to leave the temple and seek for our true Lord.”

“Sisters, leave your banter for your bed chamber,” Cara waved her hand impatiently and Kahlan’s eyes widened in surprise as she suddenly saw the two red–clad women in a whole different light, which earned her an amused twitch of Berdine’s eyebrows. “Kahlan was attacked four months ago and it seems to be Nicci’s doing. Don’t worry, Lord Rahl,” the blonde assured after seeing anger rise in Richard’s eyes, “the assassin was confessed and, after describing the woman who spelled him into trying to kill the Mother Confessor, executed.”

“Executed?” Zedd asked in disbelief. “Wasn’t that a bit rash?”

“Was I supposed to allow the man who had attempted to kill me live?” Kahlan asked with some annoyance.

“But if he was spelled, he wasn’t really guilty, was he?” Zedd pointed out, making the Confessor frown.

“The attempt took place at the summer’s end festivities, hundreds of people saw it. I had to react accordingly to the Aydindril law. We had learned all we could from him before the execution.”

“The problem lies in the fact he was a mere peasant,” Cara added. “If Nicci wanted to kill Kahlan, why would she send a peasant instead of a skilled warrior? Fortunate as it was, this man barely knew how to aim.”

“Interesting,” Zedd murmured, pondering all the news he had heard. Richard returned his attention to Kahlan, reaching for her hands.

“Serious matters aside,” he said quietly, leaning to her and planting a soft kiss on her lips. “We will be staying for few days and then continue our hunt for Darken Rahl, so I hoped to spend some time alone with you.”

It hasn’t escaped Zedd’s sharp eye how the longing in Richard’s voice was met by the lack of Kahlan’s usual loving, thrilled response. It was easy enough to attribute it to her apparent fatigue, but the frozen, expressionless look on Cara’s face was something only he could interpret. And the two Mord–Sith seemed as able to read their Mistress as if they were Confessors, judging by the way they exchanged significant glances.

“We can spend some time alone,” Kahlan nodded a bit nervously, her hand once again falling to her belly. “But not in… every possible way. My healers say that the pregnancy… well, they don’t allow it.”

“Oh,” Richard sounded truly disappointed. “Well then. Would you like to rest? And maybe talk a bit?”

“That sounds nice,” the Confessor managed a small, weary smile. “I do feel quite tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Then let’s go,” Richard smiled and led her out of the hall, once again not noticing how she glanced at Cara before leaving.

Trying to focus at the food in her hand, Cara could clearly feel the wizard’s gaze on her back. She knew exactly what he was wondering, for she was not blind to all his suspicious looks directed at her during this entire conversation, and it infuriated her

“What?” she snapped, turning to look at him as soon as the door closed behind Richard and Kahlan. Zedd raised his eyebrows and looked meaningfully at the two Mord–Sith. They understood the hint, returning their half empty cups to the table.

“We will leave the two of you,” Berdine said, smirking at Cara. “I hope we will have time to… catch up, Mistress Cara.”

Cara didn’t even look at them as they left, mentally preparing herself for the interrogation she knew was going to follow. She was going to have to lie, and do it quite convincingly, so she harnessed all her strength in order to pull on her toughest Mord–Sith mask.

And Zedd didn’t disappoint her expectations; as soon as they were left alone, he attacked her with the full power of his over protectiveness.

“You promised you would never endanger Richard and Kahlan’s happiness!” he hissed angrily. Cara’s eyes narrowed with defiance.

“And I haven’t,” she replied coldly.

“Then why does Kahlan look at you the way she does?!”

“And what way would that be, wizard?”

“With far too much devotion and, I would dare to say, even longing!”

“Well,” Cara smirked. “Maybe she just feels grateful for my services here.”

Zedd huffed, pointing a finger at her face in a way Cara might perceive as threatening if it was coming from anyone else but the bony, old wizard.

“Her reaction to Richard’s return was a mere shadow of how she used to rejoice at seeing him. Are you saying you had nothing to do with it?”

“She is tired and moody,” the Mord–Sith shrugged, seemingly uninterested. “What else do you expect from a pregnant woman?”

“Cara,” Zedd’s voice turned dangerous. “Did you have anything to do with her lack of happiness at seeing her betrothed?”

“How can I know what is in the Mother Confessor’s mind?” the blonde sneered. “I told you, she is tired and moody all the time! And she is well aware of not being able to confess me, so I can only assume that she, in her typical annoying need to understand everyone’s feelings, is feeling some kind of completely unnecessary guilt and therefore has the foolish need to somehow repay me for whatever pain she thinks I am enduring in her chaste presence. So no, wizard, I haven’t crossed any lines the Mother Confessor had put before me and I never would, because although it is difficult for you to believe it, I do wish her to be happy!”

The silence that followed these angry words was somehow louder than all the yelling exchanged between them as Cara’s gaze pierced Zedd’s, cold anger flashing in it. She then turned away, poured more wine in her cup and emptied it in few long gulps.

“Is that explanation sufficient for you, wizard?” the Mord–Sith asked, her voice now brimming with apparent boredom. “Or do you want me to continue pondering what might or might not be in the mind of a pregnant woman?”

Zedd watched her thoughtfully and then approached her, lowering his hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Cara,” he said softly. “I just had to be sure, and while trying to achieve that, I disregarded how you must be feeling in this situation.”

“Feelings, feelings,” Cara muttered, annoyed, still not turning around to look at him. “Why do you all want to talk about feelings?”

“Because they are the most unavoidable experience in life.”

Now was the time for the blonde to turn around and smirk.

“Not for a Mord–Sith,” she replied firmly, daring him to contradict her. “Believe me, wizard, I can easily deal with this silly infatuation. It is Kahlan you should be talking to, getting those stupid ideas of feeling pity and guilt towards me from her head. For as much as I am loyal to her and Lord Rahl, if she continues to act as if I was some fragile, hurt little animal, Lord Rahl will have to use all the power of his bond to stop me from agieling her.”

Her bored, annoyed voice made Zedd chuckle.

“Now that is Cara we all know and love,” he smiled, and it earned him a spectacular eye roll. “I’m really glad to see you are true to your word.”

The Mord–Sith snorted.

“Of course I am,” she replied. “I live to serve the Lord Rahl.”

Zedd nodded with a content, appeased smile and excused himself, saying he should visit the Wizard’s Keep while he was in Aydindril.

And when he left, leaving Cara alone in the hall filled with food, her face contorted with pain and sorrow, and her green eyes watered with desperate tears. The blonde gasped from the pain that grasped her heart, making her lean to the table. Hot tears rolled down her face as she silently cursed herself and the entire world for the scalding jealousy that boiled inside her.

The only woman she had ever truly loved was now lying in the arms of her master. The Lord Rahl took his rightful place in the Mother Confessor’s bed, and Cara could only think of him as an intruder, a thief stealing her place in Kahlan’s life even though she knew it was actually vice versa.

The most uninvited mental images of Richard kissing Kahlan’s lips, neck, shoulders and then lower and lower made Cara’s teeth grit in pain, every memory of the Confessor’s face and moans elicited in the throes of passion now hurting like Keeper’s hand in the Underworld – for Cara’s mental eyes now saw Richard in her own place, bringing Kahlan pleasure, being allowed to touch her in ways Cara never again would.

And when the guilt for feeling and thinking such things added to the mixture, the agony grew so enormous Cara almost screamed and barely resisted the sudden urge to shatter everything around her to pieces. She automatically reached for her Agiels, but the pain it gave her seemed too weak, too insignificant when compared to the new, horrible shade of Kahlan–pain she was experiencing.

So she stormed out of the hall and almost ran through the long hallways leading to the guest wing of the Palace.

She would have some relief tonight, one way or another.

Knocking on the door was not something they had ever required of her, so she stormed into the room not bothering to wonder what she would find in there. Raina, cleaning her leathers by the fireplace, ignored her entrance, and Berdine, who was reading a book on the bed, shot Cara a welcoming glance.

“I assume you have come to catch up?” she smirked, knowing her Mistress very well. “The Mother Confessor is not available to keep you company?”

Cara stood before the bed, hands on her hips, and watched Berdine carefully for a moment, then pulled her Agiel and struck her over the face, splitting the other Mord–Sith’s lip. Raina didn’t even twitch, still methodically polishing her leathers.

“I told you so,” she said evenly, not bothering to look at Berdine. Cara gazed at her with warning, and then returned her piercing glance to Berdine, who was smiling and licking her bleeding lip.

“How dare you?” the blonde hissed dangerously. “Both of you!”

“What, was our assumption incorrect?” Raina calmly inquired, tossing away the leathers and approaching them, her slender muscles moving under the bare skin concealed only by leather undergarments. “You do not desire the one betrothed to our Lord?”

Cara pressed her Agiel to Raina’s bare stomach, but she merely twitched as dark welts spread over her skin. Instead, she grinned, reaching for Berdine’s hand and gripping it.

“If this will help you, Mistress Cara,” the shorter Mord–Sith said through teeth clenched in pain, “Berdine and I will gladly serve you.”

“No,” Cara removed the Agiel and sighed. She watched them both thoughtfully and then frowned. “I need something else. But first, tell me. Was it that obvious?”

“Your walls might not have been as they were before you started serving the Seeker,” Berdine replied calmly. “But Raina and I know you well. I doubt anyone else would notice it. Lord Rahl certainly didn’t.”

“But the wizard did,” Raina commented, her fingers still entwined with Berdine’s. Cara glanced at their joined hands with longing.

“The wizard knows,” she admitted. “But I believe I have managed to ease his suspicions for now.”

“The Mother Confessor truly is the most remarkable woman,” Berdine pointed out. “It is understandable why she attracts you so much. But you do realize that it can never be.”

“Of course I do,” Cara shot her a serious glance, and then lowered her gaze to the Agiel still in her hand. “It is not that simple, though. I have developed a certain… bond towards her. And I need to silence it.”

“What do you want us to do?”

The blonde raised her eyes, her gaze piercing deeply into Berdine’s.

“I need you to train me.”

Chapter 10

The Agiel hummed and then screamed, pressed into the skin already dotted in bloody welts, and the muscles beneath the skin tightened immensely, threatening to break and split into bloody straps of meat. But there was no scream from the still silent throat and the Agiel was met by another, pressing into the back, combining its powerful strike with the first one. When even that didn’t earn them a scream, Berdine removed her Agiel, nodding to Raina to do the same.

“This isn’t working,” she frowned, frustrated, wiping away the blood sprained over her face. “We have tried almost everything, even killing her. She seems impossible to break.”

“But that is not possible,” Raina seemed as confused. “Mistress Cara has always been strong, but this… Not a single scream, in these entire three days?”

Berdine eyed the blond, half conscious Mord–Sith hanging from the ceiling, her hands chained over her head so tightly they were cut, wrists bleeding over the already dried layers of blood. Her head hung on her chest, blond hair rusty with blood covering her face, and her breaths were broken and shallow, partly thanks to the swollen lips and nose stuffed with dried blood, bruises deforming her beautiful face.

Berdine grabbed the fistful of Cara’s hair and jerked her head up, forcing the blonde to look at her.

“You wanted us to break you!” she exclaimed in frustration. “Then why won’t you allow it?!”

“The breaking,” Cara managed, her voice barely above whisper and interrupted by violent coughs, “is not a breaking… if voluntary.”

“We know that!” Raina threw her hands in the air, her voice so angry it almost sounded helpless. “You must stop partitioning your mind or we won’t be able to restore the full strength of your bond to Lord Rahl!”

“Perhaps Lord Rahl should train her,” Berdine pondered, gliding her Agiel over Cara’s abdomen, failing to make her wince, then met Raina’s gaze. “There is only one thing we haven’t tried yet.”

“Yes,” Raina nodded somewhat sadly. “And if she endures even that, we will call for Lord Rahl.”

Berdine cupped Cara’s face almost gently, her gaze piercing Cara’s blurred one.

“If the price of cleansing you from those unwanted desired is the irreparable damage to your beautiful, sharp mind,” she said softly, regretful shadows flying over her face, “then be it.”

Her eyes locked with Raina’s as their Agiels pressed to Cara’s ears simultaneously. The blonde’s entire body shook and the loud scream finally echoed through the poorly lit chamber as fresh blood poured down her neck.

And before the scream was silenced, it was interrupted by an entirely different one.

“Stop it!” the commanding voice ordered from the door, brimming with anger and shock. The two Mord–Sith glanced over, lowering their Agiels the very moment they saw the very angry Mother Confessor storming towards them, her posture dangerous and threatening despite the protruding belly which took away some of her usual gracefulness.

“We are acting by Mistress Cara’s direct orders,” Raina explained calmly, but winced a bit when Kahlan’s furious gaze met hers.

“Move away from her,” the Confessor growled, making Berdine glance over Cara insecurely.

“We are taking our orders only from our Mistress or Lord Rahl,” she tried to oppose, but when Kahlan’s eyes started swirling with black, the tall Mord–Sith stepped back, eyeing her with caution. “Mother Confessor… She wants us to do this. You cannot understand it.”

“Oh, I understand it perfectly,” Kahlan hissed, her hands twitching with the desire to release her power right into the two red–clad women who had been torturing Cara for the last three days without anyone knowing it. The air crackled with the tension of accumulated magic being called forth and Berdine and Raina both shifted uncomfortably, obviously not willing to fight the future wife of their Lord, but also reluctant to fail their Mistress. “I said, move away from her. Now.”

Another battle of will was won as the two Mord–Sith stepped back, and Kahlan was before Cara before she even knew it, cupping her face and gently lifting it up.

“Oh, Cara,” her voice was suddenly so soft it seemed impossible after such eruption of anger, tears replacing the dark display of the Confessor power in her eyes. “What have you done?”

Kahlan’s fingers lightly caressed Cara’s split lip as the blonde blinked in surprise, trying to clear her vision.

“Kahlan, no,” she mumbled hoarsely. “I must… forget…”

“Spirits,” the Confessor breathed painfully, planting a soft, chaste kiss on Cara’s lips, her tears mixing with the blood on the tortured face. Then she turned to look at Berdine and Raina whose expressions showed confusion even though they tried to keep them blank.

“Take her down,” Kahlan said, her voice not commanding any more, but almost pleading. They glanced to each other and obeyed wordlessly, and Cara’s naked, limp body was in Kahlan’s arms in an instant, her head on the brunette’s lap while the stone floor cooled her burning skin.

The Confessor’s caressed Cara’s cheek tenderly, careful not to hurt her, tears freely falling from her eyes. The blonde’s gaze was still blurred with dull pain that somehow seemed to rise from the wounds of her soul more than from the bloody welts and cuts on her body. The light touches of Kahlan’s trembling fingers were easing the physical pain, her hot tears like a balm on her aching body, and for a second, the world ceased to exist.

Cara tried to reach up, touch the most beautiful face in the world that hovered above her, in the chaos of her fever seeming illuminated with otherworldly light, but she couldn’t, all strength leaving her body before the worried blue eyes. So she merely sighed, fighting the urge to close her eyes, not willing to leave the source of her greatest pain and her ultimate joy from her sight.

“Get one of the guards here,” she heard Kahlan’s voice, a bit distorted from the humming still ringing in her ears. “But take his cloak first, to cover her.”

Cara was trying to remember why her entire body hurt, but in the fog of pain and exhaustion, the last three days seemed like a dream. Her thoughts were drifting away before she was even able to try grasping them, her mind a swamp of dull emptiness. But even in this grayness that somehow reminded her of the time when she was a child, when her body and soul ached almost as they did now, the memory of Kahlan Amnell was clear and light.

Despite the three days endured in such torture she hadn’t experienced since becoming a Mord–Sith, despite her fogged, confused mind, Cara’s soul was intact, holding tightly to the vision of the raven haired Confessor.

* * * * *

Kahlan stood next to the fireplace, arms crossed, angry flame in her eyes matching those licking the logs. Richard stood before her, glancing worriedly towards Berdine and Raina, whose faces remained expressionless as they leaned to the wall even though their bodies were tensed in the anticipation of another outburst of the Mother Confessor’s anger.

“How could you allow it?” Kahlan turned towards Richard, her voice furious. “They have been torturing Cara for three days and you claim you haven’t known about it?! You are their Lord Rahl, didn’t the bond tell you something was off?!”

“I’ve already told you, it doesn’t work that way,” Richard frowned. “They can sense me, not vice versa.”

“I tried to warn you yesterday that it was strange we hadn’t seen any of them for so long,” the Confessor waved impatiently, her other hand absently rubbing her belly. Richard shrugged, still not showing any sign of agitation.

“I thought they were catching up or something,” he replied. “Doing whatever Mord–Sith do after not seeing each other for so long.”

“Well, they certainly did do that,” Kahlan stressed, her eyes flashing dangerously, shadows of red and black flitting through them so quickly no one really noticed it. “And as a result, our loyal friend and protector has nearly lost her life!”

“Berdine and Raina have been as loyal and trusting as Cara,” Richard pointed out, glancing again to the two Mord–Sith sympathetically. “I trust them as much as I trust Cara. So if they say Cara herself wanted to be trained, I believe them.”

“I doubt Cara wanted to be nearly dead,” the Confessor sneered, her gaze piercing into Berdine’s eyes. “They have almost killed her!”

“Mistress Cara wanted to be broken,” Berdine said, shifting uncomfortably. “I admit Raina and I have been pushing too hard in our attempts to fulfill her wishes. Mistress Cara can endure so much, so we have been…” she glanced to Raina, seeking encouragement in her dark eyes, “overzealous to please her.”

“Would her wounds be healed if you gave her the Breath of Life?” Richard inquired, making the two Mord–Sith exchange another unsure glance.

“We would have to kill her first,” Raina replied. “And considering we have already done so and revived her a day ago, it would be too dangerous and might not work.”

“You have already killed her once?!” Kahlan’s appalled voice rose with furious authority. “No wonder she is in such state now! You should have let her recover after reviving her!”

“That is not how the process of breaking works, Mother Confessor,” Berdine said cautiously.

“Poor Cara,” Zedd, who was sitting silently behind Kahlan’s desk and flipping dusty pages of the most ancient looking thick book, sighed with understanding. “I am sure she had her own reasons for doing this and, considering we might never get to know them, there is no use in fighting over it.”

“Can you help her, Zedd?” the Mother Confessor’s voice was brimming with pleading hope.

“Sadly, no,” the wizard shook his head. “She is unconscious, therefore she cannot control her Mord–Sith ability to grip one’s magic and control it. If she was conscious, she might focus on avoiding the dreadful grip and I might try to heal her. But in her current state, she might unwillingly capture my magic and make me a permanent prisoner of her will. And the unconscious mind works so chaotically it might have serious, unpredictable consequences.”

“So there is nothing we can do? Just let her heal on her own… or not heal at all?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Zedd nodded with compassion. “Of course, you can have your best healers take care of her; it will most certainly increase her odds of quick recovery.”

“Then I shall do that,” Kahlan nodded, letting the fatigue and worry show on her beautiful face. “Now, I would like to speak with Berdine and Raina in private. Don’t worry,” she added, noticing the quick, worried gaze Richard exchanged with Zedd, “I won’t confess them or harm them in any other way. I just want to talk.”

“All right,” Richard nodded, trying to soothe her with a smile. “We’ll be outside if you need us.”

Zedd followed his grandson out of the office, leaving the two most uncomfortably looking Mord–Sith alone with the Confessor. As soon as the door closed behind them, Kahlan approached the red–clad women.

“Now, tell me,” she said seriously. “Why did she do it?”

Berdine’s gaze pierced hers.

“You already know the answer,” her voice was cautious, as if testing Kahlan’s reaction. “Otherwise you wouldn’t need Lord Rahl and the wizard to leave in order to ask that question.”

Kahlan sighed and nodded.

“So, you know,” it was a statement, not a question. “And not just because I kissed her in the dungeon.”

“We know of Cara’s feelings for you,” Berdine replied. “Other matters are not our concern.”

“But I am betrothed to your Lord,” now it was Kahlan’s turn to gaze at them cautiously, trying to anticipate how they would react.

“Our loyalty is to the Lord Rahl,” Raina said matter–of–factly. “And you are not our queen yet.”

Berdine nodded with agreement.

“We want to please our Lord,” she added, smirking a bit. “I doubt he would be pleased to know the extent of Cara’s… services to you.”

“So you are not going to reveal… your knowledge of the matter to him?” the Confessor asked, her heart skipping a bit in trepidation as the two women before her exchanged another look, communicating without words.

“Of course, if Lord Rahl would use the bond specifically for that, we would be compelled to tell him the truth,” Berdine explained. “But if he ever begins to doubt your fidelity to him, it will not be because of us.”

“Thank you,” Kahlan breathed with relief only to be met by the cold, emotionless gaze of the two pairs of eyes.

“We are not doing this for you, Mother Confessor,” Raina’s voice was even and controlled. “Beside Lord Rahl, our loyalty goes only to our Mistress. And whatever you choose, you will destroy one of them. So don’t expect us to empathize with you.”

“No, of course not,” Kahlan stammered, taken aback by the Mord–Sith’s words. “I… I don’t want to hurt either of them.”

“It is inevitable,” Berdine’s gaze followed the lines of the Confessor’s body. “I can see why they are both so infatuated by you. You are a very dangerous woman, Kahlan Amnell, not just a dangerous Confessor.”

Her words stung and Kahlan opened her mouth to protest, but she was interrupted by the opening of the door. Richard stormed in, the cold expression in his eyes making him look more like a Rahl than his clothes did.

“The tracker cloud is not on Darken Rahl anymore,” he informed them, his hand falling on the hilt of the Sword of Truth. “Somehow he managed to unlock Zedd’s spell.”

“It must have been Nicci’s doing,” Zedd pointed out, grabbing the book from the desk. “I need few things from the Wizard’s Keep.”

“We’ll meet you there,” Richard nodded, turning towards the three women. “We need to leave right now. Raina, gather our men.”

“Yes, Lord Rahl,” she bowed and left, not bothering to address the shocked Mother Confessor.

Zedd approached Kahlan, pulling the small book with leather covers from his robes.

“We brought you a journey book,” he said, giving it to Kahlan. “We have the one that matches it, so we will not lose contact again.”

The Confessor nodded, taking the book, and then she was enveloped in the firm, almost desperate hug.

“Be wise, my child,” the wizard whispered, his words only for her to hear. “We will return soon.”

Before Kahlan managed to respond, he stormed out of the office and his hands were replaced by Richard’s strong ones. He held her tightly, kissing her more roughly than ever. Like a true Rahl, the unwanted thought passed through Kahlan’s mind as his desperate grip bordered on being painful.

“When I return,” he said, his voice thick with passion, “and with our child in the cradle instead inside you, we will have time for ourselves. And I swear to you, Kahlan, nothing will stand in our way any more.”

With that, he kissed her once again fiercely, and left before she got the chance to say anything. Not that her words would matter; it seemed to her Richard was now in the full Rahl mode and it bothered her deeply.

Berdine slightly bowed her head, watching her intently.

“Until we see each other again,” she said meaningfully. “Mother Confessor.”

Then she followed her Lord and Kahlan was suddenly left alone, the horrible realization growing inside her at the notice Richard hadn’t even mentioned Cara, his friend in whose defense he had stood so many times, before leaving.

Richard has changed. His conduct towards her was so different than before and although she had been noticing small, subtle changes in him during the last three days, only now did they collapse in one complete, terrifying thought.

“Spirits,” she breathed, shocked.

Richard Rahl stood in the way of their happiness more than Cara ever could.

* * * * *

Cara walked through the forest, her steps light and carefree. Every tree seemed somehow alive, slightly bending and bowing as if dancing to the music of the birds in their treetops, beams of sunlight playfully moving over the leaves and the ground. All colors seemed enhanced and it surprised Cara she wasn’t forced to wince or otherwise shield her eyes from the explosion of the light and almost liquid color that surrounded her. She had no idea where she was going, but she still moved on, nostrils filled with the rich scents of nature.

And when her steps brought her to a small clearing with the stone circle in its center and a small, gurgling stream nearby, she knew that was the place she was headed to. So she approached the Confessor’s Meditation and stopped before the stone circle, unsure whether to continue or not. It was the place where Confessors went to gain some of their wisdom, so it somehow seemed wrong for a Mord–Sith to enter and therefore violate its serene purity.

The small, blue light flickered before her eyes and the blonde twitched in surprise. The tiny creature emanating the light chirped and Cara’s eyebrows went up.

“Night Wisp?” she asked, her voice ringing strangely, as if she was standing in a large stone hall. “This must be a dream.”

“Of course it is,” the Nigh Wisp replied in the most musical, charming voice. “But dreams can sometimes bring forth more than any reality.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Cara frowned. “Why am I dreaming about this place?”

“Why, indeed,” the Wisp’s chirp sounded like chuckle. “Perhaps you should enter the circle and find out.”

“I cannot. It is meant for Confessors, not for Mord–Sith.”

“But you have already been here once, haven’t you? So perhaps it is meant for you as well.”

Good point, Cara thought and walked between the two stone columns – gasping at the sight of Kahlan’s unmoving body lying on the horizontal stone placed in the middle of the circle, her eyes closed and her face paler than ever. The long strands of her dark hair were scattered over her neck, falling on the cold white stone, and while her right hand was over her round belly, the other hung limply down the stone.

“Kahlan!” Cara exclaimed in horror and ran to her, touching her cold face and grabbing her lifeless hand. The painful dread in her heart rose and tears filled her eyes at the sight of the dead Confessor even though she knew she was dreaming.

The Wisp flew over Kahlan’s face, gently caressing it with its blue light.

“Why is she dead?” Cara looked at the tiny creature, her voice trembling. “Why am I dreaming of Kahlan’s death?!”

“Because your body is covered with wounds earned in the attempt of killing her within your heart,” the Wisp answered.

The thought of reviving Kahlan with the Breath of Life was not even fully formed in Cara’s mind and the Wisp was somehow already emanating amused displeasure.

“This dream requires more than such a simple solution,” it said as if reprimanding her. “You haven’t killed her body; you tried to kill your love for her.”

“But if this means I have succeeded,” the Mord–Sith’s fingers gently caressed Kahlan’s face, stopping at her lips, “why do I still feel it?”

“This is your crossroad, Cara,” the blue light flickered. “Here and now, you decide. Do you want those feelings gone, leaving the Mother Confessor in your heart like this, or do you want to renew the connection you share with her? Either way, the path is going to be difficult and it will torture both of you much more than you have already tortured yourself.”

“I don’t want her like this,” Cara whispered, her vision blurred with tears. “But she is destined to be the Lord Rahl’s wife.”

“Is she?” the Wisp inquired seriously. “Who are you, a mere Mord–Sith, to decide another’s destiny? The weight of this decision should be on the Mother Confessor’s shoulders, not yours.”

“She is caring his child,” Cara reminded the Wisp of the obvious. The Wisp seemed thoughtful for a moment.

“Yes, she is,” she replied resonantly. “But that doesn’t change a thing. The choice of a mate is still hers to make. And your choice, Cara, has to be made right now. Do you wish her to be dead or alive in your heart?”

Cara glanced at the still, lifeless Confessor’s face, tears rolling over her face.

“I don’t want her to be dead,” her voice was small and broken. “In every reality, every dream, every possible way… I want her to live.”

“Then you choose life,” the Wisp’s light erupted in a blue explosion, blinding the Mord–Sith and forcing her to cover her face.

And then, gentle fingers wrapped over hers, taking her hand down, and Cara found herself face to face with serene looking, smiling Kahlan. The wave of warmth, followed by the most powerful surge of love, enveloped her entire soul, filling it with joy and tranquility, and Cara smiled widely, another kind of tears falling from her eyes.

Kahlan’s hand slipped in the blonde’s hair, pulled her down and met her salty lips with her own, as soft and warm as if they hadn’t been dead a mere moment ago.

The world ceased to exist. And then, everything sank into the darkness.

* * * * *

“She seems to be waking up, Mother Confessor.”

The female voice rang from the most distant parts of the darkness around her, confusing Cara’s foggy mind. The next sensation she had were warm, soft fingers somewhere on her skin, but she couldn’t pinpoint their exact location. Something about that warmth felt very familiar, and so did the voice that cautiously called her name, pulling her up as if she was drowning in deep waters.

Cara slowly opened her eyes. At first, she saw only blurred shadows, but as she blinked, they became sharper and sharper until she could discern the worried face hovering over her, surrounded by the dark cloud of hair.

Kahlan.

“Cara, can you hear me?” the Confessor asked softly, lightly squeezing the Mord–Sith’s hand.

“Yes,” Cara’s voice was rasp and barely above whisper. She tried to move; every muscle in her body hurt.

The relief on Kahlan’s face was evident as she smiled. She then nodded to the older woman, a healer who was touching Cara’s forehead.

“Leave us for a moment, Adna,” the Mother Confessor asked and the woman slightly bowed her head and left the room, leaving Kahlan alone with Cara, who only now realized she was lying in the Mother Confessor’s bed.

“Why am I here?” she breathed, confused.

“You needed the best care Aydindril could give you,” Kahlan replied, still smiling with relief.

“This is your bed chamber,” the blonde protested weekly, trying to lift her upper body and wincing at the pain. Kahlan helped her, adjusting the pillows so the Mord–Sith could sit, and then gently removed few strands of the golden hair from her bruised face.

“I didn’t want to leave you alone,” the Confessor explained, her fingers lingering on Cara’s chin. “You have been shadowing me, making me safe for months. This was the least I could have done.”

“But your people…”

“I don’t care what they might think,” Kahlan’s voice was soft, but firm. She took the cup from the table next to the bed and brought it to Cara’s lips. “Here, drink this. It will help you restore your strength.”

Cara obediently took few gulps. The liquid was bitter and almost made her stomach turn, but it did seem to fill her insides with some energy. She then sighed and looked at Kahlan.

“How long?” she asked.

“For a week. Your wounds gave you a strong fever,” anxiety filled Kahlan’s eyes. “I had my healers do their best, but for the first two days, they weren’t sure if you were going to make it.”

“Of course I would make it,” Cara muttered. “I’m a Mord–Sith.”

“Indeed you are,” Kahlan chuckled, gazing at the blonde with worried sympathy. “And so are Berdine and Raina, judging by the state in which I have found you.”

Cara glanced around the room.

“Where are they?” she asked, the liquid she drank warming her inside. “I need to teach them a thing or two about breaking someone.”

“They left with Richard and Zedd,” Kahlan’s gaze fell to her belly, and so did her hand. “One day after… well, after I had interrupted them torturing you.”

“Training me,” Cara corrected absently. Kahlan’s eyes watered a bit as she reached for the Mord–Sith’s hands, intertwining their fingers.

“Why did you do this, Cara?” her voice was soft and quiet. The blonde’s gaze locked with hers, silently communicating everything she felt through their connection, hoping Kahlan would understand.

“I thought that the breaking might set me free,” she replied as softly. “But I was wrong. I cannot erase everything I feel; I must learn how to live with it.”

A single tear rolled down Kahlan’s face as she leaned down and kissed Cara so softly it made all her pain vanish instantly.

“Never do this again,” she whispered, her breath warm on the Mord–Sith’s lips. “Your death would break my heart.”

“I have died,” Cara pointed out, lightly squeezing Kahlan’s hand. “It wasn’t for the first, or the last time. You should have let me die and have Berdine or Raina revive me.”

“That option was… discussed,” the Confessor seemed uncomfortable as she pulled back. “But they both seemed unsure if they could revive you for the second time in only two days. And then they all had to leave. Darken Rahl managed to elude the tracker cloud.”

“Of course,” Cara murmured, her fingers drawing slow circles on Kahlan’s hand, making the Confessor shiver. “So it’s just the two of us again?”

“Yes,” Kahlan whispered, gently caressing the Mord–Sith’s face again. The blonde swallowed, fighting the urge to pull her down and kiss her with all the hunger she suddenly felt. Her entire body ached and Kahlan was nearing birth. It was neither the time nor the situation for passion.

“We cannot simply return to the way we were before,” she managed seriously although her reason was drowning in the blue depths of Kahlan’s eyes. “Richard will return again.”

“I know,” the Confessor nodded somewhat sadly, suddenly seeming lost in thought. “Richard has… changed. Something bothered me deeply for the entire time he was here, but I realized what it was only when he left. He is… becoming a Rahl.”

“What are you saying?” Cara’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m saying nothing can ever be the same again,” Kahlan replied softly, her eyes filling with confusion. “I don’t know what his return will bring, but Cara… When I thought I might lose you…” she was searching for the right words and her brow furrowed with the desperate effort. “I cannot be without you. I know it is horribly selfish of me, but… I just cannot.”

Cara reached for her face, letting her fingers slide through the raven hair, and smiled, memory of her dream flashing before her eyes. And along with the mental image of Kahlan coming back to life in the blue Night Wisp light, the surge of the almost unbearable love crashed the last remains of resistance inside her.

“You and me… It truly is a horrible betrayal towards Richard,” she said softly. “But I cannot kill what I feel. I will love you as long as I breathe, and even after that, with my soul burning in the Underworld. And I will be here for as long as you want me, in any way you want me to be.”

Kahlan’s eyes filled with tears and she kissed the blonde again, this time letting the beats of her heart flow through their connection, through their combined breaths, until their hearts started beating as one and the entire world, along with the heavy burden of responsibilities and duties, blurred away.

* * * * *

Kahlan stood before the large window in her bed chamber, her gaze wandering over the Aydindril roofs, now clean of the snow that had melted away few days ago. The nature was beginning to wake up from its long winter sleep and even though it was more than a month until the spring festivities, the first shy buds began to show. It was still quite cold, though, and it would take weeks until spring finally took reign.

But now, the sky was grey, dark clouds hanging so low it seemed they might rip on the tall tower of the Wizard’s Keep, protruding from the cliffs in the distance.

Kahlan sighed, rubbing her lower back. Her entire body hurt every day now, the heavy belly making it difficult for her to move and creating the permanent, dull ache in her spine. She sometimes wondered how she was going to endure it for another month, and always came to the conclusion she would probably be lying in bed for the entire last month of the pregnancy. But so far, she managed to avoid it, even though her movements were limited to her chambers and balcony. It didn’t matter, though; the Council seemed to be managing the matters of the rule just fine and her people anxiously awaited the birth of their future ruler, willingly giving her all the space she needed. So Kahlan’s days were passing slowly, day after day drowning in horrible boredom.

Sometimes it all infuriated her so much she would lose her temper and yell at her servants for no reason at all, which left her exhausted afterwards, worried about such incredible change of her personality. She, the strict but compassionate Mother Confessor of the Midlands, was so nervous and ill–tempered it seemed impossible. At times, it felt as if some evil spirit was inside her, making her say all those horrible things to people, making her furiously seek for any way to release her unreasoning anger.

It led to some intense moments of friction between her and Cara, but the Mord–Sith was surprisingly tolerant and wasn’t allowing herself to be dragged into quarreling with the Confessor. And even in those angry, brawling moments, their love didn’t falter a single bit. Sometimes it seemed to Kahlan Cara was the only thing keeping her in reality, preventing her from drowning completely in negative emotions. She was now so used to the comfort of Cara’s presence in her bed it seemed impossible she would ever have anyone else, even Richard, touching her or holding her in warm embrace. They didn’t make love for the last three weeks, for Kahlan’s physical condition now really didn’t allow it, but somehow even that didn’t matter. All that mattered was the fact Cara was there, her presence soothing even the worst Kahlan’s moods, silently showing her love with every touch.

Kahlan refused to think about Richard’s return. Their correspondence via journey book had been odd enough; her sentences forced and lacking the usual amount of any kind of emotion, his informative and short. She had written about the pregnancy and the boring day–to–day issues, he had been describing their advances through D’Hara in pursuit of Darken Rahl. It all somehow seemed wrong, but Kahlan couldn’t help it; her repulsion towards the Rahl side of the Seeker was growing with each day.

And then he had stopped writing altogether. She had been worried for some time, but Cara had assured her Richard had been all right because the power of her Agiels hadn’t faltered at all. She could vaguely feel him towards the bond, but couldn’t pinpoint his location – he was too far away.

The door opened and Kahlan heard the familiar steps approaching her. The Mother Confessor smiled, forgetting about the pain and her bad mood for a moment. The gloved hand touched her back and lingered there as the warm lips lightly kissed below her ear.

“The emissaries from everywhere are beginning to swarm the city,” the Mord–Sith informed her, moving back a bit. The Confessor looked at the now fully healed, beautiful face before her. “And I hear there are bets about the exact day of the birth. When your daughter is born, I think there will not be a single drop of wine in Aydindril left.”

“Good to know my people take my pregnancy for an excuse to get drunk,” Kahlan smirked, frowning when something constricted in her lower back. Cara eyed her intently.

“Are you all right?” she asked and Kahlan nodded, her hands almost furiously trying to rub away the dull ache.

“Yes. But my entire body hurts, especially my back. Adna says my spine might be distorted a bit from the weight of the pregnancy.”

Cara watched her for few long moments, the hint of a smile twisting the corners of her lips.

“When I saw you riding through the city during the summer’s end festivities, I thought you couldn’t possibly be more beautiful,” she said, her voice warm and filled with admiration. “But I was wrong. You have never been as beautiful and radiant as you are now.”

“Really?” the Confessor laughed nervously. “Well, I don’t feel beautiful.”

And then, the sudden surge of pain twisted her face and made her knees totter. Before Cara’s hands caught her, something snapped inside Kahlan and her feet and dress were suddenly splashed with liquid.

“It is starting,” Cara’s voice trembled with worry and excitement as she held the Confessor, steadying her.

“Impossible,” Kahlan breathed, confused. “I have one more month… Spirits!” she wailed as another wave of pain shook her body. Cara helped her to the bed and then rushed out to send a guard for Adna and other healers, then returned to squeeze Kahlan’s hand.

“It will be all right,” she assured. “You just need to breathe.”

“Easy for you to say,” Kahlan mumbled, making Cara chuckle nervously.

Then Adna hurriedly entered the room, followed by the small army of healers and maids, all carrying washbowls and buckets filled with water and washcloths and all other things required to ease the birth. When she saw them, Kahlan’s head snapped up as the now well familiar anger burned in her eyes.

“I don’t need all of you!” she growled, pain and sudden fury distorting her face. “Get out!”

“But Mother Confessor,” Adna tried, but Kahlan didn’t let her finish, baring her teeth in the gesture so wild it made not only her servants, but also Cara, wince in fear.

“You are the headmistress of all Aydindril healers,” the Confessor hissed. “Are you saying you cannot deliver my child by yourself?”

“I have only two hands, Mother Confessor,” Adna bowed obediently, apologizing. “I need more than that.”

“I am the Mother Confessor of the Midlands,” Kahlan’s eyes wildly moved over the people bowing before her in fear. “I don’t trust either of you with the life of my daughter. Get out!”

“Kahlan,” Cara tried to bring some sense to the distraught Confessor, but was interrupted by a loud, painful scream from the brunette’s lips. Adna touched her large, tense belly, feeling it with her expert fingers, then slipped them below Kahlan’s dress. When she looked at Cara, she was frowning.

“This is going too fast,” she said, worry creeping in her voice. “We should remove the dress quickly, before the child starts coming out.”

Kahlan’s hand shot to the woman’s throat, gripping it tightly, making Adna gasp in fear. The Confessor pulled the healer closer, her eyes mad and teeth threateningly bared.

“I will not have these people here,” her growl was low and dangerous, black swirls filling her eyes.

“Kahlan!” Cara gripped her hand, shocked by the most unusual, never before seen Kahlan’s behavior. “Let her go.”

The black eyes turned to Cara and the even though the Mord–Sith knew she couldn’t be confessed, they did make her shudder. The most horrible, inconceivable feeling passed through their connection and Cara’s stomach turned instinctively.

Something was terribly wrong.

“Leave!” she yelled at the servants and maids, suddenly afraid for their safety. “Obey the Mother Confessor!”

Kahlan released Adna only when the three of them were alone in the room, sneering contently before the next contraction convulsed her entire body.

All that followed seemed incredibly blurred to Cara. She couldn’t determine was the time standing still or did hours pass in trying to fight Kahlan’s fury and grabbing her hands whenever they flew for Adna’s throat, at the same time trying to soothe her during the moments of clarity when regretful tears would fall from her eyes. She wasn’t aware of the exact moment when Kahlan’s blood got on her hands as she helped Adna as much as she could, all her attention on Kahlan, whose mood changes now seemed more like the display of two entirely different personalities.

And the horrible feeling that something was not right was only getting stronger. So when Kahlan’s hand grabbed her Agiel, pulling it too quickly for Cara to stop her, and hit her across the face, splitting her lip, Cara was almost not surprised.

She wrenched the Agiel from the Confessor’s hand, and the brunette responded with mad laughter that turned into a scream when another contraction hit her.

“You are lucky I love you this much,” Cara mumbled, then turned to the visibly scared healer. “How long is this going to take? I might be forced to tie her down if this isn’t over soon.”

“The child is almost out,” Adna managed, her voice shaky. “Mistress Cara, what is happening to her? Why is she… like this?”

“I don’t know,” worry was painted over Cara’s face as she returned her attention to Kahlan, grabbing her twitching hands and holding them firmly. But not even all of the Mord–Sith’s strength wasn’t able to stop the raging Mother Confessor when she moved with the final contraction, pushing Cara away and gripping Adna’s throat. She released the thundering silence of her magic in the healer at the very moment her child entered the world and wailed for the first time.

And then, the Confessor collapsed back on the bed, breathing heavily, her madness abandoning her completely, and the horrible feeling was gone from the connection. Cara felt tears of relief filling her eyes as she caressed Kahlan’s sweaty face, removing few strands of hair that got glued to her skin.

The child wailed in Adna’s hands and the healer raised her gaze, now filled with unconditional adoration, to look at Kahlan.

“Command me, Mistress,” she said with the utmost reverence.

“Dear Creator”, Kahlan’s rasp voice broke with desperation. “What have I done?”

Cara glanced to Adna and the child, and the sight made her freeze in shock and terror. All blood vanished from her face as she gripped Kahlan’s hand, trying to tear her gaze from the child.

“Kahlan… the child…” she barely managed, words in her throat feeling like choking chunks of ice. “It is male.”

The painful, horrified scream, stronger than all those before, ripped the air as dread replaced the last drop of hope in the Mother Confessor’s heart.

Chapter 11

Kahlan was staring at the ceiling for what seemed like an eternity, still lying in her torn dress, blood drying on her naked thighs as her mind seemed empty as never before. Somewhere on the edge of her consciousness, she could hear the muffled sounds of her child, lying securely in Adna’s loyal, confessed hands.

Her child. Her son.

A male Confessor with Rahl blood in his veins.

She shuddered.

“Kahlan?” Cara was by her side, sitting on the bed and holding her hand, worry never before so visible on her face. Kahlan wished to scream, to cry, the horrible wound in her soul bleeding painfully. And for the first time ever, not even Cara’s voice managed to soothe her suffering. “Kahlan, say something.”

“What can I say?” she turned her head to look at the blonde, her voice cracking with defeat, tears once again filling her eyes. “It should have been impossible. Twice in the same generation…” she broke in a sob, covering her face with hand not gripped by Cara’s.

Cara swallowed nervously, glancing towards Adna and the child, and then returning her gaze to Kahlan.

“Kahlan, you should…” she began, searching for the right words. She didn’t want to further hurt Kahlan, but it was inevitable. “You must make a decision.”

“I know,” the pain in the Confessor’s voice was so heavy it made Cara’s eyes water. “I know, Cara. And I know what I must decide. But it is… it seems impossibly difficult.”

“Mistress, do you wish to hold your son?” Adna asked innocently, which earned her one angry look from Cara and one loud cry from Kahlan.

“No, Adna,” she managed through tears, her voice as broken as her soul. “Don’t give him to me. Just… just hold him until I decide what to do.”

“I know this is incredibly hard for you,” Cara said carefully, caressing Kahlan’s hair in a futile attempt to somehow ease the pain Kahlan was experiencing. “But Kahlan… I have seen the world in which the male Confessor of Rahl bloodline lived. It was the most horrible world that could have ever existed.”

The Mother Confessor’s body shook with silent, violent sobs. Everything Richard had ever told her about that world flashed through her mind, Shota’s prophecy above all, the mistake of dismissing her warning now constricting Kahlan’s chest along with the immense pain.

“I cannot do it,” her voice was barely above whisper. “I couldn’t do it when my sister gave birth, and I obviously couldn’t do it even in that horrible reality you and Richard know about. Even when it was Darken Rahl’s son.”

“Now it is Richard Rahl’s,” Cara responded firmly. She had to be strong now and not let Kahlan fall apart completely, she knew it even though her own strength was scattered to pieces. “If you are hoping that all the love and kindness you and Richard can give to this child can change what he is…”

“I know it cannot,” Kahlan looked at her again and the Mord–Sith almost gasped at the display of complete loss of hope in her eyes. “But how could I kill my own child, Cara?”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t do it by yourself,” a voice rang behind them and their eyes turned towards it in an instant. Shota was standing in the middle of the room, her black dress contrasting the thick white fur coat and the blazing red hair falling over her shoulders, her face dead serious. Cara’s Agiel was in her hand before she knew it, her eyes narrowing and her sorrow giving way to the tense caution. She moved closer to Kahlan, ready to deflect any magic the witch might send towards her.

“Mistress?” Adna asked nervously, her desire to protect her mistress contradicting the direct order given to her, to hold the now silent child.

“It’s all right, Adna,” Kahlan replied in a wary voice, her gaze not leaving Shota’s. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to ensure the making of the right choice,” the sorceress answered calmly. “You disregarded my direct warning, Mother Confessor, and by doing so, you brought a horrible danger to the world.”

“I didn’t know my child would be male,” Kahlan said tiredly.

“You were advised against conceiving a child with Richard Rahl,” Shota spoke evenly. “In every possible reality, were you to lay with a Rahl, you were destined to conceive a male child of the Rahl bloodline. Now you must kill it in order to prevent terrible things happening to this world.”

Cara’s mind raced.

“Did you have something to do with the attempt on Kahlan’s life few months ago?” she asked. The witch seemed surprised.

“Why would I want her death?” she asked, her eyebrows twitching up.

“You didn’t want her child to be born.”

“I never wished any harm for Kahlan Amnell,” there was some respect in Shota’s voice when she crossed her arms and looked at Kahlan. “I warned her and the Seeker timely, they chose not to heed my warning. And once it was done, I couldn’t have interfered.”

“Why?”

Shota eyed the Mord–Sith carefully, her gaze cold but wise.

“On most paths, there are no shortcuts,” she replied enigmatically. “A seer must know when to abstain from interfering in order for certain futures to come to be.”

“But now you are interfering,” Cara pointed out. Shota nodded.

“I am, for the Mother Confessor’s heart tends towards sympathy in this matter. I feared she wouldn’t be able to perform what was necessary to prevent horrible things from happening.”

“The dream,” Kahlan whispered, her mind spinning. “I had a dream about giving birth to a male child… and about what it did to the world.”

“You have many talents, Mother Confessor,” the respect in Shota’s eyes grew. “I didn’t know foresight was one of them.”

“You are mistaken,” Kahlan waved her hand tiredly. “I cannot see the future. It must have been the fear my subconscious mind was experiencing because of your warning.”

“Or the projection of the intents your son’s mind was not able to form into images, but yours was,” the sorceress’s voice was surprisingly gently and compassionate. “You have been experiencing some strange emotions, outbursts of rage and cruel need to confess or otherwise hurt someone during your pregnancy, haven’t you?”

Kahlan’s gaze fell on Adna as guilt blossomed in her heart.

“Yes,” she breathed, remembering her own fear of becoming an entirely different person, the person she didn’t like.

“That was your son’s influence; the evil of being a male Confessor combined with the powerful bloodline inherited from Richard Rahl. You have experienced small fragments of what he would be like if allowed to grow up,” Shota moved closer, her eyes suddenly pleading. “Please, Mother Confessor. You mustn’t let him live. All three of us have seen the world ruled by a male Confessor, be it in a dream, a vision or in alternate reality. The mixture of Rahl and Zorrander blood, combined with the power of Confession, in a male body? It mustn’t be.”

“And the other future?” Cara asked, forcing herself to tear her gaze away from the tears glistening on Kahlan’s cheeks. “If the child… doesn’t live? What does that future bring?”

“I cannot tell you that,” Shota straightened up, serious again. “There are still some requirements to be met in order for that future to happen. But I can tell you that those requirements include both of you staying alive. And if you don’t kill this child, the Mother Confessor will be dead before the tenth child’s summer comes, by her son’s own hand.”

Cara’s eyes widened in horror, the image of dead Kahlan from her dream flashing before her eyes. In every reality, every dream, every possible way, I want her to live, her own words echoed in her mind. She squeezed Kahlan’s hand, looking at her with anxiety.

The Mother Confessor seemed lost in her sorrowful thoughts.

“So my thoughts, feelings, reactions…” she raised her eyes to look at the sorceress. “They were my son’s unconscious doing?”

“Those that were extremely uncharacteristic for you and are now gone from your mind, yes,” Shota nodded.

“And he would be… like that?”

“No, Mother Confessor,” the witch’s expression was grim, a hint of fear sneaking by. “He would be much worse.”

Heavy silence fell on them, the only sound coming from the fussing of a newly born child whose destiny was being decided along with the destiny of the world. It seemed to last for an eternity, but it was only minutes later when Kahlan took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

“What I often felt compelled to do during the last eight months was horrible,” she said, the immense sadness and grief filling her eyes along with fresh tears. “In my heart, I know you are right. But I cannot do this by myself.”

She straightened up, leaning on Cara for support. Although her body was weak, she pulled out the last ounce of her inner strength in order to put on her Confessor face.

“I shall never forgive myself for this,” the Mother Confessor vowed and then looked at Adna, tears rolling down her expressionless face. “Adna, you shall take the child in the other room and kill it,” her voice didn’t falter a bit from its cold, even Confessor tone. “Then you shall return here.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Adna nodded eagerly, happy to please her mistress, and went to the small room in the back, intended to be the room of the Mother Confessor’s child.

Kahlan’s mind was dull and racing at the same time. She remembered how she had refused to kill her sister’s son; she remembered Richard’s words about the utmost unfairness of killing someone just because he might become evil one day; she thought of how he had never mentioned it again after returning from the world she didn’t remember. And above all, she remembered the horrible desire to hurt other people, the gnawing nervousness that had made her yell and insult her maids and guards, the cruel aggressiveness within her she had barely managed to withstand, all experienced during her pregnancy, all gone from her mind now.

And she remembered the dream she had already forgotten all about, the dream that had now suddenly seemed so real, so vivid and so true; the dream of her son confessing even while in his crib, people screaming in fear of his small, barely aware body, the cruel sparkle in his baby eyes. It should have been impossible, she had known even in the dream, for male Confessors exhibited their cruelty only when growing up a bit, but when she would look in her son’s cruel, black eyes, she would see Rahl coldness in them, and she had cursed herself for bringing such evil to the world.

Even though it hurt immensely, the Mother Confessor’s heart knew Shota was right.

They all waited in nervous silence, Kahlan flinching only when a single wail reached their ears. Then everything was silent again and Adna returned, not a single hint of regret for killing a child on her confessed face.

“I have done it, Mistress,” she said almost proudly. Kahlan’s face showed nothing and she didn’t even look at Cara when she addressed her.

“Cara, go there with Shota, see if it is done,” her voice was barely above whisper, as if it would break from its illusory coldness if louder. Cara was reluctant to leave her, knowing her mind and soul were screaming with terror over what she had just done, but she obeyed wordlessly, leading Shota to the smaller room already equipped with everything a child would need, the room that would now remain empty and hollow.

The child was indeed dead, strangled by Adna’s bony fingers, and although they both knew it had to be done, Shota’s expression was as bleak and dreary as was Cara’s. Somehow, even though the sight did remind the Mord–Sith of the time when she had been able to kill a child without any remorse or hesitation, the regret she felt over the memory was weakened by the knowledge this child would have killed Kahlan if given a chance to live. Even though Cara generally didn’t trust the witch, something inside was telling her that Shota had been honest about this matter. And Kahlan’s occasional odd, hurtful behavior during her pregnancy, especially the madness she had exhibited while giving birth, confirmed Shota’s words.

They returned to the bed chamber, Kahlan following them with an empty gaze. Cara approached the bed, gently touching the Confessor’s face, trying to use their connection as a way of comfort.

“It is done,” she said quietly and Kahlan nodded. Through the connection, Cara could feel her breaking apart, but it didn’t show on her face, except in uncontrollable tears still leaving her eyes in a flow.

“Adna,” Kahlan addressed the healer. “You shall bury the body and tell no one where you did it. You shall forget about all that happened in my chambers today and explain to the guards and the rest of my healers that my daughter died during birth. I am not to be disturbed until I decide otherwise.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Adna nodded and hurried away to do what she was ordered, followed by Shota’s stern gaze.

And when the three of them were left alone, Kahlan’s mask fell and she broke in loud, heartbreaking sobs, her face distorting in pain. She climbed to Cara desperately, burying her nails in the Mord–Sith’s leathers, hiding her face behind the curtain of blond hair, her tears wetting Cara’s neck. The blonde hugged her tightly, wordlessly, her own tears stinging her eyes.

“It was the right thing to do,” Shota’s voice was quiet and respectful. “She is strong. She will recover from this.”

“Any more prophecies you wish us to fulfill, witch?” Cara snarled at her and Shota tilted her head, thoughtful and not at all insulted.

“You are already on the path of fulfilling them,” she replied calmly and somewhat contently, then vanished before Cara’s eyes.

Kahlan’s body shook in the Mord–Sith’s arms, her loud, mourning wails echoing through the room. Not being able to ease her pain was breaking Cara’s heart, so she tried in every possible way. She soothingly caressed Kahlan’s hair, face, arms and back, softly murmuring words of encouragement to her, rocking her slightly and kissing the top of her head. But nothing seemed to ease Kahlan’s suffering and Cara’s desperation grew with every moment that passed in broken sobs.

And then, Kahlan did the most unimaginable thing – her hand glided over Cara’s hip and reached for her Agiel. Cara was surprised, but when Kahlan’s fingers wrapped around the red rod and some of her sobs gave way to deeper, longer breaths, the blonde’s heart constricted painfully, recognizing the familiar pattern.

Kahlan Amnell, the Mother Confessor of the entire Midlands, was broken as much as any Mord–Sith.

* * * * *

Kahlan spent the next two weeks lying in her bed, mostly staring in the ceiling and occasionally crying, barely saying a word. Her body was successfully recovering from giving birth, but what was happening in her soul, Cara could only guess. She did respect Kahlan’s need to deal with the horrible event in her own way, though, so she allowed her days to consist of quiet sitting on the sofa and reading, taking care of the fire, helping Kahlan with bathing for as long as she was too week to bathe herself, bringing her food because Kahlan didn’t want to see anyone but her and occasionally even feeding her, when the Confessor would show complete lack of interest for eating. Sometimes, when she felt it would be all right, Cara would read out loud and Kahlan would listen, her eyes fixed to the blonde, and Cara would feel something unspecified through their connection, almost as if the turmoil raging inside the Confessor calmed down a bit at hearing her voice.

And at nights, Cara would lie next to Kahlan, the brunette would immediately press herself to her and Cara would hug her gently, murmuring soothing words in her ear until she would fall asleep. Once she even sang in a quiet voice, a calming D’Haran song from her childhood, one of the rare things remembered despite her Mord–Sith training. Kahlan listened carefully, small smile curving her lips for the first time since giving birth.

Cara asked for Kahlan’s permission to notify Richard of what had happened during one of those evenings, and the Confessor barely nodded. So Cara wrote few short, vague sentences in the journey book, not willing to give any concrete information in case the other book was in the hands of someone who might have used it in any ill way, and waited for the answer in vain. She reported that to Kahlan in careful words, and the Confessor simply stared at her, lost in her thoughts, only to return to her mourning.

She also brought the news of Adna’s death, seemingly completely natural, and her suspicions it was Shota’s doing, to Kahlan. The brunette didn’t even flinch or blink, and Cara wasn’t sure she even heard her, so the death of Kahlan’s most trusted healer, confessed and completely loyal but now dead because of the horrible truth she was ordered to forget, wasn’t even discussed in the end. It only served to remind Cara of the transience of every human life, be it the life of a common foot soldier or the life of a trusted healer to the highest moral authority of the Midlands. It also added more intensity to her concern over Kahlan, who was at times completely unresponsive to anything Cara said or did.

But when Cara woke up to the fresh, spring–promising clear morning after two long weeks of such painful tending to Kahlan, she found herself alone in the large bed. The Mother Confessor was standing next to her wardrobe, fully dressed in her white dress, finishing the tying up of the laces on her chest.

“Kahlan?” Cara called to her, surprised. “What are you doing?”

“I want to go to the Confessor’s Meditation,” she replied, her voice rough from almost not using it at all for days, her back still turned to the Mord–Sith.

“You are still not strong enough,” Cara tried worriedly, but when Kahlan turned to meet her gaze, she almost gasped, sadness gripping her heart. The brunette’s eyes were tired, pleading and so incredibly sad they made her seem decades older. It was an expression of utterly, completely broken woman.

So Cara, defeated by that heart–wrenching look, just nodded with understanding and got up. Kahlan waited, still as a statue and watching her intently without a single word, as she quickly changed from the simple nigh shift she now wore at nights into her Mord–Sith leather.

Then they got out of Kahlan’s chambers and the guards in the hallway bowed deeply at the sight of their Mother Confessor back on her feet, her back straight and her pale face expressionless and empty. As they moved through the hallways, every maid or soldier they passed by bowed, their faces showing sorrow and compassion for their ruler’s loss, but also happiness for seeing her well again.

This time, when Cara chose two members of the Home Guard she trusted the most to accompany them, Kahlan didn’t oppose. Their horses were saddled quickly and soon they were riding through Aydindril’s streets, exposed to more bows and regretful faces of the people who rushed out of their homes to see the Mother Confessor finally coming out of her mourning isolation. Kahlan endured all that with her Confessor face not faltering a bit, stern and thoughtful, not even glancing over her people. Even though the silence followed them through the city, for the Midlanders knew better than to address their ruler when she was in such state of mind, the compassion and support were almost tangible in the air.

And when they passed through Aydindril’s impressive city gates, Kahlan drove her horse to gallop, leaving her entourage to follow her. It took few moments for Cara to reach her and when she did, Kahlan looked at her, contrasting emotions fighting in her watering eyes.

“I hate what I am,” she said, her voice trembling, and then galloped away even faster before Cara managed to respond.

Only when she reached the clearing with the stone circle did Kahlan stop her exhausted horse so Cara and the Home Guard could catch up with her. They all dismounted and Cara approached her.

“You have nearly escaped your own entourage, Mother Confessor,” she reprimanded softly. “That might have been dangerous.”

“I know,” Kahlan replied absently. “I’m sorry.”

The Mord–Sith nodded and looked around.

“So what do you want to do now?” she asked and Kahlan’s brow furrowed a bit as the turmoil of her thoughts suddenly became visible on her face.

“I will enter the circle,” the Confessor said after few thoughtful moments. “I don’t know for how long I will need to remain inside.”

“Do you,” Cara hesitated, “wish for me to accompany you?”

Kahlan’s gaze, deep and sorrowful, locked with hers. Something unspoken flew between them, something as unsettling as it was soothing, and Cara suddenly knew – this was Kahlan’s crossroads.

“I will call for you if necessary,” Kahlan assured, thanking Cara for her concern with a small hint of a smile. The Mord–Sith nodded again and watched the Mother Confessor enter the stone circle and start walking within it, the hem of her dress rustling over the ground with every slow, methodical step.

Cara barely managed to tear her gaze away from the mourning Confessor who sought advice from the Creator by circling slowly, hypnotically, and looked at the two stoic soldiers who respectfully stood nearby.

“Ryan,” she addressed the taller, younger one. “Go to the north side of the circle. Hermes, you will go to the southwest side and I will remain here, so we can form a triangle. Keep your eyes open.”

“Yes, Mistress Cara,” they both nodded and went to their assigned positions. Cara’s gaze followed them and then returned to the Confessor walking almost enchantingly inside the circle. It was a bit cold, but Kahlan had left her fur coat on the saddle and Cara felt a sting of worry as she watched Kahlan’s flushed cheeks. The Confessor moved slowly, every step calm and rhythmical, arms crossed before her in the typical Confessor manner, her face thoughtful and absent.

Cara watched her, fighting her fear of what Kahlan’s conclusions after leaving the circle might be with her usual Mord–Sith reasoning. She knew this was, after two weeks of silent tears and being lost within her mind, just the next step in Kahlan’s process of recovery from the aftermath of giving birth to a male child. But somehow, Cara felt there was more to this Confessor ritual than just dealing with the loss and guilt; a tiny voice inside her whispered of fears, of losing Kahlan and having to accept that.

The choice of a mate is still hers to make, the melodic voice of the Nigh Wisp from her dream rang in Cara’s mind. The same dream in which she saw pregnant, dead Kahlan in the middle of this very stone circle, in which the Mord–Sith revived her not with the Breath of Life, but with the final acceptance of her feelings.

And as she watched Kahlan walking in circles, following the line of high stones, Cara realized her devotion to the Confessor reached so far she would be able to accept any choice Kahlan would make. If giving her up to the Lord Rahl meant Kahlan would be happy, Cara would gladly do it and lick her wounds in the shadow of serving the happy couple for the rest of her life.

Richard would probably know how to comfort her better than I do, the small and insecure voice in the depth of Cara’s soul whispered. The Mord–Sith frowned at the unwanted thought, gripping her Agiel in order to silence it.

Then she heard Kahlan calling her name and noticed the Confessor was now standing still in the center of the circle, her hand outstretched in invitation. Confused a bit, Cara looked around and then walked into the Confessor’s Meditation, her dream once again flashing before her eyes.

She took the hand Kahlan was offering her and their fingers intertwined. Kahlan’s other hand rose up and gently cupped Cara’s cheek, thumb caressing her chin and making her heart race.

“I shall never stop mourning for my child,” the Mother Confessor said solemnly, her smile sad. “Although my heart knows it had to be done, it bleeds painfully. And that pain is a part of who I am now.”

Cara nodded, understanding perfectly.

“I need to embrace that pain and learn how to live with it, just like you had to,” Kahlan continued, her eyes glistening with some odd kind of calm, permanent sorrow. Cara gently squeezed her hand.

“I am a Mord–Sith,” she said. “Pain has been a part of me for almost my entire life, much in a way love and compassion is a part of every Confessor. That was something I had to embrace, love and gentleness, as much as you now have to embrace the pain you are experiencing.”

“We can help each other so much,” Kahlan whispered, touching her forehead to Cara’s. “You have been by my side in the darkest moments of my life, always full of understanding, always comforting. You have witnessed my happiest moments and my most sorrowful ones. You haven’t given up on me when I was moody, angry, cold or even cruel.”

“I would never give up on you,” Cara’s voice was barely above whisper and even though her eyes were quickly filling with tears, somehow she didn’t care. In the magical, serene feeling enveloping them, their surroundings once again vanishing from their awareness, she felt the line between Cara Mason, a woman, and Mistress Cara, a Mord–Sith, blurring near to the oblivion.

“Cara,” Kahlan breathed, her lips coming closer to the blonde’s. “You were always here. You were my constant, my touchstone.”

“And you were mine,” Cara closed the almost non–existing distance between them and their lips met tenderly, strengthening their connection with the realization their differences had melted into similarities, as if they were two sides of the same coin.

And so they kissed, lips moving slowly, magic freely flowing through their touch. Everything was burning in that soft, delicate kiss; love, devotion, desire and calm acceptance, all flavored with a hint of pain and sorrow.

When they parted, both smiling, something new was between them. The Confessor’s Meditation and its magic had once again proved to be the balm for the wounded, struggling Confessor soul, sealing everything spoken and unspoken, for words paled to the intensity of what resided in both their hearts.

And Kahlan’s heart, Cara now knew, had finally chosen.

They exited the stone circle to be met by two pairs of wide, bewildered eyes.

“Mistress Cara chose our entourage well,” Kahlan said calmly. “I trust her confidence in both of you was not ill–placed.”

“Of course, Mother Confessor,” Ryan nodded, straightening his back even more proudly.

“You can trust us,” Hermes added earnestly. He looked at Cara and somehow the respect on his face grew even more. “Both of you can.”

“Good,” the Confessor smiled. “Then from now on, you shall be the Captains of our personal guard. And if you prove your trustworthiness, it shall be well rewarded.”

“Seeing you well again is enough of a reward, Mother Confessor,” Ryan said honestly. “We have all been so worried about you after… Well, after the most unfortunate loss of your daughter.”

“Thank you,” Kahlan nodded thoughtfully. “I am not fully healed yet, but I do feel considerably better.”

“That is a blessing, Mother Confessor,” Hermes smiled warmly.

“Now let’s go back to Aydindril. Although I am sure the Council can handle the rule for few more days, I am quite tired now and in need of rest.”

Both soldiers bowed their heads and rushed to bring their horses.

“There is still no word from Richard?” Kahlan asked, her voice a bit unsure, as if she didn’t know what answer she would like.

“No,” Cara replied. “I check the journey book every day. I believe someone else might have it in their possession.”

Kahlan’s gaze was locked somewhere in the distance, the weight of all possible consequences of her decisions, now they were out of their magical, secluded world that existed in the Confessor’s Meditation, just starting to dawn on her.

“Send more messengers to D’Hara,” she said gloomily. “He has to learn what happened as soon as he returns to People’s Palace. But the message should be vague. No on can know the child was male. I am the only Confessor left, I cannot take away the hope my people hold for the continuation of the Confessor line. And if the truth comes out… They might conclude I am unable to continue the line.”

Cara nodded, eyeing her carefully.

“And when he comes here?” she asked. “Will you tell him… everything?”

Kahlan’s gaze met hers.

“I will tell him everything,” she replied with a small, almost scared smile. “But I fear how he will react. I doubt he would accept the advantages of a political marriage for both Midlands and D’Hara.”

“You are willing to marry him for strictly political reasons?” Cara’s voice clearly showed her bewilderment. “So there is no love for him left within you?”

“There is,” a dozen expressions passed through Kahlan’s eyes. “But it pales to what I feel for you.”

“Kahlan, are you sure about this?” the Mord–Sith asked, sudden wave of insecurity making her voice tremble. The Confessor smiled slightly and sighed.

“I am not, and yet I am,” her answer was honest. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I know my place is next to you, not him.”

Cara glanced to the stone circle and Kahlan, noticing it, nodded.

“The Confessor’s Meditation is a place of magic,” she explained. “For centuries, it has been known as a place that can pull out the answers hidden deep within a troubled Confessor’s soul. I am merely following the path this place helped me find within myself.”

The Mord–Sith thought about it.

“Our connection was triggered when we were here together for the first time,” she said. “And I had a dream in which this place offered me few answers of my own.”

“Then you must be the first Mord–Sith ever experiencing that,” Kahlan’s smile widened and her hand searched for the blonde’s. Cara nodded, not sure how to respond to that, and looked at the two soldiers approaching them with their horses.

“So we wait for Richard,” she concluded neutrally as something within her bond to the Lord Rahl stirred. Kahlan sighed, squeezing her hand briefly before letting go.

“We wait.”

* * * * *

Cara’s hands wavered over Kahlan’s slender body, gliding over the soft material of her Confessor dress, as the brunette kissed her neck, her tongue leaving wet trail on the Mord–Sith’s skin. After the long day of petitions, meetings with ambassadors and boring paperwork, reveling in each other’s bodies was something they both needed. But although it was over a month since Kahlan had given birth, Cara was still reluctant to let things get too heated; she feared she might hurt the Confessor whose body has still not reached its full strength. She carefully followed the progress of Kahlan’s recovery and the sparring sessions that became their daily routine, during which Cara still had to hold back a bit, for the Confessor was still not strong enough to defeat her, proved that Kahlan’s body still needed some time to fully heal. What surprised Cara the most was how easy it was for her, who was never known to be patient when it came to the matters of the flesh, to wait, allowing herself only to fondle Kahlan gently, touch her with soft reverence and kiss her without losing control over her passion.

But now, Kahlan’s touches were determined and her breathing seemed to be quickening even faster than usually. And by the passion with which the Confessor kissed her and the eagerness with which she started undoing the tight laces on Cara’s back, the Mord–Sith could tell Kahlan wouldn’t be so easily sated by their usual activities today.

“Kahlan,” she warned in a trembling voice, swallowing as the particular spot behind her ear was attacked by the hot tongue. “You have not fully recovered yet.”

“I have recovered enough for this,” the brunette murmured and moved back a little so she could look at Cara. Her expression was as shy as it was seductive, and Cara was once again left bewildered at how enticing Kahlan could be when unaware of her seductiveness. “It’s been a month now. My body has healed.”

“It has?” the Mord–Sith smiled, caressing Kahlan’s blushed face. “I seem to remember how a certain Confessor easily lost her daggers earlier today, when I pulled that double–kick move.”

A giggle came from Kahlan’s throat and she slipped her hands around the blonde, pulling her towards the bed.

“And I seem to remember how a certain Mord–Sith looks at me after every such sparring session,” she teased softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. Cara allowed herself to be pulled on the Confessor’s lap, slipping her fingers in the slightly disheveled cloud of raven hair and pulling her closer.

“Really?” she purred, her breath tickling Kahlan’s ear. “And how exactly does that particular Mord–Sith look at you?”

“With… hunger,” Kahlan responded, swallowing when Cara gently nibbled her neck. “Desire. Need.”

“Mhm,” the blonde agreed, flicking her tongue over Kahlan’s throat only to see the quickening of her pulse beneath her skin. “That does sound like me.”

Kahlan’s fingers once again started working at the laces on Cara’s back and the Mord–Sith moved a bit, sighing.

“Kahlan, are you really sure?” she asked although her lips were already planting little kisses on Kahlan’s. The Confessor responded by tugging the laces loose and trailing her fingers over Cara’s now exposed back. The Mord–Sith let out another loud, trembling sigh and then grabbed the back of Kahlan’s head, kissing her so passionately it was almost rough. Her legs wrapped around Kahlan’s waist and her hands traveled to the Confessor’s chest, gently squeezing her breasts, which earned her a gasp. Few quick, swift movements of Cara’s skilled fingers were enough to untie the white laces and the dress slipped from Kahlan’s shoulders, leaving her porcelain, barely visibly freckled skin exposed to Cara’s sight and touch. And she did touch lovingly; the tips of her fingers trailing invisible patterns on Kahlan’s skin, almost as if the Mord–Sith was marking her as her own property. But Kahlan, who had always fiercely stood against anyone owning her, didn’t mind at all; her heart, body and soul belonged to Cara, and now when the realization of that finally matured within her, nothing was going to stop her from finally enjoying the love that had slowly grown between them, evolving to the pure perfection.

“I am yours,” Kahlan breathed, cupping Cara’s face and kissing her. “I have never belonged to anyone but my people… but now, I belong to you.”

“Don’t say that,” Cara’s whispering words burned on Kahlan’s chest. “You never wanted anyone to own you. I would never…”

“But you already do,” Kahlan interrupted her, gripping her face, her gaze piercing Cara’s eyes and reaching to the deepest corners of her soul. “And it makes me happy, to know I have surrendered myself to the one person in the world that is deserving of it.”

Something in Cara’s heart was threatening to explode.

“I have given myself to you completely,” the blonde whispered, tears suddenly filling her eyes. “No one has ever made me feel the way I feel for you,” she frowned, trying to explain the incredible mixture of wonderful feelings filling her soul. “I don’t have the words to describe it.”

“I know,” Kahlan nodded, smiling, and slowly kissed Cara’s eyes, tasting her tears. “The words are insufficient for what we share. What I feel for you… Cara, it is more than just passion, even more than love. I realized that in the Confessor’s Meditation. Somehow, we are meant to be together. And if you can’t find the words to describe what you feel,” her lips touched Cara’s and then curved in a smile, “show me.”

Cara didn’t need to be told twice; her arms wrapped around the Confessor just like her legs did, and she pulled her closer, sucking Kahlan’s tongue into her own mouth after few short, sharp nibbles to her lips. Kahlan moaned, gripping the Mord–Sith’s waist and neck, and pulled her down.

Their clothes was tossed to the floor quickly, in the chaos of laces and leather and cloth, for the hurry with which they both yearned to feel each other completely was stronger than any reason, any control, any force in the world. They needed to be one, to melt into oblivion and to remain one soul forever, for the magic that grew around them, protecting them from the vanishing outside world, filled their connection, strengthening it and uniting them in the feeling that resembled their first encounter in the Confessor’s Meditation.

And when the bronze skin leaned to the pale one, hips pressed to the pulsating, slick centers and fingers intertwined in the lover’s grip, their gazes met, blue melting to green and green watering to blue. Unspoken, words flew freely between them as they were becoming one, silent promises filling the connection, stronger that any language, any word written or spoken from the beginning of time.

And the invisible magic circled around them and flew between them, stronger than ever, fueled not only by their love, but also by the eternal remnants of the pain and sorrow they had both experienced, now residing below surface of both their minds.

“Do you feel this?” Kahlan whispered, bewildered and slightly breathless. Cara nodded, all her senses vibrating from the magic she felt around them.

“I don’t know what kind of magic this is,” she replied, slowly kissing the Confessor before gazing at her again, her lips forming a small, but fascinated smile. “But it exists only between the two of us.”

“Maybe we are creating it,” the romantic longing filled Kahlan’s eyes as her fingers trailed down Cara’s back. The Mord–Sith was sprawled over her and it felt wonderful to have every place on her skin touched by the bronze softness that was Cara. “Maybe this love… truly is magical.”

Cara’s eyebrows shot up.

“You think we are under some kind of spell?” she asked playfully. “Confessor, the only spell here is the desire that was not fulfilled for, what, two months?”

Kahlan quietly chuckled, kissing Cara’s shoulder.

“Indeed,” she murmured. “And you wonder why I insist that my body is well enough for this.”

Cara laughed and lowered her head to flick her tongue over Kahlan’s nipple, at the same time rubbing her thigh over her hot, wet center, and Kahlan moaned, pushing her own thigh that was cozily nested between Cara’s legs. A gasp tore away from the Mord–Sith’s lips and she grabbed Kahlan’s hip, moving her hand lower until it reached Kahlan’s groins. And when the skilled fingers plunged to explore Kahlan’s burning insides, the Confessor’s moan was accompanied by quick movement of her own hand that replaced her thigh on Cara’s center.

“I want us to be one,” she breathed, slipping her fingers into Cara and twisting them a bit in a way she had learned was Cara’s favorite. The black was already starting to swirl in her eyes and her breathing quickened with every movement of Cara’s fingers. It was almost dismaying for Cara to admit to herself she was already as close to her own release as Kahlan obviously was to hers, but it didn’t matter. With Kahlan, none of the usual things mattered.

“Such a romantic,” she replied in a rasp, trembling voice and kissed the Confessor, giving in to the kiss with all she felt. And the magic of their love enveloped them completely, their connection locking their bodies and souls together, as they both exploded in the most powerful release fueled by the long abstinence and the mutual final acceptance of their feelings for each other.

And when the silent thunder of confession ended and their muscles, tensed during the release, finally relaxed, Cara planted one slow, lazy kiss on Kahlan’s lips and smiled.

“Well, I must admit,” she said mischievously, catching her breath. “Being confessed during my release is the most incredible experience I’ve ever had. We should do it again sometimes.”

“Mhm,” Kahlan’s lips widened, almost all her usual shyness gone from her face. “Should I make an appointment in my schedule? You have a specific time in mind?”

“How about now?” Cara grinned, sucking Kahlan’s lower lip. The Confessor giggled and hungrily deepened the kiss, but the knock on the door froze them. No one ever interrupted them during their time alone. Ryan and Hermes, the only two soldiers who knew about their relationship – although Cara had the strong inkling some of the maids gossiped about why she always spent nights in Kahlan’s chambers – were always guarding the door to the Mother Confessor’s chambers during the night, and they knew better than to let anyone intrude. This had to be important.

“Mother Confessor?” Ryan’s urgent voice came through the door, a bit muffled by the thick wood. “I apologize for disturbing your rest, but there is a matter of the great importance.”

“Jut a moment, Ryan,” Kahlan replied, exchanging a worried glance with Cara. They both got up quickly, pulling on their white nightgowns, and Cara grabbed one of her Agiels.

“Come in,” Kahlan said and the door opened. Ryan marched in the chamber, bowing his head before his mistress and her mate. “What is it?”

The soldier’s eyes met hers and she gasped at the shadow of fear in this brave man’s eyes.

“The Lord Rahl is here,” he said. “With a whole battalion of D’Harans. And he demands to see you right away.”

Kahlan looked at Cara, who frowned, concentrating on her bond to her master.

“I feel him,” the Mord–Sith said. “But until now, I didn’t.”

“I tried telling him you are asleep, Mother Confessor,” Ryan explained. “But he pulled out the Sword of Truth, saying he would kill anyone who tried to stop him from seeing you right now, so I told him you would meet him in order to prevent him from bursting into your chambers over our dead bodies.”

His gaze fell on Cara, clearly showing he actually wanted to prevent Lord Rahl from seeing Kahlan with the Mord–Sith. Kahlan nodded.

“You did well,” she said, pulling on her Confessor face. “Take him to my office. We shall meet him there,” her gaze met with Cara’s. “The time for truth has come.”

… tbc…