[Legend of the Seeker] Pull Your Little Arrows Out (2/2)
Headers are at Part One.
When she started traveling with Richard, Kahlan and Zedd, it didn't take long for Cara to realize that Kahlan was deceptively strong. Frustrating, yes, inefficient, definitely, but she was the closest thing to another Mord'Sith that Cara had, and if she would only listen to Cara's advice, they could be excellent fighting partners, defending the Lord Rahl together.
But Kahlan has never listened to Cara's advice, she never stops trying to talk to Cara about feelings, and Cara doesn't know how she manages to get under her skin in a way that is entirely unacceptable.
They save the world at the Pillars of Creation, and when the sun has set, Cara watches Kahlan take Richard's hand and pull him away from their camp.
The Wizard puts another few twigs on the small fire, stretching his legs out. "Go to sleep, child. I'll keep watch."
Cara snorts. "I'm not going to sleep until they get back. I'm sure they're going to get themselves killed by Banelings, and I don't want my sleep disturbed."
Zedd peers at her, eyes gleaming with unexpected sharpness in the light from the fire. "It'll get easier," he says.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Cara says, and when Zedd gives her a look that seems far too knowing, she just glares back.
Whatever it is he think he knows, he is wrong.
Traveling to Aydindril takes weeks. Cara makes sure they have fresh meat every day, and during the day she walks ahead of the others, always one hand on the handle of an agiel, making sure their path is safe.
Richard and Kahlan spend most of their time holding hands, giggling between kisses, and generally acting like children. If Banelings attack, Richard and Kahlan are going to be completely useless. They would probably not even notice. But that's why Cara is there, to keep them safe. That's what she's made for.
In Aydindril, there is a celebration, and a wedding.
Richard and Kahlan are busy with each other, and Cara has no wish to spend more time than she has to with the Wizard. It comes as a surprise to her when she realizes they all expect her to be at the wedding; even worse, to be part of it. She's never been to a wedding before, for good reasons.
Zedd suggests that she wears something other than her leather, and she glares at him until he goes away. She does clean her leathers thoroughly and buys highly over-priced oil for them. She even unpacks her neckpiece and corset, completing her Mord'Sith attire.
"You look very dashing," Richard says.
Cara eyes him up and down. "You look like a wreck."
"Wedding nerves," Zedd says, putting a silver flask in Richard's hands. "Oh, I remember my first wedding."
Cara takes that as her cue to get out of there.
The ceremony is trite, as expected, but mercifully short. Kahlan is smiling, hair pulled back, adorned with flowers and pearls, lips painted pink. Cara thinks she prefers her in battle, in leather or white, adorned only with someone else's blood. It leaves a strange taste in her mouth, bitter and sweet, watching Kahlan stand with Richard, even though that is the way it was always going to be.
Much later, when the guests have either left or are too drunk to go anywhere, Cara attempts to navigate the endless halls and corridors to the room she's been given. They have only been in Aydindril for a few days, and the Palace is far larger than the talk of it in D'Hara would have had her believe.
When Kahlan walks around a corner, Cara smirks and leans against the wall. "Still in your wedding dress, Mother Confessor?"
Kahlan just smiles. "Well, someone apparently let the groom have a bit too much wine. He probably won't be awake for a few hours."
"That's too bad," Cara says. "I know you've been practicing hard for the wedding night." Taking a step forward, she stumbles, and suddenly finds herself with arms full of Kahlan, who is warm and nice-smelling, and not unpleasant to hold on to at all.
"You're drunk," Kahlan observes, raising an eyebrow in obvious amusement. That is probably true, or Cara would have definitely pushed Kahlan away by now.
"I understand it's customary on a wedding," she retorts. "I hear it's also customary in Aydindril to give the bride and groom a kiss after the ceremony."
Kahlan makes a sound that's somewhere between a laugh and a snort. "I didn't think you were one for tradition."
"Maybe I'm making an exception."
"Did you kiss Richard?"
Cara's gaze falls to Kahlan's lips, still painted pink. "I think I'll settle for you."
Before Kahlan can think of any way to protest, Cara takes her mouth with all her Mord'Sith might.
She intends only to tease, to force a blush to Kahlan's cheeks with her forwardness, and maybe give her something other than the sweet kisses Cara has seen her and Richard share. But the taste of her goes straight to Cara's head, making it impossible to ignore the pumping of her heart, and the way her veins are full of heat and liquor. She pushes forward again, letting her tongue graze against Kahlan's bottom lip, and when Kahlan's lips part, hot breath against Cara's mouth, she almost forgets herself.
Sure enough, Kahlan's cheeks are red when Cara pulls back, but the look she shoots Cara is amused.
"I like this tradition," Cara says, licking her lips with an exaggerated flourish.
"Most people settle for a kiss on the cheek." Kahlan sounds breathless in a way that makes Cara feel quite smug.
"What would be the fun in that?"
There is a sound, suddenly, from an adjacent corridor, and Kahlan takes her hand, giggling and dragging her along, down corridors that all look the same, until she can shove Cara into her room.
"Are you going to tuck me in?" Cara asks, putting a hand on her hip when Kahlan closes the door behind herself.
Kahlan quirks an eyebrow in her direction. "I think I should make sure you stay out of trouble."
"I enjoy trouble."
"I'm sure you do." Taking a few steps closer, Kahlan reaches out to touch Cara's leather neckguard lightly. "Why did you wear this?"
"It's Lord Rahl's wedding. Do you object?"
"I think I prefer you without it." It's the sort of line that Cara would have taken for something more from anyone else, but with Kahlan, it's nothing more than an innocent observation.
"Take it off, then." She gives Kahlan her most sultry smile, part invitation, part threat; infinite promises of pain and pleasure. She doesn't expect Kahlan to take her up on the offer, but after giving Cara a patient smile, she does, fingers finding the buckles on her chest and shoulders, undoing them deftly. Cara lets her eyes fall shut, breathing evenly.
Her fingers are cool against Cara's neck when she takes the neckguard off; Kahlan is always calm and collected, and it makes Cara feel too warm.
"Cara," Kahlan says quietly. "Do you ever feel like things... happen so fast you don't have the time to think about them?"
"I prefer doing to thinking," Cara replies, and when she opens her eyes to look at Kahlan, she finds a strange look on her face, just for a moment.
"Of course. Never mind."
Kahlan looks away, throwing the neckguard on a chair, smiling slightly to herself, and Cara finds herself mesmerized by that smile. Her senses are dulled from the liquor, making everything seem pleasantly void of sharpness and clarity. But it's also making it harder to stay in control, to keep unwelcome thoughts from surfacing.
Kahlan meets her eyes, a curious expression forming on her face, and Cara can't think of a reason to look away. "Oh," Kahlan says, a sudden look of surprise flitting across her features.
She keeps staring, until Cara has gathered herself enough to step back. "What?" she says, and it comes out roughly.
"I..." Kahlan is still staring, but then she looks down, running a hand across her brow, and when she lifts her head again, her face is carefully schooled. "I should go."
When she's left, Cara goes to sleep, still in her leathers, and if she dreams, she remembers nothing of it in the morning.
*
They stay in Aydindril all summer, and when Richard and Zedd leave, and Richard tells her - orders her - not to follow, Cara marches up to Kahlan's quarters.
"You know why Richard told you not to come with him," Kahlan says, and Cara grips one agiel so hard it makes the muscles in her hand twitch.
"He's out of his mind if he thinks he can do this without me."
"All he wants is to give you a chance to have the things that were taken from you."
Cara doesn't even know what that's supposed to mean. "He doesn't understand what it means to be Mord'Sith."
"Maybe not. But I have faith in Richard doing this his way. It will be fine, Cara."
"I suppose he told you not to come too."
Kahlan remains calm, but for a moment, she looks quite tired. "It's just better this way. I'm needed here, and for what it's worth, I'm glad you're here with me." She pauses, looking thoughtfully at Cara. "He is still your friend."
"Mord'Sith do not have friends," Cara says with a scowl.
She walks out of Kahlan's chambers, and out of the Palace. In one of the shadier parts of the city, she rents a cheap room and heads to the closest tavern, drinking her fill and then picking a fight with the biggest man there.
It's the best she's felt in months.
*
The winter is mild, and the Mother Confessor's bed is quite warm.
Spring comes early that year, and when there hasn't been any sign of snow in more than a fortnight, the Mother Confessor and her party travel over the mountains in the north, to the outskirts of the Midlands.
They ride along with a dozen men from the Home Guard, and the Wizard Alferon, who still acts like he's afraid that Cara will slay him if he dares to turn his back. Perhaps she was too hard on him when he wouldn't give her the answers she wanted, but then again, a little fear never hurt anyone.
It does not take long for Cara to realize that the northern parts of the Midlands are even worse than she had suspected. Not to mention cold.
And frustrating.
Cara groans as Kahlan presses closer, breasts against Cara's back. Heat flares between her legs as she feels Kahlan's hips against her backside.
"So cold," Kahlan whispers, close to her ear. "How can you be so warm?"
Weeks of pent-up need, probably. She grabs Kahlan's wrist, sliding her hand further down. "I can make you feel very warm."
Kahlan snorts, and snatches her hand back. "No."
Cara glances at the others nearby. Aside from the men on guard further away, everyone is asleep, and none of them would ever know what went on beneath the blanket covering Kahlan and herself. And even if they did, surely the Mother Confessor's prowess would not be something to hide. But she already knows that Kahlan does not agree with this point of view, so she sighs, as Kahlan laughs quietly against her neck. "Were you like this last year?"
"I didn't have anyone rubbing themselves against me every night back then."
Kahlan wiggles against her, coming impossibly closer. Clearly, Kahlan's torture skills are unprecedented. "Mother Confessor," Cara says. "You should know better than to toy with a Mord'Sith."
Kahlan laughs, as if she thinks the threat is a joke. She really should know better.
They reach the settlement a few days later; a massive encampment of brown tents, each one adorned with a colorful flag. It seems these people keep to their fortresses in mountains even further north at winter, only coming down to the valleys in the spring and summer. Cara isn't quite sure why anyone would trade stone walls for tents, no matter what the season, but being baffled by people who are not Mord'Sith is nothing new.
They've been expecting them, and Kahlan and the Wizard are whisked away immediately to a tent in the center of the camp. Cara grasps one of her agiels when they refuse to let her follow, but after a look from Kahlan, she remains still. Apparently these people do not understand the concept of bodyguards. It matters little, as Cara is sure that Kahlan could take the delegates she glimpsed inside the tent out with her hands tied behind her back. It's just that it's mind-numbingly boring for Cara to be left to her own devices in a place such as this.
After she has tended to the horses, she finds the men from the Home Guard. They're playing a game of dice, and when they see Cara looking, they invite her to join them.
"I don't play games of chance," she says, looking down at them with her arms crossed. "What’s the point in games based on luck?"
Captain Dalby eyes her, something between apprehension and curiosity on his face. "What skill-based games do you play then?"
Cara raises an eyebrow, pursing her lips. "You wouldn't like my games, Captain."
"I've seen you fight," he agrees. "I'm sure I wouldn't."
It's most likely an attempt at politeness. No doubt the Captain has heard rumors about the Mord'Sith and what sort of degenerate pleasures they like to indulge in. Cara looks him up and down for a moment, deciding that she doesn't mind the half-lie.
"You lower you shield before you make high attacks," she says, feeling generous. "I saw you sparring last night. Announcing an attack so blatantly makes you an easy prey."
"I-- uh." He looks at a loss for words. Not that Cara had expected gratitude.
"You," she continues, turning to another of the soldiers. "Twisting your hips away when you strike means you lose all your strength. It's ineffective. You might as well not bother to strike at all."
The man blinks, mouth opening as if to speak, but no words come out.
Cara is prepared to go on, but just then Kahlan and Alferon exit the tent nearby, and Cara quickly returns to her place by Kahlan's side, ready to draw her agiels. Kahlan's hand finds her elbow. "I need some place to review documents."
One of the delegation members, a woman dressed in blue, nods beside them. "I'll arrange tents for the Mother Confessor and her party."
"Tents?" Cara says, perking up at the prospect. "Excellent idea."
"For working," Kahlan says.
"Of course. You will do your duties," Cara says, quirking an eyebrow as she looks down the lacing of Kahlan's white dress, "and I will do mine."
Luckily, Cara's duties are highly flexible.
*
There is no place in the world like the People's Palace.
Cara walks down the halls of the Mord'Sith temple, turning left towards Lord Rahl's private towers. Her braid feels heavy on her back, leather tightly secured around her body. She lets one hand rest on her hip, so that her agiel brushes against her little finger with every step.
For a moment it seems like there should be two of them, two agiels strapped to her thigh, ready to be used. But no Mord'Sith uses two. There are traditions, and such a thing is not done.
Another hallway, and then Triana is walking beside her.
Darken Rahl has sent for them, of course, that is why they head toward his chambers.
"Did you kill the Confessor?" Triana asks.
"Of course," Cara says, keeping her voice calm, even though she is unsure why Triana would need to ask. When Cara is sent to kill someone, she does not return until it's done.
Triana stops walking then, and Cara turns around, quirking her eyebrow in a silent question. It's always been Triana's problem, that she lets her thoughts show all over her face, visible to anyone, and now it speaks of something most unnatural to a Mord'Sith: concern.
Long, black hair fall freely over her shoulders, and Cara notes idly that Triana must have forgotten to braid her hair. Briefly, Cara finds herself wanting to bury her face in it.
"She confessed you," Triana says.
In the blink of an eye, Cara lashes out, the back of her hand sweeping across Triana's face. "I should have you on your knees for that."
Wiping blood from her mouth, Triana looks at her, dark eyes defiant, as always.
Cara smirks. "I can think of many services for you to perform on your knees that puts your sharp tongue to better use."
But Triana does not respond like she should, with subservience or with her agiel. Instead, she just keeps looking at Cara, licking her split lip, and when she speaks, there's an accusatory tone in her voice. "Why would you let her do that to you?"
"It's not my fault," Cara says, cringing at how childish and whiny her voice sounds. "It's her fault." Vaguely, she remembers feeling Triana grip her braid, pulling her head up hard, as the dagger cuts through her hair. "And your fault. And the Wizard's and Lord Rahl's fault. Not mine."
Cara grabs the reins of her horse and pulls him out of the encampment, anger coiling tightly in her chest. "But most of all it's Kahlan's fault."
The horse makes a snorting noise of agreement, and then they stop in front of Richard, who looks up at them curiously. He barks happily, tail wagging as he runs around her legs, an excited blur of brown, fuzzy fur.
"Lord Rahl..." Cara says, rolling her eyes, nudging him away with her foot, which only makes him bite down on her boot. "If you ruin my boots, the money for new ones will come out of your pocket."
Cara wakes abruptly, heart pounding. She dreams only rarely, and it's not an experience she particularly enjoys.
"Are you awake?" Kahlan asks behind her, and when Cara turns her head, she sees that Kahlan is lying, propped up on one elbow, watching her with an expression on her face that could best be described as amused.
Feeling suddenly exposed, as if Kahlan could peer inside her dream, Cara slides out of bed before Kahlan can protest.
"You were dreaming," Kahlan says, as Cara washes off quickly with a wet cloth.
"I don't dream."
Kahlan giggles. "You said, 'sit, Richard' in your sleep."
That isn't something Cara deems worthy of a response.
Later, she dresses Kahlan, like a Mord'Sith would. Standing behind her, she closes her eyes as she ties her corset. "When will Richard come to Aydindril?"
"Soon, I imagine. When he's able to."
It's been more than half a year since Cara saw Richard last, not counting the occasional Journey Book conversation. It seems far too long, but then, Richard visiting Aydindril brings its own slew of issues. Kahlan and Richard's marriage is not Cara's concern, of course, but she's become used to sleeping where she does. It's convenient and practical, that's all.
"Do you intend for me to sleep elsewhere when Richard is in Aydindril?" she asks, and perhaps it comes out sounding a little defiant.
Kahlan turns around at that, looking perplexed, as if the idea hadn't occurred to her before. "Only if you want to." She pauses. "Cara, Richard knows. I would never keep something like this from him."
"Good."
"He's... he says he's pleased for me. For us. I..." Kahlan stops, hesitating, as if unsure, and then she smiles, secretive and shy.
Cara finds it hard to look away, because Kahlan is eying her with a strange kind of intensity. It pulls on something in her chest, and suddenly she craves the familiar stone walls of a Mord'Sith temple, and to serve the Lord Rahl with her Sisters. "When Richard comes to Aydindril," she says, "I will go back with him to D'Hara, whether he wishes it or not."
Kahlan's smile falters, but her voice remains soft. "What would you do there?"
"Serve Richard. It's my purpose."
"The Mord'Sith have had to change, you know. You can go back to D'Hara, but it's not going to be like before."
The look on Kahlan's face is one that is far too close to pity for Cara's liking. When Kahlan goes to fetch her white dress and pulls it over her head, Cara crosses her arms, deliberately not helping her with the laces.
"And when yours and Richard's leniency leads to a war? Richard will need the Mord'Sith."
"There won't be a war," Kahlan says, and Cara can tell she's not as calm as she pretends to be. "There are other ways to solve this."
"Your ways are ineffective."
"Maybe they are, but if they prevent a war, I don't care."
Cara scoffs. "You'll compromise."
"Yes, I'll compromise. So will Richard." Kahlan takes a step towards the tent's exit, as if to leave, laces half-untied, but then she turns back, voice falling to an agitated whisper. "And you know why Richard didn't want you with him. Do you think I don't know that you asked him to torture you?"
It's the business of Lord Rahl and the Mord'Sith, not something that concerns Kahlan, but if she wants to know, Cara is not afraid to tell her. "If he is to rule D'Hara," shes says, "he needs to learn these skills."
"So you would give him pointers while hanging from the ceiling in chains?"
Unfolding her arms, Cara shrugs stiffly, eyes narrowing. "I am proficient in torture. Sometimes I think you forget."
"You know Richard. What did you think he would say?"
Cara clenches her jaw, saying nothing. For a few moments, the tent is quiet enough that Cara can hear a horse whinny outside of it, and a child laughing.
When Kahlan speaks, she is calm and collected again, clasping together her hands in front of herself. "It's not forever," she says, quietly. "He'll want you there, eventually. I've always known you wouldn't stay in Aydindril for very long."
"I belong by the side of Lord Rahl," Cara replies, after a few steadying breaths. "Aydindril is no place for a Mord'Sith. You must have realized this by now."
Kahlan closes the distance between them then, hands grasping at Cara's. It's dangerously close to a hug, but Cara remains still.
"You should be where you want to be," Kahlan says, and everything about it is far too tender. "I've enjoyed having you with me, though."
That makes Cara smirk, hips canting forward to meet Kahlan's. "Of course you have. I'm very pleasant company."
If Kahlan looks somewhat like she's suddenly holding back laughter, Cara decides to ignore it.
*
They breed cows in the north. A particular sort of cow with huge horns that could probably kill a person if it turned its head the wrong way. Or the right way, as it were. Cara is fairly certain that any such beast would have a healthy killer instinct, no matter how much people have tried to convince her of the animals' friendliness.
Having lived most of what life she can remember in Mord'Sith temples, Cara is not overly fond of spending unnecessary time outdoors. Traveling with Richard, Kahlan and Zedd back and forth across the world did nothing to change her mind on this matter.
Kahlan, though, seems to have an unnatural love of forests.
"You seem more at ease here than in Aydindril," she says, pulling Cara down to sit next to her on the grassy slope.
"My senses are probably dulled from boredom."
Kahlan laughs, as if she thinks Cara is joking. "I like it here," she says. "It's peaceful."
"I hate it."
"No, you don't." Kahlan bumps her shoulder against Cara's, still smiling.
"Yes, I do," Cara insists with a frown. "This place is even duller than Aydindril, which I didn't think possible."
Fingers caress Cara's brow, then, and continue to brush hair away from her face. Next, Kahlan leans over to kiss her, sweetly, on the lips. Cara's heart jumps in anticipation, and the corners of her lips quirk up. It's a warning Kahlan should recognize by now, but she still appears surprised when Cara, in one quick swoop, pins her down on her back.
"Is this what 'taking a walk' means, Kahlan?" Cara says, unable to stop herself from leering. "If you'd said so, I would have agreed the first time you asked."
They don't talk at all for a while after that. Not until Kahlan suddenly pushes at Cara's shoulder, laughing breathlessly. "I think we're being watched."
One quick glance to the side confirms the observation. In less than a heartbeat, Cara is on her feet, assuming a defensive stance, agiels aimed threateningly toward the creature.
It's one of the cow beasts, its horns casting a large shadow over Kahlan, while it stares at them and chews menacingly.
"Get back down here," Kahlan tells her. "She's just curious."
Cara risks a glance down at Kahlan, who is giving Cara her best pout. Cara almost forgets about the dangerous animal in front of her in favor of jumping on top of her. Almost. "I'm not turning my back on that thing."
Kahlan rolls her eyes, sighing dramatically as she gets to her feet. Looking at Cara, she puts her hands on her hips. She tilts her head, eyes narrowing, before she deftly starts undoing the laces over her breasts.
If she really thinks that Cara will fall for that, Kahlan is sorely mistaken.
Cara sheaths her agiels and, in one smooth move, bends down, grabbing a hold of Kahlan's thighs, flinging her up over her shoulder. Kahlan squeaks like a child. Without further ado, Cara starts walking.
"Cara, let me down!"
"Maybe later," Cara says. "I'm supposed to protect you from dangerous beasts."
"I'm the Mother Confessor, I order you to let me down!" Kahlan unsuccessfully attempts to kick her, squirming like a scared rabbit, but it's no use.
Keeping Kahlan's thighs in an iron grip, Cara snorts. "I'm Mord'Sith. You have no authority over me."
By the time she walks into the encampment, Kahlan has settled, probably with the realization that struggling will only lead to more attention. Cara smirks proudly and pats Kahlan's backside to signal her approval.
She can practically hear Kahlan's teeth grinding.
Once in their tent, Cara puts Kahlan down on the bed, crawling over her until they're pressed together from thighs to breasts. "Did I do something to upset you, Mother Confessor?" she asks, all innocence.
There's a stubborn set to Kahlan's jaw. "Do you really think I'll let you touch me after that?"
Cara presses her hips harder into Kahlan's, watching her eyelids flutter. "Yes."
"You do terrible things to my willpower."
*
It's almost summer when they come back to Aydindril, and while Kahlan is happy to be home, Cara sobers somewhat at the sight of the Palace.
Lord Rahl's visit has been further delayed - perhaps in the fall, he says - and Cara finds herself itching for something to kill. She sneaks out of Kahlan's bed early one morning for a hunt, hand stroking her bow as she makes her way out of the city. She brings a deer back to the Palace kitchens, and feels much better for it.
In fact, she's in quite a good mood when she slinks back into bed, body still humming from the chase. She's just settled when she feels Kahlan move in close behind her, breath hot on her neck. "Where did you go?"
"Maybe I had important business to attend to."
"Is that so?" Kahlan slings her leg over Cara's, under the covers, hand down her stomach. Cara catches Kahlan's hand before it can reach any further, putting it back on Kahlan's leg.
"It is," she says. "And now I'm tired."
Kahlan snorts against her shoulder, hand wandering over Cara's waist again. "You're never tired."
That is probably true, at least it would be a grave exhaustion indeed that would make Cara too tired for this. But Kahlan is not the only one who can play coy. "You are spoiled, Mother Confessor," she says. "My services are not available right now."
When Kahlan's hand stills over her hip, as if she really intends to stop, Cara sighs loudly. "I might change my mind if you ask nicely. Say, 'please, Mistress Cara. I ache for the slightest touch from your hands'."
Kahlan has a minor laughing fit behind her, more so than what seems reasonable. It's not that funny; people have begged on their bare knees for Cara's touch in the past, more than once. She is about to say so, when Kahlan leans closer, whispering the words against her ear.
Of course, Kahlan is spoiled, and Cara does not think she's ever had to beg for anything before. It sounds more like a demand than anything else, but Cara finds she doesn't mind very much at all.
Maybe it is the months away from Aydindril that has made Cara lax, or maybe it is the fact that she has grown more and more careless and bold. She buries her face between Kahlan's legs, skillfully teasing her until Kahlan is practically keening, and ignores the way Kahlan tugs at her hair. She has every intention of pulling away, of course, it's just that Kahlan is always so needlessly careful.
It takes her by surprise to feel the Confessor magic pour into her. She's light-headed when it's over, because she's never had so much of their skin touching when Kahlan's powers are released. Resting her head against Kahlan's thigh, she tries to regain her equilibrium, before looking up.
Kahlan is staring.
Unsure of what to do, Cara remains still, saying nothing.
When Kahlan speaks, it sounds unnaturally loud in the silence. "How long have you known about this?" she asks, and Cara doesn't know what to make of the sharp edge in her voice.
If she could take it back, she would. Instead, she gets out of bed, finding her leathers and sliding them on quickly, effortlessly, like she's done a million times before. If her fingers feel clumsy, she does not let it show.
"It didn't seem important," Cara says finally, pulling one of her boots on with a snap.
Kahlan has sat up now, clutching the covers to her chest, dark hair spilling over her shoulders. "When I was in the Con Dar... before we sealed the Veil. I think I tried to confess you, and I couldn't."
Cara doesn't know why something like that would possibly matter right then. She crosses her arms as she looks at Kahlan. "There are many forms of magic stronger than Confession."
"Really?" Kahlan is starting to look quite angry, which makes no sense at all. "Tell me what sort of powerful magic is responsible then."
Cara frowns, because between Kahlan and Alferon, it seems like everyone's determined to undermine her good reasoning. This is exactly why she didn't want Kahlan to know. "Do not make something out of this that it isn't," Cara warns.
Kahlan runs a hand through her hair, all frustrated tension. "I don't even care why." She huffs out a breath, jaw clenching. "But it would have been nice to know that I don't have to worry all the time about killing you."
Cara meets her gaze, eyes narrowing. "You mistake me for someone who wants to indulge in talking about things that don't matter. You were right about one thing, though." She raises her chin, looking down on Kahlan. "You don't need more guards."
*
Nothing lasts. If there is one thing Cara has learned, it's that.
In retrospect, traveling with Richard, Zedd and Kahlan had been... a comfortable living. If walking criss-cross around the Midlands and D'Hara and back could really be called comfortable. Staying at the Confessor's Palace with Kahlan had also entailed a certain amount of comfort. Maybe that was her mistake, thinking of comfort as something suitable for a Mord'Sith. Not so long ago she would have scoffed at the idea, and she would have been right.
She has not accumulated much during her stay in Aydindril, and what little there is might as well be thrown out for all she cares. Her agiels and her leathers are the only things she needs, and she would never go anywhere without them. Leaving the Mother Confessor's chambers, she has no set plan, simply walking the same route she had taken earlier in the morning. It leads her through the courtyard, past the kitchens, and outside the Palace, to the Home Guard's training area.
Several soldiers are sparring with blunted swords and shields, and Cara finds herself slowing her steps. A man Cara recognizes as Captain Higgs stands by the side of the area, and she joins him. "Are these new recruits?"
"Hardly," he says with a laugh. "They are well-versed with sword and shield."
Cara nods. "Of course. It was their general incompetence that fooled me."
Higgs stares at her and gapes, mouth working without sound. It makes him look somewhat like a fish.
"Why are there no women in the Home Guard?" By his continuing silence, Cara is fairly certain his only response would have been an unsatisfactory one. "If there is a war, would it not be practical to use all available resources? Not just the ones without breasts."
The Captain squirms before her, again failing to offer a reply. But in the end, it's not her problem. Aydindril can fend for itself; there are other places she needs to be.
She casts one last glance over her shoulder as she leaves, witnessing, in the corner of her eye, one of the soldiers moving in a way that nearly has him impaling himself on his own sword.
With a long-suffering sigh, Cara turns around.
*
It's getting dark outside when Cara returns to the Palace. She has to search through Kahlan's chambers before finding her in the study, a feather pen in one hand and a fork in the other. There's a meal on a tray on her desk, and a rather frightening pile of documents next to it. Her mouth falls open in surprise when Cara enters, striding up to the desk and leaning over it, snatching a piece of bread from the tray.
"The Palace security is pathetic, and your Home Guard is useless," Cara says. "I'm going to make them better." When Kahlan says nothing, Cara continues, "While I do that, I'm going to be staying here. It's closer than the inn."
Silence breeds tension; Cara reaches stiffly for a grape from Kahlan's tray. "And I fired Captain Higgs."
"That's..." Kahlan shakes her head, brought out of her stupor. "You can't do that."
"He said that too, at first, but he changed his mind after I explained it to him."
"I thought you'd left," Kahlan says, and there is hurt and something akin to a challenge in her voice.
Cara rolls her eyes, shifts, and crosses her arms. "I'll wait for Lord Rahl to return."
It looks like Kahlan wants to say something more, but Cara takes advantage of the silence that follows the lapse in conversation, and leaves.
Her old room in the Palace is still there, and if she is no longer the Mother Confessor's personal guard, it seems like the best option.
*
It's a week before she sees Kahlan again. She spends the days with the Home Guard, and the nights in her room, even though the bed there is too soft and the discomfort makes her moody.
There's a knock on the door one night, and then Kahlan lets herself in. Cara falls back on the pillows when she sees who it is, eying Kahlan from the bed. A few quick steps, and then Kahlan slips under the covers beside her. "I can't sleep," she says tersely. "I'm too used to your breathing."
"Fine. Stay if you want." Cara rolls over so that her back is turned to Kahlan, as usual. She can practically feel Kahlan staring at her back.
"You are the most stubborn person I know," Kahlan says in a half-whisper. "And that's not a compliment."
"Is that the reason you're here, Mother Confessor? To insult me?"
"No, it's because I can't sleep without you, and I need my sleep. I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable that people might need you for something other than killing."
"Not at all," Cara replies. "Enjoy my breathing as much as you want."
Kahlan doesn't say anything more, but she's not falling asleep either. Cara can tell from her breaths that she's not even relaxing, and the silence becomes rather thick. It's not Cara's fault - Kahlan is the one who chose to come - but even so, there's something in the pit of her stomach that lesser people might call guilt.
There are many things that Kahlan wants, and Cara is woefully unequipped to give her most of them. Even the things she can provide never seem to come easy. "Are you..." Cara starts, unsure of how to proceed. "...cold?"
"Cold?" Kahlan asks, confusion evident in her voice.
"Never mind," Cara says quickly. "Just sleep."
There's a pause before Kahlan speaks. "I might be, a little."
Cara rolls around, eying Kahlan, who looks back at her with a serious expression on her face. "Turn around," Cara says, and Kahlan complies. Placing her arm around Kahlan's waist, Cara pulls them closer together.
"I'm still angry at you," Kahlan says, even though she doesn't sound particularly like it at all.
Cara tightens her arm around her, reminding her who has the upper hand in their current positions. "Is that meant to scare me? You didn't bring your daggers and you can't even confess me."
When Kahlan stiffens in her arms, Cara knows that the implication of the words is not lost on her. It is more than Cara wants to admit, even to herself, but she is Mord'Sith. She will face this battle, like any other, without hesitation.
"How unfortunate for me," Kahlan murmurs.
"Very."
Kahlan is silent for a few moments. "That must be some very strong magic," she says quietly then, and there is something slightly breathless to her voice. "If it protects you from Confession."
"Never underestimate the strength of a Mord'Sith's constitution," Cara replies, lowering her voice as she continues. "People rarely stay alive long enough to regret such a mistake."
That makes Kahlan snort into the pillow.
It's probably a bad sign that Kahlan always seems so very amused by the things Cara says and does. Once upon a time, Kahlan had slept with daggers in her hands, and Cara had put her bedroll close, just for the pleasure of provoking Kahlan's anger.
It's only because Kahlan can't see it that Cara allows herself a small smile.
When she started traveling with Richard, Kahlan and Zedd, it didn't take long for Cara to realize that Kahlan was deceptively strong. Frustrating, yes, inefficient, definitely, but she was the closest thing to another Mord'Sith that Cara had, and if she would only listen to Cara's advice, they could be excellent fighting partners, defending the Lord Rahl together.
But Kahlan has never listened to Cara's advice, she never stops trying to talk to Cara about feelings, and Cara doesn't know how she manages to get under her skin in a way that is entirely unacceptable.
They save the world at the Pillars of Creation, and when the sun has set, Cara watches Kahlan take Richard's hand and pull him away from their camp.
The Wizard puts another few twigs on the small fire, stretching his legs out. "Go to sleep, child. I'll keep watch."
Cara snorts. "I'm not going to sleep until they get back. I'm sure they're going to get themselves killed by Banelings, and I don't want my sleep disturbed."
Zedd peers at her, eyes gleaming with unexpected sharpness in the light from the fire. "It'll get easier," he says.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Cara says, and when Zedd gives her a look that seems far too knowing, she just glares back.
Whatever it is he think he knows, he is wrong.
Traveling to Aydindril takes weeks. Cara makes sure they have fresh meat every day, and during the day she walks ahead of the others, always one hand on the handle of an agiel, making sure their path is safe.
Richard and Kahlan spend most of their time holding hands, giggling between kisses, and generally acting like children. If Banelings attack, Richard and Kahlan are going to be completely useless. They would probably not even notice. But that's why Cara is there, to keep them safe. That's what she's made for.
In Aydindril, there is a celebration, and a wedding.
Richard and Kahlan are busy with each other, and Cara has no wish to spend more time than she has to with the Wizard. It comes as a surprise to her when she realizes they all expect her to be at the wedding; even worse, to be part of it. She's never been to a wedding before, for good reasons.
Zedd suggests that she wears something other than her leather, and she glares at him until he goes away. She does clean her leathers thoroughly and buys highly over-priced oil for them. She even unpacks her neckpiece and corset, completing her Mord'Sith attire.
"You look very dashing," Richard says.
Cara eyes him up and down. "You look like a wreck."
"Wedding nerves," Zedd says, putting a silver flask in Richard's hands. "Oh, I remember my first wedding."
Cara takes that as her cue to get out of there.
The ceremony is trite, as expected, but mercifully short. Kahlan is smiling, hair pulled back, adorned with flowers and pearls, lips painted pink. Cara thinks she prefers her in battle, in leather or white, adorned only with someone else's blood. It leaves a strange taste in her mouth, bitter and sweet, watching Kahlan stand with Richard, even though that is the way it was always going to be.
Much later, when the guests have either left or are too drunk to go anywhere, Cara attempts to navigate the endless halls and corridors to the room she's been given. They have only been in Aydindril for a few days, and the Palace is far larger than the talk of it in D'Hara would have had her believe.
When Kahlan walks around a corner, Cara smirks and leans against the wall. "Still in your wedding dress, Mother Confessor?"
Kahlan just smiles. "Well, someone apparently let the groom have a bit too much wine. He probably won't be awake for a few hours."
"That's too bad," Cara says. "I know you've been practicing hard for the wedding night." Taking a step forward, she stumbles, and suddenly finds herself with arms full of Kahlan, who is warm and nice-smelling, and not unpleasant to hold on to at all.
"You're drunk," Kahlan observes, raising an eyebrow in obvious amusement. That is probably true, or Cara would have definitely pushed Kahlan away by now.
"I understand it's customary on a wedding," she retorts. "I hear it's also customary in Aydindril to give the bride and groom a kiss after the ceremony."
Kahlan makes a sound that's somewhere between a laugh and a snort. "I didn't think you were one for tradition."
"Maybe I'm making an exception."
"Did you kiss Richard?"
Cara's gaze falls to Kahlan's lips, still painted pink. "I think I'll settle for you."
Before Kahlan can think of any way to protest, Cara takes her mouth with all her Mord'Sith might.
She intends only to tease, to force a blush to Kahlan's cheeks with her forwardness, and maybe give her something other than the sweet kisses Cara has seen her and Richard share. But the taste of her goes straight to Cara's head, making it impossible to ignore the pumping of her heart, and the way her veins are full of heat and liquor. She pushes forward again, letting her tongue graze against Kahlan's bottom lip, and when Kahlan's lips part, hot breath against Cara's mouth, she almost forgets herself.
Sure enough, Kahlan's cheeks are red when Cara pulls back, but the look she shoots Cara is amused.
"I like this tradition," Cara says, licking her lips with an exaggerated flourish.
"Most people settle for a kiss on the cheek." Kahlan sounds breathless in a way that makes Cara feel quite smug.
"What would be the fun in that?"
There is a sound, suddenly, from an adjacent corridor, and Kahlan takes her hand, giggling and dragging her along, down corridors that all look the same, until she can shove Cara into her room.
"Are you going to tuck me in?" Cara asks, putting a hand on her hip when Kahlan closes the door behind herself.
Kahlan quirks an eyebrow in her direction. "I think I should make sure you stay out of trouble."
"I enjoy trouble."
"I'm sure you do." Taking a few steps closer, Kahlan reaches out to touch Cara's leather neckguard lightly. "Why did you wear this?"
"It's Lord Rahl's wedding. Do you object?"
"I think I prefer you without it." It's the sort of line that Cara would have taken for something more from anyone else, but with Kahlan, it's nothing more than an innocent observation.
"Take it off, then." She gives Kahlan her most sultry smile, part invitation, part threat; infinite promises of pain and pleasure. She doesn't expect Kahlan to take her up on the offer, but after giving Cara a patient smile, she does, fingers finding the buckles on her chest and shoulders, undoing them deftly. Cara lets her eyes fall shut, breathing evenly.
Her fingers are cool against Cara's neck when she takes the neckguard off; Kahlan is always calm and collected, and it makes Cara feel too warm.
"Cara," Kahlan says quietly. "Do you ever feel like things... happen so fast you don't have the time to think about them?"
"I prefer doing to thinking," Cara replies, and when she opens her eyes to look at Kahlan, she finds a strange look on her face, just for a moment.
"Of course. Never mind."
Kahlan looks away, throwing the neckguard on a chair, smiling slightly to herself, and Cara finds herself mesmerized by that smile. Her senses are dulled from the liquor, making everything seem pleasantly void of sharpness and clarity. But it's also making it harder to stay in control, to keep unwelcome thoughts from surfacing.
Kahlan meets her eyes, a curious expression forming on her face, and Cara can't think of a reason to look away. "Oh," Kahlan says, a sudden look of surprise flitting across her features.
She keeps staring, until Cara has gathered herself enough to step back. "What?" she says, and it comes out roughly.
"I..." Kahlan is still staring, but then she looks down, running a hand across her brow, and when she lifts her head again, her face is carefully schooled. "I should go."
When she's left, Cara goes to sleep, still in her leathers, and if she dreams, she remembers nothing of it in the morning.
*
They stay in Aydindril all summer, and when Richard and Zedd leave, and Richard tells her - orders her - not to follow, Cara marches up to Kahlan's quarters.
"You know why Richard told you not to come with him," Kahlan says, and Cara grips one agiel so hard it makes the muscles in her hand twitch.
"He's out of his mind if he thinks he can do this without me."
"All he wants is to give you a chance to have the things that were taken from you."
Cara doesn't even know what that's supposed to mean. "He doesn't understand what it means to be Mord'Sith."
"Maybe not. But I have faith in Richard doing this his way. It will be fine, Cara."
"I suppose he told you not to come too."
Kahlan remains calm, but for a moment, she looks quite tired. "It's just better this way. I'm needed here, and for what it's worth, I'm glad you're here with me." She pauses, looking thoughtfully at Cara. "He is still your friend."
"Mord'Sith do not have friends," Cara says with a scowl.
She walks out of Kahlan's chambers, and out of the Palace. In one of the shadier parts of the city, she rents a cheap room and heads to the closest tavern, drinking her fill and then picking a fight with the biggest man there.
It's the best she's felt in months.
*
The winter is mild, and the Mother Confessor's bed is quite warm.
Spring comes early that year, and when there hasn't been any sign of snow in more than a fortnight, the Mother Confessor and her party travel over the mountains in the north, to the outskirts of the Midlands.
They ride along with a dozen men from the Home Guard, and the Wizard Alferon, who still acts like he's afraid that Cara will slay him if he dares to turn his back. Perhaps she was too hard on him when he wouldn't give her the answers she wanted, but then again, a little fear never hurt anyone.
It does not take long for Cara to realize that the northern parts of the Midlands are even worse than she had suspected. Not to mention cold.
And frustrating.
Cara groans as Kahlan presses closer, breasts against Cara's back. Heat flares between her legs as she feels Kahlan's hips against her backside.
"So cold," Kahlan whispers, close to her ear. "How can you be so warm?"
Weeks of pent-up need, probably. She grabs Kahlan's wrist, sliding her hand further down. "I can make you feel very warm."
Kahlan snorts, and snatches her hand back. "No."
Cara glances at the others nearby. Aside from the men on guard further away, everyone is asleep, and none of them would ever know what went on beneath the blanket covering Kahlan and herself. And even if they did, surely the Mother Confessor's prowess would not be something to hide. But she already knows that Kahlan does not agree with this point of view, so she sighs, as Kahlan laughs quietly against her neck. "Were you like this last year?"
"I didn't have anyone rubbing themselves against me every night back then."
Kahlan wiggles against her, coming impossibly closer. Clearly, Kahlan's torture skills are unprecedented. "Mother Confessor," Cara says. "You should know better than to toy with a Mord'Sith."
Kahlan laughs, as if she thinks the threat is a joke. She really should know better.
They reach the settlement a few days later; a massive encampment of brown tents, each one adorned with a colorful flag. It seems these people keep to their fortresses in mountains even further north at winter, only coming down to the valleys in the spring and summer. Cara isn't quite sure why anyone would trade stone walls for tents, no matter what the season, but being baffled by people who are not Mord'Sith is nothing new.
They've been expecting them, and Kahlan and the Wizard are whisked away immediately to a tent in the center of the camp. Cara grasps one of her agiels when they refuse to let her follow, but after a look from Kahlan, she remains still. Apparently these people do not understand the concept of bodyguards. It matters little, as Cara is sure that Kahlan could take the delegates she glimpsed inside the tent out with her hands tied behind her back. It's just that it's mind-numbingly boring for Cara to be left to her own devices in a place such as this.
After she has tended to the horses, she finds the men from the Home Guard. They're playing a game of dice, and when they see Cara looking, they invite her to join them.
"I don't play games of chance," she says, looking down at them with her arms crossed. "What’s the point in games based on luck?"
Captain Dalby eyes her, something between apprehension and curiosity on his face. "What skill-based games do you play then?"
Cara raises an eyebrow, pursing her lips. "You wouldn't like my games, Captain."
"I've seen you fight," he agrees. "I'm sure I wouldn't."
It's most likely an attempt at politeness. No doubt the Captain has heard rumors about the Mord'Sith and what sort of degenerate pleasures they like to indulge in. Cara looks him up and down for a moment, deciding that she doesn't mind the half-lie.
"You lower you shield before you make high attacks," she says, feeling generous. "I saw you sparring last night. Announcing an attack so blatantly makes you an easy prey."
"I-- uh." He looks at a loss for words. Not that Cara had expected gratitude.
"You," she continues, turning to another of the soldiers. "Twisting your hips away when you strike means you lose all your strength. It's ineffective. You might as well not bother to strike at all."
The man blinks, mouth opening as if to speak, but no words come out.
Cara is prepared to go on, but just then Kahlan and Alferon exit the tent nearby, and Cara quickly returns to her place by Kahlan's side, ready to draw her agiels. Kahlan's hand finds her elbow. "I need some place to review documents."
One of the delegation members, a woman dressed in blue, nods beside them. "I'll arrange tents for the Mother Confessor and her party."
"Tents?" Cara says, perking up at the prospect. "Excellent idea."
"For working," Kahlan says.
"Of course. You will do your duties," Cara says, quirking an eyebrow as she looks down the lacing of Kahlan's white dress, "and I will do mine."
Luckily, Cara's duties are highly flexible.
*
There is no place in the world like the People's Palace.
Cara walks down the halls of the Mord'Sith temple, turning left towards Lord Rahl's private towers. Her braid feels heavy on her back, leather tightly secured around her body. She lets one hand rest on her hip, so that her agiel brushes against her little finger with every step.
For a moment it seems like there should be two of them, two agiels strapped to her thigh, ready to be used. But no Mord'Sith uses two. There are traditions, and such a thing is not done.
Another hallway, and then Triana is walking beside her.
Darken Rahl has sent for them, of course, that is why they head toward his chambers.
"Did you kill the Confessor?" Triana asks.
"Of course," Cara says, keeping her voice calm, even though she is unsure why Triana would need to ask. When Cara is sent to kill someone, she does not return until it's done.
Triana stops walking then, and Cara turns around, quirking her eyebrow in a silent question. It's always been Triana's problem, that she lets her thoughts show all over her face, visible to anyone, and now it speaks of something most unnatural to a Mord'Sith: concern.
Long, black hair fall freely over her shoulders, and Cara notes idly that Triana must have forgotten to braid her hair. Briefly, Cara finds herself wanting to bury her face in it.
"She confessed you," Triana says.
In the blink of an eye, Cara lashes out, the back of her hand sweeping across Triana's face. "I should have you on your knees for that."
Wiping blood from her mouth, Triana looks at her, dark eyes defiant, as always.
Cara smirks. "I can think of many services for you to perform on your knees that puts your sharp tongue to better use."
But Triana does not respond like she should, with subservience or with her agiel. Instead, she just keeps looking at Cara, licking her split lip, and when she speaks, there's an accusatory tone in her voice. "Why would you let her do that to you?"
"It's not my fault," Cara says, cringing at how childish and whiny her voice sounds. "It's her fault." Vaguely, she remembers feeling Triana grip her braid, pulling her head up hard, as the dagger cuts through her hair. "And your fault. And the Wizard's and Lord Rahl's fault. Not mine."
Cara grabs the reins of her horse and pulls him out of the encampment, anger coiling tightly in her chest. "But most of all it's Kahlan's fault."
The horse makes a snorting noise of agreement, and then they stop in front of Richard, who looks up at them curiously. He barks happily, tail wagging as he runs around her legs, an excited blur of brown, fuzzy fur.
"Lord Rahl..." Cara says, rolling her eyes, nudging him away with her foot, which only makes him bite down on her boot. "If you ruin my boots, the money for new ones will come out of your pocket."
Cara wakes abruptly, heart pounding. She dreams only rarely, and it's not an experience she particularly enjoys.
"Are you awake?" Kahlan asks behind her, and when Cara turns her head, she sees that Kahlan is lying, propped up on one elbow, watching her with an expression on her face that could best be described as amused.
Feeling suddenly exposed, as if Kahlan could peer inside her dream, Cara slides out of bed before Kahlan can protest.
"You were dreaming," Kahlan says, as Cara washes off quickly with a wet cloth.
"I don't dream."
Kahlan giggles. "You said, 'sit, Richard' in your sleep."
That isn't something Cara deems worthy of a response.
Later, she dresses Kahlan, like a Mord'Sith would. Standing behind her, she closes her eyes as she ties her corset. "When will Richard come to Aydindril?"
"Soon, I imagine. When he's able to."
It's been more than half a year since Cara saw Richard last, not counting the occasional Journey Book conversation. It seems far too long, but then, Richard visiting Aydindril brings its own slew of issues. Kahlan and Richard's marriage is not Cara's concern, of course, but she's become used to sleeping where she does. It's convenient and practical, that's all.
"Do you intend for me to sleep elsewhere when Richard is in Aydindril?" she asks, and perhaps it comes out sounding a little defiant.
Kahlan turns around at that, looking perplexed, as if the idea hadn't occurred to her before. "Only if you want to." She pauses. "Cara, Richard knows. I would never keep something like this from him."
"Good."
"He's... he says he's pleased for me. For us. I..." Kahlan stops, hesitating, as if unsure, and then she smiles, secretive and shy.
Cara finds it hard to look away, because Kahlan is eying her with a strange kind of intensity. It pulls on something in her chest, and suddenly she craves the familiar stone walls of a Mord'Sith temple, and to serve the Lord Rahl with her Sisters. "When Richard comes to Aydindril," she says, "I will go back with him to D'Hara, whether he wishes it or not."
Kahlan's smile falters, but her voice remains soft. "What would you do there?"
"Serve Richard. It's my purpose."
"The Mord'Sith have had to change, you know. You can go back to D'Hara, but it's not going to be like before."
The look on Kahlan's face is one that is far too close to pity for Cara's liking. When Kahlan goes to fetch her white dress and pulls it over her head, Cara crosses her arms, deliberately not helping her with the laces.
"And when yours and Richard's leniency leads to a war? Richard will need the Mord'Sith."
"There won't be a war," Kahlan says, and Cara can tell she's not as calm as she pretends to be. "There are other ways to solve this."
"Your ways are ineffective."
"Maybe they are, but if they prevent a war, I don't care."
Cara scoffs. "You'll compromise."
"Yes, I'll compromise. So will Richard." Kahlan takes a step towards the tent's exit, as if to leave, laces half-untied, but then she turns back, voice falling to an agitated whisper. "And you know why Richard didn't want you with him. Do you think I don't know that you asked him to torture you?"
It's the business of Lord Rahl and the Mord'Sith, not something that concerns Kahlan, but if she wants to know, Cara is not afraid to tell her. "If he is to rule D'Hara," shes says, "he needs to learn these skills."
"So you would give him pointers while hanging from the ceiling in chains?"
Unfolding her arms, Cara shrugs stiffly, eyes narrowing. "I am proficient in torture. Sometimes I think you forget."
"You know Richard. What did you think he would say?"
Cara clenches her jaw, saying nothing. For a few moments, the tent is quiet enough that Cara can hear a horse whinny outside of it, and a child laughing.
When Kahlan speaks, she is calm and collected again, clasping together her hands in front of herself. "It's not forever," she says, quietly. "He'll want you there, eventually. I've always known you wouldn't stay in Aydindril for very long."
"I belong by the side of Lord Rahl," Cara replies, after a few steadying breaths. "Aydindril is no place for a Mord'Sith. You must have realized this by now."
Kahlan closes the distance between them then, hands grasping at Cara's. It's dangerously close to a hug, but Cara remains still.
"You should be where you want to be," Kahlan says, and everything about it is far too tender. "I've enjoyed having you with me, though."
That makes Cara smirk, hips canting forward to meet Kahlan's. "Of course you have. I'm very pleasant company."
If Kahlan looks somewhat like she's suddenly holding back laughter, Cara decides to ignore it.
*
They breed cows in the north. A particular sort of cow with huge horns that could probably kill a person if it turned its head the wrong way. Or the right way, as it were. Cara is fairly certain that any such beast would have a healthy killer instinct, no matter how much people have tried to convince her of the animals' friendliness.
Having lived most of what life she can remember in Mord'Sith temples, Cara is not overly fond of spending unnecessary time outdoors. Traveling with Richard, Kahlan and Zedd back and forth across the world did nothing to change her mind on this matter.
Kahlan, though, seems to have an unnatural love of forests.
"You seem more at ease here than in Aydindril," she says, pulling Cara down to sit next to her on the grassy slope.
"My senses are probably dulled from boredom."
Kahlan laughs, as if she thinks Cara is joking. "I like it here," she says. "It's peaceful."
"I hate it."
"No, you don't." Kahlan bumps her shoulder against Cara's, still smiling.
"Yes, I do," Cara insists with a frown. "This place is even duller than Aydindril, which I didn't think possible."
Fingers caress Cara's brow, then, and continue to brush hair away from her face. Next, Kahlan leans over to kiss her, sweetly, on the lips. Cara's heart jumps in anticipation, and the corners of her lips quirk up. It's a warning Kahlan should recognize by now, but she still appears surprised when Cara, in one quick swoop, pins her down on her back.
"Is this what 'taking a walk' means, Kahlan?" Cara says, unable to stop herself from leering. "If you'd said so, I would have agreed the first time you asked."
They don't talk at all for a while after that. Not until Kahlan suddenly pushes at Cara's shoulder, laughing breathlessly. "I think we're being watched."
One quick glance to the side confirms the observation. In less than a heartbeat, Cara is on her feet, assuming a defensive stance, agiels aimed threateningly toward the creature.
It's one of the cow beasts, its horns casting a large shadow over Kahlan, while it stares at them and chews menacingly.
"Get back down here," Kahlan tells her. "She's just curious."
Cara risks a glance down at Kahlan, who is giving Cara her best pout. Cara almost forgets about the dangerous animal in front of her in favor of jumping on top of her. Almost. "I'm not turning my back on that thing."
Kahlan rolls her eyes, sighing dramatically as she gets to her feet. Looking at Cara, she puts her hands on her hips. She tilts her head, eyes narrowing, before she deftly starts undoing the laces over her breasts.
If she really thinks that Cara will fall for that, Kahlan is sorely mistaken.
Cara sheaths her agiels and, in one smooth move, bends down, grabbing a hold of Kahlan's thighs, flinging her up over her shoulder. Kahlan squeaks like a child. Without further ado, Cara starts walking.
"Cara, let me down!"
"Maybe later," Cara says. "I'm supposed to protect you from dangerous beasts."
"I'm the Mother Confessor, I order you to let me down!" Kahlan unsuccessfully attempts to kick her, squirming like a scared rabbit, but it's no use.
Keeping Kahlan's thighs in an iron grip, Cara snorts. "I'm Mord'Sith. You have no authority over me."
By the time she walks into the encampment, Kahlan has settled, probably with the realization that struggling will only lead to more attention. Cara smirks proudly and pats Kahlan's backside to signal her approval.
She can practically hear Kahlan's teeth grinding.
Once in their tent, Cara puts Kahlan down on the bed, crawling over her until they're pressed together from thighs to breasts. "Did I do something to upset you, Mother Confessor?" she asks, all innocence.
There's a stubborn set to Kahlan's jaw. "Do you really think I'll let you touch me after that?"
Cara presses her hips harder into Kahlan's, watching her eyelids flutter. "Yes."
"You do terrible things to my willpower."
*
It's almost summer when they come back to Aydindril, and while Kahlan is happy to be home, Cara sobers somewhat at the sight of the Palace.
Lord Rahl's visit has been further delayed - perhaps in the fall, he says - and Cara finds herself itching for something to kill. She sneaks out of Kahlan's bed early one morning for a hunt, hand stroking her bow as she makes her way out of the city. She brings a deer back to the Palace kitchens, and feels much better for it.
In fact, she's in quite a good mood when she slinks back into bed, body still humming from the chase. She's just settled when she feels Kahlan move in close behind her, breath hot on her neck. "Where did you go?"
"Maybe I had important business to attend to."
"Is that so?" Kahlan slings her leg over Cara's, under the covers, hand down her stomach. Cara catches Kahlan's hand before it can reach any further, putting it back on Kahlan's leg.
"It is," she says. "And now I'm tired."
Kahlan snorts against her shoulder, hand wandering over Cara's waist again. "You're never tired."
That is probably true, at least it would be a grave exhaustion indeed that would make Cara too tired for this. But Kahlan is not the only one who can play coy. "You are spoiled, Mother Confessor," she says. "My services are not available right now."
When Kahlan's hand stills over her hip, as if she really intends to stop, Cara sighs loudly. "I might change my mind if you ask nicely. Say, 'please, Mistress Cara. I ache for the slightest touch from your hands'."
Kahlan has a minor laughing fit behind her, more so than what seems reasonable. It's not that funny; people have begged on their bare knees for Cara's touch in the past, more than once. She is about to say so, when Kahlan leans closer, whispering the words against her ear.
Of course, Kahlan is spoiled, and Cara does not think she's ever had to beg for anything before. It sounds more like a demand than anything else, but Cara finds she doesn't mind very much at all.
Maybe it is the months away from Aydindril that has made Cara lax, or maybe it is the fact that she has grown more and more careless and bold. She buries her face between Kahlan's legs, skillfully teasing her until Kahlan is practically keening, and ignores the way Kahlan tugs at her hair. She has every intention of pulling away, of course, it's just that Kahlan is always so needlessly careful.
It takes her by surprise to feel the Confessor magic pour into her. She's light-headed when it's over, because she's never had so much of their skin touching when Kahlan's powers are released. Resting her head against Kahlan's thigh, she tries to regain her equilibrium, before looking up.
Kahlan is staring.
Unsure of what to do, Cara remains still, saying nothing.
When Kahlan speaks, it sounds unnaturally loud in the silence. "How long have you known about this?" she asks, and Cara doesn't know what to make of the sharp edge in her voice.
If she could take it back, she would. Instead, she gets out of bed, finding her leathers and sliding them on quickly, effortlessly, like she's done a million times before. If her fingers feel clumsy, she does not let it show.
"It didn't seem important," Cara says finally, pulling one of her boots on with a snap.
Kahlan has sat up now, clutching the covers to her chest, dark hair spilling over her shoulders. "When I was in the Con Dar... before we sealed the Veil. I think I tried to confess you, and I couldn't."
Cara doesn't know why something like that would possibly matter right then. She crosses her arms as she looks at Kahlan. "There are many forms of magic stronger than Confession."
"Really?" Kahlan is starting to look quite angry, which makes no sense at all. "Tell me what sort of powerful magic is responsible then."
Cara frowns, because between Kahlan and Alferon, it seems like everyone's determined to undermine her good reasoning. This is exactly why she didn't want Kahlan to know. "Do not make something out of this that it isn't," Cara warns.
Kahlan runs a hand through her hair, all frustrated tension. "I don't even care why." She huffs out a breath, jaw clenching. "But it would have been nice to know that I don't have to worry all the time about killing you."
Cara meets her gaze, eyes narrowing. "You mistake me for someone who wants to indulge in talking about things that don't matter. You were right about one thing, though." She raises her chin, looking down on Kahlan. "You don't need more guards."
*
Nothing lasts. If there is one thing Cara has learned, it's that.
In retrospect, traveling with Richard, Zedd and Kahlan had been... a comfortable living. If walking criss-cross around the Midlands and D'Hara and back could really be called comfortable. Staying at the Confessor's Palace with Kahlan had also entailed a certain amount of comfort. Maybe that was her mistake, thinking of comfort as something suitable for a Mord'Sith. Not so long ago she would have scoffed at the idea, and she would have been right.
She has not accumulated much during her stay in Aydindril, and what little there is might as well be thrown out for all she cares. Her agiels and her leathers are the only things she needs, and she would never go anywhere without them. Leaving the Mother Confessor's chambers, she has no set plan, simply walking the same route she had taken earlier in the morning. It leads her through the courtyard, past the kitchens, and outside the Palace, to the Home Guard's training area.
Several soldiers are sparring with blunted swords and shields, and Cara finds herself slowing her steps. A man Cara recognizes as Captain Higgs stands by the side of the area, and she joins him. "Are these new recruits?"
"Hardly," he says with a laugh. "They are well-versed with sword and shield."
Cara nods. "Of course. It was their general incompetence that fooled me."
Higgs stares at her and gapes, mouth working without sound. It makes him look somewhat like a fish.
"Why are there no women in the Home Guard?" By his continuing silence, Cara is fairly certain his only response would have been an unsatisfactory one. "If there is a war, would it not be practical to use all available resources? Not just the ones without breasts."
The Captain squirms before her, again failing to offer a reply. But in the end, it's not her problem. Aydindril can fend for itself; there are other places she needs to be.
She casts one last glance over her shoulder as she leaves, witnessing, in the corner of her eye, one of the soldiers moving in a way that nearly has him impaling himself on his own sword.
With a long-suffering sigh, Cara turns around.
*
It's getting dark outside when Cara returns to the Palace. She has to search through Kahlan's chambers before finding her in the study, a feather pen in one hand and a fork in the other. There's a meal on a tray on her desk, and a rather frightening pile of documents next to it. Her mouth falls open in surprise when Cara enters, striding up to the desk and leaning over it, snatching a piece of bread from the tray.
"The Palace security is pathetic, and your Home Guard is useless," Cara says. "I'm going to make them better." When Kahlan says nothing, Cara continues, "While I do that, I'm going to be staying here. It's closer than the inn."
Silence breeds tension; Cara reaches stiffly for a grape from Kahlan's tray. "And I fired Captain Higgs."
"That's..." Kahlan shakes her head, brought out of her stupor. "You can't do that."
"He said that too, at first, but he changed his mind after I explained it to him."
"I thought you'd left," Kahlan says, and there is hurt and something akin to a challenge in her voice.
Cara rolls her eyes, shifts, and crosses her arms. "I'll wait for Lord Rahl to return."
It looks like Kahlan wants to say something more, but Cara takes advantage of the silence that follows the lapse in conversation, and leaves.
Her old room in the Palace is still there, and if she is no longer the Mother Confessor's personal guard, it seems like the best option.
*
It's a week before she sees Kahlan again. She spends the days with the Home Guard, and the nights in her room, even though the bed there is too soft and the discomfort makes her moody.
There's a knock on the door one night, and then Kahlan lets herself in. Cara falls back on the pillows when she sees who it is, eying Kahlan from the bed. A few quick steps, and then Kahlan slips under the covers beside her. "I can't sleep," she says tersely. "I'm too used to your breathing."
"Fine. Stay if you want." Cara rolls over so that her back is turned to Kahlan, as usual. She can practically feel Kahlan staring at her back.
"You are the most stubborn person I know," Kahlan says in a half-whisper. "And that's not a compliment."
"Is that the reason you're here, Mother Confessor? To insult me?"
"No, it's because I can't sleep without you, and I need my sleep. I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable that people might need you for something other than killing."
"Not at all," Cara replies. "Enjoy my breathing as much as you want."
Kahlan doesn't say anything more, but she's not falling asleep either. Cara can tell from her breaths that she's not even relaxing, and the silence becomes rather thick. It's not Cara's fault - Kahlan is the one who chose to come - but even so, there's something in the pit of her stomach that lesser people might call guilt.
There are many things that Kahlan wants, and Cara is woefully unequipped to give her most of them. Even the things she can provide never seem to come easy. "Are you..." Cara starts, unsure of how to proceed. "...cold?"
"Cold?" Kahlan asks, confusion evident in her voice.
"Never mind," Cara says quickly. "Just sleep."
There's a pause before Kahlan speaks. "I might be, a little."
Cara rolls around, eying Kahlan, who looks back at her with a serious expression on her face. "Turn around," Cara says, and Kahlan complies. Placing her arm around Kahlan's waist, Cara pulls them closer together.
"I'm still angry at you," Kahlan says, even though she doesn't sound particularly like it at all.
Cara tightens her arm around her, reminding her who has the upper hand in their current positions. "Is that meant to scare me? You didn't bring your daggers and you can't even confess me."
When Kahlan stiffens in her arms, Cara knows that the implication of the words is not lost on her. It is more than Cara wants to admit, even to herself, but she is Mord'Sith. She will face this battle, like any other, without hesitation.
"How unfortunate for me," Kahlan murmurs.
"Very."
Kahlan is silent for a few moments. "That must be some very strong magic," she says quietly then, and there is something slightly breathless to her voice. "If it protects you from Confession."
"Never underestimate the strength of a Mord'Sith's constitution," Cara replies, lowering her voice as she continues. "People rarely stay alive long enough to regret such a mistake."
That makes Kahlan snort into the pillow.
It's probably a bad sign that Kahlan always seems so very amused by the things Cara says and does. Once upon a time, Kahlan had slept with daggers in her hands, and Cara had put her bedroll close, just for the pleasure of provoking Kahlan's anger.
It's only because Kahlan can't see it that Cara allows herself a small smile.