Title: The Ride With You Was Worth The Fall (15/16)
Title: The Ride With You Was Worth The Fall (15/16)
Author: fortunata13
Pairing: Cara/Kahlan
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Word Count: 8357
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Most certainly, I do not own these characters.
Summary: The moment we've all been waiting for is here: Cara and Kahlan are together again. Expect romance, hijinks, and fun.
A/N: Since I decided to go with a crazy, over-the-top ending, it took me a while to wrap things up. The good news is I'm posting the final chapter today as well. Much gratitude to statuepup, and all of you wonderful ladies who have had the patience to stick with me.
Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 part 1 | 6 part 2 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16
Chapter 15
Love Always Finds a Way
“We’ve reached the last stop,” the girl says to Cara. It takes her a moment to gain her bearings but when she does, Cara is on her feet, allowing the girl to walk past her.
Just as she is about to walk off, Cara’s hand goes to her shoulder. “Wait,” she says, “I would like to meet your brother.” The young artist pauses for a moment, gazing at this stranger who has become something akin to a friend. They walk in silence, the girl because she is consumed by grief, Cara because she has no words for these types of situations. Once inside the well-appointed home, Cara can feel the sadness emanating from the mourners there to honor the young hero on the verge of taking his last breath.
When the life force drains from his body, leaving his loved ones heartbroken, the young man’s mother is given a moment alone with her son. From behind the closed door, Cara can hear her wails for there is no pain greater than the loss of a child, that much Cara knows. Once the woman bids farewell to her son, she walks out of the room and into the arms for her family members who embark upon the impossible task of consoling her. In that brief instant of distraction, Cara steals into the candle lit room, and breathes life back into his body. “Are you an angel?” he asks, after taking his first breath, for he’d felt his very soul leave his body and come back again.
Cara hasn’t an answer, thus, she walks out of the room wordlessly. A moment later the young hero calls out for his mother. All those present rush into the room, certain that on this day the Creator has delivered a miracle. “It was an angel,” he tells them, “an angel brought me back to life.”
By then Cara has left the home, her absence unnoticed. This is a good day. Even if she never crosses paths with Kahlan again, Cara knows she will somehow find her way in this life.
“Which way to the lighthouse?” Cara asks a man walking down the road.
“Take the ferry,” he says pointing toward a nearby dock. “It will leave you by the harbor; it’s a short walk from there.” With a nod, she walks on with Marina’s lighthouse as her destination.
***
Much to her surprise, Ushuaia has been transformed by the change of season. All around her flowers bloom and lovers walk hand in hand along the seashore. Sounds of laughter and music are everywhere as street performers put on shows to earn their coin. The gray winter that had greeted her and Kahlan, replaced by a feast of colors. That familiar pang that she’s been struggling to keep at bay returns full force. In her mind’s eye, she can see it, the excitement in Kahlan’s eyes had she been here. Her chin falls to her chest as she makes her way to the lighthouse, lost in her thoughts of the Mother Confessor. It’s a squawking sound that snaps her out of her reverie. At her feet, she spots a lone baby penguin demanding her attention. While at first she steps over it and keeps walking, she thinks better of it and stops dead in her tracks. With a sigh, she turns back and picks up the tiny thing, tucking it into her pack, with only its head exposed. She walks around for nearly half a candlemark in the hopes of finding its parents, but it’s a lost cause. “Come on, penguin, Marina will find you a family.”
Finally reaching the lighthouse, she debates for a moment as to whether or not she should ring the bell. Surely Marina will ask about Kahlan -- a topic she’d rather avoid -- but the fact is she hasn’t anywhere else to go.
Marina greets her with a joyful smile and an embrace. “Cara Mason, a sight for sore eyes you are,” she says, echoing the words she’d said during their previous meeting. “Where’s your beautiful lady?” Cara is more than a little grateful when a squawk coming from her pack diverts Marina’s attention. “And what’s this?” Marina asks, spotting the creature’s bobbing head.
“My penguin,” Cara says with a shrug.
“Well then, let’s get you and your penguin fed. You both look as if you’ve missed several meals.” She ushers Cara in, furrowing her brow and rubbing her hand on Cara’s back. Something was obviously wrong.
Just as Cara had hoped, Marina returns with a bowl of fish stew, and a small plate of sardines for her baby penguin. For weeks she’s been convinced that all she needs to get over this sudden loss of appetite and constant need for sleep is a bowl of Marina’s stew.
After Cara has taken her meal and the baby penguin has found sleep on a cushion, Marina hooks her arm with Cara’s and says, “Let’s take a walk, old friend.” Cara nods in silent assent.
“So tell me, what’s going on with you and your lady? You two have crossed my path many times, and not once have I seen one of you without the other.”
Cara steps away from her to stand looking out into the sea. “Kahlan loves the Seeker,” she says after a long silence.
“What?” Marina says in a tone that is several octaves higher than normal. “Seeker shmeeker,” she hisses, throwing up her arms in frustration. “The Mother Confessor loves her Mord’Sith. It has been so since the beginning of time. Seeker shmeeker.” Cara tilts her head. She hasn’t any idea what exactly a shmeeker is, but this being the second time she’s heard the term used to described that new Lord Rahl, she decides he is one. “Sit down and tell me what happened between you two.”
Releasing a long-suffering sigh, Cara plunks down on a large rock and proceeds to recount all the events of their quest and how they led to her current state of dejection. Never before in her life has she strung so many words together, but talking to Marina about it actually eases her burden a bit. At least if she decides to hurl herself into the sea, one living being will know what she and Kahlan shared.
“Did you tell her that you love her?” Marina asks.
“Mord’Sith do not lov-” she starts to say but the murderous glare Marina gives her causes her to reconsider. “No, I didn’t.”
“For Spirits’ sake, why not?”
Cara shakes her head, watching the waves crash against the shoreline. “I killed her sister,” she says. “I’m the reason she’s the last of her kind. Kahlan deserves far better than I could ever give her.”
“That’s for her to decide, not you,” Marina says, putting her arm around Cara’s shoulders. “You can’t take away her right to choose, old friend.”
“Even if she did choose me, it’s impossible. Kahlan needs to have babies. And besides, she can’t very well walk into the Confessors’ Palace and declare that she’s taking a Mord’Sith as her mate.”
Mariana’s lips curl into a hint of a smile. “Nothing is impossible when the one you love loves you as well.” The cliché earns her a petulant eye roll from the lovelorn former Mord’Sith. “So you doubt the truth in my words?” Marina asks. “I will prove it to you.”
Marina slips out of her dress, and wearing only her smallclothes, dives into the sea. When she reaches a rock formation in the shape of a crescent moon, she climbs atop it and begins to sing. Shortly afterward, out of the sea emerges a being who, much to Cara’s dismay, is half woman, half fish. The beautiful hybrid creature dives back into the water, resurfacing in Marina’s arms, and kissing her as passionately as Cara has ever seen any two lovers kiss. While she hasn’t any idea how they mate, Marina has certainly made her point. With the setting sun painting orange and violet streaks of the surface of the water, Cara watches them together, witnessing what can only be described as love.
In a single gulp, the sea swallows up the sun forcing the lovers to part. There is a tenderness to their parting, a sad sort of devotion that the former Mord’Sith feels in the center of her own chest. It’s what the Mother Confessor would call empathy; only in Valeria, when she’d watched Dennee Amnell end the life of her son, had she experienced it to such an extent.
“Love isn’t always easy,” Marina says when she returns to shore, “but it always finds a way.” Noticing the tears streaking Marina’s cheeks, as they walk back to the lighthouse, Cara implements the comforting technique Kahlan taught her on Las Reinas Del Mar. Feeling her hostess lean into her touch, Cara decides it’s working.
That night, as Marina mans the lighthouse, Cara takes her rest on the tiny bed she and Kahlan had shared, thinking that perhaps things would have been different if she’d told Kahlan how she feels. It’s too late now, of course. Surely all of Aydindril is already celebrating the impending nuptials of the Mother Confessor of the Midlands and the shmeeker. When Cara closes her eyes, she sees her there, the Mother Confessor in a beautiful gown, smiling that radiant smile. Sleep finds her cuddled up with her baby penguin; even then the image of Kahlan remains.
***
“Cara,” Marina, says, nudging her shoulder. “You haven’t gotten out of bed in two days. Enough.” With that, she removes the sleeping baby penguin from Cara’s arms and places it on the empty pillow next to her. “Get dressed. We are going to break our fast and go watch the sunrise.” She pulls off Cara’s covers and unceremoniously tosses her leathers at her.
“Fine,” Cara says, with an eye roll. Getting out of bed is pointless and she hasn’t an appetite but Marina is her hostess. It would be rude not to comply -- at least that’s what Kahlan would say.
Marina serves her a healthy helping of a fish porridge that by Cara’s assessment is as foul a concoction as anyone has ever thought up. “Eat. When your lady comes for you she’ll think I’ve been starving you.”
Cara wrinkles her nose and takes a spoonful. “How can you be so certain that she’ll come? She’s probably forgotten all about me by now.”
“Will you stop feeling sorry for yourself? I know she’ll come because she loves you, just as you love her.”
Once Marina is satisfied that Cara has eaten enough, they sit by the shoreline gazing out into the sea. “You do know the sun rises to the east,” Cara points out, with complete disinterest.
“You’ll see,” Marina says.
Suddenly, the reflection of the tall mountain range behind them, lit by the rising sun, turns the sea into a never-ending pool of orange, purple, and swirling clouds of gold. The colors are at once shimmering in the rippling water in front of them, and bursting through the darkness behind them. It’s as beautiful as anything Cara has ever seen -- so beautiful, in fact, that she has to look away. In the end, it is yet another experience that without the Mother Confessor at her side, means nothing.
“What was that?” Cara asks, jumping to her feet when an unidentified flying object swooshes past them.
Marina looks back over her shoulder, furrowing her brow, and says, “Jamal’s flying carpet. He and Fernão must have returned ahead of schedule.” The object in question then makes a second pass, causing both Cara and Marina to duck in an effort to keep their heads firmly attached to their shoulders. “He’s usually a better pilot,” Marina huffs.
The flying contraption lands just a few paces in front them, revealing the Mother Confessor of the Midlands as its cargo. Her hair is a mess of tangles, and by the way she’s glaring between Cara and Marina, she hadn’t expected the Mord’Sith to have company. Marina rolls her eyes and raises her index finger. “No, don’t even think it. She’s been miserable without you,” she says, earning herself a pointed look from Cara.
Sighing in relief, Kahlan closes the space between them, and with a shy smile says, “Hi.”
Cara stands before her, wide-eyed and struggling to form words. When she finally manages it, what comes out isn’t exactly what she’d intended. “Where’s the shmeeker?” Cara asks. Kahlan’s smile disappears but the elbow Marina, in turn, delivers to Cara’s ribs will definitely leave a mark.
“I’m here to see you,” Kahlan says, turning her palms toward the sky. “You Cara, not Richard.”
Thankfully, Marina decides to take matters into her own hands. Grabbing each of them by the elbow, she ushers them inside, and says, “You two go upstairs, I’ll tend to the flying carpet.”
Cara and Kahlan stand awkwardly in the round room for a long moment. With a nod, Cara finally stretches out her arm and says, “Go ahead.”
“Thank you,” Kahlan says, a tentative smile returning to her lips as Cara follows her up the stairs. ‘You’ve lost weight,” she says, once they are in the room. Cara shrugs in response.
“You look tired.” This time it is Kahlan who shrugs.
Cara is right, Kahlan is tired. She’s been traveling on a piece of floor covering for days and her seat bones still ache from weeks spent on that purgatirial saddle. All she wants is to hold Cara in her arms so that she can finally get some sleep. “Do you love me?” she asks, as if such questions were commonplace.
Even her Mord’Sith training can’t help Cara disguise the panic on her face. “Marina mates with a fish-woman,” she blurts out for no apparent reason. “Fish,” Cara says, gesturing from her waist down with her hands, “woman.” She repeats the gesture in the opposite direction.
Kahlan blinks and wrinkles her nose. “That’s…different. But I don’t want to talk about Marina’s peculiar love life or about the shmeeker -- I mean the Seeker, I want to talk about us.” She takes a step toward Cara, who promptly takes a step back which leaves her flush against the wall. Kahlan takes another step toward Cara which leaves them breathing the same breath. “I think you love me,” Kahlan says, kissing the corner of Cara’s lips.
“There is a gigantic white sea monster called a whale and a city called Bonaria and a beast that hires itself out for transport, like a whore only different and --”
“Cara,” Kahlan says, this time kissing her on the lips. “Stop talking. I’ve traveled for days and I’ve hardly slept a wink since you left me. I really need to know if you love me, because if you don’t, I have to get back to Aydindril so that I can hurl myself off the Great Tower.”
Before Cara can answer, a loud squawk startles Kahlan, causing her to pull away. “What was that?”
Cara rolls her eyes, and says, “I didn’t hear anything.”
“Well, then you’ve lost your hearing during my absence,” Kahlan says, walking around the room in an effort to find the source of the odd sound.
“It’s nothing,” Cara says, but a second squawk makes her lose all credibility. Shaking her head in frustration, she reaches under the covers and pulls out the baby penguin. “She’s shy sometimes.”
“Cara, she’s adorable. Can I hold her?” Cara shrugs, and hands her the creature. “Aw, she’s just a baby.” As Cara predicted, ridiculous cooing ensues -- it’s a welcome distraction from Kahlan’s interrogation. “Here, you little cutie, get you back into bed. Don’t worry, your mommy is coming too.” Cara frowns at the implication that she gave birth to the waddling bird but lies on the bed anyway. Kahlan promptly takes her place behind her, resting her chin on Cara’s shoulder so that she can gaze at the baby penguin. Cara pull the covers over the three of them and blows out the flame on the lamp that lights the room.
The feel of Kahlan’s arms around her fills Cara with so much emotion that she decides to take Marina’s advice and express her feelings. Her mouth opens and shuts several times before she can produce actual words. “I do… you know, what you said.” While not the most poetic declaration of love, Cara expected some sort reaction. Instead she is met with a deafening silence that fills her with dread.
“Kahlan?” she says, turning around to look at her, only to find that the Mother Confessor is sound asleep and probably hadn’t heard a word she’d said. It’s just as well, Kahlan did look very tired and Cara has missed lying in Kahlan’s arms so much; talking about feelings will have to wait. “Good night, Kahlan,” Cara says, although it’s less than a candlemark past sunrise.
Marina gingerly opens the door, finding the three of them sound asleep, Cara, Kahlan, and the baby penguin. She shakes her head with a bright grin on her face. Things are as they should be -- well, except that she’ll have to sleep on the tortorous chaise downstairs. Seeing the Mother Confessor and her Mord’Sith together again is well worth it.
***
It is a full two days before the Mother Confessor opens her eyes again. Cara hadn’t moved a muscle the entire time, save to swallow a few spoonfuls of that atrocious fish porridge Marina has been force-feeding her. When she feels Kahlan shift ever so slightly, Cara’s heart pounds against her ribcage with so much zeal that it actually hurts. She also feels a strange churning in her belly that she wishes she could attribute to the porridge. Holding her breath, she lifts her head off the pillow and turns toward her bedmate, finding a pair of beautiful blue eyes looking back at her. “Well? Do you love me or not?” Kahlan asks, as if they’d been engaged in conversation while they slept. Cara rolls her eyes, and shifts so that they are facing each other. With her brows tightly kneaded, Cara tucks a few unruly locks behind Kahlan’s ears and traces her jaw line until she arrives at the Mother Confessor’s chin. She then lifts it ever so slightly and pulls her into a kiss so tender and filled with emotion that when their lips part, Kahlan sighs and says, “You definitely love me.” Cara tips her head and Kahlan smiles; she knows the words will come. For now, it’s enough.
Before Cara can say a word, with a look on her face that is somewhere between panic and confusion, Marina bursts through the door now carrying the baby penguin in her arms, along with a stack of those things that are definitely not parchment. While they are both fond of Marina, her timing is less than ideal. “What is it?” Cara says, shifting her eyes and tipping her head in a not so subtle attempt at making it clear that her visit is inopportune.
“When exactly did you become an actress? These are posted all over Ushuaia,” Marina says, handing her one of those things that are not parchment.
Kahlan promptly sits up on the bed and takes one in her hand as well. “The highly anticipated Ushuaia theatrical debut of the world-renowned actress Cara Mason to take place on the solstice. BUY YOUR TICKETS EARLY,” Kahlan reads aloud.
Cara’s jaw goes completely slack for a moment, but then a flash of insight causes her to roll her eyes. “I’m going to kill him,” she says, or rather growls.
“Who?” Kahlan ask, sitting up in bed rather alarmed.
“Marcelo Alejandro Rivadavia, that’s who.” For Cara is certain that the enterprising boy she’d met during her travels is behind this mess.
“The youth from Bonaria,” Marina says. “It could be. He arrived a few days ago. But why would he think you’re an actress?”
“You know him?” Cara asks, already suspecting there is a conspiracy of some sort.
“Yes, of course, his grandmother runs the fried fish house on the pier. He comes to Ushuaia often.”
Kahlan’s eyes widen and she takes hold of the Mord’Sith’s arm. “Cara, you can’t kill him. That’s the nice lady who gave us raincoats to weather the storm. And…why does he think you’re an actress?” She furrows her brow awaiting a response but it’s much too slow in coming. “Cara,” she says in that tone that makes it clear to Cara that she has no choice but to fess up.
Releasing a long-suffering sigh, she mumbles something that sounds very much like i-maybav-bubbedim. “What?” Kahlan asks, scrunching her nose, thinking that perhaps Cara has taken to speaking in tongues.
Realizing there is no way out of this, Cara finally says, “I may have told him.”
“Well, that explains it,” says Marina to the baby penguin now pressed to her nose, “your mother wishes to explore her creative side.” Noticing the murderous look Cara is shooting her, Marina gingerly steps out of the room.
When they are alone, Kahlan pulls Cara close and kisses the tip of her nose. “Don’t be angry, not when I’m so happy to see you.”
She bites her lower lip and bats her lashes in that way that makes Cara’s heart skip a beat -- or maybe ten. “Are you sure this is what you want?” Cara asks.
The raw emotion and vulnerability Kahlan sees in her eyes moves her to such an extent that she feels herself on the verge of tears. “After everything we’ve been through together, I only know one thing with any degree of certainty. I don’t want to live my life without you. For as implausible as it may seem, you and I make sense, Cara.”
“But what about…babies? The Midlands isn’t like Ushuaia and the other lands we’ve visited. They need the line of Confessors to guide them.”
Kahlan nods. “Yes, they do and I don’t know how, but we’ll find a way. For now, the Midlands will have to settle for the Mother Confessor and her Champion -- if you’ll have me, of course.”
Cara frowns and scratches head; for as smart as she is, Kahlan says the most ridiculous things. The only logical course of action is to stop talking and start kissing. She settles herself alongside Kahlan with her arm draped over Kahlan’s middle. That act alone is enough to cause the Mother Confessor to purr like a kitten. Cara kisses the spot behind Kahlan’s ear, and all along her jaw line before pulling her into a deep, passionate kiss that leaves them both breathless. “If people see us like this,” Kahlan says, “they are going to talk.”
The breathy way in which she says it paints a smirk on Cara’s face. “Really? She asks. “What will they say?”
In one deft move, Kahlan shifts their positions so that she’s lying on top of Cara. “That I’m the luckiest woman in the world.” Taking advantage of their size difference, Kahlan sets about kissing every mole, freckle, and scar that isn’t covered by Cara’s leathers. Not at all displeased by the attention, Cara loses herself in the sensation of Kahlan’s lips traveling across her face and neck, stopping just short of the tops of Cara’s breasts. While Kahlan would love nothing more than to remain in this tiny room forever, after two candlemarks of kissing she pulls away. “I’ve missed this,” Kahlan says, “lying in bed with you like we did at the castle. You make me happy, Cara, happier than I’ve ever been. But now I need to feed you.” She shifts to her side, propping herself up on an elbow and runs her hand down the side of Cara’s body, from shoulder to hip. “You’re too skinny. I can feel your ribs, and your hip bone is as sharp as a razor blade.” Despite Cara’s grumbles, Kahlan drags her out of bed so that they can start their day -- in the middle of the afternoon. What kind of a mate would she be if she allowed Cara to waste away?
Kahlan plans on taking Cara for a leisurely meal at the fried fish house, and while there, making certain young Marcelo Alejandro Rivadavia returns all of the coin he’d made selling tickets for Cara’s alleged theatrical debut. Only it isn’t that simple. “All the inns in Ushuaia are full,” Marina says.
Cara and Kahlan can’t see the relevance of the remark, but in an effort to be polite, Kahlan says, “Oh, that’s nice. The proprietors must be very happy.” After a long silence, Kahlan’s hand goes to her own forehead. “Of course,” she says, “you want your bed back. Marina, I’m so sorry.” Cara tips her head and nods; it’s a logical assumption.
Marina looks between them several times, realizing that they do not understand her meaning. “The inns are sold out because people from places I nerve knew existed have traveled to Ushuaia to watch her,” Marina says, pointing at Cara, “star in The Princess Sleeps. Marcelo’s marketing skills are formidable.”
Cara cants her hip, and turns toward Kahlan. “Now can I kill him?” she asks.
While the thought of killing him isn’t as unappealing as it was earlier, Kahlan still refuses to allow it. “We’ll just have to inform the people at the theatre that there was a misunderstanding. Surely there is an understudy who can take over the role.” It seems like a perfectly reasonable course of action, except that the moment the two of them walk out of the door, they are met with dozens of people outside the lighthouse, hoping to get a glimpse of the highly publicized actress who none of them had actually heard of before. Still, the buzz created by the young marketing genius has set all of Ushuaia ablaze with excitement.
“Ms. Mason,” they scream, all of them vying for her attention. Cara reaches for her weapon but Kahlan quickly takes hold of her wrist. Having heard the commotion, Marina rushes outside and in a deft effort at crowd control, manages to get Kahlan and Cara back in the lighthouse.
“They’ve all gone mad,” Cara says, her expression as close to panic as Kahlan has ever seen. “What do we do?”
Marina and Kahlan look at each other for a moment, then fix their gaze on Cara -- both of them crossing their arms across their chests. It takes a moment but Cara finally understands the implication of that look. “Oh no, don’t even think about. No. No. No,” she says, all the while backing away from them.
“Cara, I know it isn’t fair but we can’t very well disappoint all of those people.” She runs her hand down the length of Cara’s arm and squeezes her hand, all the while looking at her through her lashes -- tossing in a pout for good measure. It’s a tactic Kahlan has successfully implemented throughout their travels, but on this occasion it’s a hard sell.
The bell rings just as Cara is about to protest and Marina, being a woman of discernment, promptly heads for the door, leaving Kahlan to deal with her grumpy Mord’Sith. “My love,” Kahlan says, kissing her sweetly on the lips, “it’s just one night and I’ll be by your side.” She kisses her again, and again after that until she feels Cara’s lips part. The kiss turns passionate, indicating a clear victory for the Mother Confessor. Cara takes her by the hand with the intention of leading her upstairs, but the door opens before they can manage a single step.
“My friends,” says Captain Fernão de Magalhães who stands with his first mate by his side, “I knew we’d meet again, but what I did not know,” he says, turning toward Cara, “was your abilities as a thespian.”
Cara scrunches her nose and tilts her head. “A what-pian?”
Kahlan starts to explain but yet another ring of the bell interrupts her. “Oh Spirits,” she says, suspecting that Cara is on the verge of fleeing. The door opens and before them stands the elderly woman from the fried fish house, and holding her hand is her grandson, the youth from Bonaria. “Cara Mason,” he says, with a grin on his face, “I told you I’d make you a star.”
It is all Cara can do to keep from strangling him, but she does know she is partly responsible for the situation. “I’m not an actress,” she says, pursing her lips with both her hands on her hips.
The boy’s jaw drops and his eyes widen while his grandmother’s hand goes to the center of her chest. “But I’ve invested all of our savings on the play. You, you said you were an act--.”
Fearing the elderly woman is about to experience a syncope from the shock of Cara’s words, Kahlan quickly steps in. “Joking,” she says, doing her best to smile, “she’s just joking. Everything will be fine.” Cara raises a skeptical eyebrow but doesn’t contradict her. Surely Kahlan has a plan of some sort. Perhaps, she’ll borrow the funds to keep the boy and his grandmother from ruin from Aydindril’s treasury.
Jamal and Fernão glance over at each other; this isn’t the best time to mention that the ferry brought with it even more travelers eager to watch the highly touted play. Pulling Marina aside, the Captain says, “The ladies seem a bit overwhelmed. Perhaps some time for themselves would help.”
“Definitely,” Marina says without hesitation.
“We’ll make the arrangements,” the Captain says, squeezing her hand.
For the rest of the afternoon, Kahlan sits on the bed helping Cara learn her lines. Except they can’t seem to keep their hands and lips to themselves long enough for any meaningful learning to occur. “Cara, I have really missed you,” Kahlan moans in to her mouth. “Do you have any idea how difficult it was to keep my hands off of you all those times you paraded around naked?” Her lips have now moved to the tops of Cara’s breasts and the script lies discarded at the foot of the bed. “Oh, that reminds me,” Kahlan says, slipping her hand into the bodice of her travel dress and pulling out the strip of cloth that is all that remains of her Confessor’s gown. “Do you know how much it means to me that you did this for me?” she asks, cupping Cara’s cheek. “No one, Cara, no one in this world has ever made me feel so loved.” Overwhelmed by Kahlan’s words, Cara closes her eyes for a moment, allowing the statement to sink in. Kahlan loves her, not the Seeker, not some knight in shining armor. Kahlan loves her, she has no doubts left.
When Marina walks in -- without bothering to knock -- the laces to Kahlan’s bodice are already half undone. “Oh my,” Marina says, with a smirk on her face, “aren’t you two studious?” Kahlan blushes furiously while Cara scowls at her, wishing she could give her just a tiny taste of her former weapon. “I’m afraid you’ll have to…” Marina trails off, gesturing at Kahlan’s laces, “Jamal has a carriage and driver waiting for you.”
“Has something happened?” Kahlan asks, sitting up on the bed as she laces up her dress.
Looking between them, Marina’s hand goes to her own chin and she says, “Not yet, but I’m sure it will.” Uncertain as to what to expect, both women take their daggers and rush out to the awaiting carriage.
The driver takes them up a mountain path that leads to a cottage providing a breathtaking view of the city. It doesn’t take long for them to realize that they are not headed for a battle of some sort. Kahlan clings to Cara’s arm and kisses her cheek. “It’s beautiful,” she says, as the driver helps them step out of the carriage and hands them the keys to the cottage.
“Captain Fernão de Magalhães and his First Mate have graciously requested that you stay at their home. You will find that everything you need for a comfortable stay has been provided. I will return to take you back to the city in two days.” He bows his head, ushering them inside. Candles are already lit as is the fireplace. The cabin is small and inviting, with round windows like those on Las Reinas Del Mar.
“Nice,” Cara says, with an appreciative nod.
“Look,” Kahlan says, pointing at a pair of doors that have been left open to reveal a gorgeous bedchamber. The implication of it makes Kahlan blush but when she feels Cara’s hand take purchase on her hip, the heat she’d felt on her cheeks radiates to various other areas. Cara kisses her temple and that gesture alone is enough to cause Kahlan to go weak in the knees. “Spirits, Cara, I’m so in love with you.”
Cara kisses her a second time as she leads her into the bedchamber. “I’m not good enough for you, Kahlan, we both know it. But I promise to never stop trying to deserve you.”
“This is what I want, Cara, you are what I want. You don’t have to try and you don’t need to change. I love everything about you.” She punctuates the statement by pulling the former Mord’Sith into a deep, passionate kiss that, she is certain, will stay with them forever. “Now, I’d like you to make love to me. Here, in this perfect place.”
Cara knows this part, she knows it better than most -- but this is Kahlan so she hesitates for a moment, her nerves betraying her. Ever gracious, Kahlan smiles bringing Cara’s trembling hands to the laces of her traveling dress. It’s strangely beautiful, this sudden coyness from Cara. Kahlan savors it for a long moment -- it’s a new side of her soon-to-be lover that she hadn’t seen before. When the dress pools at her feet, Cara takes her hand and helps her step out of it before pressing the hand to her lips -- a sweet and unexpected gesture that only confirms that the Mother Confessor of the Midlands has chosen her mate well.
When Cara reaches for her own laces, Kahlan stops her, mirroring Cara’s previous gesture. “Let me,” she says, as her one of her hands goes to Cara’s cheek. “From this day on, this task is mine and mine alone.”
It isn’t long before they stand before each other in nothing but their own skins. “You’re beautiful,” Cara says, earning herself yet another one of those gorgeous smiles.
Cara watches as Kahlan climbs onto the bed, reaching out her hand for Cara to do the same. She kisses Kahlan’s temple and eyelids and lips, patiently making her way down the column of Kahlan’s neck. A brief pause to gaze up at her eyes is met with a disapproving grunt for Kahlan has wanted this for much longer than even she’d realized. When Cara returns to her task, she’s rewarded by Kahlan releasing tiny sounds of pleasure that, as Cara presses on, quickly turn into a series of moans. It’s as if Cara had prepared for this moment her entire life, as if they’d studied each other’s pleasure for lifetimes. “You’ve always been mine,” Kahlan breathes out and Cara can feel the truth of those words down to her very bones. It isn’t long before Kahlan’s back arches off the bed as Cara’s skillful hands have her on the verge of finding her release. But it’s too soon; Cara wants this to last, to go on forever perhaps, so she pulls away and returns to Kahlan’s lips. It earns her a groan but when she feels Cara’s tongue licking her lips, Kahlan’s own lips part and all is forgiven -- for now. She’s wanted this for far too long to be patient.
“I need you,” she moans into Cara mouth. Cara complies by turning her attention to Kahlan’s breasts, taking one hard peak in her mouth and rolling the other between her fingers. Kahlan responds to Cara’s attentions with perfect candor, holding nothing back. It’s a type of honesty Cara has never experienced. With one last glance at the Mother Confessor, Cara glides down Kahlan’s body and parts her thighs with the intention of taking Kahlan in her mouth. Except Kahlan stops her. “Wait,” she blurts out quite unexpectedly.
“Why?” Cara asks, confused by Kahlan’s abrupt shift.
“There’s a place, an island called Lesbos,” she says, laboring to breathe, “I need you to promise me you’ll never set foot there. It’s a…very dangerous place.”
Cara manages to repress a smirk. Thinking it best not to mention that during her journey she’d considered taking up permanent residence there, Cara nods in agreement.
“Oh Spirits,” Kahlan breathes out, “carry on.” Her legs are now slung over Cara’s shoulders, and the things the former Mord’Sith is doing to her are, well, very pleasurable. Her only regret is not having a name for them so that she can request them in the future -- in the very near future. It isn’t long before Cara can feel Kahlan on the verge of coming undone, and that alone pushes Cara’s own desire to the brink. Only, when Kahlan feels her magic fighting for release, she pushes her away.
“Kahlan,” Cara says, the name every bit a plea.
“My magic, Cara, I’d never forgive myself if…” she trails off panting.
Cara knows what will erase Kahlan’s fear, but it isn’t easy, saying those three words she hasn’t uttered since childhood. After shutting her eyes for a moment to steel herself, she looks up at Kahlan and says, “I love you more than my own life, Kahlan. I’m already yours.” And, for the first time, Kahlan can see past Cara’s Mord’Sith training, finding nothing but love.
Kahlan feels herself on the verge of tears, tears of joy. Cara loves her, it’s there, in her eyes, and she loves her enough to speak those three words. Kahlan takes hold of a fistful of Cara’s hair, and draws her into a kiss. “I want to feel you inside me,” she says when their lips part. Cara complies without hesitation. This is Kahlan, writhing beneath her, aching for her touch. Kahlan reaches her release like that, clinging to Cara as she cries out her name in ecstasy. All the while Cara’s arms are wrapped around her, feeling Confessor magic course through her own body. For a moment, it feels as if she were melting into Kahlan, as if their bodies were occupying the same space. It’s like nothing she’s ever experienced. As Kahlan returns to her body, she notices a single tear rolling down Cara’s cheek. Instead of mentioning it, she kisses it away.
“I’ve loved you from the moment I first saw you,” Kahlan says, her head now resting on Cara’s shoulder. “In my heart, I knew it, but my mind could not make sense of it. Every time I held you in my arms, I knew you were mine and I was yours.”
“Every Mord’Sith is trained to hate Confessors, but when I saw you for the first time, I didn’t hate you. I knew someday we’d come face to face again, and it would change my life.” She traces Kahlan’s features with her fingertips, lingering on her lips. “Perhaps Marina was right all along.”
Kahlan smiles and nuzzles into Cara’s hair. “I have so much to learn,” Kahlan says in a small voice.
Cara furrows her brow for a moment before understanding her meaning. With a smirk on her face, she says, “I guess you can practice on me -- every day, for the rest of our lives.”
“Are you suggesting I’m a slow learner?” Kahlan asks with mock indignation. Before Cara can defend herself, Kahlan pins down her shoulders and straddles her. In less than a heartbeat, she deftly takes hold of Cara’s wrists and crushes their lips together. Cara is duly impressed.
Kahlan pulls away for a moment to take in the view. “Spirits, Cara, you’re impossibly beautiful, and these,” she says wide-eyed looking down at Cara’s breasts, “oh my.” That is all she can manage before tasting the apex of one of Cara’s breasts with the tip of her tongue. “Oh, these are wonderful,” she says.
With that, she nips and licks and swirls her tongue on each of them, too focused on her task to notice that Cara is writhing and mewling and arching beneath her. “K-K-Kahlan,” Cara says, finally breaking the Mother Confessor’s breasts-induced trance. “I need you to…” she breathes out.
Kahlan swallows hard and furrows her brow, kissing her way down Cara’s body with so much tenderness that Cara thinks she may shatter from it, but it feels good. This, she supposes is the difference between having sex and making love -- a distinction she’d previously regarded as mythical.
“Oh Cara,” Kahlan says in awe, parting Cara’s legs and kissing her inner thighs, before taking in the scent of her. She can feel heat radiating from Cara’s center, along with ample evidence of Cara’s desire for her. It’s overwhelmingly beautiful so she pauses for a moment to take it all in, which prompts Cara to arch her hips off the bed as a means of emphasizing the urgency of the situation.
“Right,” Kahlan says, returning to herself. She takes Cara in her mouth, feasting on her through two consecutive orgasms, leaving the former Mord’Sith looking every bit the picture of contentment. Kahlan is certain that nothing in this world is more beautiful than Cara Mason taking her pleasure. The sight of her like that is something of which Kahlan will never tire.
“How did I do?” Kahlan murmurs in Cara’s ear when she feels her shift in her arms.
Cara, definitely well-sexed, purses her lips and nods. “You’ve either done this before, or you’re some sort of sexual savant.” Kahlan giggles and kisses her. Tasting herself on the Mother Confessor’s lips is a pleasure Cara never thought she’d experience. They drift off into sleep already knowing what is in store for them tomorrow. Sometimes life can be so very beautiful.
***
While Cara and Kahlan are away, Ushuaia bustles with activity. Given the unprecedented amount of tickets sold for The Princess Sleeps, a change of venue has been arranged. The play will be performed at an outdoor arena overlooking the sea. The mild spring climate and the natural lighting, young Marcelo has determined, will only add to the performance. In the interim, tourists continue to arrive in droves; this due mostly to the efforts of one woman, who having seen one of the many flyers distributed through a series of outlets, took it upon herself to provide expedited means of transportation. She’d sent Marcelo a cryptic correspondence claiming her “Mistress” would be pleased if the play were to succeed. The boy had no idea how she managed it, but true to her word, people were arriving from as far away as Cagliari and beyond in a tenth of the time it would usually require.
Fernão’s driver delivers Cara and Kahlan back to the lighthouse via a little known path to avoid the crowd. By the broad smiles on both their faces and the way they are clinging to each other, Marina has no doubt their time at the cottage was exceedingly pleasurable. “You two look happy,” Marina says, raising both her eyebrows and nodding approvingly. “I take it you enjoyed each other -- I mean, yourselves.” Kahlan blushes furiously at the remark, while Cara delivers her smuggest of smirks.
“Sit,” Marina says, “I’ll bring dinner out.” Noticing the expression on Cara’s face, she adds, “Fish stew, not porridge. That was just to put some meat on your sorry bones.” Cara releases a breath, relieved at the change in menu. “She’s a mess without you,” Marina tells Kahlan and promptly heads for the kitchen to escape Cara’s imminent protest.
“So you missed me,” Kahlan says, nuzzling into Cara’s neck.
Cara frowns and thinks to deny it, but having no doubt that Kahlan can now read her, she gives up on subterfuge. “You already know I did.” Her forced candor is rewarded by a series of kisses that are on the verge of turning passionate just as Marina walks in with their meal.
Over dinner, Marina casually mentions that Cara’s wardrobe for the play had been delivered that morning. “Have you learned all your lines?” she asked.
Cara turns toward Kahlan in the hopes finding a kindred spirit but is met with a cringe followed by a gentle squeeze of her hand, instead. Clearly not what she’d expected. “I have not learned any lines nor do I intend on --.” Her statement cut short by a ring of that blessed bell.
“I’ll get it,” Kahlan and Marina say in unison, both quick to their feet to avoid Cara’s wrath.
All the former Mord’Sith can do is watch as the other two women make their escape. Already she knows that in the end she’ll have no choice but to make a public spectacle of herself. It isn’t as if she’ll be able to refuse Kahlan. How can she when Kahlan will surely do that thing with her lashes, and nibble at her earlobe, and probably lean in to kiss her at just the right angle to provide her with an exquisite view of her cleavage. It’s a lost cause that will only get worse over the years. Already she knows that someday there will be little Confessors tugging at her sleeves only it won’t feel like her sleeves, it will feel like her heart, and much like Kahlan, they will have their way with her. She might as well give up now and march upstairs to try on whatever ridiculous costume Marcelo has dreamed up for her to wear. The worst part of this mess is that she can feel the immense grin on her face at the thought of Kahlan and those hypothetical little Confessors ruining her life. Her treacherous mind is already selecting names for these unborn little girls who will be the image of their mother. If she still had her agiel, she’d surely use it on herself, except if she did, she’d miss Kahlan so much she’d have to strike a deal with the Keeper and come back as a baneling.
“Cara,” Kahlan says, interrupting her musings, “come quickly.” She takes hold of Cara’s hand, dragging her outside.
Standing before her are the Mayor of Avenio and his wife, Rabindranath and his three daughters, a woman carrying an infant, and most surprising of all, Ganesh. “Hello,” says the Mayor, “we thought we’d miss your performance but it’s as if time flew. The voyage seemed a magical experience.” The others glance as each other nodding in agreement.
Kali promptly reaches out her arms to Cara. The former Mord’Sith lifts her off the ground and carries her on her hip. “Little one, you’ve grown,” Cara says, with a lopsided smile on her face
“Yes, I’m old,” Kali says, shaking her head, “that’s my new sister.” She point to the woman holding the infant who must be Rabindranath’s wife. “I’m not the baby anymore.”
Cara walks over to Ganesh, still carrying the child in her arms, thinking it best to leave Kahlan to do the talking. How, exactly, they transported the elephant to Ushuaia is a question that she dares not ask. She is, however, more certain than ever that short of divine intervention, she will be performing in that ridiculous play. “It isn’t easy,” Kali says. “I liked being the baby. Now I’m a big girl.”
Cara is certain she’s supposed to say something but she has no idea what. “There’s a gigantic sea monster called whale,” she finally tells Kali. Blurting out random facts has become her preferred approach to all difficult conversations these days.
“Bigger than Ganesh?” Kali asks, eyes opened wide. Cara purses her lips and nods. Kali is render speechless; Cara has a deep appreciation for whales. As the sun sets, she and Cara sit on a rock looking out onto the sea until the sound of the waves lull the little one to sleep. For as much as Cara laments the fate of her fallen sister, feeling Kali’s chest rise and fall against her own lead Cara to consider that perhaps it was for the best. The world is a safer place for this beautiful child and many more like her.
After what to Cara seem like a lifetime of idle prattle, both families say good night and head for their respective inns. Rabindranath has set up a comfortable tent for Ganesh behind the lighthouse, with a promise from Cara to look in on him in the morning. For as much as Cara and Kahlan would like nothing more than time to themselves, reconnecting with their friends made them both very happy.
Since Marina will be manning the lighthouse for the rest of the evening, Cara and Kahlan decide take a stroll along the seashore. Cara cannot recall having ever held hands with anyone; it feels surprisingly good to look down to find their fingers threaded together. “Berdine and Raina used to do this when they thought no one was watching,” Cara says.
“I wish I would have had a chance to meet Berdine. I’d like to thank her for being good to you.” As the temperature drops, Cara pulls Kahlan closer so that she can benefit from the warmth provided by Cara’s spelled leathers, or maybe because she loves holding Kahlan in her arms.
Just then a young man walks past them and Cara does her best to avoid his gaze by nuzzling into Kahlan’s hair. “Excuse me for staring” he says, “you…I…forgive me.” He walks away, looking over his shoulder at Cara repeatedly.
“Do you know him?” Kahlan asks.
Aware that Kahlan will read her deceit, Cara ops for a true, if incomplete, response. “He’s a good person.” Perhaps some day she’ll tell Kahlan about the young hero who mistook her for an angel. Kahlan takes her cryptic response as a signal that Cara isn’t ready to talk about whatever transpired between them.
Author: fortunata13
Pairing: Cara/Kahlan
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Word Count: 8357
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Most certainly, I do not own these characters.
Summary: The moment we've all been waiting for is here: Cara and Kahlan are together again. Expect romance, hijinks, and fun.
A/N: Since I decided to go with a crazy, over-the-top ending, it took me a while to wrap things up. The good news is I'm posting the final chapter today as well. Much gratitude to statuepup, and all of you wonderful ladies who have had the patience to stick with me.
Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 part 1 | 6 part 2 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16
Chapter 15
Love Always Finds a Way
“We’ve reached the last stop,” the girl says to Cara. It takes her a moment to gain her bearings but when she does, Cara is on her feet, allowing the girl to walk past her.
Just as she is about to walk off, Cara’s hand goes to her shoulder. “Wait,” she says, “I would like to meet your brother.” The young artist pauses for a moment, gazing at this stranger who has become something akin to a friend. They walk in silence, the girl because she is consumed by grief, Cara because she has no words for these types of situations. Once inside the well-appointed home, Cara can feel the sadness emanating from the mourners there to honor the young hero on the verge of taking his last breath.
When the life force drains from his body, leaving his loved ones heartbroken, the young man’s mother is given a moment alone with her son. From behind the closed door, Cara can hear her wails for there is no pain greater than the loss of a child, that much Cara knows. Once the woman bids farewell to her son, she walks out of the room and into the arms for her family members who embark upon the impossible task of consoling her. In that brief instant of distraction, Cara steals into the candle lit room, and breathes life back into his body. “Are you an angel?” he asks, after taking his first breath, for he’d felt his very soul leave his body and come back again.
Cara hasn’t an answer, thus, she walks out of the room wordlessly. A moment later the young hero calls out for his mother. All those present rush into the room, certain that on this day the Creator has delivered a miracle. “It was an angel,” he tells them, “an angel brought me back to life.”
By then Cara has left the home, her absence unnoticed. This is a good day. Even if she never crosses paths with Kahlan again, Cara knows she will somehow find her way in this life.
“Which way to the lighthouse?” Cara asks a man walking down the road.
“Take the ferry,” he says pointing toward a nearby dock. “It will leave you by the harbor; it’s a short walk from there.” With a nod, she walks on with Marina’s lighthouse as her destination.
***
Much to her surprise, Ushuaia has been transformed by the change of season. All around her flowers bloom and lovers walk hand in hand along the seashore. Sounds of laughter and music are everywhere as street performers put on shows to earn their coin. The gray winter that had greeted her and Kahlan, replaced by a feast of colors. That familiar pang that she’s been struggling to keep at bay returns full force. In her mind’s eye, she can see it, the excitement in Kahlan’s eyes had she been here. Her chin falls to her chest as she makes her way to the lighthouse, lost in her thoughts of the Mother Confessor. It’s a squawking sound that snaps her out of her reverie. At her feet, she spots a lone baby penguin demanding her attention. While at first she steps over it and keeps walking, she thinks better of it and stops dead in her tracks. With a sigh, she turns back and picks up the tiny thing, tucking it into her pack, with only its head exposed. She walks around for nearly half a candlemark in the hopes of finding its parents, but it’s a lost cause. “Come on, penguin, Marina will find you a family.”
Finally reaching the lighthouse, she debates for a moment as to whether or not she should ring the bell. Surely Marina will ask about Kahlan -- a topic she’d rather avoid -- but the fact is she hasn’t anywhere else to go.
Marina greets her with a joyful smile and an embrace. “Cara Mason, a sight for sore eyes you are,” she says, echoing the words she’d said during their previous meeting. “Where’s your beautiful lady?” Cara is more than a little grateful when a squawk coming from her pack diverts Marina’s attention. “And what’s this?” Marina asks, spotting the creature’s bobbing head.
“My penguin,” Cara says with a shrug.
“Well then, let’s get you and your penguin fed. You both look as if you’ve missed several meals.” She ushers Cara in, furrowing her brow and rubbing her hand on Cara’s back. Something was obviously wrong.
Just as Cara had hoped, Marina returns with a bowl of fish stew, and a small plate of sardines for her baby penguin. For weeks she’s been convinced that all she needs to get over this sudden loss of appetite and constant need for sleep is a bowl of Marina’s stew.
After Cara has taken her meal and the baby penguin has found sleep on a cushion, Marina hooks her arm with Cara’s and says, “Let’s take a walk, old friend.” Cara nods in silent assent.
“So tell me, what’s going on with you and your lady? You two have crossed my path many times, and not once have I seen one of you without the other.”
Cara steps away from her to stand looking out into the sea. “Kahlan loves the Seeker,” she says after a long silence.
“What?” Marina says in a tone that is several octaves higher than normal. “Seeker shmeeker,” she hisses, throwing up her arms in frustration. “The Mother Confessor loves her Mord’Sith. It has been so since the beginning of time. Seeker shmeeker.” Cara tilts her head. She hasn’t any idea what exactly a shmeeker is, but this being the second time she’s heard the term used to described that new Lord Rahl, she decides he is one. “Sit down and tell me what happened between you two.”
Releasing a long-suffering sigh, Cara plunks down on a large rock and proceeds to recount all the events of their quest and how they led to her current state of dejection. Never before in her life has she strung so many words together, but talking to Marina about it actually eases her burden a bit. At least if she decides to hurl herself into the sea, one living being will know what she and Kahlan shared.
“Did you tell her that you love her?” Marina asks.
“Mord’Sith do not lov-” she starts to say but the murderous glare Marina gives her causes her to reconsider. “No, I didn’t.”
“For Spirits’ sake, why not?”
Cara shakes her head, watching the waves crash against the shoreline. “I killed her sister,” she says. “I’m the reason she’s the last of her kind. Kahlan deserves far better than I could ever give her.”
“That’s for her to decide, not you,” Marina says, putting her arm around Cara’s shoulders. “You can’t take away her right to choose, old friend.”
“Even if she did choose me, it’s impossible. Kahlan needs to have babies. And besides, she can’t very well walk into the Confessors’ Palace and declare that she’s taking a Mord’Sith as her mate.”
Mariana’s lips curl into a hint of a smile. “Nothing is impossible when the one you love loves you as well.” The cliché earns her a petulant eye roll from the lovelorn former Mord’Sith. “So you doubt the truth in my words?” Marina asks. “I will prove it to you.”
Marina slips out of her dress, and wearing only her smallclothes, dives into the sea. When she reaches a rock formation in the shape of a crescent moon, she climbs atop it and begins to sing. Shortly afterward, out of the sea emerges a being who, much to Cara’s dismay, is half woman, half fish. The beautiful hybrid creature dives back into the water, resurfacing in Marina’s arms, and kissing her as passionately as Cara has ever seen any two lovers kiss. While she hasn’t any idea how they mate, Marina has certainly made her point. With the setting sun painting orange and violet streaks of the surface of the water, Cara watches them together, witnessing what can only be described as love.
In a single gulp, the sea swallows up the sun forcing the lovers to part. There is a tenderness to their parting, a sad sort of devotion that the former Mord’Sith feels in the center of her own chest. It’s what the Mother Confessor would call empathy; only in Valeria, when she’d watched Dennee Amnell end the life of her son, had she experienced it to such an extent.
“Love isn’t always easy,” Marina says when she returns to shore, “but it always finds a way.” Noticing the tears streaking Marina’s cheeks, as they walk back to the lighthouse, Cara implements the comforting technique Kahlan taught her on Las Reinas Del Mar. Feeling her hostess lean into her touch, Cara decides it’s working.
That night, as Marina mans the lighthouse, Cara takes her rest on the tiny bed she and Kahlan had shared, thinking that perhaps things would have been different if she’d told Kahlan how she feels. It’s too late now, of course. Surely all of Aydindril is already celebrating the impending nuptials of the Mother Confessor of the Midlands and the shmeeker. When Cara closes her eyes, she sees her there, the Mother Confessor in a beautiful gown, smiling that radiant smile. Sleep finds her cuddled up with her baby penguin; even then the image of Kahlan remains.
***
“Cara,” Marina, says, nudging her shoulder. “You haven’t gotten out of bed in two days. Enough.” With that, she removes the sleeping baby penguin from Cara’s arms and places it on the empty pillow next to her. “Get dressed. We are going to break our fast and go watch the sunrise.” She pulls off Cara’s covers and unceremoniously tosses her leathers at her.
“Fine,” Cara says, with an eye roll. Getting out of bed is pointless and she hasn’t an appetite but Marina is her hostess. It would be rude not to comply -- at least that’s what Kahlan would say.
Marina serves her a healthy helping of a fish porridge that by Cara’s assessment is as foul a concoction as anyone has ever thought up. “Eat. When your lady comes for you she’ll think I’ve been starving you.”
Cara wrinkles her nose and takes a spoonful. “How can you be so certain that she’ll come? She’s probably forgotten all about me by now.”
“Will you stop feeling sorry for yourself? I know she’ll come because she loves you, just as you love her.”
Once Marina is satisfied that Cara has eaten enough, they sit by the shoreline gazing out into the sea. “You do know the sun rises to the east,” Cara points out, with complete disinterest.
“You’ll see,” Marina says.
Suddenly, the reflection of the tall mountain range behind them, lit by the rising sun, turns the sea into a never-ending pool of orange, purple, and swirling clouds of gold. The colors are at once shimmering in the rippling water in front of them, and bursting through the darkness behind them. It’s as beautiful as anything Cara has ever seen -- so beautiful, in fact, that she has to look away. In the end, it is yet another experience that without the Mother Confessor at her side, means nothing.
“What was that?” Cara asks, jumping to her feet when an unidentified flying object swooshes past them.
Marina looks back over her shoulder, furrowing her brow, and says, “Jamal’s flying carpet. He and Fernão must have returned ahead of schedule.” The object in question then makes a second pass, causing both Cara and Marina to duck in an effort to keep their heads firmly attached to their shoulders. “He’s usually a better pilot,” Marina huffs.
The flying contraption lands just a few paces in front them, revealing the Mother Confessor of the Midlands as its cargo. Her hair is a mess of tangles, and by the way she’s glaring between Cara and Marina, she hadn’t expected the Mord’Sith to have company. Marina rolls her eyes and raises her index finger. “No, don’t even think it. She’s been miserable without you,” she says, earning herself a pointed look from Cara.
Sighing in relief, Kahlan closes the space between them, and with a shy smile says, “Hi.”
Cara stands before her, wide-eyed and struggling to form words. When she finally manages it, what comes out isn’t exactly what she’d intended. “Where’s the shmeeker?” Cara asks. Kahlan’s smile disappears but the elbow Marina, in turn, delivers to Cara’s ribs will definitely leave a mark.
“I’m here to see you,” Kahlan says, turning her palms toward the sky. “You Cara, not Richard.”
Thankfully, Marina decides to take matters into her own hands. Grabbing each of them by the elbow, she ushers them inside, and says, “You two go upstairs, I’ll tend to the flying carpet.”
Cara and Kahlan stand awkwardly in the round room for a long moment. With a nod, Cara finally stretches out her arm and says, “Go ahead.”
“Thank you,” Kahlan says, a tentative smile returning to her lips as Cara follows her up the stairs. ‘You’ve lost weight,” she says, once they are in the room. Cara shrugs in response.
“You look tired.” This time it is Kahlan who shrugs.
Cara is right, Kahlan is tired. She’s been traveling on a piece of floor covering for days and her seat bones still ache from weeks spent on that purgatirial saddle. All she wants is to hold Cara in her arms so that she can finally get some sleep. “Do you love me?” she asks, as if such questions were commonplace.
Even her Mord’Sith training can’t help Cara disguise the panic on her face. “Marina mates with a fish-woman,” she blurts out for no apparent reason. “Fish,” Cara says, gesturing from her waist down with her hands, “woman.” She repeats the gesture in the opposite direction.
Kahlan blinks and wrinkles her nose. “That’s…different. But I don’t want to talk about Marina’s peculiar love life or about the shmeeker -- I mean the Seeker, I want to talk about us.” She takes a step toward Cara, who promptly takes a step back which leaves her flush against the wall. Kahlan takes another step toward Cara which leaves them breathing the same breath. “I think you love me,” Kahlan says, kissing the corner of Cara’s lips.
“There is a gigantic white sea monster called a whale and a city called Bonaria and a beast that hires itself out for transport, like a whore only different and --”
“Cara,” Kahlan says, this time kissing her on the lips. “Stop talking. I’ve traveled for days and I’ve hardly slept a wink since you left me. I really need to know if you love me, because if you don’t, I have to get back to Aydindril so that I can hurl myself off the Great Tower.”
Before Cara can answer, a loud squawk startles Kahlan, causing her to pull away. “What was that?”
Cara rolls her eyes, and says, “I didn’t hear anything.”
“Well, then you’ve lost your hearing during my absence,” Kahlan says, walking around the room in an effort to find the source of the odd sound.
“It’s nothing,” Cara says, but a second squawk makes her lose all credibility. Shaking her head in frustration, she reaches under the covers and pulls out the baby penguin. “She’s shy sometimes.”
“Cara, she’s adorable. Can I hold her?” Cara shrugs, and hands her the creature. “Aw, she’s just a baby.” As Cara predicted, ridiculous cooing ensues -- it’s a welcome distraction from Kahlan’s interrogation. “Here, you little cutie, get you back into bed. Don’t worry, your mommy is coming too.” Cara frowns at the implication that she gave birth to the waddling bird but lies on the bed anyway. Kahlan promptly takes her place behind her, resting her chin on Cara’s shoulder so that she can gaze at the baby penguin. Cara pull the covers over the three of them and blows out the flame on the lamp that lights the room.
The feel of Kahlan’s arms around her fills Cara with so much emotion that she decides to take Marina’s advice and express her feelings. Her mouth opens and shuts several times before she can produce actual words. “I do… you know, what you said.” While not the most poetic declaration of love, Cara expected some sort reaction. Instead she is met with a deafening silence that fills her with dread.
“Kahlan?” she says, turning around to look at her, only to find that the Mother Confessor is sound asleep and probably hadn’t heard a word she’d said. It’s just as well, Kahlan did look very tired and Cara has missed lying in Kahlan’s arms so much; talking about feelings will have to wait. “Good night, Kahlan,” Cara says, although it’s less than a candlemark past sunrise.
Marina gingerly opens the door, finding the three of them sound asleep, Cara, Kahlan, and the baby penguin. She shakes her head with a bright grin on her face. Things are as they should be -- well, except that she’ll have to sleep on the tortorous chaise downstairs. Seeing the Mother Confessor and her Mord’Sith together again is well worth it.
***
It is a full two days before the Mother Confessor opens her eyes again. Cara hadn’t moved a muscle the entire time, save to swallow a few spoonfuls of that atrocious fish porridge Marina has been force-feeding her. When she feels Kahlan shift ever so slightly, Cara’s heart pounds against her ribcage with so much zeal that it actually hurts. She also feels a strange churning in her belly that she wishes she could attribute to the porridge. Holding her breath, she lifts her head off the pillow and turns toward her bedmate, finding a pair of beautiful blue eyes looking back at her. “Well? Do you love me or not?” Kahlan asks, as if they’d been engaged in conversation while they slept. Cara rolls her eyes, and shifts so that they are facing each other. With her brows tightly kneaded, Cara tucks a few unruly locks behind Kahlan’s ears and traces her jaw line until she arrives at the Mother Confessor’s chin. She then lifts it ever so slightly and pulls her into a kiss so tender and filled with emotion that when their lips part, Kahlan sighs and says, “You definitely love me.” Cara tips her head and Kahlan smiles; she knows the words will come. For now, it’s enough.
Before Cara can say a word, with a look on her face that is somewhere between panic and confusion, Marina bursts through the door now carrying the baby penguin in her arms, along with a stack of those things that are definitely not parchment. While they are both fond of Marina, her timing is less than ideal. “What is it?” Cara says, shifting her eyes and tipping her head in a not so subtle attempt at making it clear that her visit is inopportune.
“When exactly did you become an actress? These are posted all over Ushuaia,” Marina says, handing her one of those things that are not parchment.
Kahlan promptly sits up on the bed and takes one in her hand as well. “The highly anticipated Ushuaia theatrical debut of the world-renowned actress Cara Mason to take place on the solstice. BUY YOUR TICKETS EARLY,” Kahlan reads aloud.
Cara’s jaw goes completely slack for a moment, but then a flash of insight causes her to roll her eyes. “I’m going to kill him,” she says, or rather growls.
“Who?” Kahlan ask, sitting up in bed rather alarmed.
“Marcelo Alejandro Rivadavia, that’s who.” For Cara is certain that the enterprising boy she’d met during her travels is behind this mess.
“The youth from Bonaria,” Marina says. “It could be. He arrived a few days ago. But why would he think you’re an actress?”
“You know him?” Cara asks, already suspecting there is a conspiracy of some sort.
“Yes, of course, his grandmother runs the fried fish house on the pier. He comes to Ushuaia often.”
Kahlan’s eyes widen and she takes hold of the Mord’Sith’s arm. “Cara, you can’t kill him. That’s the nice lady who gave us raincoats to weather the storm. And…why does he think you’re an actress?” She furrows her brow awaiting a response but it’s much too slow in coming. “Cara,” she says in that tone that makes it clear to Cara that she has no choice but to fess up.
Releasing a long-suffering sigh, she mumbles something that sounds very much like i-maybav-bubbedim. “What?” Kahlan asks, scrunching her nose, thinking that perhaps Cara has taken to speaking in tongues.
Realizing there is no way out of this, Cara finally says, “I may have told him.”
“Well, that explains it,” says Marina to the baby penguin now pressed to her nose, “your mother wishes to explore her creative side.” Noticing the murderous look Cara is shooting her, Marina gingerly steps out of the room.
When they are alone, Kahlan pulls Cara close and kisses the tip of her nose. “Don’t be angry, not when I’m so happy to see you.”
She bites her lower lip and bats her lashes in that way that makes Cara’s heart skip a beat -- or maybe ten. “Are you sure this is what you want?” Cara asks.
The raw emotion and vulnerability Kahlan sees in her eyes moves her to such an extent that she feels herself on the verge of tears. “After everything we’ve been through together, I only know one thing with any degree of certainty. I don’t want to live my life without you. For as implausible as it may seem, you and I make sense, Cara.”
“But what about…babies? The Midlands isn’t like Ushuaia and the other lands we’ve visited. They need the line of Confessors to guide them.”
Kahlan nods. “Yes, they do and I don’t know how, but we’ll find a way. For now, the Midlands will have to settle for the Mother Confessor and her Champion -- if you’ll have me, of course.”
Cara frowns and scratches head; for as smart as she is, Kahlan says the most ridiculous things. The only logical course of action is to stop talking and start kissing. She settles herself alongside Kahlan with her arm draped over Kahlan’s middle. That act alone is enough to cause the Mother Confessor to purr like a kitten. Cara kisses the spot behind Kahlan’s ear, and all along her jaw line before pulling her into a deep, passionate kiss that leaves them both breathless. “If people see us like this,” Kahlan says, “they are going to talk.”
The breathy way in which she says it paints a smirk on Cara’s face. “Really? She asks. “What will they say?”
In one deft move, Kahlan shifts their positions so that she’s lying on top of Cara. “That I’m the luckiest woman in the world.” Taking advantage of their size difference, Kahlan sets about kissing every mole, freckle, and scar that isn’t covered by Cara’s leathers. Not at all displeased by the attention, Cara loses herself in the sensation of Kahlan’s lips traveling across her face and neck, stopping just short of the tops of Cara’s breasts. While Kahlan would love nothing more than to remain in this tiny room forever, after two candlemarks of kissing she pulls away. “I’ve missed this,” Kahlan says, “lying in bed with you like we did at the castle. You make me happy, Cara, happier than I’ve ever been. But now I need to feed you.” She shifts to her side, propping herself up on an elbow and runs her hand down the side of Cara’s body, from shoulder to hip. “You’re too skinny. I can feel your ribs, and your hip bone is as sharp as a razor blade.” Despite Cara’s grumbles, Kahlan drags her out of bed so that they can start their day -- in the middle of the afternoon. What kind of a mate would she be if she allowed Cara to waste away?
Kahlan plans on taking Cara for a leisurely meal at the fried fish house, and while there, making certain young Marcelo Alejandro Rivadavia returns all of the coin he’d made selling tickets for Cara’s alleged theatrical debut. Only it isn’t that simple. “All the inns in Ushuaia are full,” Marina says.
Cara and Kahlan can’t see the relevance of the remark, but in an effort to be polite, Kahlan says, “Oh, that’s nice. The proprietors must be very happy.” After a long silence, Kahlan’s hand goes to her own forehead. “Of course,” she says, “you want your bed back. Marina, I’m so sorry.” Cara tips her head and nods; it’s a logical assumption.
Marina looks between them several times, realizing that they do not understand her meaning. “The inns are sold out because people from places I nerve knew existed have traveled to Ushuaia to watch her,” Marina says, pointing at Cara, “star in The Princess Sleeps. Marcelo’s marketing skills are formidable.”
Cara cants her hip, and turns toward Kahlan. “Now can I kill him?” she asks.
While the thought of killing him isn’t as unappealing as it was earlier, Kahlan still refuses to allow it. “We’ll just have to inform the people at the theatre that there was a misunderstanding. Surely there is an understudy who can take over the role.” It seems like a perfectly reasonable course of action, except that the moment the two of them walk out of the door, they are met with dozens of people outside the lighthouse, hoping to get a glimpse of the highly publicized actress who none of them had actually heard of before. Still, the buzz created by the young marketing genius has set all of Ushuaia ablaze with excitement.
“Ms. Mason,” they scream, all of them vying for her attention. Cara reaches for her weapon but Kahlan quickly takes hold of her wrist. Having heard the commotion, Marina rushes outside and in a deft effort at crowd control, manages to get Kahlan and Cara back in the lighthouse.
“They’ve all gone mad,” Cara says, her expression as close to panic as Kahlan has ever seen. “What do we do?”
Marina and Kahlan look at each other for a moment, then fix their gaze on Cara -- both of them crossing their arms across their chests. It takes a moment but Cara finally understands the implication of that look. “Oh no, don’t even think about. No. No. No,” she says, all the while backing away from them.
“Cara, I know it isn’t fair but we can’t very well disappoint all of those people.” She runs her hand down the length of Cara’s arm and squeezes her hand, all the while looking at her through her lashes -- tossing in a pout for good measure. It’s a tactic Kahlan has successfully implemented throughout their travels, but on this occasion it’s a hard sell.
The bell rings just as Cara is about to protest and Marina, being a woman of discernment, promptly heads for the door, leaving Kahlan to deal with her grumpy Mord’Sith. “My love,” Kahlan says, kissing her sweetly on the lips, “it’s just one night and I’ll be by your side.” She kisses her again, and again after that until she feels Cara’s lips part. The kiss turns passionate, indicating a clear victory for the Mother Confessor. Cara takes her by the hand with the intention of leading her upstairs, but the door opens before they can manage a single step.
“My friends,” says Captain Fernão de Magalhães who stands with his first mate by his side, “I knew we’d meet again, but what I did not know,” he says, turning toward Cara, “was your abilities as a thespian.”
Cara scrunches her nose and tilts her head. “A what-pian?”
Kahlan starts to explain but yet another ring of the bell interrupts her. “Oh Spirits,” she says, suspecting that Cara is on the verge of fleeing. The door opens and before them stands the elderly woman from the fried fish house, and holding her hand is her grandson, the youth from Bonaria. “Cara Mason,” he says, with a grin on his face, “I told you I’d make you a star.”
It is all Cara can do to keep from strangling him, but she does know she is partly responsible for the situation. “I’m not an actress,” she says, pursing her lips with both her hands on her hips.
The boy’s jaw drops and his eyes widen while his grandmother’s hand goes to the center of her chest. “But I’ve invested all of our savings on the play. You, you said you were an act--.”
Fearing the elderly woman is about to experience a syncope from the shock of Cara’s words, Kahlan quickly steps in. “Joking,” she says, doing her best to smile, “she’s just joking. Everything will be fine.” Cara raises a skeptical eyebrow but doesn’t contradict her. Surely Kahlan has a plan of some sort. Perhaps, she’ll borrow the funds to keep the boy and his grandmother from ruin from Aydindril’s treasury.
Jamal and Fernão glance over at each other; this isn’t the best time to mention that the ferry brought with it even more travelers eager to watch the highly touted play. Pulling Marina aside, the Captain says, “The ladies seem a bit overwhelmed. Perhaps some time for themselves would help.”
“Definitely,” Marina says without hesitation.
“We’ll make the arrangements,” the Captain says, squeezing her hand.
For the rest of the afternoon, Kahlan sits on the bed helping Cara learn her lines. Except they can’t seem to keep their hands and lips to themselves long enough for any meaningful learning to occur. “Cara, I have really missed you,” Kahlan moans in to her mouth. “Do you have any idea how difficult it was to keep my hands off of you all those times you paraded around naked?” Her lips have now moved to the tops of Cara’s breasts and the script lies discarded at the foot of the bed. “Oh, that reminds me,” Kahlan says, slipping her hand into the bodice of her travel dress and pulling out the strip of cloth that is all that remains of her Confessor’s gown. “Do you know how much it means to me that you did this for me?” she asks, cupping Cara’s cheek. “No one, Cara, no one in this world has ever made me feel so loved.” Overwhelmed by Kahlan’s words, Cara closes her eyes for a moment, allowing the statement to sink in. Kahlan loves her, not the Seeker, not some knight in shining armor. Kahlan loves her, she has no doubts left.
When Marina walks in -- without bothering to knock -- the laces to Kahlan’s bodice are already half undone. “Oh my,” Marina says, with a smirk on her face, “aren’t you two studious?” Kahlan blushes furiously while Cara scowls at her, wishing she could give her just a tiny taste of her former weapon. “I’m afraid you’ll have to…” Marina trails off, gesturing at Kahlan’s laces, “Jamal has a carriage and driver waiting for you.”
“Has something happened?” Kahlan asks, sitting up on the bed as she laces up her dress.
Looking between them, Marina’s hand goes to her own chin and she says, “Not yet, but I’m sure it will.” Uncertain as to what to expect, both women take their daggers and rush out to the awaiting carriage.
The driver takes them up a mountain path that leads to a cottage providing a breathtaking view of the city. It doesn’t take long for them to realize that they are not headed for a battle of some sort. Kahlan clings to Cara’s arm and kisses her cheek. “It’s beautiful,” she says, as the driver helps them step out of the carriage and hands them the keys to the cottage.
“Captain Fernão de Magalhães and his First Mate have graciously requested that you stay at their home. You will find that everything you need for a comfortable stay has been provided. I will return to take you back to the city in two days.” He bows his head, ushering them inside. Candles are already lit as is the fireplace. The cabin is small and inviting, with round windows like those on Las Reinas Del Mar.
“Nice,” Cara says, with an appreciative nod.
“Look,” Kahlan says, pointing at a pair of doors that have been left open to reveal a gorgeous bedchamber. The implication of it makes Kahlan blush but when she feels Cara’s hand take purchase on her hip, the heat she’d felt on her cheeks radiates to various other areas. Cara kisses her temple and that gesture alone is enough to cause Kahlan to go weak in the knees. “Spirits, Cara, I’m so in love with you.”
Cara kisses her a second time as she leads her into the bedchamber. “I’m not good enough for you, Kahlan, we both know it. But I promise to never stop trying to deserve you.”
“This is what I want, Cara, you are what I want. You don’t have to try and you don’t need to change. I love everything about you.” She punctuates the statement by pulling the former Mord’Sith into a deep, passionate kiss that, she is certain, will stay with them forever. “Now, I’d like you to make love to me. Here, in this perfect place.”
Cara knows this part, she knows it better than most -- but this is Kahlan so she hesitates for a moment, her nerves betraying her. Ever gracious, Kahlan smiles bringing Cara’s trembling hands to the laces of her traveling dress. It’s strangely beautiful, this sudden coyness from Cara. Kahlan savors it for a long moment -- it’s a new side of her soon-to-be lover that she hadn’t seen before. When the dress pools at her feet, Cara takes her hand and helps her step out of it before pressing the hand to her lips -- a sweet and unexpected gesture that only confirms that the Mother Confessor of the Midlands has chosen her mate well.
When Cara reaches for her own laces, Kahlan stops her, mirroring Cara’s previous gesture. “Let me,” she says, as her one of her hands goes to Cara’s cheek. “From this day on, this task is mine and mine alone.”
It isn’t long before they stand before each other in nothing but their own skins. “You’re beautiful,” Cara says, earning herself yet another one of those gorgeous smiles.
Cara watches as Kahlan climbs onto the bed, reaching out her hand for Cara to do the same. She kisses Kahlan’s temple and eyelids and lips, patiently making her way down the column of Kahlan’s neck. A brief pause to gaze up at her eyes is met with a disapproving grunt for Kahlan has wanted this for much longer than even she’d realized. When Cara returns to her task, she’s rewarded by Kahlan releasing tiny sounds of pleasure that, as Cara presses on, quickly turn into a series of moans. It’s as if Cara had prepared for this moment her entire life, as if they’d studied each other’s pleasure for lifetimes. “You’ve always been mine,” Kahlan breathes out and Cara can feel the truth of those words down to her very bones. It isn’t long before Kahlan’s back arches off the bed as Cara’s skillful hands have her on the verge of finding her release. But it’s too soon; Cara wants this to last, to go on forever perhaps, so she pulls away and returns to Kahlan’s lips. It earns her a groan but when she feels Cara’s tongue licking her lips, Kahlan’s own lips part and all is forgiven -- for now. She’s wanted this for far too long to be patient.
“I need you,” she moans into Cara mouth. Cara complies by turning her attention to Kahlan’s breasts, taking one hard peak in her mouth and rolling the other between her fingers. Kahlan responds to Cara’s attentions with perfect candor, holding nothing back. It’s a type of honesty Cara has never experienced. With one last glance at the Mother Confessor, Cara glides down Kahlan’s body and parts her thighs with the intention of taking Kahlan in her mouth. Except Kahlan stops her. “Wait,” she blurts out quite unexpectedly.
“Why?” Cara asks, confused by Kahlan’s abrupt shift.
“There’s a place, an island called Lesbos,” she says, laboring to breathe, “I need you to promise me you’ll never set foot there. It’s a…very dangerous place.”
Cara manages to repress a smirk. Thinking it best not to mention that during her journey she’d considered taking up permanent residence there, Cara nods in agreement.
“Oh Spirits,” Kahlan breathes out, “carry on.” Her legs are now slung over Cara’s shoulders, and the things the former Mord’Sith is doing to her are, well, very pleasurable. Her only regret is not having a name for them so that she can request them in the future -- in the very near future. It isn’t long before Cara can feel Kahlan on the verge of coming undone, and that alone pushes Cara’s own desire to the brink. Only, when Kahlan feels her magic fighting for release, she pushes her away.
“Kahlan,” Cara says, the name every bit a plea.
“My magic, Cara, I’d never forgive myself if…” she trails off panting.
Cara knows what will erase Kahlan’s fear, but it isn’t easy, saying those three words she hasn’t uttered since childhood. After shutting her eyes for a moment to steel herself, she looks up at Kahlan and says, “I love you more than my own life, Kahlan. I’m already yours.” And, for the first time, Kahlan can see past Cara’s Mord’Sith training, finding nothing but love.
Kahlan feels herself on the verge of tears, tears of joy. Cara loves her, it’s there, in her eyes, and she loves her enough to speak those three words. Kahlan takes hold of a fistful of Cara’s hair, and draws her into a kiss. “I want to feel you inside me,” she says when their lips part. Cara complies without hesitation. This is Kahlan, writhing beneath her, aching for her touch. Kahlan reaches her release like that, clinging to Cara as she cries out her name in ecstasy. All the while Cara’s arms are wrapped around her, feeling Confessor magic course through her own body. For a moment, it feels as if she were melting into Kahlan, as if their bodies were occupying the same space. It’s like nothing she’s ever experienced. As Kahlan returns to her body, she notices a single tear rolling down Cara’s cheek. Instead of mentioning it, she kisses it away.
“I’ve loved you from the moment I first saw you,” Kahlan says, her head now resting on Cara’s shoulder. “In my heart, I knew it, but my mind could not make sense of it. Every time I held you in my arms, I knew you were mine and I was yours.”
“Every Mord’Sith is trained to hate Confessors, but when I saw you for the first time, I didn’t hate you. I knew someday we’d come face to face again, and it would change my life.” She traces Kahlan’s features with her fingertips, lingering on her lips. “Perhaps Marina was right all along.”
Kahlan smiles and nuzzles into Cara’s hair. “I have so much to learn,” Kahlan says in a small voice.
Cara furrows her brow for a moment before understanding her meaning. With a smirk on her face, she says, “I guess you can practice on me -- every day, for the rest of our lives.”
“Are you suggesting I’m a slow learner?” Kahlan asks with mock indignation. Before Cara can defend herself, Kahlan pins down her shoulders and straddles her. In less than a heartbeat, she deftly takes hold of Cara’s wrists and crushes their lips together. Cara is duly impressed.
Kahlan pulls away for a moment to take in the view. “Spirits, Cara, you’re impossibly beautiful, and these,” she says wide-eyed looking down at Cara’s breasts, “oh my.” That is all she can manage before tasting the apex of one of Cara’s breasts with the tip of her tongue. “Oh, these are wonderful,” she says.
With that, she nips and licks and swirls her tongue on each of them, too focused on her task to notice that Cara is writhing and mewling and arching beneath her. “K-K-Kahlan,” Cara says, finally breaking the Mother Confessor’s breasts-induced trance. “I need you to…” she breathes out.
Kahlan swallows hard and furrows her brow, kissing her way down Cara’s body with so much tenderness that Cara thinks she may shatter from it, but it feels good. This, she supposes is the difference between having sex and making love -- a distinction she’d previously regarded as mythical.
“Oh Cara,” Kahlan says in awe, parting Cara’s legs and kissing her inner thighs, before taking in the scent of her. She can feel heat radiating from Cara’s center, along with ample evidence of Cara’s desire for her. It’s overwhelmingly beautiful so she pauses for a moment to take it all in, which prompts Cara to arch her hips off the bed as a means of emphasizing the urgency of the situation.
“Right,” Kahlan says, returning to herself. She takes Cara in her mouth, feasting on her through two consecutive orgasms, leaving the former Mord’Sith looking every bit the picture of contentment. Kahlan is certain that nothing in this world is more beautiful than Cara Mason taking her pleasure. The sight of her like that is something of which Kahlan will never tire.
“How did I do?” Kahlan murmurs in Cara’s ear when she feels her shift in her arms.
Cara, definitely well-sexed, purses her lips and nods. “You’ve either done this before, or you’re some sort of sexual savant.” Kahlan giggles and kisses her. Tasting herself on the Mother Confessor’s lips is a pleasure Cara never thought she’d experience. They drift off into sleep already knowing what is in store for them tomorrow. Sometimes life can be so very beautiful.
***
While Cara and Kahlan are away, Ushuaia bustles with activity. Given the unprecedented amount of tickets sold for The Princess Sleeps, a change of venue has been arranged. The play will be performed at an outdoor arena overlooking the sea. The mild spring climate and the natural lighting, young Marcelo has determined, will only add to the performance. In the interim, tourists continue to arrive in droves; this due mostly to the efforts of one woman, who having seen one of the many flyers distributed through a series of outlets, took it upon herself to provide expedited means of transportation. She’d sent Marcelo a cryptic correspondence claiming her “Mistress” would be pleased if the play were to succeed. The boy had no idea how she managed it, but true to her word, people were arriving from as far away as Cagliari and beyond in a tenth of the time it would usually require.
Fernão’s driver delivers Cara and Kahlan back to the lighthouse via a little known path to avoid the crowd. By the broad smiles on both their faces and the way they are clinging to each other, Marina has no doubt their time at the cottage was exceedingly pleasurable. “You two look happy,” Marina says, raising both her eyebrows and nodding approvingly. “I take it you enjoyed each other -- I mean, yourselves.” Kahlan blushes furiously at the remark, while Cara delivers her smuggest of smirks.
“Sit,” Marina says, “I’ll bring dinner out.” Noticing the expression on Cara’s face, she adds, “Fish stew, not porridge. That was just to put some meat on your sorry bones.” Cara releases a breath, relieved at the change in menu. “She’s a mess without you,” Marina tells Kahlan and promptly heads for the kitchen to escape Cara’s imminent protest.
“So you missed me,” Kahlan says, nuzzling into Cara’s neck.
Cara frowns and thinks to deny it, but having no doubt that Kahlan can now read her, she gives up on subterfuge. “You already know I did.” Her forced candor is rewarded by a series of kisses that are on the verge of turning passionate just as Marina walks in with their meal.
Over dinner, Marina casually mentions that Cara’s wardrobe for the play had been delivered that morning. “Have you learned all your lines?” she asked.
Cara turns toward Kahlan in the hopes finding a kindred spirit but is met with a cringe followed by a gentle squeeze of her hand, instead. Clearly not what she’d expected. “I have not learned any lines nor do I intend on --.” Her statement cut short by a ring of that blessed bell.
“I’ll get it,” Kahlan and Marina say in unison, both quick to their feet to avoid Cara’s wrath.
All the former Mord’Sith can do is watch as the other two women make their escape. Already she knows that in the end she’ll have no choice but to make a public spectacle of herself. It isn’t as if she’ll be able to refuse Kahlan. How can she when Kahlan will surely do that thing with her lashes, and nibble at her earlobe, and probably lean in to kiss her at just the right angle to provide her with an exquisite view of her cleavage. It’s a lost cause that will only get worse over the years. Already she knows that someday there will be little Confessors tugging at her sleeves only it won’t feel like her sleeves, it will feel like her heart, and much like Kahlan, they will have their way with her. She might as well give up now and march upstairs to try on whatever ridiculous costume Marcelo has dreamed up for her to wear. The worst part of this mess is that she can feel the immense grin on her face at the thought of Kahlan and those hypothetical little Confessors ruining her life. Her treacherous mind is already selecting names for these unborn little girls who will be the image of their mother. If she still had her agiel, she’d surely use it on herself, except if she did, she’d miss Kahlan so much she’d have to strike a deal with the Keeper and come back as a baneling.
“Cara,” Kahlan says, interrupting her musings, “come quickly.” She takes hold of Cara’s hand, dragging her outside.
Standing before her are the Mayor of Avenio and his wife, Rabindranath and his three daughters, a woman carrying an infant, and most surprising of all, Ganesh. “Hello,” says the Mayor, “we thought we’d miss your performance but it’s as if time flew. The voyage seemed a magical experience.” The others glance as each other nodding in agreement.
Kali promptly reaches out her arms to Cara. The former Mord’Sith lifts her off the ground and carries her on her hip. “Little one, you’ve grown,” Cara says, with a lopsided smile on her face
“Yes, I’m old,” Kali says, shaking her head, “that’s my new sister.” She point to the woman holding the infant who must be Rabindranath’s wife. “I’m not the baby anymore.”
Cara walks over to Ganesh, still carrying the child in her arms, thinking it best to leave Kahlan to do the talking. How, exactly, they transported the elephant to Ushuaia is a question that she dares not ask. She is, however, more certain than ever that short of divine intervention, she will be performing in that ridiculous play. “It isn’t easy,” Kali says. “I liked being the baby. Now I’m a big girl.”
Cara is certain she’s supposed to say something but she has no idea what. “There’s a gigantic sea monster called whale,” she finally tells Kali. Blurting out random facts has become her preferred approach to all difficult conversations these days.
“Bigger than Ganesh?” Kali asks, eyes opened wide. Cara purses her lips and nods. Kali is render speechless; Cara has a deep appreciation for whales. As the sun sets, she and Cara sit on a rock looking out onto the sea until the sound of the waves lull the little one to sleep. For as much as Cara laments the fate of her fallen sister, feeling Kali’s chest rise and fall against her own lead Cara to consider that perhaps it was for the best. The world is a safer place for this beautiful child and many more like her.
After what to Cara seem like a lifetime of idle prattle, both families say good night and head for their respective inns. Rabindranath has set up a comfortable tent for Ganesh behind the lighthouse, with a promise from Cara to look in on him in the morning. For as much as Cara and Kahlan would like nothing more than time to themselves, reconnecting with their friends made them both very happy.
Since Marina will be manning the lighthouse for the rest of the evening, Cara and Kahlan decide take a stroll along the seashore. Cara cannot recall having ever held hands with anyone; it feels surprisingly good to look down to find their fingers threaded together. “Berdine and Raina used to do this when they thought no one was watching,” Cara says.
“I wish I would have had a chance to meet Berdine. I’d like to thank her for being good to you.” As the temperature drops, Cara pulls Kahlan closer so that she can benefit from the warmth provided by Cara’s spelled leathers, or maybe because she loves holding Kahlan in her arms.
Just then a young man walks past them and Cara does her best to avoid his gaze by nuzzling into Kahlan’s hair. “Excuse me for staring” he says, “you…I…forgive me.” He walks away, looking over his shoulder at Cara repeatedly.
“Do you know him?” Kahlan asks.
Aware that Kahlan will read her deceit, Cara ops for a true, if incomplete, response. “He’s a good person.” Perhaps some day she’ll tell Kahlan about the young hero who mistook her for an angel. Kahlan takes her cryptic response as a signal that Cara isn’t ready to talk about whatever transpired between them.