18. Kira

18

KIRA

T he sun is setting, painting the sky in shades of fire and blood, as I stand at the window of our bedchamber, lost in thought. In the wake of the warding debacle and the horrors that followed, I find myself adrift, my mind awhirl with questions and uncertainties.

I'm so deep in my own head that I don't hear Malachar enter, only becoming aware of his presence when his arms slip around my waist from behind, his chin coming to rest on my shoulder. "A copper for your thoughts, my love," he murmurs, his breath stirring the fine hairs at my temple.

I sigh, leaning back into the solid warmth of him. "I'm not sure they're worth that much," I reply, a wry twist to my lips. "Just... thinking. About everything that's happened. About what comes next."

He's quiet for a moment, his thumbs stroking idle patterns on my hips through the thin silk of my robe. "And what do you see?" he asks at last, his voice carefully neutral. "When you look to the future, to our future... what is it that you want?"

I turn in the circle of his arms, tipping my head back to meet his gaze. In the dying light, his eyes are wells of fathomless shadow, glinting with eldritch sparks. "Honestly? I'm not entirely sure." I worry my lower lip between my teeth, trying to marshal my chaotic thoughts into words. "I love you, Malachar. I love our life here, the home we've built. But..."

"But?" he prompts gently when I trail off, one elegant brow arching in question.

"But I can't help feeling like there's more I need to do. More I need to learn." The words come out in a rush, as if they've been waiting to be spoken. "Magic, the Art... it's a part of me now, as vital as breathing. And I've barely scratched the surface. There's so much I don't know, so much I have yet to master..."

Malachar is silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he nods. "I understand," he says quietly. "Better than you might think. The hunger for knowledge, for power... it's a fire that can never truly be quenched. I know this well."

His gaze turns distant, as if seeing into some far-off place or time. "I had thought..." He pauses, a flicker of something raw and vulnerable crossing his face. "I had hoped that, in time, you might come to desire other things. A family. Offspring, to carry on our legacy."

My breath catches in my throat, my heart giving a strange, lurching thump. "Children?" I manage, my voice sounding strangled to my own ears. "I... I hadn't really..."

"Forgive me," Malachar says quickly, his hands tightening on my waist. "I shouldn't have... it's too soon. You're still so young, with so much yet ahead of you. It was foolish of me to even suggest..."

"No," I interrupt, feeling a sudden, fierce swell of emotion. "No, it's not... I do want that. A family, with you. Someday."

And as I say the words, I realize they're true. The idea of bearing Malachar's children, of creating new life with him... it fills me with a warmth, a yearning, that threatens to steal my breath. "But I need time," I continue, holding his gaze with my own. "Time to grow into my power, to become the dark sorceress, the woman, I know I can be. I'm not... I'm not ready. Not yet."

Malachar's expression softens, a tender light kindling in the depths of his eyes. "Of course, my dark heart" he murmurs, lifting one hand to cradle my cheek. "You must follow your path, my heart, wherever it leads you. I would never seek to cage your ambitions, your desires."

I take a deep breath, gathering my courage. "What would you think about me attending a magical academy? Somewhere I could formalize my training, expand my knowledge in a structured way? I know it would mean being apart, but..."

"Yes," he says simply, stunning me to silence.

I blink at him, sure I must have misheard. "Yes?"

He smiles, a slow, soft curve of his lips. "Yes, my love. I think it's an excellent idea."

He brushes a thumb over my cheekbone, his touch achingly gentle. "Your magic is a treasure, a gift beyond price. It deserves to be nurtured, honed to its fullest potential. I do not possess such folly to think I can grant you a complete education myself. I should have thought of it myself. And if that means a brief separation..."

He shrugs, a fluid ripple of his shoulders. "It is a small price to pay, for the joy of watching you grow into your power."

I gape at him, my heart so full it feels like it might shatter. "You never cease to amaze me," I manage at last, my voice rough with emotion. "Just when I think I couldn't possibly love you more..."

He silences me with a kiss, soft and sweet and brimming with promise. "I am ever at your service, my princess," he murmurs against my lips, his tone playful but sincere. "Now, shall we discuss these academies of yours? I believe I know of a few that might suit your particular talents."

And so we do, ensconced in the warmth of our chambers as the night deepens beyond the windows. We speak of the great magical colleges, their histories and specialties, the masters who teach within their hallowed halls. Of the Serensong Institute located in the Summer Court, with its soaring crystal spires and focus on the melding of magic and music. Of the Academy of the Whisperwind, hidden deep in the cold and mist-shrouded valley of the Winter Court, where the arts of illusion and shadow-weaving are taught.

But it's the Deepwild Academy that snares my interest, that sets a spark of wild excitement kindling in my breast located in the Spring Court. Situated in the heart of the most ancient, untamed reaches of the Faewild, it's a place of primal power and even more primal knowledge. The magic taught there is raw, elemental, drawn from the very bones of the earth and the fire at the core of stars.

It calls to me, that wildness, that unfettered intensity. It sings in my blood like a siren's melody, promising secrets and wonders beyond imagining.

Malachar, perhaps sensing the direction of my thoughts, regards me with a knowing look. "The Deepwild Academy of Greater Evocation," he muses, his eyes glinting with reflected flames. "It would be a challenge, make no mistake. The training is arduous, the dangers manifold. But..."

"But?" I prompt, an echo of his earlier query.

He smiles, fierce and proud. "But if any student could thrive there, could bend the primal forces to her will and emerge all the stronger for it... it would be you, my love. Of that, I have no doubt."

I feel a rush of heat suffuse my cheeks, a mingled flush of pleasure and anticipation. "You really think so?"

"I know so," he replies simply. "You are a child of the storm, Kira. A wild thing, in the best and truest sense. To cage you in the halls of a more traditional academy would be to dim your light, to bank the fires that rage within you."

He takes my hands in his, his skin warm and thrumming with quiet power. "Deepwild will hone you, temper you, but it will never seek to tame you. As it should be."

Tears sting my eyes, brimming over to course down my cheeks. "I don't know what I did to deserve you," I rasp, my voice clogged with emotion. "But I swear, Malachar, I will make you proud. I'll learn everything the Deepwild has to teach me, master every scrap of lore and power. And when I return..."

"When you return," he says, low and fervent, "you will be a queen in truth. A sorceress without equal, the light of the Blanchmire and the dread of its foes." He draws me close, folding me into the shelter of his arms as he rests his brow against mine. "And I... I will be waiting, as I always am. Waiting for my love, my lady, the bright star that guides me through the endless dark."

I cling to him, letting his strength, his certainty, pour into me like a river of molten steel. In his arms, with the path of my future unfurling before me like a banner caught in a high wind, anything seems possible. Any height scalable, any dream within reach.

"I love you," I murmur into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. "More than magic, more than power, more than life itself. Always and always, Malachar."

"And I love you," he whispers back, fierce and fervent. "Across all the worlds and all the ages, Kira. Let the stars bear witness."

And there, cocooned in the warmth of our love and the shimmering potential of tomorrow, I close my eyes and surrender to dreams of the future. Of the triumphs and trials that await, the wonders and wildness that beckon.

But most of all, of the dark and glorious eternity that stretches out before us, waiting to be claimed.

THE END