Reciprocation

The moment she had an hour in between her sword practice and letter-writing, Katreia brisk-walked through the halls to knock on Akherien's door.

“Herien, it's me!”

When he opened it and poked his head through, his face brightened. “Kat, there you are!”

Her heart leapt at the sight of him, then continued to race as she answered, “Afternoon, Herien.” She glanced up and down the corridor to make sure no one was watching. “May I come inside?”

He blinked a few times. “Oh—of course.”

Katreia was aware of Akherien’s eyes following her carefully as she shut the door behind herself and slipped inside. It was her first time properly inside his room, and she lingered for a while, soaking in all its details. It was half the size of hers, but he had made a cosy nest out of it—copious books on his table, candles of various shapes on every flat surface, and a bed that had yet to be made.

When she met Akherien’s eye again, his gaze wavered between her face and the wall. She found herself watching, captivated by the way his dark irises darted about.

“Kat—I hope you're well,” he said haltingly, and she wondered if he felt as nervous as she did, being together alone.

“I could not be better,” she replied. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Ah! Anytime.”

The day they had kissed in the amphitheatre, they had heard too many footsteps in the halls outside and had parted before anyone could catch them. At the time, everyone had known Katreia to be betrothed to the Prince of Kerade. So she had asked for silence, and they had walked away as princess and mage-servant, one dutifully tailing the other.

Since then, amid the castle's furore over the revelation that she was the Sword Princess and deciding what exactly that entailed, they had not met to discuss this. And for a few months, the inside of her head had been the only place where Katreia could have Akherien in the way she wanted.

But then the letter had arrived from Kerade, carrying their offer of permanent freedom and Eretain’s annulment of the betrothal. And Katreia had talked to Cendreile the day before her departure, and she had revealed…

Again, her eyes met Akherien’s, and she felt her body weaken with months of wanting. How cruel of the circumstances to deny her of this for so long.

But even during the time when it had been forbidden to her, she had always felt the need in her body pulling her back to him—hadn’t she?

Maybe that was why it had felt like falling off a precipice into the ocean—all her thoughts snapping into orbit around him, every memory with him now ten times sweeter, played over and over inside the theatre of her mind.

How had he lived with such feelings for so long without uttering a word?

But of course, that was what Akherien would do. He would not speak if he knew it would harm her, no matter how he longed to.

As she brushed past him, Katreia paused and reached out to caress his cheek—maybe just to check if this was the real thing, not another of her fantasies. Or maybe just to feel his warmth again. His face softened into a smile.

“Could we sit?” she asked.

His eyes, briefly beset with uncertainty, darted about the room, and he finally pulled her his desk chair, nodding at her. She took the seat, and then she rotated the chair to face his bed, where he had placed himself.

He watched her inquisitively for a moment. “What did you want to talk about?”

Inhaling deeply, she said, “I spoke to Cendreile yesterday. She says that a few years ago, the two of you talked, and you told her how you felt about me.”

“Oh…yes.” Akherien seemed to need no prodding to remember exactly which conversation Katreia meant. “It was just before we went to Maen-orin. I…didn't really tell her—she guessed how I felt.”

“And how did you feel?”

Briefly, Akherien looked like he had just been asked to leap from the castle ramparts, but then he said, “Like I was lucky even to be your friend. And other things, too.” He swallowed. “I… I don't know how to start talking about it. Sorry, I spent so long learning not to. Please, ask me questions.”

Briefly, she saw how tightly the secret still gripped him, and she said, “All right.” There were already a few things she knew she wanted to ask. “First… When you kissed me, was that the first time you had thought of doing it?”

She could guess the answer, just from her memory of how quick and certain it had been, but she couldn't deny the pleasure of watching him blush to the tips of his ears as he murmured, “No.”

“Did you think about it often?”

He pulled his arms closer. “A—almost every time you stood or sat close to me, for a while. I dreamt about it, too.”

Now her own face flushed at the thought that he had harboured so much pent-up longing for so long. “And when we were twelve and talking with Sariell about Qenerain, and I asked you if there was someone you were in love with…was there someone?”

He nodded.

“Was it me?”

Again he nodded.

“Were you upset I was betrothed to Eretain?”

He closed his eyes. “I…I did my best not to be.”

These words sent a hot ache searing through her chest. So it was true: he had felt this way for years, but he had resolved not to reveal them. He had been all but ready to let her go to Eretain.

She felt out of breath. What if she had never found out?

“I'm impressed—you did a great job of hiding it,” she laughed, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “That must have been torture. And I wasn't paying enough attention, but maybe that was because I wasn't letting myself think about anyone that way, with the betrothal and all that.”

“I can only imagine,” he replied, venturing a glance at her again. She saw how his gaze caught on hers and stuck, like she was the only thing in the room worth looking at—and then she realised that this was how he had always looked at her.

Katreia sighed. “Unfortunately there was one hitch in both our plans. That, regardless of how I pushed the possibility away, you might be so irresistible that I would fall for you anyway.” She grinned when his fingers went tense in hers. “And now I'm no longer betrothed, I can be honest: I am in love with you, Herien, and it's driving me mad. And I never want either of us to deny ourselves of this ever again, for as long as we want it.”

He spent just a moment longer staring at her, making sense of her words, and then his hand wrapped around hers, pulling her in. She leaned into his pull, and when their bodies met, she pressed up to him and kissed him as deeply as she never could before.

Her fingers worked his hairband loose as they fell onto his bed, side by side, his dark hair fanning across the mattress. She brushed locks from his eyes, and he cupped her face with his palms.

Pressed against him, she could feel his every breath rising and falling. They kissed and touched and caressed each other in ways that would surely scandalise her mother, but her mother’s wishes were far from her mind as they tangled with each other, lost in the joy they had almost never had.

“Oh, Kat…” Akherien said hazily, fingers brushing her cheek. “Is this really…all right? Even without the betrothal, you are still the princess.”

She laid a hand over his, clasping it the way she never would have let herself before. She felt herself drowning in those obsidian-dark eyes. “And you’ve been one of my best friends for a decade,” she whispered. “I wasn't meant to have a best friend outside my extended family. But it happened anyway. And I wasn't meant to fall in love, either.” Then her eyes closed. “But you are right, my mother would be livid if she knew we were getting this intimate before she allowed you to court me. So, once we leave the room, we can't tell anyone about this until we have her permission…”

The notion of asking the Queen for permission seemed to scare him, but he nodded. “I will wait for as long as I must.”

She beamed, nestling her head in the crook of his neck. “Of course you would. I'm the one who has had barely any practice.”