“Not folklore, not to us. It’s fact. Commander Hobin is Ber’anor.”
“I don’t … I can’t …” She stopped, huffed and started again. “You’re saying that there is a conscious, living mind behind the goodness. It implies purpose, Fel’annár. You are speaking of a person.”
“I know. Believe me, Llyn. I’ve struggled with the concept for months now. It isn’t necessary that you believe all this. But I do need to tell you.”
“That Hobin is Ber’anor … tell me, why is this so important to you?”
Fel’annár could see her eyes, questing for some knowledge she might read from him, to understand. He needed to speak more clearly. “He came to me, as is his duty as Divine Servant. His purpose is to guide others upon their path of service to Aria. He came to help me.”
Her lovely honey eyes bulged, filled with unshed tears of shock for the sheer enormity of what he had said. She swayed backwards. “You believe yourself a Divine Servant?”
“I believe it. Hobin confirms it. Llyniel. I have seen the face of Aria. How can I deny her existence? How can I refuse the call of divine duty? I’ve always felt it, for as long as I can remember. I’ve always seen her in a tree, looking down on me, myself nothing but a babe. At first, I thought she was my mother but then I saw her, too, and they were different.”
She stared back at him, and for the first time Fel’annár struggled to understand what she was thinking. For the first time he truly contemplated the thought that she might not accept him. That she might walk away from him. His stomach plummeted, almost felt sick, for the wait was unbearable. This very thing had happened between Lainon and Tensári, had separated them for a century. He startled at her soft and careful words.
“I understand that you believe, Fel’annár. You are Ari’atór. Faith is in your blood but I … I can’t just believe it. I cannot conjure the image of an all-powerful entity that watches over us with a conscious mind. A divine queen, her divine servants … there’s too much suffering in the world.”
“Llyniel. Stop. It’s not necessary. You don’t have to believe it, but I did have to tell you. I’ve not lost my mind and I love you. It’s why I hesitated to tell you before: because I understand your reaction and I was afraid to lose you.”
He leaned back a little, felt the familiar warmth of Lainon’s Guiding Light in his eyes. He braced himself for how she would answer his next question, now that she knew. “Do you accept me as I am? All of me, as your soulmate?” His voice was nothing but a whisper, the flow of power collecting at the doors of his mind, of his eyes, begging for freedom. The pressure was almost unbearable, the need to hear her answer agonising.
Her eyes danced from one side of his face to the other, eyes that were wide and bright with wonder and dawning understanding. Then he saw tiny pinpricks of light in her eyes, knew she saw them in his. He had no control over this rush of raw power that had invaded him. He stood on the brink of some bottomless chasm, or was it a roofless sky? His soul pounded inside him—agitated, desperate, and the lights shone brighter in her eyes. And yet she moved forwards, unperturbed, breeching the gap that separated them.
One, hot hand seemed to burn into his cheek.
“I accepted you upon the slopes of Tar’eastór, the day you would have selflessly given your life in service, even though I thought I knew I would never see you again. You have me, Fel’annár. My love for you is stronger than my own mind, stronger than my ability to stop this … this force that is sweeping me away with you. I can’t stop it. I don’t want to.”
He lifted a hand to cover hers, still on his cheek. He turned to kiss her palm, heart taking flight and soaring upon the currents of her answer. She shifted forwards until her knees touched his, her hands coming to rest on his thighs. His eyes burned hotter, a green haze falling around them, but she didn’t turn away. She gazed back at him, and although he knew her doubts about Aria, so too did he see her love for him. Love and acceptance.
And wonder.
“We leave soon, and well you know there will be no time for us on the road. It’ll be dangerous and we must all keep our wits about us. I cannot lose myself in you once we step out of those gates,” said Fel’annár.
She leaned forward, pulling his face towards hers. Her lips were so supple, so slow as they moved over his. “Then lose yourself in me now, Ari’atór. Show me how you love your Connate. Bond with me.”
His heart burst with joy and he wondered how it would happen—how exactly their souls would join. Was it enough to simply desire it? He looked at her with hopeful eyes, questioning eyes, saw her own doubts. She was just as lost as he was, and so he captured her lips once more. Soft at first, then hard and needy, driven by a soul-deep need for acceptance, a quest for that part of himself that would reach out to her. He could feel himself, body impossibly stretched, searching for her essence so that he could swallow it, feel her in his mind, bind her to him. He had never understood the concept of soulmates, had never understood the nature of Connates. Yet now, all he could do was marvel at the power that surged, slowly vanquishing his will and pushing him dizzyingly towards a light that pulsed ever brighter.
A rush of something primal seemed to flow from him. She gasped and pulled away, eyes wide and disbelieving. Then she kissed him, pulling him against her, pressing their bodies as close together as she could. She was not Ari’atór, but she seemed to feel at least a part of what he did. They were so close Fel’annár could no longer focus. He leaned back a little until her features sharpened.
One hand was on his shirt, unclasping it, pushing it apart. His own hands were on her, loosening the laces of her simple dress, and when skin was upon skin and they sat entwined, Fel’annár looked at her through the haze in his eyes. He could see the same heat in hers, the same desire, the same storm that was wresting their control. He needed to see her eyes.
“Don’t look away. Come bravely to me.”
“You have all of me.”
He could see the moment she steeled herself, opened herself to the energy that pulsed around them, and when it breeched her lowered defences, Fel’annár felt bliss as he never had done before. It engulfed him, cocooned them both, swirled and whipped around them until there was nothing else. Only pleasure.
He felt himself sink into her, her mind, her essence. All that she was opened to him. There was a bridge before them, one he knew he would never sunder, and he gasped at the rush of emotions. Her light penetrated his mind, shredding it, flinging it into the air, and he was changed. As the pieces fell into place, a surge of utter bliss carried him away.
Overwhelming.
Tears leaked from his eyes but he could not stop. His arms pressed around her as if he could push his whole body into hers, skin and muscle, blood and bones, and when she cried out, he followed, enduring the merciless storm that engulfed them both. It was mindless, primal, frightening and then uplifting.
It was sheer bliss.
She lay below him, chest heaving, brow furrowed, and in her honey-coloured eyes there was love mixed with confusion. Something beyond her conscious mind clamoured at the doors of comprehension. He knew this because he felt it too.