I felt her make a deep effort to concentrate and try to rid her mind of everything save what Shikrar needed to hear. It was not a bad attempt, and certainly a vast improvement on what had gone before. She learned quickly.
"I thank you, my friend oh dear friend. I hear what your Council might say oh please let them understand but I shall abide by your wishes in all things. I shall wait to hear from you tomorrow night."
It was very convincing. The last portion was quite clear of underthought. I was pleased; she had a natural talent for truespeech and needed only a little instruction and some practice. "That was well done," I told her.
"And now, little sister," I sent to her, controlled, calm, keeping my heart closed to her as best I could. "Come to me."
I had come by chance near the place he meant, and as I walked and listened to him I found the little square space with its gate. Somehow, once I was inside, hidden by the trees, separated by only an ancient fence from safety and love, I lost much of my fear. Let them search! How should they find me? And who would dare attack me, with Akor no distance away? I wept then, for relief, then very deliberately loosed my hair from its braid. Let him see me as few others had. It was only fair.
I tried to think of how to tell him about what had happened, or of any of the thousand questions I had always wanted to ask, but I could barely think at all. I felt him near, all my being was moving me, moment by moment, away from fear and towards Akor.
Akor.
The very name hung between us like a silken cord, pulling me towards where he waited; I could feel it tugging at me.
Akor, Akor.
I waited in hiding, that she should see me only when she herself requested it. I held tightly to Calm, breathed as that Discipline demanded, tried to keep my mind clear of my foolish thoughts.
I had thought I was prepared, but I could not have known. None of the Disciplines, none of my training, nothing in all my centuries had prepared me for that bond, unspoken, unexpected, unrealised in its fullness until that hour. Nothing could have prepared me for the sound of her voice so full of what I was feeling, for the sight of her in the daylight seen clearly at last.
When she whispered up to me through the trees, trembling, her heart full of love, I nearly stopped breathing. It was as though her words were tied to the strings of my heart, and each note plucked at my pulse like wild, distant music. I forgot my strong resolve, forgot my determination to remain cautious and wary, forgot everything but the sound of her voice and that she seemed to me in all ways more wondrous than any creature I had ever known.
"Akor?" I whispered. "Akor, are you there?"
"I am here, dear one," I replied.
And with those words I released all fears. I would not think of Shikrar, or of the Kindred, or of what might happen. For once in my long life I would live as if there would be no tomorrow.
I felt the Fire stir within me. No more boundaries. There were only the two of us now, and whatever truth we might find together. I moved forward slowly into a small gap in the trees, trying to still this mad riot in myself. I remembered at least to speak quietly for her.
She gasped as I came into her sight. I did not have to ask why. Were we differently made, I would have done so as well.
Her hair like a living waterfall waved gently in the breeze, gleaming the same colour as the sunset, and her eyes were grey as winter storms. She was altogether beautiful, tall for her kind and lithe as I had seen her that first day, and her mind and heart were open to me. There was the true beauty of her:
I found myself wondering what colour her soulgem would be.
I will never forget seeing him in the light of the setting sun .
He was more glorious in the day than he had been by the light of the moon. Even in that golden light he shone silver. The sun caught his soulgem as he leaned down to me and it sent out a flash of emerald fire. His eyes were green as well, of the same hue, as though the same fire burned behind all. He seemed for a moment to be the work of some unimaginable jeweller. I could see his scales now, how smoothly they slid over one another. And I had been wrong about his face, it was not truly a mask. There was a wide ridge of bone on top, of a piece with the horns that curved back and up—but below that was what looked like soft skin with small scales on it. I longed to reach out and touch, see what it felt like.
And he said, "My dear one, you are welcome." I didn't even bother to ask how he knew my thoughts. He came close, close, his head near my hand, as he had been the first night when he told me his name. And his voice was soft and more full of song than ever man's could be.
"I permit, Lanen. Touch me. Know that I am here, that I am real."
"That I feel as you do."
I began to reach out and found my hands would not obey. I stared, lost in wonder at this wonder before me. Slowly, slowly, I reached out one hand and touched his face on the long ridge below his eyes.
It was warm, even that smooth silver bone was warm.
I moved my hand slowly; slowly, in awe at what I did, to the soft skin below. My hand trembled as I was trembling, I could bear only the lightest touch of him. The scales were no larger than my fingernail, the skin was soft as a snake's.
I snatched my hand away as though I had been stung, clenched both my fists at my waist as I tried to hold in the emotions that swept through me.
"No," I said, and began to weep.
"And still when we meet you make seawater. But these are not tears of joy, my Lanen."
"Don't call me that!"
He drew away from me. "Forgive me! I thought ... no, I am certain. I can hear your heart as though it were my own, and in this great folly I know we are one." He came back close, but stayed on his side of the Boundary. "I have not known such a love before, Lanen, but I cannot deny it now. My heart beats with yours, I hear your lightest thought. Do you tell me you do not feel as I know you do?"
I couldn't look at him any longer. "I meant never to tell you! I thought this was no more than my own insanity. I would come to you and you would bring me to my senses with your calmness, calling me little one, littling, so I would realise how impossible this all is. And there you stand talking of love, as though we were one Kindred."
He bowed his head and closed his eyes. It was as he had said, in some way beyond knowing we were one. I could feel his sorrow.
I could not think. My heart was both confused and sure, my head whirling with what was and could not be. But truth calls out truth, and I could not help but tell him my own.
"I will not, I cannot lie to you, Akor. Akor, my dear one."
The great gleaming eyes were fastened on me. "I love you, Akor, beyond sense and beyond reason. Not because you are a Dragon, not because you are the first of your people to speak with me. I love you." I bowed my head. "Our laws, our forms, even this wall of wood stand between us. But I love you, now and always, may the Lady help me. May she help us both."
Silence fell between us as full as my heart. The sun sank behind the trees and twilight was upon us.
"Please, Akor, say something," I said. "Speak to me."