Into the Light

35 | TEMPTATION

It was late. Despite his fatigue, Khadgar warded his bedroom and cast a teleport. He stepped into his salvaged library of Karazhan. All was quiet. The books nestled on their shelves, tired. None came to greet him. He could understand why. Idira had been working hard. For the last eight days he had been caught up with the preparations for the next assault and hadn't had much time to visit her, but on the few occasions he had, she had been wrapped up in her work. But this was the first time he had arrived to total silence.

He considered teleporting back to his bedroom and falling into his bed for desperately needed sleep when he heard a low voice--a man's voice--coming from outside the library. His instincts sharpening, he edged toward the library's open door, a spell forming on his lips. He leant around the doorframe. The spell died on his lips. Standing in the hallway, outside the bedroom door, was himself, or at least a near perfect echo of himself.

Too stunned to react, Khadgar leaned back into the shadows. His echo murmured something too quiet for Khadgar to hear and walked into the bedroom. Khadgar followed, his skin prickling. He concentrated and connected with the raven he had given her, but when he looked out of its eyes, he realised he was looking out of the echo's eyes. Idira had created an echo of him from his raven. What . . . how--by the Light! Idira wore nothing more than a gossamer shift. It was see-through. He blinked and returned to himself, shaken. No. He wouldn't use the raven's vision. It felt wrong.

He moved down the hall, and stopped outside the bedroom door, his back pressed against the wall, and listened.

"Hold me," Idira said, soft.

Khadgar's eyes widened as he heard the rustle of material betraying the sound of the pair's embrace. A creak of leather, and one pair of footsteps crossed the flagged stone of the floor. He leaned past the door frame, and watched his echo lowering Idira onto the bed, his eyes tender. She reached up and touched his jaw.

"I'm tired, stay with me, and keep me warm," she murmured.

His echo caught her hand, and kissed her fingertips, slow. She smiled as he undressed in front of her, his eyes on hers, down to his leather breeches. Khadgar lifted a brow, impressed despite the incongruity of the situation. His echo's powerful body, identical to his own, bore the same scars of battle. He watched as his echo lay down beside Idira and pulled her into his embrace, pillowing her head on his shoulder. Soon, the sound of their deep, even breathing filled the room.

Khadgar slipped inside and watched the pair sleep. Exhaustion etched Idira's features and dark shadows smudged the skin under her eyes. She shivered and huddled closer to his echo, who responded, even in sleep, tightening his hold on her. Khadgar drew back, disturbed, both by the sight of himself laying in his bed with a beautiful woman, wearing only his breeches and by the sudden surge of jealousy that coursed through his chest. How could he be jealous of himself?

He turned to leave, guilt rushing in to accompany his jealousy. He had left her alone for too long, forcing her to create an echo to comfort herself. If she knew he had seen it, she would be humil--

A sharp intake of breath came from the bed. "Archmage?"

He closed his eyes. This was going to be awkward. He turned around. His echo was gone, thank the Light.

He cleared his throat, embarrassed. "I am sorry, I have intruded on your privacy." He turned once more, to leave.

He could hear her sitting up, he tried to walk faster without making it seem obvious.

"Please. Don't go," she said, quiet.

Something in her voice made him stop. She left the bed and stood before him, swaying with fatigue. "Stay with me."

He took a step back, trying and failing not to look at her in her shift. "Idira, it isn't right. You are my apprentice, under my care."

She laughed, hollow, and her violet eyes caught his. "I stopped being your apprentice days ago Khadgar."

He eyed her, noting the change in her demeanour, her uncertainty and timidity had melted away, replaced by confidence, power and knowledge, more than even he could fathom. He suspected she had read every book in his library, a feat he knew he could never accomplish, even if he had ten lifetimes. He glanced at the bed thinking of the echo she had made of him in perfect detail, as real as any person. He knew of no mage who could do that.

He nodded. "As you say. But still, I will not stay."

She swayed again, staggering to keep upright. He caught her and led her back to the bed. "You must sleep, you have worked so hard. Rest Idira. I will come back to you tomorrow."

Her hand caught his sleeve as he turned to go, holding him back. "Please, just sleep beside me. It's all I ask." She smiled, her eyelids drifting downward as she teased, "You don't have to undress, if you'd rather not."

Khadgar stood beside the bed and dithered. She was tired, he was tired. Nothing could happen, it was only sleeping, after all. He heard a voice inside his head mocking him, telling him if he believed that, then Arthas was the King of Lordaeron. He gritted his teeth. She shivered, and her eyes snapped open again, meeting his.

"I'm cold. The echo cannot warm me, but you can. Please." She patted the bed beside her hip, enticing him.

Khadgar felt the familiar clench in his chest he always experienced whenever he thought of her. He wanted this. He had thought of it often enough when turning into his bed each night knowing she was only a teleport away. How long had she been using an echo of him to comfort her? It didn't matter, all those times he had wondered if his feelings for her were reciprocated, he had no doubt of the truth now.

He looked down at her, able to see all of her in that incredible thing she was wearing. He bit back a curse, and looked away, certain his decision was going to come back to haunt him. He would stay, and worry about the consequences later. He had warded his bedroom in Dalaran, no one would know he was missing so long as he returned in time for breakfast with the Council.

He set aside his staff and pulled off his belt, shoulder collar and gloves, leaving them in a heap on the floor beside the bed. He would just sleep beside her and keep her warm, nothing more. Still wearing his tunic, he lay down beside her, and pulled her into his arms. She moved onto her side and huddled against him, her arm slipping up around his neck. Her fingertips brushed against his skin, beneath his ear. He started. She wasn't exaggerating. She was freezing. He took her hand in his and chafed it, warming her. It wasn't enough. He cast a spell and a blazing fire burst to life in the fireplace. He murmured another spell and a thick woollen blanket settled over them. He stroked the hair from her face, trying to ignore the soft curves of her body against his firm one. He was already starting to feel too warm, but at least she would be comfortable.

"Thank you," she murmured, as she shifted and rested her leg on top of his. Her inner thigh pressed, light, against his groin. He could feel himself reacting. He tensed, fighting it, forcing himself to concentrate on sifting through the battle plans for flaws. She fell asleep almost immediately. Despite his fatigue, he lay awake a long, long time, unable to think of anything but the woman in his arms and how much he longed to make her his.