Daughter of Azeroth

72 | RESTRAINT

She wondered what she should learn next. She asked the books. They fluttered up to the tower's heights, returning a few minutes later with several new companions. The new books lay down on the table, their silver clasps unlocking. She glanced across the row of open books. All of the magic in them contained spells from the path of frost and ice.

'Am I to be a frost mage then?' she asked, a smile tugging at her lips. The idea pleased her. The books rustled a little, as though affirming her query. She bent over the first book, sensing her Light kindling, igniting within her. Running her finger over the lines and columns, her eyes roamed over the sigils and formulas, drinking in the arcane text. She turned the pages, quickly moving through the first book, her Light flaring, her learning progressing at a rapid pace. She felt as though she was remembering things long forgotten, finding missing pieces of a puzzle she had never realised were lost. She didn't question the strangeness of it. Instead she let the tower's magic flow through her, granting her the potential to learn more and faster. She moved to the second book, devouring it, then the third, the fourth, and the fifth, each book increasing in complexity and depth, though the more she learned, the more she realised how much knowledge she still lacked. The books departed and a new set arrived. It didn't seem to matter she had never seen the language before, written in archaic runes, it seemed to be enough just to see the runes, the magic in the tower and her Light working together for her to be able to manifest the knowledge held within the books.

Cut adrift from the circuit of day and night, Idira followed the rhythm of her body. She slept when she drooped with fatigue and dined when hunger called to her. Though she hoped he would, Khadgar did not return, not even to leave her food or drink. Every now and again his raven would land close to her, its eyes flaring, glowing bright yellow, the colour of the sun, usually in the late evening. She would talk to him, telling him of her progress, her Light circling her, infusing her with power. Pleased to have his company, she would conjure some wine and sip it while she talked to the yellow-eyed raven, perched close by watching her, unmoving, silent, intense. Khadgar had never again looked at her in the morning, though she often wondered if he ever watched her while she slept.

ত

On her fifth night in the fortress, she had her answer. She woke, abrupt, her flesh tingling, sensing another's presence. She sat up. Khadgar's warm, earthy, cedar and leather scent washed over her. She shivered, tingling with delicious anticipation as she looked around the large room, her gaze raking over the chairs and sofas cloaked in shadow, all of them empty. Out in the corridor, the residue of a teleport glowed, its light faint. She slipped from the bed, clad only in her knickers and went to the door. Her heart aching with hope, she peeked around the doorframe.

Khadgar stood in his bedroom, just on the other side of the teleport, his back to her, rigid, his hands clenched into fist at his sides. She approached the portal, slow, resisting a wild urge to follow after him. He turned suddenly and looked back at her, unseeing, standing so close to her only the thin slice of the teleport separated them.

'Idira,' he said, hoarse, ragged, the tautness of the muscles in his jaw betraying his torment. 'How I want to share that bed with you . . .' He looked down at his hands still clenched into fists and cursed, low. He looked back up, right at her, though she knew he couldn't see her. He stepped back and began to cast a teleport, she watched, holding her breath, edging back to the bedroom door, watching him, her heart pounding. In moments he would be there, she glanced at the bed, giddy, thinking of what might soon follow. He stopped the spell, the light dying in his hands.

'No,' he said, his hands once more curling into fists.

'Yes,' Idira whispered, her body crying out for him, aching for him. 'Please, come to me.'

'No,' he said again, anguished, and turned away. He went to his bed and lay down, fully clothed. He crossed his arms and stared at the ceiling, morose.

Choking back a shudder of disappointment, Idira sank onto the rug and watched him, tears burning her eyes. He would never come to her. He belonged to Azeroth. There could never be anyone else for the Leader of the Kirin Tor. Not even her. She heard him say her name again, his voice thick with longing and regret. He dragged a cushion against his chest, clutching tight it against him, his thumb stroking the material, as though it was she he held and not a pillow. He turned onto his side and put his back to her. Her throat tight, she watched him, willing him to turn back towards her. He didn't. After a long while his body relaxed, finding release in sleep.

Though she knew she shouldn't, she stepped through the teleport's residue and crept across the thick carpet to his bed. She stood over him, drinking in the scent of him, the size of him, the steady movement of his tunic as he breathed, deep in the realm of dreams. She longed to touch him, but she dare not. Holding her breath, she bent over to look at him. He still held the cushion in a lover's embrace, possessive, protective. His eyelids moved as he dreamed, flickering back and forth as though reading something on the inside of his eyes. He moaned deep within his chest, the sound a primal, visceral thing, soaked with longing. Idira's heart clenched. A single tear slipped out the corner of his eye and slid over the bridge of his nose, processing, slow across his scarred cheek toward his pillow. Idira backed away, stricken, and fled through the teleport back to her empty bed. The Leader of the Kirin Tor had made his decision. Though he wished it otherwise, she would never be his. Her heart aching, she succumbed to her grief, and wept.