DISCLAIMER: Legend of the Seeker and its characters are the property of ABC Studios, and Terry Goodkind. No infringement intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Written for the Porn XI Battle. Prompts: Forget - Hurt - Truth - Love - Agiel
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
FEEDBACK: To aerows[at]gmail.com

Ruby's Maze
By Aerows


The woman called Ruby rode solemnly in the back of the wagon as it bounced along the rough road. If the smell of hay and manure offended her nostrils, at least the pain of splinters in her backside gave her something else to focus upon. Her blond hair was covered by a cloak, as were the simple, homespun trousers and shirt she wore beneath it. Aydindril was cold this time of year, apparently. That was what the man who was taking her to the capital had told her.

He claimed to know nothing of who she was, and she knew nothing more herself. Ruby was lost and directionless, like a broken compass. It had been nearly two months since she had woken stripped in a rough bed, with a headache that pounded like an anvil in her skull, and her skin raging with fire. After that, it had been nearly three weeks before she was capable of standing on her own.

Had it not been for the kindness of the blond man, and the skill of his wife, an herb mistress, she would have long since been dead. In many ways, it would have been preferable had it come to that in her view; her memories stayed just out of reach, just out of focus. She didn't know who she was, and somehow, she thought she should. One thing she had learned about herself was that she had a tremendous tolerance for pain. That was all that kept her going in the quagmire of confusion that surrounded her.

Steven and Lauren called her "Ruby", after the blood-red flowers they had found her lying upon, near death. Since she had no other designation, she had taken on the name. Nothing could drive back the damning emptiness that consumed her, but it was a start. When the turning point came, though, it was as sweet as catching long elusive prey. That it could be captured insured that it wasn't impossible, and greatly increased the odds that it would be captured again.

She had made a startling discovery a few days ago. The burly blond man who drove the wagon, Steven, was mortally wounded in his field before they started on this journey to Aydindril. When he expired in his wife Lauren's arms, his last breath passing, an instinct had kicked in.

"Ruby, what are you doing?" Lauren had shrieked at her, but Ruby had brushed the woman aside as though she weighed nothing more than feathers. The herb mistress was strong, but Ruby automatically found spots to push her off balance, while keeping her own leverage as firm as a rock above the dead man who had helped shelter her. The huge gash in his thigh from a slipped axe had left his blood pooling on the floor of the small den, and his skin was already cooling. She seized his head by his chin, and tilted it back. Like smoke, she felt the surge of her own life force come from within her chest, and she blew it into his open mouth. Lauren, who had been hysterically shoving upon her shoulder, suddenly gasped in amazement. Mere moments later, Steven rose as strong as he had that morning when he had left for the fields.

The couple had been convinced that Ruby was a sorceress, a little in awe of her, and a little afraid of her, but certain there was only one place for her to go. She was to see the Mother Confessor, who could discern the truth. Something had shadowed Steven's eyes when his wife had mentioned the Mother Confessor, but Ruby had felt a twinge deep in her soul, too. This Mother Confessor who could see the truth, could help her remember who she was. Resolution filled the emptiness in her heart for the first time since she had awoken. Ruby had marched straight out of the house without a second thought and onto the road.

Steven had overtaken her with the wagon a few hours later, carrying foodstuffs and a cloak for her. Ruby would not stop for anything until she got the answers she sought.

Kahlan Amnell, the Mother Confessor of the Midlands, sat in her throne, the First Chair. Another in a line of petitioners sought her rulings, and though she outwardly did the best that she could for her people, she felt a small part of herself fade every day. Richard's body had washed up upon the banks of the Kern River, with the Sword of Truth still on his back. There was no question that he had perished; he was already in a state of decomposition by the time he had been located, and truthfully, had it not been for the Sword, Kahlan would not have recognized his bloated face.

Zedd had managed to cling to a tree, but had gotten a sickness in his lungs from which he had not yet recovered. He was still fighting for his life, though he was showing signs of improvement. The deluge from the mountains, a flash flood of epic proportions, had caused destruction and damage across the Midlands. It was brutally ironic that they had saved the world, and were heading for Aydindril, only for Kahlan alone to make it unscathed.

She gazed down at the Sword of Truth that rested by her hand. Kahlan didn't know why she kept it with her, perhaps in memory of Richard, and in hopes of Zedd's recovery, but possibly for another reason. There had been another time that she had wept over this Sword, and this time it was not for losing Richard alone. Richard had been buried for several weeks, and she had mourned him. No, this was a greater ache. This was over the ache of the one who was missing, and whom she had gotten no closure from in her disappearance. Cara.

Even the memory of the name was like a knife in her heart. The Mord'Sith had changed so, and had become so much more than just a protector. She had become Kahlan's friend, and if the Mother Confessor ever allowed herself to think of the truth in the dark, the blond had been on the way to becoming something much more to her. Memories of the blond's feline grace, and her cutting wit still burned in the Mother Confessor's heart. Only two things had been located anywhere along the river, and Kahlan had deployed several hundred strong to search it. That they had been located had made her heart sink; Cara would have never been parted from her Agiels willingly.

She had sent proclamations and notes of reward for the whereabouts of the Mord'Sith, including her description. She had heard nothing, and while there were still reaches of the Midlands to be searched, hope was fading within her. It was as though as long as she held the Sword, propped against the Chair, there was still hope that someone had heard of a lone Mord'Sith, and that she was still alive. Sighing, the Mother Confessor realized that her thoughts had wandered, and she had heard nothing of the argument that had led the two petitioners before her to seek judgment. She arched an eyebrow, and asked probing questions that induced them to repeat the entire story again. It would be a long day.

"Call forward Steven Fordring." The Steward's voice rang out in the Council chamber. Kahlan had been about to end the hearings, but there had been a commotion at the doorway. It was not completely unusual for there to be arguments among petitioners, but it was quite unusual for petitioners to yell at the guards. A burly blond man was causing the disruption, and shook his hands free of the guards that had seized him.

"She's not a servant, and you will unhand me. I am a farmholder the same as any man in the Midlands. It is my right to stand before the Mother Confessor." The loud male voice was indignant, and though his speech was clearly laced with the lowlands, he was obviously not completely uneducated. Her Sergeant at Arms had a grip on the hilt of his sword, while another of the guards held a blade at the blond man's throat. The farmholder didn't look like he was intent on causing harm; and Kahlan was curious to hear him.

"Let Mr. Fordring, speak, Brandon, and have your lieutenant release him so that he may stand before me properly." The lieutenant roughly let him go while sheathing his sword, and stepped away at the command in the Mother Confessor's voice. Brandon, her Sergeant at Arms, stood behind the petitioner, prepared to skewer Fordring in an instant if he even thought to be less than respectful. The simply dressed man sank to his knees in supplication, "Mother Confessor, I am Steven Fordring, a farmholder from Kelton. I plead on behalf of another who saved my life, that you may aid her."

Kahlan was intrigued by both his manners, and his request. Many came before the Mother Confessor with pleas, but few came on behalf of someone else. "Arise, my child, and tell me what you would ask of the Mother Confessor."

"I found a woman in my field, near the Kern River, Mother Confessor, nearly a season ago." He began, his eyes not daring to meet hers, which was just as well, because he might have seen the startled widening of her eyes. As it was, Kahlan only barely clamped down on the gasp that seized her throat before it was audible. "She was gravely injured, so I brought her to my wife Lauren who is the healer and herbmistress for our township. She is recovered in body, Mother Confessor, but she knows not who she is." At that, he did meet her eyes. They were a deep brown, and his gaze reminded her for a moment of Richard; there was courage and sincerity in this man, too.

"A fortnight ago, while chopping wood, the axe-handle shattered upon a hidden stone, and the axe head punctured my thigh. I bled to death in my wife's arms, Mother Confessor, I swear it upon the Creator's hand." Kahlan could detect no untruth in him. "Ruby, the woman that I found that day in the field, brought me back, Mother Confessor, as whole as I had been when I left that morning." Hope flared in Kahlan's heart; she only knew of one group of women with that talent. Mord'Sith.

The Steward sniffed. "Surely man, you could have saved this tale for a tavern. No one can bring back life to those that are dead, and certainly not completely healed that quickly." He gestured to the Sergeant-at-Arms, who was about to grasp the brown-eyed farmer but the Mother Confessor halted them both.

"Silence, Jerome. I would hear Mr. Fordring speak." Her voice was cold. The blond man looked relieved that the Mother Confessor not only believed him, but would continue granting him an audience. Nothing would interfere with Kahlan hearing the rest of this tale. "Mr. Fordring, where is this woman you call Ruby? I believe I can shed some light on her history."

When he gestured at the door, Kahlan signaled to the lieutenant. A tall, slender form in a long black cloak entered the hall, head covered with the hood of it. The shoulders still stood proud. It took the Mother Confessor seeing barely three strides and a swagger of hips beneath the dark cloak for Kahlan to know exactly who the woman was. Still, she had to be certain. The woman knelt as the farmer had, though much more stiffly.

When she arose, and swept back the hood of her cloak, Kahlan wanted to weep with joy. If color fled from her face, and tears rolled down her cheeks, her voice was but a whisper. "Cara." The blond woman before her looked puzzled, and didn't appear to recognize either her, or the name. Still she gave the wolfish smirk that was her trademark, and spoke.

Her voice sounded as though it was rough from disuse, but it was music to Kahlan's ears. "Mother Confessor, it appears as though you recognize me. I would greatly appreciate it if you could share that information with me." It took everything in Kahlan's power to remain seated in her throne. She wanted to embrace Cara right at that moment, kiss her cheeks and thank the Creator that she was alive. Cara was alive and in Aydindril. Still, there were forms to be observed.

"Steward, see that Mr. Fordring is given lodging in the palace, and anything else that he may require for his comforts during his stay." The Steward looked rather shocked, but then schooled his face to dignified obedience. She turned to the similarly startled farmer. "I owe you a great debt, Mr. Fordring, both for saving Cara's life, and for returning her here to Aydindril. Please be my guest for as long as you would like, and feel free to request anything you need." He smiled genuinely at her, blushing at her praise, allowing himself to be led away by the Steward.

Cara stood stock still; she didn't know who she was, but her natural poise, no matter the situation, made Kahlan inwardly smile. Cara would betray no discomfort. How the Mord'Sith could remain lost for months was a miracle, but it was the miracle of her presence that warmed Kahlan's heart. "This Council meeting is adjourned for the day, save one more proclamation I would make."

"Be welcome in Aydindril, Mistress Cara of the Mord'Sith, personal confidant of the Mother Confessor. May all welcome you, with the honor and privileges a hero of the Midlands deserves." She gave her a dazzling smile, and even Cara, who clearly didn't recognize the Mother Confessor saw the warmth in it, and stood a little straighter at being called a hero. The green eyes sparkled even though Cara's face remained neutral. Those in the Council chamber looked at the blond woman in a new light, as though expecting her to pull a dragon from beneath her cloak.

Kahlan knew it wasn't seemly for the Mother Confessor to betray too much emotion, but she also couldn't care less right at that moment. With far less formality and more warmth she continued. "Welcome home, my friend, for as long as you would have it." Unspoken were other words, and the flashing in the green eyes said that the Mord'Sith had heard them plainly anyway. And me, Kahlan said clearly with shining blue eyes.

As she followed the brunette along the corridor, the blond focused on thinking of herself as Cara. The term Mord'Sith had sparked something in her consciousness, but it remained out of reach. It was difficult to even concentrate right now, however, because the slim hips that swayed before her, leading her deeper into the palace, firmly held Cara's attention. The desire she felt looking at the woman gliding with her was completely familiar. Cara didn't remember who she had been, but she knew with certainty that she had felt desire spark for this regal woman in white many times before. Her body could not lie to her about that, even if her memory had failed.

When a pale hand grasped her own, and pulled her into large, well-appointed quarters, Cara became convinced of it; the Mother Confessor must be her lover. The moment the door closed behind them, the Mother Confessor swept her into an embrace that could only be called desperate. Tears leaked into her cloak and down her thin shirt, but the woman embracing her couldn't seem to stop. It shot a pang of sadness through Cara's heart; she may not remember the tall brunette, but she couldn't bear to see tears fall from the lovely blue eyes. She did the only thing she knew to stop the tears.

Seizing the Confessor's chin gently between her fingers, she tilted back her head to gaze into gorgeous blue eyes. Cara captured her lips sweetly, but forcefully, conveying her ardent intentions to the beautiful, regal woman she held in her arms. If the Mother Confessor was startled, she warmed to the kiss, and Cara deepened it. Lips became tongues, and hands that embraced became hands that searched and caressed. When Cara slipped a thigh between the Confessor's own, pressing her against the door, a moan escaped both of their mouths. She slid her hands down to the slim hips and encouraged them to rock against her thigh.

"Cara." The Mother Confessor attempted to interrupt her, but the feeling of the brunette's curves in Cara's hands was driving away the blond's restraint. "Cara, stop!" Kahlan shouted loudly and shoved her away with more strength than the blond had suspected resided in the slender frame. The Mother Confessor lifted up a sword between them, though it was still sheathed. Cara reached out to grab the hilt of it, and she felt the golden letters of Truth burn into her bare palm. Suddenly, her knees couldn't hold her, and black swam in her vision. The last things Cara knew were gentle hands catching her and the Mother Confessor's voice calling out for help.

The memory of Cara's mouth on her own still burned in Kahlan's mind, and she was certain that her lips were kiss-swollen when her two guards burst into the room, swords drawn, at her cry for aid. Seeing that it was the blond woman that had collapsed, they quickly sheathed their swords and carried her to the Mother Confessor's own bed. If they were scandalized, Wil and Jaque had been personal guard to the Mother Confessor long enough to know that one did not question Kahlan Amnell. If her orders were to put a poorly dressed stranger into the Mother Confessor's own sainted bed, they obeyed without question.

Servants arrived and the palace healer was called to attend to the Mord'Sith lying passed out upon the bed. As best she could, Kahlan described the circumstances surrounding Cara's previous injury, and her collapse. She omitted, of course, the blazing and impossibly erotic kiss that had occurred in the middle of those circumstances. Leaving the Mord'Sith in their capable hands, the Mother Confessor retrieved her heavy cloak, flinging it around her shoulders. As capable as her healer might be, there was only one person that could possibly answer her questions. Directing some final orders to the servants, then to Wil and Jaque, she exited the palace to speak with Zedd.

He was recuperating from a lung fever in the Wizard's Keep, and it was past time to visit him. Cara's arrival would be good news for the old man, and Kahlan was anxious to share her joy with him. The First Wizard was also the one person the Mother Confessor trusted more than anyone besides Cara, or at least she had before the Mord'Sith's disappearance. She desperately needed Zedd's advice. He could advise the Mother Confessor on both Cara's condition, and possibly, the condition of Kahlan's own heart now that the Mord'Sith had flung the doors to it open wide.

Cara felt far away, but the suddenness of the events of the past three months flew through her mind. Even in her disconnected mind, she could feel the searing of the Sword of Truth striking her palm, and the rush of remembering who she was, and what she was. That Kahlan had the Sword of Truth did not bode well for Richard. She wanted to weep for failing him; the last she had seen of him had been when she had plunged into the river after him when the rush of water washed both him and the Wizard away. The Wizard had grabbed onto a branch, but Richard had flailed helplessly in the currents. Cara had kicked off her boots, and loosened her leathers so that she could get through the water more quickly. When they further hindered her movements, she then finally ripped them away despite the numbing cold of the river. The Mord'Sith had nearly reached Lord Rahl when something struck her hard in the back of her head. Blackness had taken her utterly.

The days she had spent with the Fordrings were a blur; her recovery was a misty, jumble fog with only details like the taste of porridge, or a candle shining briefly near her eyes in her memory. The first true things she remembered were giving the Breath of Life to Steven, and his mention of the Mother Confessor. Hearing her title spoken had been the first splash of clarity in Cara's mind, even if she didn't know why. Cara now knew exactly why it was that no matter how shattered her mind had been, the urge to find the Mother Confessor had been her sole priority.

The memory of the kiss she had planted on Kahlan's lips stole into the haziness. She wanted to be angry at herself for taking such liberties with the one person she respected above all others, but was equally pleased that she finally knew Kahlan returned some measure of Cara's own desire. Seeing again in her mind the look on Kahlan's beautiful face, feeling the fierce embrace and the kiss returned with equal passion told her that the Mother Confessor was not immune to whatever this was between them. In her heart it was as though she had never left Kahlan, though it was obvious many things had changed in Cara's absence. Drawing on every ounce of determination she possessed, she willed herself awake.

Cara needed answers to many questions, and to know of Richard's fate. She needed to know of her own fate, though the Mother Confessor had made it clear she was welcome in Aydindril. More than anything, however, now that the aching emptiness that had haunted her for months had been filled again with the only one that could fill it, she needed Kahlan. She startled a roomful of servants and a healer that had been hovering over her chest listening for Creator knew what. When two of them attempted to push Cara back down again, all of them discovered quickly that she was Mord'Sith.

Go with your heart, Kahlan.

Zedd had looked much better on her visit, and had been thrilled to hear that the irascible blond had survived. He had assured the Mother Confessor that the reason for the Mord'Sith's collapse had been because the Sword of Truth had the inherent power to strip away confusion and illusions to restore reality. With a kiss on his cheek, she had left the First Wizard with a promise to send the Mord'Sith to visit him.

You deserve happiness.

That had been his advice as he patted Kahlan on her hand, then turned to devour the soup a servant had brought him. She had felt pangs of guilt even before Richard's death because she didn't love him nearly as much as he loved her. That had been made even more clear to her after the soul-searing kiss Cara had delivered; she had never been as ignited as at that moment. Her body still burned with the intensity only Cara could invoke in her.

As she turned to go down the corridor to reach the Confessor's Quarters, she was nearly knocked flat by a blur of black leather and blond hair. Cara stopped abruptly and caught her by the arm, green eyes burning. She would have made light of the fact that the Mord'Sith had nearly knocked her down, but the sight of her in the high polished boots, tight black suede trousers, vest and shirt of an Aydindril scout nearly took her breath away. Cara was just as stunning as she had ever been in her Mord'Sith leathers.

As her eyes raked back up appreciatively over Cara's beautiful body, she caught green eyes slowly caressing hers. Kahlan seized a fistful of blond hair, and pushed the leather-clad woman against the wall in a kiss that took both of their breath away.

Cara had been desperate to find Kahlan, and had threatened to leave the Confessor's Quarters stark naked until the guard, Jaque, had presented her with the leathers of an Aydindril scout when the blond woman threw open the door. If either soldiers or servants were shocked at her nakedness, Cara cared little. She would walk through the palace and into the snow with nothing for the Mother Confessor. She grinned her thanks at him as she hastily donned the leathers and boots, there with the door wide open.

Now with Kahlan's hand on her neck, and warm palm at her breast, Cara was similarly disaffected by modesty as a servant passing by in the hall gasped at their heated embrace against the wall. Kahlan's tongue was in her mouth, and her thumb had just stroked Cara's stiffened nipple through the leather. It was only the discipline instilled in her as Mord'Sith to serve her leader's best interests that gave her the presence of mind to break the kiss. She seized Kahlan's pale hand in her own and dragged the Mother Confessor into her own quarters.

Cara was beyond all reason, and the glittering passion in Kahlan's blue eyes when the Mother Confessor slammed her own door told the Mord'Sith that she was not alone.

When the door crashed shut on its hinges behind them, Cara took control. Kahlan assaulted her mouth with a kiss that was almost brutal, nearly wresting the domination of tongues away from the Mord'Sith, but Cara had ached for this moment for too long. With a flash of black leather clad hands, she seized the white dress at the bodice and ripped it away like so much chaff in the wind. Her lips crashed against tops of the pale globes, visible above the corset that barely confined them. The Mother Confessor gasped, but then grasped Cara's head in her hands, pressing her mouth further into the generous cleavage. Inhaling the scent of Kahlan and sex, Cara could barely get the corset off quickly enough, as she walked them to the bed. Never breaking the kiss, she had Kahlan's knees pressed against the bed at the same time she freed the Mother Confessor's breasts. They spilled out of Kahlan's torn away corset to greet Cara's hungry eyes and lips.

Cara's hips pressed between thighs that were opening, and her mouth grabbed Kahlan's nipple hungrily. As it peaked in her mouth, the Mord'Sith's hands did away with the skirts and underthings that stood between her and her prize. Moans issued from Kahlan's mouth, and nails raked at her leather clad back; that Kahlan wanted her stabbed blades of desire through her center. Wetness flooded the tight trousers Cara wore, and as soon as she had rid the Mother Confessor of her cloth barriers, her own fingers worked to bare her golden flesh to Kahlan.

The storm of leather, flesh and wetness were all that Kahlan knew. Her body was aching; Cara's tongue and teeth on her nipples were a sweet torture that sent her reeling. At the first sensation of the long, strong body bared above her, Kahlan was lost. The taut muscles of Cara's back rippled beneath the Mother Confessor's grasping hands, and it was only when she felt her thighs being parted, exposing her desire to the blond tempest of lust that was consuming her, that she reminded herself of consequences.

She ached for Cara; she had long been desiring the Mord'Sith that had won her heart with her fortitude, forthrightness, and sensuality. When a thigh suddenly rammed between her own, and a tell-tale wetness glided upon Kahlan's own straining limb, she began to feel her magic slip. As much as she needed release, and relief, to strip the woman she cared for of her will, and her life, was something she could not do. Kahlan detested doing it to base criminals; to do it in an act of wanton lust was something her Confessor's soul couldn't bear. The pulsating between her legs was growing, though, and the Mord'Sith was not making restraint easy.

"Cara, we can't." Kahlan could hear the pain in her own voice, but she struggled to stifle it. "If you give me release, I'll Confess you, and you will die." She leaned her forehead against the blond's. Full lips caressed her own, though, and Kahlan found herself drowning in another kiss. Cara's tongue darted into her mouth again, silencing protests until the blond pulled back to caress Kahlan's cheek. Cara gained the Mother Confessor's full attention with the action; Kahlan felt herself fall into pools of green that promised pleasure, passion, and something far deeper underneath their surface.

"I know what death is like, Kahlan." Green eyes cut into the Mother Confessor's soul, even as the blond trailed a hand down Kahlan's thigh. "Death is the emptiness I knew, longing for you without knowing what I longed for." The solemnity and anguish in Cara's voice was almost painful to Kahlan. The Mord'Sith didn't wait for a reply, and instead covered the Mother Confessor's mouth with her own.

When another passionate kiss rocked Kahlan to the core, the Confessor succumbed to it, feeling long fingers trail ever closer to where she wanted Cara to touch her. "You are what I have always longed for." Cara's voice was husky as she said it, and Kahlan's resistance burned away to ashes. Cara's strong fingers slipped between her folds, and started a steady campaign of circling, caressing and coaxing. Kahlan felt the magic rise up in her, but she was powerless with the lightning of desire coursing through her veins. When Cara's knowing fingers pressed into her opening, filling her deeply and abruptly, Kahlan cried out.

All Kahlan could do was ride out the sensation. Exquisite pressure returned to the center of her desire, while the intensity of feeling Cara inside made her instinctively clench and quiver. Moans flew from Kahlan's own mouth, and her vision started to darkened. Her Confessor's magic was slipping, but release was building so hot and so hard within her that Kahlan couldn't stop it. Thunder without sound echoed through the bed chamber, yet still she felt Cara continue to pump within her and stroke. Her release was wet and explosive, coating Cara's talented fingers.

When the last of her shuddering subsided, Cara kissed her again, then rested her forehead upon Kahlan's own. The Mother Confessor was afraid to open her eyes, but Kahlan forced herself to do so anyway. Sparkling green eyes looked back at her, shining with pleasure. Cara leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Wait until you learn what I can do with my mouth, Kahlan. You will be begging, Command me, Mord'Sith." The wickedness of it dispelled any fears that she had Confessed the Mord'Sith. It was further dispelled when Cara licked at the wetness on her fingers, removing all traces of it.

A softness entered Kahlan's heart, and she clung to the embrace Cara covered her with. For long moments, Kahlan lay there in the dark, listening to the sound of Cara breathing, basking in her warmth. The Mother Confessor was the bastion of truth; it was time that Kahlan Amnell spoke what was in her heart. "You already command me, Mord'Sith, because you have my love. You have had it for a long time." The statement sounded vulnerable even to her own ears, but as reward for saying it, she received a potent kiss that silenced her fears.

"You possess mine, Mother Confessor, and always will." Cara's tongue darted out to lick a tear of joy from Kahlan's cheek. The warmth of its track felt like pleasure, but it was also laced with promises more eloquent than words. Kahlan accepted them, and her heart suddenly felt as full as she had ever imagined it could be. Kahlan smiled into the golden skin, inhaling the scent of Cara.

"I can do better than that with my tongue, Mord'Sith. Let me show you." Kahlan exclaimed with a sultry purr, rolling them over so that she was on top of her love, and proceeded to prove it. Cries of pleasure rang long into the night before exhaustion took them both. When the sun rose in Aydindril, its rays glittered through the windowpanes of the Confessor's Quarters, shining on two bodies, intertwined closely and breathing in the same rhythm. Cara had found her way out of the maze, and Kahlan had found her way into a Mord'Sith's heart.

The End

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