22.2

Hours later, Zyrdicia finally transported herself and Dirk magically to his quarters. The bright light of the room's torches and the sound of guards changing posts out in the passageway jarred them both out of their euphoric stupor. The spell-binding infernal mental bond finally loosened, and vulgar reality reasserted itself.

Squinting in the unexpected light, Zyrdicia stared at Dirk with a baffled look on her face, as though awaiting an explanation from him for all that had recently transpired. She took in the sight of him then, as though for the first time. Until this moment, she had never seen him wear the badges of his mortality. His jaw was now swollen from where she had struck him when they fought in the Tower. His chest bore deep scratch marks that had only recently stopped bleeding. When he tried to stand up, and winced from the pain in his knee.

Her body had no sign of injury now. Whatever bruises or scrapes might have been there a few hours ago were long gone. Only a hint of soreness testified to the fact that the experience had not been a dream.

Staring at the injured man across from her, she was perplexed by the very impossibility of their union. Azriok's Edict was supposed to have prevented it. The one rule in her world that was supposed to be inexorable had dissolved in an instant. An unsettling sense of distress gradually became an ache deep within her, with no readily identifiable source.

Zyrdicia looked away from Dirk finally, her expression troubled. For the first time, she had nothing at all to say to him. He had already said too much, when they were fighting.

She was saddened and a little embarrassed by his profession of love. What could he possibly expect her to say in response now?

She was sure that he had to understand that she could not stay with him after this. She felt she had no choice about the matter now. He had made the choice for her.

A few moments ago, in the ecstatic aftermath of the Edict's transgression, the loneliness that always lurked in the darkest depths of her soul had been sated for a brief instant. For the first time in her adult life, for a flickering instant, she had felt no longing for anything. The sensation of contentment was alien to her. Now, she realized how oddly tragic it was to have experienced it at all - just as she had to leave him. The loneliness would be a thousand times worse now.

Trying to sound brave, she announced quietly, "I have to go. I won't be back this time."

She saw Dirk's eyes widen in disbelief. Hurt registered in their blue depths an instant before he scowled to conceal his disappointment.

"Now?!" he gasped.

"Call for Portia and have her bring you a healing elixir from the guild in Lyr," Zyrdicia said coldly, turning away from him. She vanished then, eager to escape before any more could be said.

22.2.1

Once the shock of Zyrdicia's sudden mood swing subsided, Dirk felt the weight of her departure as he never had in the past. Instead of momentary panic, he felt despair. His quarters had never felt as empty as it did then.

He was baffled that she failed to appreciate that he had just gone to such trouble for her, having suffered her violent ambush. He had taken a shocking number of bone-jarring blows from her when they had fought. No one else had ever hit him that hard and lived.

She failed to appreciate how much thought he had put into imprisoning her in the East Tower. He had only meant to scare her a little by locking her up, of course. After all, few things delighted his adrenaline-addicted partner so much as fear. Now that she believed she was immortal, she was very hard to scare. He had been sure that awakening locked up alone in a strange, cold place would do it. He had believed the encounter would end up with her thinking it was a very clever, delightful game. He had never imagined she would be waiting to attack him - or that it would lead to what it did.

He now felt dreadfully embarrassed that he had admitted that he loved her, no matter how mocking the tone in which he had uttered it. The mere thought of having uttered the words made him feel ill. At the time, it had seemed like an amusing way to torment her; now that he was more lucid, he saw it for the folly it was. It was a vulnerability, and like all vulnerabilities, it ought to have been kept fully concealed. He cursed himself inwardly for failing to check his tongue.

He knew her well enough to know that those words had some peculiar significance in her perverse world. But there was no telling exactly what the effect the word would have inside the irrational, bizarre maze of her mind.

Her departure bit him deeply, coming as it did right after they had finally consummated their marriage. Post-coital abandonment was something Dirk had never experienced - at least not from the perspective of the one abandoned. For years, he had always departed promptly after coupling with a woman. He had always coldly shrugged off his lovers' pleas for post-coital cuddling - or rather, he had until Zyrdicia. And yet she was now the one who disappeared from him, leaving him alone to dwell upon regret.

Dirk grimaced bitterly, painfully aware of the sting of rejection. It hurt him more than he cared to admit.