Wizard's First Rule - Terry Goodkind [349]
“You have come to kill me, my love?” she whispered.
He nodded slowly, watching her. “Yes, Mistress.”
She smiled a little. “That is the first time you have ever called me simply ‘Mistress.’ You have always called me Mistress Denna, in the past. It means something?”
“Yes. It means everything, my mate. It means I forgive you everything.”
“I have made myself ready.”
“Why are you naked?”
The lamplight reflected in the wetness of her eyes. “Because everything I have to wear is Mord-Sith. I have nothing else. I did not wish to die in the clothes of a Mord-Sith. I wish to die as I was born. Denna. Nothing more.”
“I understand,” he whispered. “How did you know I was coming to kill you?”
“When Master Rahl chose me to go after you, he said he wouldn’t order me to go, but that I must volunteer. He said the prophecies foretold of a Seeker who would be the first to master the magic of the sword: the white magic. That this one would cause the blade of the sword to turn white. He said that if you turned out to be the one of whom the prophecies spoke, it would mean that I was to die by your hand, if you so chose. I asked to be sent, to be your Mord-Sith. Some of the things I have done to you, I have done to no other, in the hope you would be the one, and kill me for it. When you did what you did to the Princess, I suspected. When you killed the two guards today, I knew. You should not have been able to. I was holding you by the sword’s magic at the time.”
Everything was white around the childlike beauty of her face. “I’m so sorry, Denna,” he whispered.
“You will remember me?”
“I will have nightmares the rest of my life.”
Her smile widened. “I’m glad.” She seemed genuinely proud. “You love this woman, Kahlan?”
He frowned a little. “How do you know that?”
“Sometimes, when I hurt men enough, and they don’t know what they’re saying, they cry for their mothers, or their wives. You cried for one named Kahlan. You will choose her for your mate?”
“I cannot,” he said past the lump in his throat. “She is a Confessor. Her power would destroy me.”
“I’m sorry. This hurts you?”
He nodded slowly. “More than anything you have done to me.”
“Good.” Denna smiled sadly. “I’m glad the one you love is able to give you more pain than was I.”
Richard knew that in her twisted way, Denna meant this as a comfort to him; that for her to be happy that he would get more pain from another was a giving of her love. He knew that Denna sometimes gave him pain to show that she cared for him. In her eyes, at least, if this other woman could give him more pain, that was a demonstration of love.
A tear ran down his face. What had they done to this poor child?
“It is a different kind of pain. None could be your equal in the things you have done.”
A tear of pride rolled down her cheek. “Thank you, my love,” she breathed. She took the Agiel from her neck and held it up hopefully. “Would you wear this, to remember me by? It will not hurt you around your neck, or if you hold the chain, only if you hold the Agiel itself in your hand.”
Richard held her face in the white glow. “It would be my honor, my mate.” He bent, letting her put it over his head, letting her give his cheek a kiss.
“How will you do it?” she asked.
He knew what she meant. He swallowed back the lump in his throat. His hand went smoothly to the hilt of the sword.
Slowly, he drew the Sword of Truth. It didn’t ring, the way it always had in the past.
It hissed. A white-hot hiss.
Richard didn’t look, but he knew,