CHAPTER 58

As Kahlan felt her way, her hand brushed Drefan's hairy leg. She moved off to the side, to lie down beside him. There was a blanket over straw, or something softer than bare wood, anyway. At least it didn't hurt her back as would have the hard ground.

She lay on the pallet, staring up into the blackness with wide eyes. She couldn't see anything, other than the vague indication of the windows before them. She made an effort to slow her breathing, although she could do nothing to slow her panicked pulse.

This wasn't the worst thing, she told herself. Not the worst thing in the world. Not at all. This wasn't rape. Exactly.

After a time, she felt Drefan's hand settle on her belly. Kahlan shoved it away as she stifled a cry.

She shouldn't have done that, she told herself. What was a hand, compared to the plague? How many people in agony with the plague would gladly have traded places with her? Not the worst thing at all, a gentle hand.

Drefan's hand found hers, trying to give it a squeeze of reassurance. She yanked her hand away as if a snake had touched her. She didn't want his reassurance. She had not vowed to hold his hand. She had not vowed to accept his reassurance. She had committed to being his wife. not to holding his hand. She would let him do to her what she must let him do to her, but she didn't have to hold his hand.

Kahlan frantically tried to reason with herself. Richard had to get into the Temple of the Winds. The Temple of the Winds demanded this as the price of the path. The spirit of Chandalen's grandfather had warned her that she must not shirk her duty. She remembered his words all too well:

/ have not been shown the price, but I forewarn you that I do know that there is no way for you to circumvent or avoid it. It must be as it will he revealed to you, or all will be lost. I ask that when the winds show you the path. you take it, lest what I have shown you comes to be.

Kahlan remembered the scenes of mass death the spirit had shown her. If she failed to do as the winds asked, what she had been shown would come to pass. She had to let Drefan do this. Stalling would not make it any easier. This couldn't be easy for Drefan. Couldn't be easy at all, what with the way she shoved away his attempts at tenderness. That made her angry all over again. She didn't want his tenderness.

What did she want? Did she want him to be rough? Of course she had to let him touch her. How could he do this if he didn't touch her? Richard had to get into the Temple of the Winds. She had to let Drefan do this.

Kahlan reached over and took Drefan's wrist. She put his hand back where he had tried to put it before, on her belly. She let go of his hand. It stayed there.

What was he waiting for? She wanted to scream at him to get it over with, to do it and be done. To take what was his brother's by heart if not by vow.

She lay there, with Drefan's hand on her, listening to the dead silence of the night. She realized that she was listening for sounds coming from Nadine and Richard. She shut her eyes.

Drefan's hand moved to her breast. Fists at her sides, she forced herself to remain still. She had to let him. She tried to think of other things. She silently recited rote language lessons of her youth, trying to ignore his hand. But she couldn't.

He was being gentle, but that was no consolation. Even his touch was a violation. How gently he did it made no difference, didn't make it right. That he was now her husband made no difference to her. She knew in her heart it was wrong, and that made it a violation.

In her mind, she screamed at herself. She was being worse than childish. She was the Mother Confessor, and had faced much worse than this, much worse than a man for whom she had no feelings being this close, this intimate.

But she was no longer the Mother Confessor. The Temple of the Winds, the spirits, had taken that, too, from her.

Kahlan gasped in a breath and held it tight as Drefan's hand roamed down her belly and finally settled between her legs. She remembered Drefan doing that to Cara. Now he did it to her.

She hated him. She was married to a man she hated.

Cara had felt it, the same as Kahlan could feel it, now. Cara hadn't been so childish about it. Cara wouldn't be this foolish. Kahlan let Drefan's hand do what it would.

This was to save lives. She had to save all those innocent people from the plague sent by Jagang. Her people couldn't be saved without her. It was her duty.

Drefan suddenly rose up. The dark shape of him hovered over her. His knee pushed gently between her thighs, urging her to open her legs. It would be over soon, she told herself, as he put his other knee between her legs, too.

The hulking shape of him lowered over her. He was big, as big as Richard. She feared he was going crush her, but he didn't. He held himself up on his elbows, so he wouldn't hurt her. He was being tender, and she was only making it harder for him. He had to do this, and she had to let him.

Kahlan grimaced. She wasn't ready. She held her breath. It was too late not to be ready; Drefan was there. She bit her lower lip as she winced.

She felt as helpless as she had ever felt in her entire life. She was married to Drefan, not Richard, and Drefan, not Richard, was having her. Everything was lost.

Her eyes squeezed shut, Kahlan pressed her fists to her shoulders as he moved in her. Tears trickled from the corners of her eyes. Her nose stuffed up as she wept silently, and she had to open her mouth to breathe. She wanted to wail in anguish, but she instead had to remind herself to breathe. She couldn't seem to stop holding her breath.

It took longer than she had hoped, but not as long as she feared. Finished at last, Drefan rolled off her, onto his back. He had accomplished his task, but he seemed not to have relished it. She was somehow relieved that he hadn't enjoyed it. He lay there, recovering his breath, as she finally let hers out. It was over. She told herself that it hadn't been so bad. It was nothing, really. She hardly felt anything. She had foolishly balked, and here it was. over already. It wasn't so bad as she had feared. It was nothing, really. But it was. She did feel something. She felt defiled.

Drefan reached out, his fingers tenderly, sympathetically brushing a tear from her cheek. She shoved his hand away. She didn't want his sympathy. She didn't want him touching her. She hadn't agreed to him touching her. just to consummating the marriage. His touch wasn't part of it.

She remembered being with Richard. She remembered her hot need of him. She remembered the wild passion. She remembered her screams of sheer pleasure. Why was this so different?

Because she didn't love Drefan, that was why. In fact. she was beginning to realize that she loathed him. There was something about him that she didn't like, and it was more than just that memory of his hand on Cara. There was something deceptive about him, something devious. She hadn't consciously realized it before, but she could see guile in his blue eyes.

Kahlan wondered why she would think that. He had just consummated their marriage, and he had been as gentle as he possibly could be while still doing it. He could easily have done anything he wanted; her power was locked away. She couldn't stop him. Yet he had tried to be sympathetic, understanding.

Still, it seemed a wonder to her that it could be so different from when she had been with Richard. She would give anything, almost, to have that pleasure again. She longed for that fulfillment, that satisfaction. The sating of lust.

Drefan's breathing evened out after a time. Kahlan lay there, in the darkness, beside him, beside her new husband, waiting. Why hadn't the Temple of the Winds come? She had done her part.