by Lynette Noni
“What’s going on with you today?” Niyx asked, drawing her back to the present as he paused his attack and looked at her with shrewd eyes. “You’ve been improving a lot lately but today it’s like we’re right back to where we started.”
“I’m sorry,” Alex panted. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Why not?” he asked, crossing his arms over his bare chest.
During their first sparring session, Alex had learned his preferred state of dress when fighting was minimal—which meant all he wore were boots and long black combat-like pants belted at his waist. The first time Alex had seen him half naked, she hadn’t been able to stop staring, but it wasn’t because of his ridiculously defined abs; it was because of the silvery claw marks highlighted against his tanned skin, the diagonal scars stretching across his chest.
He’d noticed her staring and had made some flippant remark about her drooling over him, but she’d seen the emotion in his eyes—the fear of his near-death experience, the relief of being alive, the anger at how he was alive and the regret that he would always bear the mark of the Sarnaph—and of the Claiming. In that moment, Alex was thankful that her own scars were tiny by comparison, the one on her hand and the one where A’enara had lodged into her back. Apparently only the most grievous of injuries were able to mar the flesh of those with immortal blood, and Niyx’s claw marks topped the charts.
Alex would never say it to his face, certain that she would receive some ridiculously lewd comment in return, but she thought the scars just added to his overall appearance, as impossible as that should have been. Meyarins on the whole were a tad too perfect, in her opinion. They were almost too unnaturally good looking. But Niyx’s scars, even when hidden by clothing, gave him a flaw that made him all the more real. They were a mark of what he’d been through, a badge of honour and a testament to his decision to help Alex learn to fight no matter the cost.
That was just plain beautiful to her.
“Aeylia!” he barked at her.
She shook her head and apologised again. “Sorry, what did you say?”
His lips pursed. “Why didn’t you sleep?”
“That would be my fault,” came Xiraxus’s rumbling voice as he landed in their clearing with a thump that wobbled the ground under Alex’s feet and shook the nearby trees of the forest.
“Well, if it isn’t my favourite draekon,” Niyx said in greeting. His words may have sounded snarky, but Alex knew he’d established a kind of mutual respect with Xiraxus, especially after they’d both laughed so hard together during the volcano incident. “Do I want to know why you kept our little mortal friend here up past her bedtime?”
Alex let the derogatory comment slide over her, since she’d heard much worse from him in the past few days.
“Do you want to tell him, or should I?” Xiraxus asked Alex.
Niyx glanced between them both. “I’m officially intrigued.”
“Xira thinks he’ll be ready to take me back to my time in a few days,” Alex said, still marvelling over what the draekon had told her the previous night. After everything she’d experienced in the past, she found it difficult to wrap her head around the idea of returning home—back to her friends, back to her family.
Niyx looked puzzled by the lack of jubilation in her voice. “This is a good thing, right?”
Alex nodded, more to herself than him. “Definitely. I mean, coming here was an accident to begin with—or maybe not, if you want to read into the whole looping-time paradox. But getting stuck in the past was never in my five-year plan, so I always knew I would have to go home when the time came.”
She didn’t mention her option to leave earlier through the Library, knowing it would raise too many questions about how she’d stayed to get a better idea of how Aven had become… well, Aven.
“I made the best of a bad situation by trying to learn what I would have if I’d been in the future,” Alex continued, “and thanks to you, I’ve come a long way with that.” She tipped her head in gratitude. “But I think it’s about time I got back to my real life.”
Knowing her better than she would like, Niyx asked, “Are you ready for that?”
“Psychologically?” Alex shook her head. “Probably not. Physically?” She grinned self-deprecatingly and shook her head again. “Definitely not. But I’m more ready than I ever have been before, so I’ll take that as a win.”
He watched her carefully, his eyes alert, and then turned to Xiraxus. “When do you think you’ll be up to the journey?”
“The day after the festival, at the latest,” the draekon returned, his tail sweeping forest debris in an arc around his hindquarters. “Possibly sooner.”
Niyx looked back to Alex. “Then we still have a few days left to practise before you go.”
The challenging glint in his eyes caused Alex no small amount of unease as she wondered what agonies he might inflict upon her next.
“Summon A’enara back, Aeylia,” he ordered. “If you think I’ve been going hard on you these last couple of sessions, you haven’t seen anything yet.”
Thirty-One
Niyx hadn’t been lying about taking it easy on her previously, not if the rest of their training session was any indication.
When they eventually called it quits that evening, Alex was barely able to summon the energy to return to the palace, clean up her bedraggled self and stumble down to dinner. Once there, she struggled to lift her fork to her mouth, and she was sorely tempted to ask the queen to feed her like a child. But after a few bites of the delicious meal, along with some hearty swigs of warmed laendra, Alex finally felt strength return to her body, enough to look up and properly take in her surroundings.
The moment she did, she froze with her goblet in the air.
For the first time in days, the entire royal family was dining together. Astophe and Niida were there, but so too were Roka and Aven, as well as the addition of Kyia—something which Alex was pleased to note, since the more time she spent in the presence of Roka, the more Alex was certain they would soon fall for one another.
What Alex wasn’t pleased to note was how oblivious she’d been of her dinner company up until the laendra jolted her back to awareness. How had she missed both Roka and Aven being there? The former was barely at the palace at all of late, so busy as he was with the Zeltora recruits, and the latter Alex had been deliberately avoiding due to his potentially unrequited feelings for her.
But now… Now everyone was looking at Alex with unbridled amusement.
“Rough day, Aeylia?” Kyia asked, a grin tugging at her lips.
Lowering her goblet to the table, Alex considered how best to respond. They’d all seen her zombie-like self just moments ago so she wouldn’t be able to brush aside their observations.
“I feel as though I single-handedly hunted down and fought my way through an entire pack of Sarnaphs.”
Her answer produced chuckles all around the table, and given how outrageous her statement was, it had the effect she was after, meaning that no one thought to question the real reason for her exhaustion.
“I hope you still have it in you to practise tonight,” Niida said, passing a hamper of pastries over to Alex.
Reaching for a spiced fruit scroll, Alex asked, “Practise for what?”
It was Kyia who answered, taking the hamper from Alex once she was done. “There are only three days left until the ball, and someone still doesn’t know enough to pass as a Meyarin.”
Nearly choking on her mouthful at what sounded very much like an accusation outing her humanity, Alex raised panicked eyes to Roka. He caught her look and gave a slight but meaningful shake of his head.
“Or at least,” Kyia continued, not noticing the interplay between Alex and Roka, “you don’t know enough to pass as one of us when it comes to dancing.”
“Dancing?” Alex cried, equal parts relieved and apprehensive. “No one said anything about dancing.”
Deadpan, Kyia said, “What exactly do you t
hink happens at a ball? That we all sit around playing Stix?”
“I vote we do that next time,” Astophe offered his opinion from the head of the table while reaching for a second helping of honey cake. “It sounds much more enjoyable.”
As Alex turned back to Kyia, her eyes flicked past Aven just in time to see a flare of annoyance blaze across his face. She understood the reason for his quickly concealed display of emotion, since she knew he’d been desperately trying to organise the end-of-summer celebration so that it was something everyone would enjoy. The knowledge that his father would prefer to sit in a corner and play a game rather than revel in the festivities can’t have been something Aven was thrilled to hear.
“These pastries won’t eat themselves, Aeylia,” Kyia said, drawing Alex’s attention away from Aven by placing another fruit scroll onto her plate. “You need to regain your energy, so dig in.”
Not needing to be told twice, Alex did as ordered, wondering how she might avoid the coming dance lessons and instead rest her tired eyes. But one look at Kyia, who was still piling more food in front of her, and Alex stopped brainstorming excuses, knowing that her evening was already planned whether she liked it or not.
After finishing their meals, the king and queen excused themselves, and Kyia took that as her cue to drag Alex from the table and through the palace until they reached a grandiose ballroom.
Staring in awe as she looked around the glass-domed space that was more like an observatory than a ballroom, Alex marvelled at the star-strewn sky and the glowing Myrox city easily seen beyond the transparent walls. There were at least three large balconies leading out into the open air, making the myraes-chandeliered room even more magical than it already was.
Craning her neck from side to side, Alex tried to take it all in, but her attention was seized when music began echoing around the space. The sound was classical yet upbeat, using a combination of woodwind and stringed instruments. Where it was coming from, Alex had no idea.
“There are a number of traditional Meyarin dances that you should have at least a basic knowledge of before the ball, so we’ll start with the easy ones and work our way from there,” Kyia said, just as Aven and Roka ambled into the room.
“Is this really necessary?” Alex asked, brushing her hair behind her ear and feeling all kinds of awkward. “I’ve danced before.” She paused, then admitted, “I may not be very good, but I can twirl my way around a ballroom without falling on my face.”
She reminisced about Kaiden and his arms around her, guiding her confidently through their waltz at D.C.’s seventeenth birthday party. But even that wasn’t her first time properly dancing, since that happened with Bear and Jordan during the previous New Year’s Eve Royal Gala at Chateau Shondelle—Jordan’s family home.
So much had happened since then.
Wiping her mind clear lest she become lost in her memories, Alex looked back at Kyia and added, “I’m sure I don’t need to practise—how hard can it be?”
But half an hour later Alex realised just how ignorant her words had been. Meyarin dancing was complicated, full of spins and twists, skips and jumps. And it was also fast. But that wasn’t the worst of it—the worst was that Kyia had paired Alex up with Aven as her teaching partner.
Normally Alex would have been thrilled by the arrangement because it meant Kyia herself was practising with Roka, which led to the two of them being in very close proximity to each other as they danced together. But given Alex’s desire to distance herself from Aven—and from whatever he might feel towards her—she was supremely uncomfortable being in his arms, despite the fact that it was purely for educational purposes.
“This would be a lot easier if you would just relax,” Aven said quietly to her, one arm curled snuggly around her waist, the other hand tangling with her fingers as he tried yet again to lead her through the steps. “You’re as stiff as a slab of Myrox.”
“I’m perfectly relaxed,” Alex lied, looking at anything but him.
Silence for a beat, and then, “What’s going on with you, Aeylia? I thought you… I thought we…” He trailed off, sounding lost enough that Alex felt compelled to look at him, only to see not just confusion in his eyes, but also hurt.
It was the hurt that made her wince inside, because this younger Aven was her friend. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him—there was enough of that coming for the both of them in the future. Her treating him like a pariah now wasn’t helping anyone.
“I’m sorry,” she answered softly, forcing her body to relax. “I haven’t been getting much sleep lately.” That much was true, thanks to Niyx’s rigorous training demands. “I think I’m just a little stressed and not feeling like myself lately.”
“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Aven said, his voice both compassionate and sincere. “No matter what, I’m here for you, Aeylia—always.”
Alex wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or cry, fully aware his statement wouldn’t hold true for the future. And she certainly had no idea how to handle her current situation—how to keep him at arm’s length but also keep their friendship intact for as long as possible. Niyx had implied that she should consider discouraging Aven’s feelings, but short of being a cold-hearted witch, Alex didn’t know how else to make it clear that she was never—ever—going to be romantically inclined towards him. She still couldn’t understand how he could feel that way about her when all she’d done was offer a few non-judgemental words of support. Was he so starved for kindness that her encouragement had claimed such a strong hold on his feelings? Having spent time with his loving family and friends, Alex struggled to comprehend how that could be true.
“Can I ask you something?” Alex asked, step-hop-twirling with him as he led them around the room in time with the music.
His reply was instant. “Anything.”
Alex kept her voice low enough that neither Roka nor Kyia could hear when she said, “Do you remember that night you took me to Narsae de Trigon?”
Aven’s features tightened a fraction and he glanced quickly towards where his brother was dancing on the far side of the room before turning back to Alex and quietly saying, “What about it?”
Biting her lip, Alex said, “When Skraegon came up to us”—Aven’s body tensed under her hands—“he suggested that if you—”
“I remember what he said,” Aven cut in, casting another wary glance over to his brother, but Roka was too busy laughing at something Kyia had said to be paying them any attention.
“Is that what you want?” Alex asked before she could chicken out. “To take the throne? Your family dead or cast aside?”
She, of course, knew that one day he would try and do exactly that. But the question had been plaguing her for almost a fortnight, ever since that unforgettable Garseth meeting. Had Aven been dwelling on it all this time as well? Just how close to being the villain of the future was he?
“Of course I don’t want that,” came his fast reply, his grip tightening around her. “Stars, Aeylia. What kind of person do you think I am?”
Glancing over his shoulder, Alex made herself finish what she’d started, needing to know exactly where he stood at this point in time. “You and your father are at odds about his support of the mortals. Skraegon might be a disgusting bully, but he’s right about one thing—if you were on the throne, you could rule Meya however you wanted.”
For a long moment, all Alex could hear was the anxious thumping of her own heart, increasing with the rising crescendo of the music.
When Aven spoke, it was so low that even with her Meyarin hearing, Alex could barely hear him.
“I won’t lie to you—I have considered his words more than I care to admit,” he said, his continued guidance through the dance steps the only thing that kept her from freezing with dread. “As you said, Skraegon is right—if my family were out of the picture, it would certainly simplify matters.”
Alex almost dropped to her knees when Aven’s tormented golden eyes locked on hers.
“But I could never instigate anything like that, Aeylia,” he whispered fervently. “I might not get along with my father all the time, but he’s still my father. We have our differences, sure, and there are too many of them for us to ever be as close as he is with my brother, but how would I ever live with myself if I decided to… to get rid of him?” Aven shook his head, horrified by the very idea. “And Roka—he’s one of the only people in this world who I trust with my life. He’d never betray me, nor I him. He’s more than my brother—he’s my closest confidant. We tell each other everything. I could no sooner harm him than I could you.”
Alex couldn’t help jolting in surprise at his mention of her, but the unintentional reflex occurred right as he spun her out in a twirl, effectively concealing her knee-jerk reaction from his watchful eyes.
So much of what he’d said distressed her, mostly because she knew that Roka wasn’t telling Aven everything—he was hiding the truth about Alex. And if Aven ever found out…
Alex couldn’t stomach the thought. Her only comfort was in the knowledge that when the time came for him to finally snap and change so drastically from who he currently was to someone willing to commit murder, she wouldn’t be around to witness how and why that came about. All she could do was guess the reason for it.
Perhaps Astophe would push him too far in one of their arguments, or maybe his relationship with Roka would decline over the coming years, enough that when Aven eventually decided to kill the humans, he would be willing to throw his family away.
Whatever the case, with only a couple more days left in the past, Alex decided to cast all the possible scenarios from her mind. She couldn’t stop what was going to happen, all she could do was live the hours given to her. Right now that meant focusing on the dance steps she was learning.