by Lynette Noni
Her attention moved from the arches back to the audience when Saefii and her advisors arrived. Today it was Calivere who appeared on the raised platform to hand out the golden cuffs, and once he ensured they were all fitted properly, he relocated to Saefii’s side. Only then did the empress raise her hands to quieten the crowd.
“The humans displayed their strength of body and mind yesterday,” Saefii called, using the common tongue so Alex and her friends could follow along. “Today they shall face their second test.”
This time when Saefii pointed at the Gates, they didn’t start spinning straight away, but slowly rose into the air until they were once again high above the dais. Only when they were back in their original floating positions did they begin their circling, around and around and around, their fiery blaze intensifying until they came to a sudden halt, again showing three glowing words—vorsa, havahn and la’nora.
With a bright smile, Saefii declared, “Tu’eh Saeron ess Vorsa, Tu’eh Saeron ess Havahn, Tu’eh Saeron ess La’nora.” Then, in translation, she said, “Our challengers will today be tested by the Gate of Dreams, the Gate of Fears or the Gate of Secrets.”
The cheers from the audience were almost deafening as the arches began circling again, wiping away all evidence of which description led to which Gate. Once more, they slowly lowered until they were positioned in the cloudy gap beside the dais where Alex and her friends stood.
“The decision is yours now, humans,” Saefii said, sitting on her throne. Like yesterday, she bade them good fortune with her whimsical blessing, “And may the light be your guide.”
Silence fell upon the audience, with the Tia Aurans eager to see what horrific challenge they would witness from the comfort of their seats.
“Secrets, fears and dreams,” Jordan mused. “Still not as bad as death, plague and tragedy.”
“I’m not real keen to try the fears option, though,” Bear said, rubbing his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks—not unexpected, given his loss. “Let’s avoid that one if we can.”
Alex made a sound of agreement, knowing that while his comment was addressed to the group, it was she who they would make choose their Gate again.
“We have a one in three chance of landing in dreams,” Kaiden said. “That sounds like the best option.”
“Dreams are good,” D.C. said, nodding emphatically. Even if Lena Morrow was still nullifying her gift, dreams were definitely her forte. “Dreams, we can handle. Even the abstract, weird ones that don’t make sense.”
“As long as that Gate doesn’t include nightmares,” Declan pointed out.
Since the Gates were meant to test them, Alex had a feeling that it didn’t matter which option they stepped through—the level of difficulty would probably remain the same.
“This one,” Alex said, moving forward with purpose, wanting to get it over with. “See you all on the other side.”
With a running leap, she jumped off the dais and through the glowing arch. As she did, the word ‘la’nora’ flashed across her mind, and when she came out the other side, she felt dread pool in her stomach at her familiar surroundings.
Just like with the second phase of the strength test, she had returned to the golden stadium, empty once again.
Her friends arrived before she could consider what horror might present itself, with each of them asking for a translation of the word. But before she or Kaiden could answer, Saefii’s voice echoed around the space.
“You have entered the Gate of Secrets,” the empress said.
“Not dreams, but at least we skipped fears,” D.C. whispered, and the others murmured their agreement. All except for Alex, who was as still as a statue, a bead of sweat trickling down her spine as her trepidation grew.
“The same rules apply from yesterday,” Saefii told them. “Do nothing, and you will pass. Call out for it to stop, and you will be instantly free of the challenge, but you will also have failed.”
Everyone nodded their understanding—other than Alex, who still couldn’t bring herself to move. Knowing the tests were designed to target her, she was racking her brain for what kind of secret would offer the greatest challenge. But other than her friendship with Niyx or her training with Athora, she couldn’t think of anything else they didn’t yet know. With them having already witnessed the death scene atop Mount Paedris, Alex had no hidden memories, nothing in her recollection that might be considered a secret.
“Your cuffs will offer any necessary language translations that might be required, so you—and we—can all comprehend what comes next,” Saefii said, causing Alex’s dread to grow. That feeling only increased when the empress wished them well and the scene liquefied around them, because it was then that she realised what they were about to experience was her secret… but it wasn’t her memory.
For the second time within twenty-four hours, she whispered a horrified, “No.” And that was because, when the scenery settled, they were standing in the centre of the Meyarin throne room.
Alex’s eyes jumped frantically across the faces of her friends, reading their wary but mostly unconcerned looks, none of them understanding as she did. And they wouldn’t. Because this had never been her secret to share.
“Guess this memory is yours again, huh, Alex?” Jordan said, somewhat dryly as he noted the Meyarins in the room. “Still a few secrets left to tell us, hmm?”
Alex couldn’t respond; she was too busy trying to steady her heart while looking around and waiting—waiting—for what she presumed was about to happen. She couldn’t be sure… But since it was the worst possibility she could think of, it was therefore the one that made the most sense.
There were eight Meyarins in the room. The king and queen were both there, with Niida seated imperiously on her throne and Astophe pacing back and forth before her. Watching on were the six council members of the Meyarin High Court— Gaiel, Riza, Roathus, Cykor, Saelin and another female whom Alex didn’t recognise, but presumed was the representative of House Quoris—Eanraka’s successor.
“It’s preposterous,” Gaiel spoke in Meyarin, his feline face a mask of fury. “Your son is wasting his time by pandering to a mere human. You should be ashamed, Astophe. A mortal undertaking the varrungard—it’s an insult to us all.”
A jolt of shock coursed up Alex’s spine at the realisation Gaiel was talking about her. But then ice settled in her veins at that confirmation of what she was seeing—of when she was seeing.
“I like the girl,” Roathus offered. The wizened Meyarin had a contemplative look on his aged face. “I see good things.”
“I wish I’d been there to meet her,” Cykor said, referring to the meal where Alex had first encountered Gaiel, Riza and Roathus. With a smirk, he added, “For one measly mortal, the girl certainly has this court in an uproar.”
At the time of this memory, Niyx’s father hadn’t yet been introduced to Alex—not as her mortal self, at least. He’d known her as ‘Aeylia’ in the past, but he’d also lost those memories thanks to Lady Mystique—memories that he, and all the other Meyarins she’d met thousands of years ago, would now remember in the wake of the ancient woman’s passing.
“The girl is insignificant,” Queen Niida said with a cold wave of her hand. “This meeting isn’t about her, it’s about ridding our son of her. As you said, Gaiel, she is beneath his attention. And she does not belong in our city.”
Alex knew present-day Niida held little love for her, so her venomous words came as no surprise. What was a surprise was that it seemed as though the queen had called a council meeting just to pass judgement on one ‘insignificant’ girl.
Lost as she was in what she was witnessing, Alex had forgotten that she wasn’t a lone observer to the scene.
“This is so weird,” D.C. whispered, pressing her finger to her ear. “It’s like… I can hear them speaking Meyarin, but somehow I understand the words.”
Alex looked down at her cuffs, remembering Saefii’s words about them acting as translators.
She nodded and explained quickly, not wanting to miss anything, “They didn’t like the idea of Roka training me. Queen Niida wanted me gone from Meya.”
Jordan’s brow creased with puzzlement. “No offence, but as far as secrets go, this doesn’t sound like that big of a deal. Unless you’re not telling us everything.” His words were cautious, but there was still a hint of accusation in them that Alex didn’t appreciate.
“This is the first time I’m seeing this,” she said, the need to defend herself taking over. “I don’t know any more than you guys.”
However, as truthful as her statement was, she was afraid that she knew exactly why they were there—and what was going to happen next.
“Wait,” Jordan said. “If this isn’t your memory, then who—”
He didn’t finish, because Astophe spoke, interrupting him. “My son—your prince”—his firm emphasis couldn’t be mistaken—“assures me that training Alexandra Jennings is of the utmost importance. He would not make such a claim without due cause.”
“Your son is blind when it comes to the mortal,” Gaiel all but spat.
Astophe’s normally bright expression darkened. “Careful, Gaiel. Don’t forget to whom you speak—and about whom.”
Gaiel flinched, realising that he’d overstepped. “Apologies, Your Majesty. I only meant—”
“Fear not, for you spoke true,” Niida interrupted smoothly. “Our son does appear disillusioned by the girl. As my husband claims, Roka mistakenly believes she is important.”
“I didn’t say mistakenly.” Astophe sent a cautioning look to his wife. “If Roka believes Alexandra is integral, then she is. I trust my son’s judgement—we all should.”
“Then you are just as much of a fool as he.”
Alex gasped at the queen’s biting words, shocked that she had snapped at the king so fiercely—and so publicly. In the past, Niida and Astophe had been almost sickeningly sweet together. While Alex had spent little to no time with them in the present, she still couldn’t fathom what she’d just witnessed.
“What?” Declan asked, hearing Alex’s shock. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she quickly replied. “Their arguing just surprised me, that’s all.”
Alex didn’t explain further; she was too focused on what was playing out in the throne room.
“You know, my love—you know—” Astophe wasn’t able to finish his low admonition before Niida interrupted.
“Mortals bring nothing with them but pain,” she hissed. “We all know that.” She rose haughtily from her throne and looked down her nose at her husband and the council members, her eyes like golden fire. “I’ve already told the girl as much. Just as I have told her what will happen if she fails to heed my warning.”
Alex recalled the queen’s ominous words spoken in the dead of the night: ‘I’ve already lost one son because of your race. I won’t allow you to take another from me.’
At the time, Niida hadn’t had any idea how accurate her statement was. But it wasn’t Alex’s race who was to blame—it was Alex herself. And when she returned to Medora from Tia Auras, the queen would know everything… remember everything.
“Warning or not,” Astophe said, his regal bearing and unyielding tone making his words all the more powerful, “for as long as Roka wishes to ally with the mortal, he shall be welcome to do so. Just as she will be welcome in our city. I’ll hear no more on the matter.” His normally warm amber eyes were uncompromising as he held the gazes of everyone in the room before meeting his wife’s burning glare. “Is that clear?”
Her answer was a single word, icy in its delivery. “Crystal.”
He continued holding her gaze before his expression softened. “Good. Now, all that’s left for us to discuss is—”
But whatever he’d been about to say was interrupted when the doors to the throne room burst open, the velocity causing them to slam back against the walls with a loud BANG.
Alex spun around with her friends, her face paling.
“No,” she whispered again, this time barely a breath of sound. Because this part she’d seen before. And she already knew how it played out.
“That’s the same guy from yesterday,” Declan said, sounding confused. “I thought you said this wasn’t your memory, Alex?”
She couldn’t respond. She was paralysed, a silent witness to the unfolding tragedy. Again.
Together with everyone else in the room, Alex watched as Niyx ran with immortal speed towards Astophe, his movements a blur. His appearance caught the Meyarins by surprise—he was supposed to be locked away in Taevarg, just as he had been for millennia. Lost in their shock, no one reacted in time to stop him from reaching the king. But it wasn’t Niyx they should have been stopping.
Just like when Alex had first seen this memory—from Niyx’s mind—Astophe opened his mouth in a surprised, pain-filled gasp, something that happened a fraction of a second before Niyx crashed into him, trying to pull him to safety. But it was too late—silver blood was already pouring from the fatal stab wound that Niyx had never delivered, even if everyone thought he had.
Riza’s bloodcurdling scream echoed around the throne room, pulling the council members from their shock and causing them to surge forward. But this part Alex had seen, too, and she watched with her heart in her throat as Niyx disappeared into thin air before anyone could reach him.
“What—I don’t—” D.C.’s voice wobbled. “But… he didn’t have a weapon. And… he just… disappeared. Just like—Just like—”
Just like Jordan.
D.C. didn’t finish her sentence. Perhaps because she refused to let her mind put the pieces together, but also because the scenery around them changed.
No longer in the throne room, the six of them were dragged right through the palace walls and partway along one of the corridors before they came to a halt in a small receiving room, one Alex had never seen before.
Nothing was happening in the room; or at least, nothing any of them could see. But Alex knew the reason for that, too— because, under the cover of Jordan’s transcendence gift, both he and Niyx were invisible.
“A single second to make a world of difference,” came Niyx’s hoarse, grief-filled voice from somewhere to Alex’s right. That was all he would have needed to push Astophe out of the way. All he would have needed to save the king from Jordan’s blade.
When the thump sound came not even a moment later, Alex didn’t jump, unlike her friends. She already knew Niyx had needed to move quickly so that the truth didn’t get back to Aven. He couldn’t let Jordan send word through his bond—he had to make certain Aven believed the lie, the version of events the council members had seen with their own eyes: that Niyx had willingly killed the king and was a loyal servant of the Rebel Prince.
And so, when Niyx knocked out Jordan to keep him from mentally communicating that he’d completed the task commanded of him, the scenery around Alex and her friends blackened—Jordan’s memory fading as he lost consciousness.
But the Gate of Secrets wasn’t finished with them yet.
When the darkness cleared, they were no longer seeing from Jordan’s mind, but Alex’s.
“This is—This is—” The real Jordan was alarmingly pale as he glanced around the familiar, snow-covered forest.
“It’s Raelia,” Bear said, puzzled. “We’re back at Raelia.”
But Jordan already knew that. Because the memory showed him in the scene along with Alex, the two of them huddled in the snow together in the aftermath of her having out-willed Aven’s Claim on him.
Just like the first time, Alex felt it right down to her soul when she asked if he remembered what had happened to King Astophe, her heart breaking anew when the realisation hit him.
“I killed him—I killed the King of Meya!”
Reacting to the sound of his own horrified cry, Jordan staggered back a step. When Alex reached out to him, he recoiled from her, u
nable—or unwilling—to look in her direction. All he did was keep watching the memory play out, his face now as white as their wintry surroundings.
“It wasn’t you. Listen to me—it wasn’t you!” memory-Alex tried to tell him, but her friend only shook his head, his tortured features awash with denial.
“Jordan, I have to make you forget that you did that,” she went on, and the real Jordan gasped out another pained sound as further comprehension made him stagger yet again. “I can’t tell you why, just that it’s important.”
Both versions of her friend were in shock, but Alex didn’t know what to do. She was the cause of Jordan’s current torment, the reason he’d never recalled this secret—because she’d stolen it from him.
While the memory version of him had understood enough to trust that she had a good reason for what she was doing, the present Jordan looked like he was going to be sick. His expression only worsened when she uttered her order for him to recall being knocked unconscious before he could complete Aven’s command.
The moment it was done and his foggy eyes refocused enough to ask, “What were you saying, Alex? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you,” the scenery around them melted, just as Alex had known it would.
Because now the Gate of Secrets was done with them.
But, looking at Jordan who still refused to meet her gaze, Alex couldn’t help fearing that her own test had yet to begin.
Ten
After Saefii congratulated them and Calivere relieved them of their golden cuffs, Alex and her friends were flash-transported away from the madly cheering stadium and directly to their rooms.