by Lynette Noni
Niyx didn’t respond, neither confirming nor denying what she would likely never receive an answer for. Instead, he returned to their previous conversation by saying, “I’ve never felt sorrier for anyone than I have for Kaiden this past week. Stars, what that poor guy has had to put up with…” His face was comically offensive as he finished, “All I can say is, he’s got to be touched in the head. Certifiably.”
Alex narrowed her eyes and smacked his shoulder again, this time much harder. He rocked backwards, but he did so while grinning.
“He says ‘thanks’, by the way,” Alex said, remembering Kaiden’s words. “And ‘sorry’.”
When Niyx’s grin turned into a hearty laugh, Alex’s intrigue grew and she waited to hear an explanation.
“You have my letter on you?” he asked, and since he was apparently clued in to everything about her—whether because he actually was somehow stalking her from beyond the grave or because he was just a figment of her own imagination—he already knew the answer.
Pulling it from her waistband, her fingers wobbled slightly as she held it in her grip.
“This meant the world to me,” she said quietly. “Without it, I—I would have been—”
“I figured you’d be lost without me,” Niyx said, sounding almost smug about it. “What can I say? With me gone, the world no longer knows what perfection is.”
“And there’s that modesty,” Alex couldn’t help saying, but secretly she loved the nostalgia of the moment. She soaked up every detail of it, knowing their time would soon come to an end, that the scene would dissolve once the Gate decided it was done. She had to make the most of every second.
“Modesty is like humility,” he said with a dismissive gesture. “If you have it, you don’t need it, because you’re too good for it to begin with.”
Alex wryly said, “Goodness, you’re even more arrogant now than you were while still alive.”
“There’s no time for shame among the dead, Aeylia,” he said with a wink. “Now hand over the letter.”
She did so, resisting the urge to tell him to be careful with it.
“Here it is,” he said after skimming his own words. “See this?”
She looked to where he was pointing and cast her eyes over the handwriting she’d read too many times to count.
… And trust Kaiden - he seems a good sort, and he has an impressive right hook. Trust him to look after you now that I can’t.
“What about it?” she asked.
“The ‘sorry’ was because he took a swing at me,” Niyx said, humour in his tone. “Him. A human. Throwing a punch at me. A Meyarin.” He touched his jaw as if recalling the blow. “And he actually made good work of it.”
Shocked, but understanding why that would amuse Niyx, she asked, “What did you do to make him hit you?”
With fake affront, he said, “What makes you think I did anything?”
Alex sent him a look.
“Okay, fine, I may have deserved it,” he admitted. “But why that was, you don’t need to know.”
Alex opened her mouth to argue, but he continued over her, “I’ll give you one option here, Aeylia—I can tell you about the ‘sorry’ or I can tell you about the ‘thanks’. But I’m pretty sure you’re going to want to know about the ‘thanks’.”
With that dangling like a chocolate bar in front of her, Alex gave a terse nod of agreement.
“I may have… encouraged him in his pursuit of you,” Niyx said, his smile concerning enough for Alex to fear what such encouragement had entailed. But then his expression softened as he shared, “And I may have told him that no matter how hard you made him work for it, it’d be worth it in the end.”
Alex had to blink quickly against a renewed blurring of tears—tears that only thickened with Niyx’s next words.
“Obviously, he took my advice to heart, since he’s now offering his gratitude.” His smile returned as he added, “But you should know, I also told him I’d kick his ass if he ever hurt you.” He cocked his head thoughtfully and looked around their scenic view. “That’s going to be more difficult now, but I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge.”
A single tear managed to fall down her cheek.
“That said,”—he reached out and wiped the tear away— “I’m pretty sure you won’t have anything to worry about.”
If Niyx kept it up, Alex feared he would succeed in killing her from his words alone.
With him watching as she visibly wrestled her emotions, his mouth curled upwards as he shook his head and said, “Gotta say, though. That stunt you pulled with him last night?” He raised his eyebrows. “Ballsy, Aeylia. I don’t know whether to rail at you both or offer a standing ovation.”
In a croaky voice, Alex replied, “How about you just give me a hug and tell me that you’re okay?”
Everything about him gentled at her request and he didn’t hesitate to open his arms.
As she moved into them again, he whispered into her ear, “I’m free now, kitten. That means I’m better than okay.”
“Do you promise?” she whispered back.
He pulled away only to press a kiss to her hairline. “I promise. And now there’s something I need you to promise me.”
She met his gaze. “Anything.”
“Screw the prophecy,” he told her, straight up. “Forget what it said—both versions of it. You go and make your own destiny.”
She swallowed, but he wasn’t done.
“No matter what happens next, don’t give up. And stop doubting yourself while you’re at it. Even without an immortal army backing you, even without being able to share your gift with others, you already have everything you need to defeat Aven, and it’s all right here.”
He pointed a finger to her chest, straight over her heart.
“Trust your friends, trust your training, but most of all, trust yourself,” he continued. “Because when it comes down to you against him, the victor won’t be the one with the swiftest blade, but the strongest will.” He held her gaze. “That means you’ve already won. You just have to believe it.”
Lips trembling, Alex looked into his eyes and, knowing he was expecting a response, nodded slowly.
“Good,” he said. “Then I think we’re done here.”
Alex felt panic rising within her, but at the same time, peace settled into her soul. Quietly, she said, “This is goodbye for us, isn’t it?”
With a quick flash of a grin, Niyx replied, “It’s certainly better than the last one we shared. Much less messy.”
A strangled sound of mirth caught in her throat. “Stop making me laugh when all I want to do is cry.”
“We’ve already established that you’ve cried enough this week.” He drew her close one final time and whispered into her ear, “No more tears, kitten. Not for me.”
Nodding into his shoulder, she held on for a long time before releasing him, finally, finally ready to let him go.
“I’ll never forget you, Niyx,” she whispered as the scene around them began to dissolve.
With a sad, soft smile, he whispered back with clear meaning, “As long as there are stars in the sky.”
And then, just like that, he was gone.
So was she, but she didn’t find herself back in the stadium.
Instead, she was standing on a cluster of white clouds, with swirling mist and smoky haze surrounding her, making her visibility next to nothing.
As she squinted into the mist, she soon made out the shape of a person moving slowly towards her.
Alex recognised Skyla instantly, her hands beginning to shake as the willowy girl approached.
As if aware that she had little time, all Skyla did was smile wistfully at Alex, before offering only three words.
“Make him pay.”
Alex didn’t have a chance to utter her agreement before Skyla vanished into the mist once more, only to be replaced by another familiar figure.
“Tell my son I love him,” William whispered, his hands com
ing to rest on Alex’s now shuddering shoulders. “That I’m so proud of who he is becoming. Tell him for me.”
Alex nodded through a hiccupping breath.
“And I’m proud of you, too, Alex,” William continued. “You’ve faced more than anyone ever expected of you. I’m honoured that my son has been by your side through it all, that he has stood with you and fought for you. I know he struggled with the decision to follow you here, unsure if he should leave so soon after my death, but he made the right call. Make sure he knows that too, okay? Make sure he knows that he is brave, he is loyal, he is strong, and that, no matter what, he needs to keep fighting. Because he is needed, more than he’ll ever know.”
“I promise,” Alex whispered through her impossibly tight throat.
And when William smiled and squeezed her shoulders before dissolving like the mist around them, she had to swipe tears from her face all over again.
But yet again, a figure appeared, a woman who Alex didn’t recognise. Not until she spoke.
“Hello, child.”
Alex’s eyes widened at the beautiful young Tia Auran, radiant with light and life.
“Lady Mystique?”
The ancient immortal chuckled warmly. “I always did like that name. Just as I never truly figured out if you first gave it to me in the past or in the future, since you heard it from me in the future, but I heard it from you in the past.”
Alex didn’t even try to get her head around that. “You look—You look—”
“More like my sister now, I dare say.”
It was true—the resemblance between Aes Daega and Aes Orsa was undeniable now that Lady Mystique was no longer wrinkled and weathered by her years in Medora.
“Your time here is nearly up, child, so listen and listen well,” Lady Mystique said, resting her hand against Alex’s cheek. “When all seems lost, Kelarna de la Soraya.”
The translation came to Alex instantly and she whispered, in question, “Remember the light?”
Lady Mystique shook her head and then repeated, more firmly, “No, Alexandra. Kelarna de la Soraya.”
But despite the repetition with the emphasis on the final word, the translation didn’t change.
“I don’t—I don’t understand.”
Patting her cheek once before stepping back again, Lady Mystique just looked into her eyes and said, “When the time comes, you will.”
And then she, too, was gone.
Frustrated, Alex called out, “You’ve said that to me before— and it’s no less annoying this time!”
But other than perhaps what she imagined was a chuckle in the swirling mist, there was no answer.
Alone and surrounded by nothing but clouds and haze, Alex wasn’t sure why the Gate didn’t spit her out and send her back to the stadium. Not until one final figure appeared.
“Well met, Alexandra Jennings.” He paused pointedly. “Or should I continue calling you Aeylia?”
Alex’s body was taut as she locked eyes with King Astophe.
“Your Majesty,” she stammered, dropping into a curtsey.
He laughed lightly. “Come now, Alex. I think we’re past the formalities. And besides,”—he gestured to the clouds around them—“I’m hardly sovereign here.”
Alex conceded his point.
“I missed you once you were gone,” he said quietly. “I’ve never had a better Stix partner before or after.”
Alex snorted, certain he was lying.
“It’s true,” he said, his amber eyes lit with kindness. “No one lost as well as you did.”
For any normal game, his statement would have been offensive. But since the point of Stix was to lose—the winner being the person with the most pieces wiped from the board at the end of the match—the Meyarin king was offering her quite the compliment.
“I had a good teacher,” Alex told him shyly.
He laughed again. “That, I won’t contest.”
Silence fell between them until Alex couldn’t stand it any longer and whispered, “I never meant to hurt your family.”
“You never did hurt my family,” Astophe responded, his tone filled with reassurance. “My son made his own choices. His burden is not yours to bear.”
Alex closed her eyes at his firm, unyielding statement and felt something ease inside her. For the first time, she actually believed the words he spoke—not just on a surface level, as she’d come to accept, but deep within her.
“We don’t have much time,” Astophe said quietly, prompting her to look at him again. “There’s something I need to tell you before you leave this place.”
Alex focused on him, curious what he could have to share.
“My son has done terrible things in the name of his cause,” Astophe said, “there is no denying that. Just as there is no denying the power he now wields. But despite what you might think, he has a weakness. Just the one.”
Her body still, Alex prayed she wouldn’t be swept away before Astophe could finish. But when he went on to explain and then tell her what she would have to do, Alex found herself wishing the Gates had carried her away sooner.
“You want me to kidnap Niida?” Alex hissed. “Are you mental?”
“My wife is the only being in all the worlds whom my son still holds any affection towards. She has grieved him since his banishment, so I know the feeling is mutual. Niida is the leverage you need.”
“You are mental,” Alex said, shaking her head. “I can’t just waltz into Meya right now—every single immortal there is Claimed by Aven. The second I’m spotted, he’ll know.”
“So don’t let anyone see you.”
Alex made a sound of disbelief. “And then what? Let’s say I manage to sneak into your palace—we both know Niida’s not going to come willingly. She hates me.”
“And yet, she loved Aeylia.”
Alex flinched at that, knowing it was true.
“Be that as it may,” she said, somewhat hoarsely, “I doubt she’ll be willing to reconcile my past and present selves. Especially since, like everyone else, she’ll be Claimed. Which means, again, as soon as I even try to abduct her, Aven will know, and he’ll send in everyone he can to stop me.”
It was Astophe’s turn to shake his head. “I don’t believe so. As the sole person left in his life with any kind of love towards him, Aven will want to keep his mother’s feelings as authentic as possible, not manipulated as a result of a blood bond.”
Alex raised her eyebrows. “You’re saying Niida isn’t Claimed?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” His eyes held hers as his face turned grave. “It’s also why I need you to be open to what I’m about to say next.”
Already certain she wasn’t going to like whatever that was, Alex gave a wary nod of agreement.
Once he was done, silence descended upon them, the mist swirling ethereally around the clouded space. It was almost peaceful, until—
“Are you insane?”
Astophe was undaunted by Alex’s incredulous screech.
“Think about it,” the king said. “It’ll mean you can draw Aven out and confront him at a time and place of your choosing.”
“This is your wife we’re talking about, the Queen of Meya,” Alex cried. “How can you even suggest something like this?”
“Because this is war, Alex, and sacrifices must be made in order to save lives,” Astophe said, his voice telling of many other difficult decisions he’d had to make over the years. “My wife knows that more than most, and if she were in her right mind and not clouded by millennia of grief, she would be the first to volunteer for what I proposed.”
Alex thought back to the strong, kind-hearted Queen Niida of the past and knew that Astophe was right. But still, she struggled to abide his suggestion.
Seeing that, his tone softened and he repeated, “Just think about it.”
The thing was, she knew that most of what he’d said was valid. His logic was sound, even if she wished it weren’t so. If Niida was Aven’s one weaknes
s, then Alex needed to capitalise on that. Abducting her was a good idea—presuming it could be done. But the rest…
“I’ll think about it,” Alex agreed slowly. “Regardless of what I decide, thank you.” When he looked at her in question, she explained, “Despite who or what he has become, Aven is still your son. None of this can be easy for you.”
Pain flashed in the king’s eyes, enough for Alex to know she was right.
“Protect my people, Alex,” he told her, his voice rough with emotion. “Succeed where I failed.”
Before Alex could disagree with his statement, before she could tell him what a wonderful leader he had been to his people, what a wonderful husband and father to his wife and children, he disappeared into the mist.
And so did she.
Twenty-Seven
Hours later, Alex lay on the grass next to Xira, staring up at the gradually setting suns overhead.
After the Gate of Lost Souls released her, she had called for her draekon, and together they’d soared the skies all afternoon while she’d filled him in on everything that had happened.
Eventually Xira had delivered them to Lendasa Marna and settled them on the fairy-light island, which, in daytime, was just a normal—if still pretty—patch of forest-, lake- and mountain-covered land. Without the bioluminescent glitter surrounding them, neither Xira nor Alex had become painted with colour; something that was almost disappointing, since the idea of showing up to the feast covered in a rainbowed plague might have taken some of the sting out of the Tia Aurans’ refusal to help. If nothing else, it would have at least been enjoyable to see their reactions.
Now that the time was drawing nearer for her return to Medora, Alex struggled to find a way to broach the topic she so desperately wanted to talk to Xira about.
“It’s almost amusing, watching you squirm,” Xira said after she’d been silent for a full five minutes.
“You know what’s not amusing?” Alex returned. “You being able to read my mind when I don’t want you to.”
He made a scoffing sound. “We really have to work on your lying skills.”
Alex’s lips twitched. “I’m pretty sure that’s not a character trait I want to adopt.”
“Perhaps not,” Xira acknowledged. “But you’re truly hopeless when it comes to deceit.”