by Lynette Noni
Alex almost felt sorry for her—but she also couldn’t help feeling amused by her future friend’s grumblings.
After changing into a figure-hugging tunic and knee-high boots over the Meyarin equivalent of tights, Kyia escorted Alex back down to the dining hall entrance.
“Go on in,” Kyia said, making a shooing gesture with her hands to supplement Alex’s supposed lack of understanding.
When Alex didn’t move, mostly because the idea of walking into the dining hall again was enough to cause her to break out in hives, Kyia placed her hands on Alex’s shoulders and literally pushed her inside. It was a gentle push, sure, but a push all the same. Apparently it was Kyia’s mode of communication when words failed her, and it certainly worked because every eye in the hall instantly came to rest on Alex—the piercing golden gaze of Aven amongst the avid stares.
Her first reaction was to run. She wasn’t sure she could handle this. In fact, she was certain she couldn’t. But before she could convince her frozen legs to move, Kyia gave her another ‘gentle’ nudge forward and promptly closed the doors between them.
Fourteen
To Alex’s relief, dinner wasn’t the nightmare she feared it would be. There were so many Meyarins in attendance that, even after her awkward entrance, none of them were able to keep their attention on her for long with all the conversations breaking out around the table.
Roka had kindly insisted that Alex sit by him so she would have someone to converse with, but barely five minutes into the meal he and the king were called away on urgent business, leaving Alex to fend for herself. Or at least that was the case until Aven swapped seats, moving into the one his brother had vacated.
Every muscle in Alex’s body tensed, but he did nothing other than smile kindly and continue eating his meal. He didn’t try speaking to her, likely presuming she wouldn’t understand anyway. He seemed happy to simply keep her company, as if to make her feel she wasn’t alone in the crowded room. His actions truly baffled her. She honestly couldn’t reconcile this Aven to the one she knew in her time. How was it possible that the simple matter of him taking offence to the inferior trade dealings of a few humans could turn him into the Aven of the future? It just didn’t make any sense.
Just after the last course was served, Roka returned to the dining hall, but Astophe wasn’t with him. The prince strode directly over to where Aven and Alex sat, his face tight and his tone grim. “Father would like a word.”
Aven’s expression turned concerned. “Is everything all right?”
“He’s in the reception hall,” was all Roka would say. “You’d better not keep him waiting.”
At that, Aven’s lips quirked up in a grin. “At least he’s not in the throne room. That’s where he orders me to meet him when I’m in real trouble. Things can’t be as bad as your face claims, Ro.”
Roka relaxed his furrowed brow, shaking his head in what looked like resigned amusement. “You’re impossible, Aven. Please do us all a favour and start choosing your friends more wisely.”
“Ahh.” Aven stood to his feet. “I have a feeling I know what this might be about. But fear not, brother, I’ll have it all sorted before you can say ‘disinherited’.”
Alex jolted, but quickly covered her reaction by reaching for her goblet, downing the remainder of the beverage in a few large gulps as Aven confidently ambled from the room. Whatever his father had to speak to him about wasn’t causing him any anxiety, that much she could clearly see.
“Are you finished, Lasa Aeylia?” Roka asked Alex, switching to the common tongue.
“Please, Roka,” she said, standing to her feet in confirmation. “Call me Aeylia. Like you, I’m not big on formalities.” Plus, she didn’t like the way the presumed title reminded her of the snotty Lasa Riza of the future.
“‘Lasa’ is merely a gesture of respect,” Roka told her, leading the way from the room. “As is ‘Loro’ for the males. The terms don’t imply any kind of formal nobility, they’re more like the common tongue equivalent for ‘sir’ and ‘madam’.”
Alex pulled a face. “You’ve been calling me madam all this time? Eugh. That makes me feel so old.”
Roka laughed heartily, the sound so reminiscent of his future self that Alex’s body relaxed properly for what felt like the first time since she’d arrived in the past.
“I apologise then, Aeylia,” he said. “Stars forbid you ever feel old.”
“Just don’t let it happen again,” she said, going along with the playful moment.
“I’ll spread the word,” he promised. “No more ‘Lasa’ for you.”
Alex smiled widely. “I’d appreciate that.”
He came to an abrupt stop in the centre of the hallway. “If you’re feeling up to it, we can begin your education tonight—but only if you want. I know you’ve had a rather trying day.”
Alex figured the sooner she started, the faster she’d learn—just as she’d come to accept with the future version of Roka training her—so she nodded her head enthusiastically. “I’m ready when you are.”
He looked at her carefully, as if gauging the veracity of her statement, and nodded in return. “What would you like to begin with? Language, history, or the more practical physical capabilities at your disposal?”
If she were in her time, she wouldn’t have been given the option. All she needed then was to learn how to utilise her physical Meyarin abilities. But there must have been a reason why Lady Mystique specifically asked that she be educated in the other areas while staying in the past. She just didn’t know what the reason might be.
“You’re the teacher,” Alex said, leaving the decision to Roka. “Whatever you think is best.”
The prince tilted his head thoughtfully. “I suppose our priority should be teaching you the Meyarin language so that you can communicate with others who will then be able to assist with your training.”
Alex couldn’t resist the urge to scrunch up her face, not particularly eager to learn a language she, for whatever reason, already understood. Sure, it might come in handy being able to speak it, but for now, she was content with no one knowing she could comprehend their words.
Apparently reading her disappointed look, Roka chuckled and said, “Or we could start with something a little more exciting before heading to the library, if you’d like? How about a quick sparring match to see what kind of skills you already have?”
“That sounds perfect,” Alex said, even if she was somewhat apprehensive. She’d fought Roka once before—the first time her Meyarin abilities had ever kicked in—and she knew without any doubt that he’d been easy on her at the time. She wasn’t sure how this Roka would treat her, especially since he was under the impression that she was an actual Meyarin.
“The palace has a number of training rooms, some more private than others,” Roka told her. “I’m guessing you probably don’t want an audience, so we’ll head to one of the more isolated rooms. It’s located at the top of the east tower, so to save us time I’ll introduce you to the Valispath and we’ll use it to take us there.”
Alex stood up a little straighter, excited to learn more about the invisible rollercoaster.
“The Valispath is also known as the Eternal Path, and all those with Meyarin blood can access it as a means of transportation.”
That wasn’t entirely true, since Alex hadn’t been able to access the Path in the future despite Aven’s blood being in her veins. That was only because he was disinherited though, which in turn invalidated his Meyarin heritage. But here in the past, Aven wasn’t yet banished, which meant Alex should, theoretically, be able to use the Valispath like any other Meyarin.
“The Eternal Path was a gift from the Tia Aurans, long ago,” Roka said. “You’ll learn more about all that in your history lessons, but all you need to know for now is that they are a race of beings powerful beyond compare. To this day, despite what research we have carried out on the Path, not even our greatest minds can comprehend how it works or what fuels it. The V
alispath simply is. It has been a source of great frustration for many intellects of our time, but I personally believe it is one of those things that is beyond our understanding and should stay as such. If the Tia Aurans had wanted us to know how it worked, they would have told us.”
His gaze became unfocused for a moment before he came back to himself. “But I digress. You need not concern yourself with any of that. For tonight, you need only enjoy the ride and experience the power of the Path beneath your feet. In due time you will learn how to call it forth and control it.”
Alex made sure to act surprised when the ground moved out from underneath her as Roka activated the Valispath. Truly, it wasn’t hard for her to feign shock, since he hadn’t given her so much as a heads-up. But that also meant that she didn’t look like a graceless Meyarin fraud when she fell back against the invisible barrier. While it was such a mortal thing for her to do, she had an excuse thanks to Roka’s lack of warning. And for that she was grateful.
The Path took them around, up and through the corridors and walls of the palace until they came to a stop in a large training room—the same one in which she’d fought both Zain and Roka in back in her time. And when the prince started leading her across the padded mat-covered floor, Alex knew exactly what to expect next.
“Just in case someone comes in and you get nervous, this will help keep you from becoming distracted,” Roka said, crouching to the ground and tapping a pattern into the floor. An impenetrable Myrox enclosure rose up around them, sealing them in a bubble-shaped dome, hidden from all eyes and ears.
Alex watched as Roka unclasped his cape and threw it to the side. He was wearing similar attire to what she wore—leather tunic, trousers and boots—but his were more masculine and, well, warrior-like. He also had a myriad of weapons strapped to his belt; weapons she knew he didn’t need since he was lethal enough without them.
“Now,” Roka said, “I want you to attack me.”
Alex blinked at him. “Just like that?”
He opened his arms in invitation. “I need to see what raw material I’m working with, so go for it.”
Chewing her lip, Alex took a tentative step forward, then another. “I’m not entirely sure I’m comfortable with—”
“If you can’t directly attack the heir to the Meyarin throne,” Roka interrupted, sending her a roguish grin, “at least try to defend against me.”
And in a blur of movement, he ran forward.
Alex barely had a microsecond to release a startled yelp as she shied to the side, avoiding his reach.
“Good reflexes,” Roka said. “But can you dodge this?”
She swivelled her torso away from him again, but he turned at the last moment and went low, kicking her legs out from the floor.
“You didn’t even try that time,” Roka admonished.
“Maybe if you’d give me a second to prepare myself,” Alex said, rising back up to her feet and rubbing a hand against her bruised behind.
Roka cocked his head. “What’s there to prepare?”
“You know, to centre myself and—” She bit down on her tongue, hard, as she remembered that Meyarins wouldn’t need to centre or prepare themselves. If only Alex had that luxury. She needed to concentrate in order to activate the capabilities of her blood.
“Never mind,” she told Roka. “Just, uh, if you don’t mind, can I just have a quick moment? Just to sort of, uh, mentally psyche myself up to attacking the royal prince, and all that.”
Listen, she encouraged herself, closing her eyes. Just listen.
And as she had done all through the varrungard, Alex slowly expanded her senses outwards. She hit a block at the Myrox barrier but it didn’t matter, because when she opened her eyes, she knew she was back in the game.
“Okay, I’m ready,” she said.
Roka arched an eyebrow but, taking her word, he came at her again, faster than lightning. This time she was able to trace his movement almost as if it was in slow motion, and rather than jump out of the way, she raised her arm to block his attack. Her other arm moved to block his next, equally powerful counter-blow. She then decided to jump on the offence and drop to the floor, throwing her leg out to swipe his feet, but he evaded her by leaping into the air at the last second. Seeing his intent to strike now that she was in a vulnerable position, Alex sprung upwards and executed a backwards handspring to escape his range—something she had no idea she was capable of doing.
“Excellent,” Roka said, his voice ridiculously smooth to her now heightened hearing. “You’re much better than I anticipated, considering your lack of training. You’re a natural.”
Alex laughed at that, the sound strange to her Meyarin ears.
“Let’s see how you fare with a weapon,” Roka said, pulling his sword from its scabbard and raising it between them.
When he made no further move, Alex pointed to his blade and asked, “Do I get one of those?”
Roka’s brows rose. “You wield the Sword of the Stars, Aeylia. I recognised your blade earlier today, as did Aven and Kyia, though none of us had ever before laid eyes on it. The Bringer of Light is but a legend, or so we thought. I’m certain no weapon I can offer you would compare.”
Alex was surprised. Mostly because she wondered how—or when—A’enara ended up coming into Aven’s possession if this past version of him had never even seen the weapon before. It was, after all, the blade he’d tried to kill Alex with, so he kind of needed it in order for her future to play out. She hoped when she got back to the academy in her time that she’d hear from Kaiden, who had offered to research the strange weapon for her. She could certainly use some answers to her mounting questions.
At an encouraging gesture from Roka, Alex held out her hand, mentally summoning the blade. Just like earlier that day, it arrived in a dazzling blaze of light, surrounded by blue fire that danced along Alex’s arm.
“Why is it doing that?” she asked, entranced by the spiralling flames.
Roka sounded surprised when he asked, “Hasn’t it always?”
Alex shook her head. “No. This is definitely new.”
The prince stepped closer to inspect the flames. He reached out a finger to touch them but withdrew his arm quickly.
“Stars above, that’s hot,” he hissed, shaking his hand. When he held it out to show Alex, she could see a raw, blistering burn mark. It was healing quickly thanks to his immortal blood, but it still looked painful.
“I can’t feel it at all,” Alex marvelled, moving her free hand into the flames where they tickled her skin. There was perhaps a slight comforting heat, but nothing more.
“That’s because you’re as much a part of the weapon as it is you,” Roka said. “Where you go, it goes. You are bound to it, as it is to you.”
“I sort of already knew that,” Alex said, which was true, if not in so many words. “It’s been the case for a few months now, but I’m telling you, this fire thing is new. As in, new today.”
Roka seemed to contemplate that, but then his gaze travelled over Alex. She followed his eyes to the bare skin on her non-flaming arm, and since she was still using her Meyarin senses, she could easily see the glimmer from her bond with Xiraxus.
Roka motioned to her golden-hued skin. “Have you called forth the blade since enacting vaeliana with the Draekoran heir, Aeylia? Or was today the first time?”
Alex swallowed. “You don’t think…?”
“Legend claims that the Weapon of the Ages was also wrought by the Tia Aurans,” Roka said. “The draekons have a long history with the race beyond the stars. I wouldn’t be surprised if the blade is merely recognising your bond and reacting to it.”
“So, it’s like…” Alex searched for the correct word as the blue flames curled around her wrist. “An upgrade?”
Roka chuckled. “Sure. That works. Consider your weapon upgraded. While in your grasp, not only can it pierce flesh, it can now also burn sinew. Congratulations—you are the proud owner of the Blade of Glory.”
Alex sent him a challenging look, half amused, half serious. “Are you sure you still want me to attack you with this?”
“I must admit, I am having second thoughts.” Roka reached behind him and pulled a second sword from the sheath strapped to his back. He passed it to her and said, “Perhaps until I’ve determined the level of your skill, we might practise with comparable weapons after all. I’m rather fond of my limbs and wouldn’t want to risk the flame of the stars burning through them.”
Alex grinned at him and, with a flick of her wrist, banished A’enara. “Is that what that was? Star fire?”
Roka looked very much like an excited child. “Wasn’t it incredible? I’ve never seen it up close before. Or felt it. I can’t say that I want to feel it a second time, either. But still—incredible.”
His demeanour turned purposeful again when he raised his sword between them once more, gesturing for Alex to make the first move. She shuffled from foot to foot as she found her centre of gravity, weighing the foreign weapon in her hands. It was much heavier than A’enara, not as sleek, and it felt cumbersome in her grip. But she knew that to a Meyarin, none of that should make much of a difference—not its weight, not its length or shape. So she brought it in front of her and, without hesitating, lunged towards Roka.
He sidestepped, so she lunged again. And again, and again, and again as he continued dodging her attacks.
“What’s the deal, Roka?” she asked, lowering her weapon. “I thought you wanted to fight me?”
“Finally,” he said. And, having apparently waited to catch her off-guard, he made his move.
She only just managed to bring her sword back up in time to meet his blade in a screech of steel that was painful to her heightened hearing.
Left, right and left again, he thrust his blade towards her as she barely managed to keep up against his attack. It was only because she’d done this with him before—and while blindfolded—that she was able to hold her own, if only just. It also helped that she knew he wasn’t really trying; she could see it in the way he hesitated a fraction before every lunge, as if making sure she would be able to meet his attack without injury. Her mortal eyes never would have picked up on the tell, but her Meyarin sight revealed it clearly. And Alex was beyond grateful, because partway through their fight she realised something that could have had catastrophic consequences.