Draekora

by Lynette Noni

  Seeing the truth all over his features, Alex wasn’t sure if she wanted to cry or hit something. The past sucks, she thought, wondering how everything could be so wrong. How could Zain, Roka’s right-hand man, leader of the Zeltora, be a criminal? And a notorious one, at that? How could the almost sickeningly in-love Kyia and Roka not be a couple, let alone not be able to stand one another? How were both Aven and Niyx—Rebel Leader and Rebel Underling of the future—what Alex would almost consider nice?

  When her thoughts lingered on Aven, Alex knew she didn’t want to ask. Really, she didn’t. But she had to know what she was dealing with, so she sucked up the courage to enquire, “Is your brother all right?”

  When Roka’s jaw tightened, she knew the answer wasn’t good, even if all he did was repeat, “He never should have left you.”

  Alex waved her hand. “Let’s move on from that. Is he okay after whatever caused him to take off in such a hurry?”

  Roka gave a short shake of his head. “My brother is many things. Disillusioned is now perhaps one of them. His eyes have been opened to some truths he was not prepared to discover and he has yet to accept the way things are. But don’t trouble yourself, Aeylia. He will be fine.”

  Alex could read Roka’s body language enough to know he was not at all pleased with whatever happened in the wake of his brother storming back to the palace.

  “What about Zain?” Alex asked, jumping topics so swiftly she was surprised Roka didn’t get whiplash. “If he’s a criminal, why didn’t you arrest him?”

  Roka’s tightened jaw locked even further. He only unclenched it to say, “One good deed deserves another. I’d been searching for you all night, but he returned you to the palace unharmed. I could not in good conscience call the guards upon him.”

  “He didn’t just return me unharmed, Roka,” Alex said carefully. “Zain saved my life tonight.”

  “I’m sure you’re overreacting,” Roka said, smiling slightly as if to take the dismissive sting out of his words. “Narsae de Trigon is not a place I would ever wish you to visit, but that doesn’t mean—”

  “Do you know a Meyarin called Skraegon?” Alex interrupted.

  The fire that lit behind Roka’s golden eyes and the air that hissed from between his teeth was all the confirmation she needed.

  “Trust me, Roka. I’m not overreacting,” she promised quietly, her voice full of meaning. “Zain did save my life tonight. Or he at least saved me from a broken life no one should have to endure. Criminal or not, I now owe him.”

  Eyes boring into her own, Roka asked, “What would you have me do, Aeylia?”

  Alex didn’t understand his response. “Do about what?”

  “You’re meant to be under the protection of House Dalmarta, my protection,” Roka said. “Another member of my House let you down, therefore I let you down, so I owe you reparation for that. If you owe Zain, and I owe you, then it leads to the conclusion that I owe Zain. So tell me, Aeylia, what would you have me do?”

  Alex suddenly realised the position of power she was in. And she wasn’t going to waste it, even if she was taking advantage of the situation. “I want you to let Zain try out for the Zeltora.”

  Roka threw back his head again, laughing uproariously once more.

  Alex stood with her arms crossed, waiting for him to compose himself. “I’m not kidding, Roka.”

  “Zain Erraeya would sooner die than be a part of my elite guard,” Roka said, humour still in his eyes as he looked back at Alex. “The Zeltora stands for everything he’s against. Truth, justice and moral decency.”

  Alex was shaking her head. “You’re wrong. They mean everything to him.” At Roka’s probing look, she winced mentally at her appalling lack of care and quickly added, “From, uh, what I gathered in the few minutes I was with him.” She hurried on to cover further by saying, “And just so you know, he’s of the opinion that it’s you who would sooner imprison him than allow him into the Zeltora.”

  “He’s not wrong.”

  “Roka!” Alex cried, annoyed now. “You asked me what you could do. I gave you my answer. Are you going to fulfil your debt or not?”

  Roka eyed her thoughtfully. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Deadly,” she answered truthfully.

  “You want me to allow Zain Erraeya to attempt the varrungard? And if he completes it with the necessary results, you then want me to offer him a place in training to become one of my most trusted warriors?”

  “I do.”

  A muscle ticked in Roka’s cheek and he moved away to start pacing, muttering under his breath in Meyarin, “I must be mad for even considering this. But what else am I to do? If he truly did save her from that beast of a Meyarin, then I owe the kregon.” Roka ran an aggravated hand through his slowly drying hair and continued walking. “All this is Aven’s fault. If that norot brother of mine causes me to end up with a dagger in my back at the hands of one of my own warriors, I swear by the stars I’ll haunt him from my grave.”

  Alex hid a smile at the thought—both at Roka haunting his brother, which would admittedly be rather funny, and at the idea of Zain so much as laying a hand on his future best friend.

  Finally releasing a deep huff of air, Roka moved back to stand before Alex.

  “He gets one chance,” Roka said firmly. “That’s it. If he does anything wrong, he’s not just out, I’ll lock him up in Taevarg myself. Is that clear?”

  Alex grinned widely. “Crystal.”

  Roka made a face that told her just how much he wished she were someone else’s responsibility. That only made her smile more.

  “Get some rest, Aeylia,” he ordered with a resigned grumble. “I need to figure out how to find your new friend and convince him to attempt the varrungard since I’m certain you won’t take ‘no’ for an answer from him either, am I right?”

  “You already know me so well, Roka. We’re gonna get on great.”

  Judging by the look he sent her, Alex figured she’d pushed her luck enough for the night and moved quickly to open her door.

  “I’m not sure what’s happening with Aven,” Roka said just before she could escape into her room, causing her to glance back at him. “But regardless, you’ll have a full day of learning tomorrow. Be prepared, since after I’ve lost all my dignity by begging a criminal to become a warrior sworn to protect our people, I likely won’t go easy on you.”

  Knowing his threat wasn’t idle, she said, “I can accept that. And seriously, thanks, Roka. It means a lot that you’re willing to do this. All of it—taking care of me, teaching me, everything.”

  Roka offered her a small smile but otherwise waved aside her thanks. “Sleep, Aeylia. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She stepped through her door and had it almost closed before she called out to him one last time, saying, “Just so you know, we’re not done talking about Kyia, either. So brace yourself, Roka. If you think I was serious about Zain, just you wait for what I’m going to throw at you about her.”

  Seeing his startled yet questioning look, Alex quickly shut the door, knowing she would have to tackle that particular problem another day. Matchmaking was a whole different ballgame, especially when it involved a couple as important as Roka and Kyia. She needed to be fresh if she wanted to help them in any way, especially if their current relationship status was as bad as he’d suggested. And help them, Alex would. Because even though they were together in her future, who was to say she hadn’t played a part of making that happen in the past?

  The whole timeline paradox was so messed up that Alex’s head ached anytime she considered it. But she was becoming more and more convinced that she was where she was for a reason. She only had to wait it out to see why. And if she achieved nothing more than helping Zain and Roka find their way to each other, then she already considered her time in the past as being well spent. Kyia and Roka would just be an added bonus.

  As she was shuffling around and getting ready for bed, Alex checked in with Xiraxus
to make sure he and the rest of the draekons had survived the storm, only to discover they hadn’t experienced it with Draekora located so high above the clouds. She ended up having to listen to a full ten minutes of him ranting concerns about her. The lightning pummelling Meya had stopped him from being able to fly down anywhere near the city, but he’d still felt her distress at the tavern and hated being unable to swoop in and save her.

  While he expressed his concern straight to her mind, she made the frustrating realisation that her entire evening could have been prevented if she’d thought to contact him earlier and ask for a lift back to the palace before the storm had set in. She, of course, had never had her very own flying taxi service before, so it was only natural that she hadn’t thought of him.

  Xira? she called, her slurred word interrupting his vow to hunt down anyone who tried to lay a hand on her again. I appreciate your concern, but I really need to sleep now.

  Alex wasn’t sure what he said in reply, only that his tone quieted enough for her to doze off without waiting to hear his full response.

  That night she dreamed vividly, likely as a result of her anxiety-fuelled day. She dreamed of her friends, Jordan, D.C. and Bear, all walking through the forests around Woodhaven, laughing at something Jordan said. She dreamed of her parents, Rachel and Jack, spending the Kaldoras break in their Ancient Egypt Library habitat, inspecting fossilised bat droppings and whatever else they could get their hands on, having a grand old time. She dreamed of her headmaster and friend, Darrius Marselle, along with many of her other teachers, Karter, Finn, Hunter, Caspar Lennox, Maggie, even Administrator Jarvis. She dreamed of her classmates, their faces flashing across her mind’s eye. She dreamed of Fletcher, the doctor who did his best to keep her alive even when she made it difficult for him. She dreamed of her Meyarin friends of the future—her Roka, Kyia and Zain. And lastly, she dreamed of Kaiden. She dreamed of sparring with him in Combat class. She dreamed of dancing with him at D.C.’s birthday party. She dreamed of his gentle touch, his strong arms, his incredibly, impossibly blue eyes.

  Every dream she had ended the same way: with a laughing Aven standing triumphantly over their dead bodies.

  Jordan, dead.

  D.C., dead.

  Bear, dead.

  Her parents, her teachers, her classmates. All dead.

  Roka, Kyia, Zain. Dead.

  Kaiden… dead.

  When she woke up panting in the middle of the night, Alex felt the weight of a thousand lifetimes linger between her and everyone she cared about.

  Homesick for a place currently well beyond her reach, all she could do was turn over and try to get back to sleep. When she finally managed to drift off again, she did so with a wet pillow and a single tear still rolling down her cheek.

  Nineteen

  Almost an entire week passed before Aven showed his face around the palace again. Until then, the yelling match he’d had with his father was all anyone talked about—how the prince had lost his mind and screamed at the monarch about the mortals who were stealing from Meya. The news had spread swiftly beyond the palace walls, and anytime Alex wandered the city, she heard the gossiping voices of Meyarins in the streets. She did her best to ignore it all, knowing that what would be, would be, and instead focused on her training.

  Roka was a demanding teacher, but Alex would have expected no less. At her request, they focused primarily on theory-based knowledge rather than practical experience since she still had no idea how to get around the problem of her red blood and stubbornly avoided sparring with him every time he offered, with her excuses becoming more paltry each time he asked. The bonus was, within the span of six days she became nearly fluent in the Meyarin language, began to learn the long history of the immortal people, and, most excitingly, was taught how to use the Valispath.

  It turned out the latter was actually rather simple. All she had to do was will it to activate around her and focus on where she wanted to go and it just sort of… happened. But she also had to concentrate for the entire trip, otherwise she would end up somewhere unintended—as she’d learned the hard way during one of her first solo outings. One moment she was rollercoasting along with her mind on the Golden Cliffs, and the next she’d been wondering why Zain was repeatedly refusing to take up Roka’s offer to try out for the Zeltora. That led Alex to thinking about the warriors themselves, and before she knew it, the Valispath spat her out in the centre of the garrison, right when the elite guards were in the middle of a training drill. All eyes had come to her and she’d awkwardly forced herself to laugh it off, saying in Meyarin, “Well, this sure isn’t the kitchen.”

  Roka hadn’t let her live it down for a full day. Niyx hadn’t either, since in Aven’s absence he’d pulled out the ‘best friend’ card and was regularly checking in with the royals, telling them their son and brother was fine but needed some time to cool off. Doing that, Niyx was around the palace a lot more than Alex would have presumed normal. Stranger still, he seemed to be on friendly terms with them all—even Roka, who had been the one to counsel Aven on choosing better friends. It was just plain weird seeing Niyx interact so casually with Roka, Kyia, even Astophe and Niida, knowing that, like Aven, he was not one of the good guys. And yet, in this time period, he kind of was. Sure, he was a pathological flirt and relentless charmer to boot, but Alex had noticed he was like that not just with her, but with anything that moved. Once she came to that realisation, she was much more comfortable being around him. She couldn’t forget the threatening future version of him, but as unbelievable as it was, she didn’t absolutely detest him in the past. His buoyant personality alone made that nearly impossible.

  Other than having lessons with Roka and what felt like daily verbal sparring matches with Niyx, Alex spent much of her time with Kyia, who had been given the task of teaching her about Meyarin customs and culture. It was all frightfully boring, but it gave Alex the chance to carefully scout out how the female Meyarin felt about Roka. Unfortunately, the prince hadn’t been playing coy when he implied that he and Kyia didn’t get along. In fact, if Alex read their relationship correctly, Roka had severely downplayed the level at which they detested each other. So much so that she wondered if perhaps she was best just letting them get on with it themselves, knowing they would eventually end up together. She was only going to be there for another couple of weeks and came to the conclusion that it might be safer not to make any more waves in the time she had left.

  Deciding that was the best plan—unless, of course, opportunities arose where she couldn’t resist playing Cupid—Alex kept the ripples at bay by going about her life in an almost perfunctory manner. Every morning she breakfasted with the queen, whose common tongue improved just as quickly as Alex’s Meyarin. Other than her desire to converse better with Alex, the queen’s official reasoning was that she was housing someone raised by mortals and thought it was a good indication that she should invest in the ability to communicate with the human race. That might have been her official response to anyone who asked, but Alex knew better. One morning Niida had broken down in tears and admitted that she was thankful she had something to do in order to keep her mind off her youngest son who she was deeply concerned about. The love and fear shining out of her eyes had nearly brought Alex to her knees, and she knew without a doubt that the queen was terrified of the changes in Aven. All Alex could do was hold Niida’s hand and tell her everything would be okay, offering false hope but true comfort as the queen wept on her shoulder.

  When she wasn’t lying to emotionally wrecked monarchs or learning from Roka and Kyia, the rest of Alex’s free time was spent exploring the copious and extravagant halls of the palace, strolling around the streets of the beautiful city and checking in with Xiraxus to find out how close he was to having the energy to re-open the abrassa back to her time. Every day his answer remained the same: not close enough. But still she continued asking, waiting for the day when he would tell her they were good to go. And in the meantime, she was determined that when she f
inally left the past, her presence would leave hardly any mark at all.

  … Other than sorting out Zain.

  … And maybe Kyia and Roka, if she could swing it.

  But nothing else.

  It would be like she was never there.

  On Sunday, exactly one week after her arrival in the past, Alex was on her way to her bedroom to freshen up for dinner following a mind-numbing, three-hour session where Kyia lectured her about the seven different Houses of the Meyarin High Court. Dalmarta was obviously one of them, as well as Niyx’s family in House Raedon. The five others were Lorenn, Varsae, Fraelorn, Quoris and Tarennia. Each of the Houses had one elected representative who sat on the ruling council, and Kyia had felt it imperative to educate Alex as much as possible on short notice after discovering that all of those council members would be attending dinner that evening.

  Head pounding from having to take in so much information in such a small amount of time, Alex’s eyes were on her feet when she opened the door to her room, so it was only when she heard a throat clear that her gaze shot up and she saw who was sitting on her bed, waiting for her.

  “Aven!” she yelped. “What are—How—I mean—Everyone’s been looking for you! What are you doing here?”

  Realising he wouldn’t have understood her words, she opened her mouth to repeat them in Meyarin when he jumped in first, showing that he had also been practising his language skills, replying perfectly in the common tongue.

  “Forgive my intrusion, Aeylia,” he said, standing to his feet and running a distressed hand through his messy hair. “I only wished to speak to you without an audience.”

  Alex had never seen him look so dishevelled, neither in the past nor the future. His clothes were rumpled, his skin streaked with dirt and his eyes lined with shadows, suggesting he’d been without sleep for some time.