by Lynette Noni
Only two beings in all the worlds can access the abrassa to manipulate or travel through space and time, Xiraxus said. Draekons and Tia Aurans. The Aven of your future had a Tia Auran in captivity—I saw her when I flew close enough for him to snare me.
He shared his memory with Alex and she gasped in recognition as she saw Lady Mystique bound by snaking black chords around her body.
That’s—That’s—
Aes Daega is Tia Auran, Alex, Xiraxus said. In your future she would have already met you in this past, so when Aven captured her and found a way to force her to do his bidding, I believe she deliberately chose to pull me through so that I would bond with you and bring you back with me, knowing that it had, to her knowledge, already been done.
As Alex looked over the thinning crowd of draekons still dripping tears into the bowl, she wondered if it was possible to have a brain aneurysm from an overload of impossibilities that ridiculously made sense.
This is madness, Alex said, even her thoughts sounding strained.
The good news is, he didn’t succeed, Xiraxus said. With the kind of power it would have taken for Aes Daega to pull me through, she won’t be able to repeat the process anytime soon with another draekon. And, if the Tia Auran of your day is anything like who she is here, I’d hazard a guess that she willingly surrendered herself to ensure your visit to the past. Bound by traesos coils or not, I wouldn’t be surprised if as soon as you arrive back in your time, Aven finds he is missing his powerful prisoner.
From what Alex knew of the ancient woman, she didn’t doubt Xiraxus’s assumption about Lady Mystique’s capabilities. And that was a relief, since she wasn’t keen on adding yet another name to her ‘to rescue’ list.
This hasn’t changed anything, Xiraxus said, reading her inner turmoil. Now you’re just better informed of Aven’s plan.
And that he’s desperate, Alex added, but I guess I already knew that.
Looking up over her shoulder again, Alex took in the relaxed, open face of the Aven who would one day become a monster. She just couldn’t figure out how things would go so wrong. Even now, passionate though he was with his anti-mortal ideals, there was nothing evil about him. All he wanted was separatism from them, not to kill them. What would happen to make him snap and murder them all?
“What do you see when you look out there?” Alex whispered to the prince.
Standing so close, when he tipped his head down to her, they were barely a breath apart. Trapped with her front pressed up against the boulder, she still couldn’t put any distance between them, so she quickly swivelled her head to continue watching the ceremony, trying to ignore the heat of him at her back.
“I presume you don’t want a literal answer?” he enquired.
She nodded, watching as the final draekons shed their tears into the bowl.
“I see the Giving of Life,” Aven said quietly, his exhalation stirring the hairs on the back of her neck. “And I see the receiving of it.”
Choosing her next words so very carefully, Alex asked, “Do the draekons receive anything in return for their tears?”
“As humbling as it is to admit, Meya has nothing their great race needs in order to survive, in order to flourish above the clouds,” Aven said. “The Draekorans willingly give the Z’ao to us as an offering with no expectation of repayment.”
Alex watched as the last draekon—Xiraxus—flew down to make his tear sacrifice before returning to the raised outcropping where only Zaronia remained, all the other beasts having disappeared into the darkness of the night. Taking that as their cue, the seven Meyarin councillors stepped forward to stand in a circle around the pool.
Moving as one, the Meyarins reached down, rising up again with their fingers clutching the edges of a flexible kind of glass that Alex hadn’t noticed providing a clear, thin barrier above the traesos bowl, the Z’ao sloshing about within the transparent boundary. Together the Meyarins shuffled away from the pool, moving closer to each other until the Z’ao formed the shape of a massive teardrop, its silvery liquid contained fully by the glassy substance.
“We thank you for your sacrifice,” one of the Meyarins said, looking up at Zaronia and Xiraxus. Though his head was covered by the glorious robes, Alex recognised the voice as belonging to the king.
“It is ours to freely give,” Zaronia returned. “May the blessing of the stars be yours forevermore.”
With a bow of his head, Astophe and the rest of his council called forth the Valispath and disappeared, the Z’ao held carefully between them.
Say what you must, Alex, Xiraxus said to her, having clearly been eavesdropping on her words with Aven. Do what you can to help your future, but remember that you can’t change the past. What will be, will be.
Alex watched as he and his mother spread their wings and took off into the night before she summoned her courage to turn around and face Aven. Now that they had no one to hide from, there was no need for them to be so close, yet he didn’t back away.
“The draekons give their tears freely to Meya,” she said, ignoring her discomfort at the lack of personal space, “even knowing they’ll receive nothing in return.” She braced herself and finished by revisiting their metaphor from weeks ago. “Does that not make you—us—like sheep to the wolves?”
Aven’s body locked. His eyes flared at her meaningful words, widening in startled wonder before he managed to compose himself. “What you’re implying, it’s not the same.”
“Isn’t it?” Alex pressed. “The draekons freely provide Meya with what it needs to continue advancing as a race, to continue flourishing… Just as Meya does for the mortals of Medora.”
“We don’t want to become draekons, though,” Aven said, his words oddly strangled.
“The mortals don’t want to become immortal, despite what you would believe,” Alex whispered. “You said it once yourself, Aven: a sheep can never become a wolf.” She reached out and placed a hand against his heart, partly to keep him at arm’s length, and partly because she could see his turmoil and wished to provide him a small comfort. “Whatever you think of the humans, they’re not stupid. They know they can never ascribe to the glory of an eternal race. It’s biologically impossible to change what they are, what they were born to be. They only wish, as you do, to flourish in this world. Would you deny them the help you can provide when it is at such little cost to you?”
He was as still as a statue under the moonlight, but she could see his golden eyes warring with emotion.
Glancing over to the now empty basin, Alex quietly said, “A few tears aren’t much to the draekons, but they are everything to Meya.” Turning back to look at him meaningfully, she quoted, “‘Of those to whom much is given, much is expected.’” Her fingers curled tighter into his chest as she whispered to finish, “You have a responsibility to those dependent on you, Aven. Just as Draekora willingly sacrifices for Meya, so too should Meya follow their lead and support the mortals.”
Knowing there was nothing more she could say, Alex waited, watching an inner battle play out across his features. When he eventually released a slow breath, she felt her nervous body relax, but she tensed again when his arms snaked around her, pulling her in for a crushing hug.
“You champion their cause as a mother would fight to protect her child,” he whispered into her ear. “But unlike the irrational urges of a guardian parent, your reasoning is… pertinent. Thank you, Aeylia, for sharing your insight. I think I understand better now.”
While Alex appreciated his gratitude and hoped that perhaps something she’d said had penetrated enough for him to carry it through to the future, she was also alarmed by her current physical predicament—and very much wanting to escape.
Hyper aware of everywhere her body pressed up against his, she found she had no idea what to do with her arms; one hanging awkwardly by her side, the other still on his chest, squashed between them. She decided to use that one to her advantage and increased the pressure against him, thankful when he got the messag
e to step back.
“It’s late,” he said, saving her from having to come up with a way to fill the gaping silence left in the wake of their worryingly intimate embrace. “You’ve given me much to think about, but the festival is tomorrow and we both need our rest.”
She gave a nod and, before she could put more space between them, he reached out and entwined his fingers with hers, activating the Valispath around them and sending them back towards the earth. All the while, she delicately tried to pull free of his grasp, but his fingers only tightened around hers.
Thirty-Three
“Well, aren’t you quite the vision?”
Alex whirled around at Niyx’s words, her eyes sweeping him from head to toe. He looked like the Meyarin adaptation of a darkly tailored Prince Charming, attired smartly in a black ensemble of collared, vest-like jacket, pants and boots. Even the addition of the sword scabbard at his waist didn’t detract from his overall refined air—it just added to how impressive, and slightly dangerous, he looked.
“The same could be said about you,” she said with a grin, reaching up to straighten the black filigree mask adhered to his skin, travelling from his left cheek over one eye and coiling diagonally up to finish above his right temple. “You should come with a warning this evening: ‘Watch out ladies, I’m on the prowl.’”
Niyx threw back his head and laughed. “If we’re to come with warnings, yours would have to say: ‘Looks may be deceiving.’”
Alex laughed in return. “Touché.”
For the first time since trying to play the part of an immortal, Alex actually felt like she was pulling it off. And that was largely thanks to the outfit the queen and Kyia had chosen for her to wear to the masquerade ball, which was beyond anything Alex had ever seen, let alone worn. When she’d first gazed upon her reflection in the mirror earlier that night, she’d struggled to recognise herself in the dress that looked as if it were made from starlight itself. With a sweetheart neckline, the strapless silvery bodice fit tight to her waist before flowing like waves of molten liquid to the floor. Strands of impossibly thin Myrox were embroidered in swirls across the silky fabric, giving the illusion of radiating light as she moved. Added to that was her shimmering skin from her link with Xiraxus, and Alex felt like she was lit up like the star on the top of a Christmas tree. And yet, she didn’t feel gaudy at all, not with the glittery opulence worn by those all around her. She actually fit in with the ethereal race of immortals as if she were one of them, and not merely a human playing dress-up.
“I don’t suppose you’ve seen Aven yet?” Niyx asked, pulling two glassy flutes of bubbling liquid off a passing tray and handing one to Alex.
“Still no sign of him,” she responded, taking a sip to keep from nervously chewing on her lip.
The festival was in full swing, as it had been for hours, yet no one had seen Aven at all that day. After an oddly silent trip back to the palace last night, Aven had dropped her off to her room with a soft smile, and neither Alex nor anyone else had seen him since.
That morning she’d been woken as per normal for a dawn sparring session with Niyx, with him reminding her that, summer banquet or not, they only had one day left before she would return to her time and needed to make the most of it. Butterflies had hit her stomach at his words and she’d readily agreed, knowing that while she’d already come so far thanks to his training, there was always more room for improvement.
After finishing their gruelling workout, she’d had breakfast with Niida and played three games of Stix with Astophe, before returning to training again. Alex was particularly pleased with herself when, for the first time ever, she managed to win their sparring match—a match in which Niyx hadn’t been holding back at all. The approving gleam that entered his eyes had been all the praise she’d needed; it hadn’t even mattered that she’d had to lather her numerous wounds with laendra to heal any evidence of her mortal blood that had spilled during her conquest. She had fought a Meyarin properly—and won.
Thankfully, he called it quits for them on that high note, releasing her to go and enjoy the early afternoon street entertainment that would last until the masquerade.
Skipping through the streets spilling with people, music, food and everything a citywide celebration should be, Alex had been beside herself with glee. She’d felt so alive, surrounded by such vibrant energy. Acrobats and fire twirlers had captivated audiences, and Meyarins had danced without reservation, even drawing Alex in to join them, their merriment contagious.
When the sun had begun to lower on the horizon, Alex had returned to her room where Niida and Kyia had been waiting with unrestrained excitement, both already wearing their own stunning outfits. They’d helped Alex into her magical gown, presenting her with a mask that was equally beautiful, delicately embroidered with thin strands of Myrox that adhered to her skin as if she’d been born wearing it. The three of them had then joined the king and Roka—who Alex had been happy to see, given his absence of late; but she’d been even more pleased to note his open-mouthed reaction upon seeing Kyia in her formalwear—before joining the carousing citizens of Meya, many of whom were packed into the palace ballroom.
Alex had felt a note of pride while taking in the revelling Meyarins and their dazzling attire. Despite having known not the first thing about immortal fashion, she, along with Kyia and Niida, had pulled off a miracle with the outfits. Not a single individual was left lacking in the wardrobe department—males and females alike looked fit to be kings and queens. And she had helped make that happen.
Standing on the sunset balcony of the ballroom with Niyx, Alex came to the sharp realisation that she would miss the Meya of the past. Come tomorrow, she would no longer be considered one of them; she’d no longer be known as Aeylia the Meyarin, she’d be back to being Alex the mortal. She’d once more be targeted by the scathing ire of the future councillors, as well as the hatred of a queen whom she had come to adore. Niyx would detest her, Aven would be back to wanting her dead. And as for Xiraxus, she had no idea what fate would befall him or if she’d ever see him again.
Sure, some things she would be relieved to have back to normal, like Roka and Kyia being together, and Zain not being a wanted criminal. She was also looking forward to not having to worry about hiding her identity, and she couldn’t wait to reunite with her friends and family, even if to them no time would have passed. But even so, Alex knew she would forever leave a piece of her heart in the past.
“What troubles you, Aeylia?” Niyx asked, pulling her eyes from the setting sun and back to him.
“It’s nothing, Niyx,” she answered with a sigh. “I’m just thinking about tomorrow. About the future.”
“That sounds like much too weighty a consideration for a party affair,” a new voice interrupted.
As one, both Alex and Niyx turned around to find Aven standing directly behind them, his eyes staring at Alex with such unconcealed awe that she struggled not to fidget at his blatant perusal.
“Where have you been all day?” Niyx demanded, his voice filled with irritated concern.
“There was something I had to do,” Aven said vaguely, tearing his gaze from Alex to look at Niyx. “A last-minute festival matter of great importance. But I’m here now.”
Here he was, indeed; a striking vision of black and gold, wearing the colours of Royal House Dalmarta with pride, just like the rest of his family.
“I actually have a favour to ask of you, Niyx, if you don’t mind?” Aven said. “Aeylia, would you excuse us a moment? I promise, I’ll be right back.”
She nodded, perplexed as to his singular wording that implied he would be returning alone. Alex had to make a quick decision—either she ducked out and later offered an excuse for disappearing, or she accepted that this was one of the last moments she would ever spend on amicable terms with her future enemy. Regardless of how careful she knew she had to be around him, Alex wasn’t ready to say goodbye to the Aven of the past just yet. So she stayed put and patiently waited, staring
out at the fading sunshine bathing the glorious city and its street-strewn partygoers.
“Sorry about that,” Aven said a few minutes later as he approached her again. “It should be a crime to leave someone as beautiful as you alone on an evening like this.”
Discomforted by his disturbingly sweet compliment, Alex said, “There’s plenty going on around here to keep me entertained.”
Aven gave a short laugh, looking down at the revellers celebrating up a storm. “It does appear that everyone is enjoying themselves.”
“You’ve done a fabulous job, Aven,” Alex said, her tone genuine. “You should be really proud of yourself.”
He waved aside her praise and jokingly said, “No one cares about what I did; they’re all just happy to be wearing such fine clothes.”
Alex felt her lips curl upwards, knowing that he was just being humble and realising how ridiculous that was. This was why she wasn’t ready to end her time with him, because come tomorrow, humble Aven would be a thing of the past—literally.
“I have a surprise for you,” he said, his eyes bright. “But first, I want to—”
Whatever he wanted, Alex didn’t hear, because right then a deafening cheer rose from the ballroom as a troupe of performers began a choreographed aerial display that seemingly defied gravity. Like all the onlookers, Alex was hypnotised by their flowing movements and limbered stunts. It was only when she felt Aven’s gentle touch on her bare shoulder that she turned back to him, having forgotten that he’d been in the middle of speaking.
“Do you mind if we go somewhere quiet and talk?” he asked, speaking loudly over the increased music and applause. “It’ll only take a minute.”
She looked from him to the acrobats and back again, feeling torn. It had been one thing to wait for him on the balcony, but it was another entirely to leave the party with him.
“Please?” he said, seeing her indecision.