Draekora

by Lynette Noni

  Regardless of his intent, Alex didn’t allow him to take her back to Akarnae. Not because she wasn’t planning on going there—she knew enough about the ‘great Aes Daega’ to realise she would be wise to follow Lady Mystique’s guidance—but because she didn’t want Roka to be left without Zain’s protection during their travel. The Valispath was impossibly swift, but given how lost the Draekoran Meyarins currently were, she wasn’t willing to take the chance that Aven might capitalise on that in the time Zain was gone.

  Thankfully, although he offered a weak argument, he quickly gave in to her demand that he drop her off at the much closer Raelia where she would open a doorway and be back within seconds.

  When they reached the snow-covered clearing, Alex didn’t waste any time before calling forth the door, and it appeared in an instant before her.

  “First order of business for you is to find if there’s a way you can step straight through to Draekora,” Zain said, reaching into his cloak and pulling out the belongings he’d kept safe for her during her varrungard—her ComTCD, Shadow Ring and Myrox necklace. While handing them over, he cast alert eyes around the clearing, searching for any sign of a threat.

  “I’ll get right on that,” Alex agreed, pocketing her items, amazed and grateful that he’d managed to keep hold of them even in the chaos that had developed. “I’m sure the Library will show me a door.”

  When Zain moved to step away from her, she reached out to touch his arm. “Can I ask you something? Just quickly?” At his nod, she said, “How did you end up in the Zeltora? Was it something you always wanted, to protect the people of Meya? Or…” She trailed off, not letting on how much she knew, but still burning with curiosity after having left him in the past as a criminal—albeit, one who had been fighting against the Garseth upon her last sight of him.

  “No, little human, it was quite the opposite. I wasn’t much interested in helping our people at all,” Zain answered.

  “What changed?” she asked, trying for an openly inquisitive expression.

  “Mostly it was because Roka wouldn’t stop badgering me about it,” Zain said ruefully, and Alex had to cough to hide her laugh, knowing the prince had followed through on his promise to her. “But also because there came a time when I realised I wanted to fight for a purpose beyond my own. That there was more meaning in serving others than serving myself.”

  Alex’s eyes were soft on him when she said, “That’s very honourable of you, Zain. I, for one, am pleased you came to that decision. As I’m sure is Roka.” Her curiosity sated, she clapped a hand to his chest. “Speaking of badgering princes, you better get back to him. But don’t worry—I’ll see you again soon and update you on Operation Mortal Army.”

  The look he shot her said more than his words could when he instantly replied, “We are absolutely not calling it that.”

  “Bye, Zain.” Alex hid her smile and gave him a shove. “Go keep our prince safe.”

  With a telling eye roll, he took off on the Valispath, and she stepped forward into the doorway. She only had one foot through when she heard her name called across the clearing, and she spun around, nearly falling to the ground at what she saw.

  It was Niyx. And he wasn’t alone.

  Because in his arms was the unconscious form of Jordan.

  Thirty-Eight

  “Niyx,” Alex gasped, lost for any other words.

  “I don’t have long, Aeylia,” he said, striding towards her. “I have to get back to the palace before Aven notices my absence.”

  His words jolted Alex back into her right mind enough that she began a swift retreat, prompting Niyx to pause mid-step and cock his head to the side. He sighed, carefully lowering Jordan to the snow-covered ground at his feet.

  “Aeylia—”

  “You killed him,” she breathed out. “They’re saying you killed the king.”

  There was a loaded silence. “No,” he returned, his voice filled with grief, “I didn’t. But they have to think I did—Aven has to think I did.”

  Alex didn’t understand. “But—You—”

  “Just watch, kitten.”

  An image entered Alex’s mind and she witnessed Niyx’s memory play out with vivid detail as he used the Valispath to travel from Taevarg to the palace throne room. He burst through the doors, startling the council members as he raced towards the king standing at the head of the room.

  What happened next was nearly impossible to comprehend, since a fraction of a second before Niyx crashed into Astophe, the king opened his mouth in a surprised gasp. The king sank to the ground, Niyx lowering with him and pulling back enough for Alex—and the council members—to see the blood soaking Astophe’s chest.

  So caught up in how quickly the attack had been carried out, no one else saw what Alex did: Niyx held no weapon, nor was there any visible blade protruding from what she knew was the king’s fatal stab wound.

  Lasa Riza let out a bloodcurdling scream, prompting the others from their disbelieving stupors to surge forward and apprehend Niyx, but it was too late, for he’d already vanished into thin air.

  Horrific comprehension washed over Alex as the memory faded from her mind. Even if she hadn’t seen Niyx’s lack of weapon or the king’s too early gasp, the Valispath couldn’t be accessed inside the throne room—and yet Niyx had disappeared instantly.

  Her dread-filled eyes came to rest on her best friend lying unconscious on the snow—her best friend whose gift meant he could disappear with a single thought and share his ability with others.

  “It wasn’t you—it was Jordan,” she whispered to Niyx. “You were trying to save Astophe, weren’t you? The message you received was about the attack—it told you Jordan was on his way to murder the king.”

  “No one can know but us,” Niyx returned firmly. “I managed to knock Jordan out before he could inform Aven his task was done, and I’ve since explained to Aven that your friend sustained a head injury leading to capture prior to the assassination.”

  “But—that means—”

  “I told Aven it was me who killed the king,” Niyx said, following her train of thought. “And there are six council members—three of whom remain in the city—who can attest to seeing exactly that.”

  “Why, Niyx?” Alex cried. “Haven’t you already been blamed long enough for the crimes of others? Everyone hates you! Why would you make it worse?”

  “Because you need someone on the inside, Aeylia,” he returned without hesitation. “Someone who Aven trusts implicitly. Someone he thinks has been rotting away in prison for millennia because of their loyalty to him.” He paused. “Someone who was willing to kill the king of Meya for him, without first being Claimed and ordered to do so.”

  At his words, Alex inhaled quickly, remembering that with Aven’s ruling over the city, everyone in it was now Claimed, including—

  “Niyx, did he bond with you?”

  Niyx made a face. “Do me a favour and never say something like that again.”

  Alex remained silent, waiting in trepidation for his answer.

  Seeing the fear on her face, he moved closer, and this time she didn’t retreat, not even when he held his hand out, palm facing forward, to show her the second scar across his flesh. The first she’d caused when she’d attempted to Release him. The second was new. But before she could do anything—like knock him out, grab him and Jordan, and run far, far away—he spoke.

  “Don’t look so scared, kitten.” He offered her a half smile. “Turns out that even though I’m not under your thumb anymore, the Claim of our connection—of your willpower—is still flowing strongly in me. Too strong for Aven to override, since your will is stronger.”

  He glanced pointedly from her to Jordan, and Alex’s body jolted as the potential implication of his words sunk in. Thoughts whirling, she hardly dared to hope in the theoretical plan coming to her mind. Would she—Could she—Was it even possible…?

  “As far as Aven’s concerned, he thinks I’m Claimed,” Niyx continued, interrup
ting her reeling thoughts and calling her attention back to him. “If he tells me to jump, I make sure I jump. The only hiccup is that we obviously have no mental connection since his Claim failed, but I managed to follow enough of his spoken commands for him to believe there must be a glitch in my mind that prevents me from hearing his non-verbal orders.”

  The shadow that crossed Niyx’s face told Alex that those spoken commands he’d followed to prove his loyalty were the likes of which she didn’t want to know—nor would he tell her.

  “Niyx,” she whispered, placing a hand on his chest to comfort him.

  He shrugged, trying to act like it didn’t bother him when she could see that it did. “For the greater good, right, kitten? And when I help you kick his ass, it’ll just make the victory all that much sweeter.”

  When he saw that she remained unconvinced, he lowered his voice and said, “I’ve had thousands of years to come to this decision, Aeylia. I know what I’m doing. Just as I know that, for a time, life isn’t going to be much fun for me as I cater to my ex-best friend and new king’s beck and call. But newsflash, sweetheart, life hasn’t been much fun for a while. A little longer won’t do me much more harm.”

  She hated, absolutely hated the position he was in; the position he was deliberately placing himself in. And that must have read all over her face because he quietly said, “I once asked you to let me do the noble thing—I’m now asking it again.” His lips twitched as he finished, “Though, no matter what you say, it’s not like your wussy mortal self can stop me.”

  She huffed out a laugh, knowing his words were said in a deliberate attempt to cheer her up.

  “I have to get back to the palace,” Niyx said. He pointed at Jordan. “I’m guessing you know why I brought him here?”

  Alex hesitantly nodded, struggling to believe that she might be able to do the impossible and actually free Jordan. “I think so. But—”

  “No buts about it, kitten,” Niyx interrupted. “You’ve got this. Believe me when I say you’re stronger than you realise.”

  She had to blink back tears when his words prompted a memory of Roka saying the same thing to her not so long ago: ‘… never forget that you are stronger than you realise and more capable than you could ever imagine.’

  Alex looked up and found Niyx’s clear eyes soft on her. He reached forward and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight. Then, just as swiftly, he released her and stepped back.

  “Save your friend,” he said. “But before you Release him, you must order him to forget what happened with the king. No one can know about that but you and me, do you understand?”

  Alex despised the idea of commanding anyone to do anything ever again, least of all Jordan—if it was even possible for her to do so—but she nodded her agreement, knowing Niyx wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.

  “I’ll be in contact when I can,” Niyx promised, “but don’t worry if that’s not as often as you’d like. I need to be careful with my thoughts because while your willpower kept me safe from Aven’s Claim, I have no way of knowing if I’ll be protected from the strong mind readers now wandering around the palace, as well as a few other mortals with annoying mental tricks up their sleeves.”

  She nodded her agreement again, knowing caution was needed if he was to survive his role as a spy.

  “In the meantime, I’d greatly appreciate it if you would do your best not to get yourself—and by extension, me—killed.”

  Her mouth opened in indignation. “Hey! I don’t plan these things. They just… happen.”

  “Which leads me to my last point,” he said, stepping backwards from her and calling the Valispath up around him. “If you think our training is over, kitten, you’re wrong. We’ve barely begun to scratch the surface of what you need to learn if you want to defeat Aven. As soon as I can figure out how to sneak away, that’s when our real training will begin.”

  And with a wicked grin, Niyx took off, swiftly disappearing from sight.

  Not letting her mind linger on the horrific imaginings of what he likely had in store for her, Alex turned her focus to Jordan. Her stomach clenched with nerves at the idea that she might be able to free him from Aven, right here, right now—presuming that what Niyx had said about her willpower was true. It seemed impossible. And yet… if there was one thing Alex had learned from her time in Medora, it was that nothing was truly impossible.

  Calling forth all the hopeful determination she could muster, she strode over to her best friend on shaky legs, knelt in the snow at his feet and whispered, “Please, please let this work.”

  At her silent command, A’enara blazed into her hand and Alex swiftly sliced the blade across her trembling palm with a grimace, adding to the collection of silvery scars she was building there. Hesitantly, so hesitantly, she rolled Jordan onto his back, pulling his hand to her and slicing his palm as well.

  After a deep breath, followed by two more, Alex slowly joined their bloodied wounds together, linking her fingers with his as she dredged up the courage to mentally call out to him.

  Trae Menada sae, Jordan!

  Just like with Niyx, it took a moment before anything happened, but unlike with Niyx, when the initial linking occurred with Jordan, her subconscious mind violently slammed into his. Niyx had been nearly dead when she’d completed his ritual, his mental fortitude weak from the severity of the Hyroa blood poisoning his system. Jordan, on the other hand, was perfectly healthy. She wasn’t bonding with him in order to heal him from a fatal wound or illness, but rather to Claim his will as her own. The resistance she felt in attempting to do so was like a knife stabbing into her brain, accompanied by the sound of screaming so loud that it was like shards of glass piercing her eardrums.

  And then suddenly the pain stopped, the screaming silenced and Alex’s mind tumbled out into… a rose garden?

  Whirling around, recognition—and understanding—hit Alex as she looked upon the sprawling marble mansion of Jordan’s childhood home, Chateau Shondelle, the place where Aven had Claimed him.

  “You should not be here.”

  At the hostile voice, Alex turned again, only to find an avatar of Aven standing further back amongst the roses. But it was what was positioned beside him that captured Alex’s attention, because in a thick cage, there stood Jordan, his hands straining against the bars as he let out a silent scream.

  Alex felt chills travel down her spine at the memory of Aven’s grip on her own mind, the feeling of screaming but with no one able to hear. It had been five weeks in real time since Jordan had left the academy to visit his parents, five weeks of his being under Aven’s control. Alex had only suffered a few minutes as his puppet. She couldn’t imagine the mental anguish of what Jordan had been forced to endure. She absolutely refused to allow it to go on any longer.

  “You’re done, Aven,” Alex said, locking eyes with him. “You have no more power here.”

  Seeing his fiery glare made her feel like he was stabbing her all over again. Completely gone was any of the light of his younger self. This Aven didn’t remember her at all, and given how they’d ended things in the past, that was probably a good thing.

  “I don’t know how you made it in here, Alexandra,” he said. “But it’s you who has no power. Jordan is mine. I’ve Claimed him. And there is nothing anyone—least of all an insignificant mortal like you—can do about it.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.”

  Her tone was firm, unwavering, and, above all else, knowing. It was the last that caused Aven’s eyes to flicker with uncertainty, that caused him to reach for his sword, that caused him to lunge towards her. But Alex was ready for him.

  It seemed that even in the mindscape of Jordan’s subconscious, Alex was still able to summon A’enara, and the weapon appeared in a blinding blaze of glory stronger than ever before.

  Aven faltered in his steps, but he then rallied himself and continued eating up the distance between them while bellowing out an enraged, “Y
ou may have stolen my weapon and bonded with the draekon intended for me, but I refuse to allow you to have the boy! He is mine!”

  “You’re wrong, Aven,” Alex said again, her voice calm as a sure confidence ran through her veins. She lowered A’enara loosely to her side, suddenly understanding that this wasn’t a battle of swords, but of wills.

  ‘On its own, no matter the circumstances, your will reigns supreme over his.’

  Niyx’s words flooded her mind, giving her the assurance she needed to hold her ground when Aven reached her and, with a roaring cry, swung his sword towards her neck.

  Watching as if in slow motion, Alex didn’t move, didn’t even flinch. All she did was wait until the blade was less than an inch away from her skin, and that’s when she gave her command.

  “Stop.”

  Instantly, the weapon came to a freezing halt, as did Aven, who stood motionless before her.

  “You have a choice now, Aven,” Alex said, her voice quiet even as his eyes scorched with liquid fire. “You can keep your Claim on Jordan and remain here with us where, as you can see, my will reigns over yours. Or…”—she paused for dramatic effect, mostly because she found it almost sadistically pleasing to torment him—“… you can give up your Claim and willingly Release him to me.” She reached forward and patted him mockingly on the cheek. “Take as long as you want to think about it. I have all the time in the world.”

  In their past skirmishes Aven had always recognised when it was time to retreat, and the same was no less true now. With a single spoken command, Alex had out-willed him and seized control over Jordan. Unless he wanted to remain trapped with them—and obedient to Alex—he really only had one choice.

  With an expression that promised a world of retribution, Aven barked out the words of the Release and vanished from the space. Almost instantly, the cage holding Jordan disappeared from sight in a genie-like puff of smoke—and so too did Chateau Shondelle and its surrounds.