Wings of Nestor (Solus Series Book Three)
Page 15
The only thing that had kept Alcander from joining with evil was the most horrible event in his life—watching his family be massacred by black-haired Taveans. Feeling their dark threads as they slowly and painfully stole the lives of his mother and sisters was the only thing that overshadowed his anger for not being protected by a Solus. And now everything, all the beliefs he had so carefully constructed, were shattering with the understanding that the event he had spent his whole life wishing could be undone was exactly what had saved him.
Out of respect, Kiora pulled herself out of Alcander’s head without diving deeper into his thoughts and feelings. Alcander gasped as if coming up from deep water, dropping to his knees before her. His eyes looked skyward, a single tear rolling down his cheek. That tear, on his stoic face, crushed Kiora’s heart. Falling to her knees beside him, she grabbed him, embracing him as tightly as she could.
They stayed like that for some time before Alcander gently pulled away. There was no trace of the emotion that had gripped him minutes before, but the lines of his face seemed to have softened just slightly. She reached out, her fingers tracing over his cheekbones and eyebrows. “You look different.”
Alcander wrapped his fingers around hers, pulling them to his lips. Kiora closed her eyes as he kissed her fingers and then the top of her hand, sending magic bursting through her with a new intensity.
“I feel different,” he murmured against her skin before pulling her to her feet. “Come, it is time you went to bed. Tomorrow will be a long day.”
Alcander held her hand as he led her to her room. Stopping at her door, Kiora turned to look at him.
“Good night, Kiora, and thank you.” His voice was low and husky.
She swallowed hard. “Good night, Alcander.”
He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “There is not another person who could have done what you have done for me.”
“Oh,” Kiora said, blushing, “I am sure that someone—”
He put a finger on her lips, cutting her off. “No one,” he repeated. Moving in slowly, almost as if he were scared of her, he gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead.
“Good night,” she whispered.
“Good night.” Resting his forehead on hers, Alcander reached behind her, opening the door. Grudgingly, Kiora backed inside the room with Alcander watching her intently, his blue eyes blazing. Without a word, he grabbed the doorknob and eased the door shut.
The click of the latch echoed through the room. She felt his thread standing on the other side for a moment before finally moving down the hall.
Kiora’s breath rushed out in a wave of disappointment. Biting her lip, she fell into bed, not bothering to take off her jacket. Her chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, trying to sort through her feelings. Then a knock at the door sent her flying out of bed, heart stuttering with the realization that Emane’s thread stood just outside. He must have heard them in the hall.
She cringed as the door swung open. Emane’s hands were in his pockets, his blond hair falling over his forehead.
“I told myself I wasn’t going to do this,” he whispered. “But here I am. May I?”
There was a part of her that wanted to scream “No!” She wasn’t ready for this. But she nodded, plopping weakly onto the edge of her bed.
Emane shut the door, his hand remaining on the knob as if he wasn’t sure whether he should stay or run. “I told myself I could do this,” he started, his back to her. “That I could give you the time you needed to make your choice. But…I don’t know if I can. And now you are leaving again, and…” He turned around, his eyes bright with pain.
“Emane.” Kiora stood on shaking legs, wanting to reach out to him, to comfort his worst fears. But she couldn’t. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to ask,” she choked out. “I should have—”
Emane inhaled sharply, cutting her off. “You already know the answer, don’t you?”
She reached for his hand, only wanting to comfort him, but pulled back as her magic began to flow in anticipation. “I love you. I will always love you.”
“Please,” Emane said bitterly. “Don’t start it this way—it doesn’t make it any better.”
“What do you want me to say?” she cried. “That I can’t stand you? That I am so glad things aren’t working out?”
“I don’t know—maybe! Because every time you say you love me, you rip my heart out.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “I am not going to lie to you, Emane. I do love you and if things were different, then—I don’t know—maybe none of this would have ever happened.”
“If what things were different? You mean if Alcander wasn’t here?”
“No! If things were different. If I could touch you, hug you. If I could kiss you without throwing you into a wall. What if I killed you one of these times and—don’t shake your head at me,” she yelled. “You don’t know any more than I do what could happen.”
Looking away, she clenched her fists. “I can’t even get near you, Emane. I don’t know what else to do—when you touch me, it takes every ounce of strength I have not to send magic through you. I see the way your face drains, how much it hurts when my magic slips. If I didn’t love you it wouldn’t be a problem, but I do! And it is!”
“Maybe in time—”
“No!”
The desperate look on his face almost stopped her, but she plunged forward. “It won’t get better. In time, I would just love you more and it will be even worse. Time isn’t going to solve anything. Time is half the problem.” She regretted the words the second they left.
Emane’s face turned ashen as he sank to the bed. “You do know. Someone told you.” He shook his head. “Was it Drustan?”
A flicker of anger started burning within her. “What do you mean, someone told me? Who told you?” He knew, and hadn’t said a word?
“Drem. When Lomay sent me to train with him, he made sure to tell me how foolish my feelings were.”
“And…you never told me?”
Emane laughed bitterly. “I didn’t even let myself think about it, Kiora. Being told that the girl you love will outlive you by a few hundred years wasn’t something I was ready to deal with.”
Her anger waned at his agony and she sat next to him, carefully folding her hands in her lap. “I asked Arturo if there was a way to give my magic back,” she whispered. “After this is all over.”
Emane’s eyes flickered to hers. “You did?”
“Yes.”
He sighed. “And the answer was no.”
“Yes.”
“I miss you.” His voice cracked and Kiora looked away, tears running down her cheeks.
“I miss you too.”
“I want you to be happy. I keep telling myself that. That no matter what, I just want you to be happy. But the truth is, I want you to be happy with me.”
“And if I can’t?” she whispered. “Don’t you deserve to be happy too? To find a girl who can touch you and kiss you?” She reached out to move the hair off his forehead with a soft smile. “Someone who can keep the hair out of your eyes without shocking you? Meros will need a queen, someone you can grow old with.” She was trying to keep herself together, but her voice wobbled under the visual images of Emane and his wife-to-be—with his children.
Emane was silent for a long time, his eyes boring a hole through the door. “Alcander is your choice, then?”
Kiora jerked to her feet, making her way to the doors of the balcony and throwing them open. Sucking in the cold night air, she wrapped her arms around herself. Emane moved silently, but she could feel his thread stopping behind her. “I don’t know if I am choosing Alcander,” she said. “But I am choosing to acknowledge that I can’t have you—and I never will.” The tears that slipped down her cheeks stung with the chill in the air.
“Do you love him?”
She whirled on him, swiping at her cheeks “Why? Why would it matter, Emane?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it will help me.” He shov
ed his hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed at her feet. “Maybe it will help me let go.”
Kiora closed her eyes, looking away. “Yes, I think I love him.”
Emane’s thread moved silently across the room. The next sound she heard was the door shutting behind him.
A strangled cry escaped from her lips before she slammed the glass balcony doors so hard, they rattled in their frames.
***
JASMINE LOOKED OUT OVER the ground where the palace once stood. There was nothing except a cloud of settling dust. She put out her hands, trying to summon something, but nothing came. She screamed in frustration. Her talisman was doing nothing to offset whatever magic was at work here.
The vision faded, opening back up with Jasmine standing on a hill. She was staring intently at a large oak tree. Her hands rose suddenly, spouting magic like a geyser, impacting the tree. But the tree was impenetrable and the magic sheeted harmlessly off to the side. Jasmine summoned the book of the Creators and thumbed through it. She mumbled different incantations, one after the other, watching for any change in the tree as she did. Again, the tree stood silent and immovable.
“Father!” Jasmine yelled to the sky. “This will not beat me!”
Kiora jerked awake, the dream quickly fading as the night before came to the forefront of her mind. She had told Emane the truth, so why didn’t she feel better? A thought whispered a possible answer: Because you hurt everyone you love.
And then there was Alcander. If she let herself love him, what would happen? Would she break his heart? If she didn’t, he was still condemned. Was there a happy ending anywhere?
The sun was just breaking through the window and Kiora rose to get dressed. There was so much to do and she couldn’t deny herself the excitement she felt for taking control of her own destiny for the first time since Aleric had shown up on her doorstep, telling her she was the Solus. Since that day, she had been told what she was to do and what she would become. And now she was finally in charge. It felt good. And it was the only thing that felt good, so she clung to it.
Everyone else was waiting in the meeting room. It seemed she was always the last to wake. Pushing open the doors, she evaluated the scene before her. Emane looked like he hadn’t slept and only glanced at her for a quick moment before turning away. Alcander was looking at Emane, confusion etched on his face. Drustan lounged in a chair, looking as disinterested as he had the day before. Lomay, on the other hand, was bright-eyed and gazing at her expectantly.
“Have you called Arturo?” he asked.
“Not yet,” she said sheepishly. The night before had held one distraction after another. She mentally sent out the call.
I will be there as soon as I can, Arturo’s thoughts came. I had to move farther out when the ships came the other night to avoid being discovered. It will be an hour.
Kiora relayed the message.
“Shall we be on our way, then?” Alcander asked.
“Not quite,” Lomay said. “Kiora, you need a particularly potent spell if you hope to get through unnoticed. A simple thread-wrapping will not get Alcander through those camps—there are too many Taveans. They will recognize him immediately.”
Alcander growled. “I hate that spell.”
“Hate it all you like—it will keep you alive,” Lomay retorted. “When you get there, summon the book of the Creators. Alcander will know the spell. Use it on yourself and Alcander. Drustan will be able to change his appearance on his own.”
Kiora moved to the map. “Which entrance will you be waiting by, so we know which one to open?”
Lomay pointed to one of the entrances to the west. “This one.” He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Please be careful. To be discovered in such a vulnerable position could be devastating.”
“We will.”
Patting her shoulder, he announced. “I will wait for Arturo—someone will need to let him through the boundary. Alcander, Drustan, why don’t you both come with me? Drustan can shift outside and then you can all be on your way.”
Drustan left without question. Alcander hesitated, but allowed himself to be escorted out by Lomay, leaving Kiora alone with Emane. How did Lomay know?
Once the room had emptied, Emane pushed off the wall, flipping his hair from his forehead with a shake of his head. “You be safe,” he said gruffly.
“I will.”
“I mean it. If you die, I will never forgive you.”
Her eyes stung as she blinked back tears. Curse him! Of all the things he could have said, why did it have to be that? He had said the same thing at the battle for Meros, back in a time when he could kiss her good-bye. There would be no kisses today.
“The same goes for you,” she said softly.
“After this, you are going to have to keep me around. They named me Protector for a reason. You might need me.”
“I know. Emane, I’m sorry.”
He hesitated, the façade he held cracking slightly. “I am sorry too.” Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders. “Who knows—maybe someday things will be different.”
She frowned. “Emane, I don’t think—”
“Come on now, there are always exceptions. You just never know.” He tried to smile, but it was weak and didn’t reach his eyes. He felt as helpless about their situation as she did, and it was written all over his face.
“I will see you tonight.”
“You better.”
For a moment she wished she could pull off the cover to her talisman and rid herself of magic so she could hug him as a Witow. No magic, no danger. But then she remembered that it would do little good. The talisman took everyone’s magic—except hers. Useless. Gritting her teeth, she went out to find Drustan.
A very large Pegasus awaited her.
“I know you hate riding dragons,” Drustan said.
She smiled. It was a peace offering, and she appreciated it. “Thank you.”
Alcander helped her, climbing up behind her. As his arms wrapped around her, she shivered under his magic.
Drustan groaned, swinging his head around. “If you two would please keep that under control—you’re leaking into me.” His body shuddered beneath them. “Such things were not meant to be felt by a third party.”
Kiora blushed. Alcander chuckled in her ear, sending new thrills rushing from her head to her toes. If she had been standing, she was sure her knees would have given out.
Drustan spread his wings and dropped, literally, off the cliff. Kiora screamed despite herself, clutching at his mane.
A glorious laugh, reminiscent of better times, rolled through the air as Drustan caught the wind, which pushed him back into the sky. “That was too easy.”
Kiora scowled. “Feel better, Drustan?”
“A little.”
***
EMANE WASN’T READY TO go outside. He was dreading Lomay’s questioning. Pausing at the doors, his eyes settled on a matching set of double doors across the hall. A mixture of curiosity and plain old avoidance pulled him in.
The room was two stories tall. It had rows of bookshelves, stopping only as the ceiling began sloping in to create a magnificent dome. Tall ladders on wheels were placed at increments around the room to allow a reader to reach the higher shelves, which Emane found curious in a magical household where one could just call the books down with a thought.
Peering around, he saw that every inch of the wall had a towering bookshelf, a painted mural, or a hung tapestry. He immediately recognized Lomay as the artist behind the paintings. The style was identical to the ones he had painted in the cave.
Being unfamiliar with this land’s past, Emane wasn’t sure which painted events had already happened and which were future visions. He made his way around the room, looking at each scene. There was one with a dragon and Epona that must have been in the past—Epona looked so young. One was eerily similar to the vision he had seen with Kiora in the Wings of Tavea—winged people falling from the sky, secured in the grasps of hideous creatures.
This day was one he had thought about. From the time he told Kiora he wouldn’t marry Ciera, the image had fluttered in the back of his mind—that maybe Kiora was the one, his queen. And she certainly looked a queen here—but not his. Her arm was linked through that of a proud-looking Tavean.
At first Emane could not tear his eyes away from Kiora, but then they settled on the depiction of Alcander. Emane’s hands clenched into fists as tears threatened to spill. Alcander’s words rolled through his mind with even more savagery than when they had been spoken. Will you love her when you are old and gray? Will she still love you? She is not one of you anymore! If you loved her, if you truly loved her, you would let her go!
Whirling around, he kicked a chair, sending it sliding across the floor. He pushed one of the ladders as hard as he could. It was not satisfactory. Chest heaving, he scanned the room. The horrible truth of it all refused to be silenced. Kiora was not the same girl he had fallen in love with. She looked like her, had the unbelievable strength she did, laughed like she did, but now she was filled with an awesome power that kept him at arms’ length and always would. Everything Kiora had said last night was true. He had seen how Alcander and Kiora touched each other. She was relaxed, at ease. But when he touched her, every muscle in her body tensed to keep from hurting him.
But none of that changed the fact that he loved her.
He picked up a book and threw it across the room. It slammed into the wall with a delightful thud. He threw another and another, hoping to relieve himself of the pressure building within. It wasn’t enough. The rage had become a roar between his ears, his vision muddled. Emane kicked over another chair, sending it clattering across the floor. Turning around, he grabbed at the only thing he saw—a giant tapestry hanging from the wall depicting dragons swooping through the sky. He wrenched it down with a guttural cry. Moving to the next tapestry, he grabbed it with a yell, throwing it to the floor. He stood there, panting, and then his eyes caught on a painting the tapestry had hidden. As it came into focus, Emane’s heart slowed nearly to a stop. His knees grew weak and he didn’t have the energy to fight it. He dropped to the ground, his mouth gaping.