Wings of Nestor (8 page)

The sun was shining in through a large set of glass double doors against the far wall, and she saw a balcony jutting out. Had she not been so exhausted, she would have gone out to investigate, but right then all she wanted was to crawl into bed. It was large enough to fit four or five people and the headboard was taller than she was, stretching up the back wall. Pulling off her shoes, Kiora crawled under the covers and drifted to sleep.

Belen stood with Nestor in his workshop.

“I will never forgive myself for falling prey to her, Nestor. I should have known better—” Belen’s voice caught.

“Can we fix it?”

“The magic is very nearly absolute,” Belen said. “The talisman is extremely powerful.”

“You said nearly.” Nestor relaxed slightly. “You have been listening to my ramblings on the needs for exceptions after all.”

“Yes, but this one . . .”He shook his head. “I should have done better. The exception is weak. The only solution is to make another talisman, its other half.”

“It will void the magic?” Nestor asked hopefully.

Belen began to pace, running his fingers through his hair. “Only if they are connected—that’s the problem. The second talisman will act in much the same manner as the first unless they are together. Then, and only then, will it nullify the effects of the piece.”

“That means…there has to be two of them,” Nestor said, looking very tired.

“Yes.”

“That is not acceptable.”

“It is the only way. You will need to get close enough to her to put the two together.”

Nestor held up his hand. “No.” He shook his head. “No. You must take it and hide it.”

Belen looked shocked, his mouth opening and shutting like a gasping fish. “But Nestor, she will kill you. She told me when I gave it to her…”

The vision repeated from the beginning, over and over, never allowing Belen to finish the sentence although Kiora was sure she knew what he was going to say: Jasmine had planned to kill Nestor.

She finally woke and the vision faded to black once again. Stretching, Kiora lay in bed, reluctant to move. She had been weeks without a bed. Weeks without a decent night’s sleep. And weeks without something to do the second her eyes opened. Frankly, she was tired. Not just physically, but emotionally.

She stared up at the ceiling, her thoughts drifting back to a few months ago. Had it been that long? She could hardly remember anymore. She had been innocent and naïve, and it had all been ripped away when she looked into the Wings of Arian. Her heart constricted—she missed not understanding evil and she missed just being Kiora, but she would never be “just Kiora” ever again. She would always be Kiora, the Solus.

Rolling her head to the side, she looked at the glass doors. The blue of the ocean stretched on for miles. Pulling the blankets back, she padded across the marble floor and stepped onto the balcony.

The air was brisk, especially with the moisture in the air. Out in front of her stretched an endless expanse of blue. It soothed her aching heart. Kiora closed her eyes, breathing in the salt and the peace, letting it fill every inch of her. Leaning forward on the rail, she pulled out Morcant’s scale.

Kiora smiled. She could almost see Morcant flying over the waters, his wings skimming the waves. The poor creature must have been devastated when the gate closed, to go from this to Meros, and then to that horrible dirt hole in the ground. And yet, through all of it, he never lost his inherent goodness. She rubbed her thumb across the shining scale before bringing it to her lips. Morcant was good because he chose to be, because that’s who he was. Kiora felt, in that moment, a little less pity for those who followed Dralazar and the Shadow. It was a choice, she realized.

“Kiora?” Emane poked his head through the door. “Are you awake?”

She had been so lost in thought that she hadn’t felt his thread approach. “Out here,” she called.

Emane walked out and whistled. “Wow.”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Emane leaned on the rail, his elbow almost touching hers. “It’s unbelievable. It looks like it goes on forever.”

It was nice, knowing that he understood. In Meros, you could see from one mountain range to the other. Nothing seemed endless.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked.

“Yes. Only one vision.” Kiora shrugged. “Over and over again.”

“Was it about Jasmine?”

“About a talisman Belen made for Jasmine. It sounded like Jasmine was planning to kill Nestor with it, but I have no idea how it works.”

“That would have to be a powerful talisman, to kill a Creator.”

“I know.” Kiora tucked the scale back beneath her shirt. “My dreams never give me enough information. Belen made Jasmine something, Nestor is worried about it, Belen is going to make something to counteract it, but…I don’t know details.”

Emane swore under his breath.

She laughed. “Were you hoping I had a dream that told me everything so I wouldn’t go visit the dragons?”

“Yes.” Emane dropped his head. His blond hair had grown longer and was starting to hang in his face. “I’m worried.”

“I know.” Kiora’s fingers itched to brush his hair out of his eyes. “I am too.”

“Are you?” Emane asked, looking at her sideways. “Lately you have been so sure of everything. You’re almost like a different person.”

“I’m not always sure. I’m just sure there aren’t any other options.” Kiora looked out at the waters. “I am a different person.”

He was quiet for a while, looking out with her. “I know.”

“You’re different too.”

“Not like you.”

Kiora took a deep breath, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I’m sorry.”

He put his hand on hers. “Don’t be sorry. It’s not bad—it’s just different.”

“That is not what I am sorry for,” she whispered.

“I know that too.” He gave her hand a squeeze before letting go. “Alcander sent Drustan out fishing a while ago. Are you ready for dinner?”

She smiled weakly. “Dinnertime already?”

“We slept through breakfast, and you slept through lunch.”

“Dinner sounds good.”

CHAPTER NINE

Natural Abilities

DESPITE HAVING SLEPT THE day away, Kiora was ready for bed shortly after dinner. The next morning she was jolted awake by Alcander throwing open the doors to the balcony, sending in a rush of brisk sea air and the sound of breaking water.

“Time to wake up,” he announced. “Your Pegasus will be here tomorrow. That only leaves us one day to train.”

Kiora flopped back onto her pillow. “I was hoping you could grant me one more day to relax before I flew out to certain death.” She peeked over at him.

“That is not funny.”

“A little, yes.” She smirked.

Alcander pointed to a stack of clothing at the end of the bed. “I found some practice gear for us.”

“How very convenient.”

“Meet me outside.”

She pushed up on her elbows. “Do I get to eat or bathe first?”

“The rest of us already had breakfast. You should have been up an hour ago.”

“If you were planning on rudely awakening me, perhaps next time you could do it before breakfast.” Alcander’s face remained still, but she could see the smile lighten behind his eyes. A second later, a tray sat on the edge of the bed.

“Thank you.” She wrinkled her nose. “Fish for breakfast?”

“I don’t want to risk summoning food and that is what we have, Your Highness,” he said with a tight bow.

“I am the only one without royal blood, Alcander.”

‘Maybe, but you’re acting like a princess.”

“Because I don’t want fish for breakfast?”

He walked to the door. “Because you don’t want to train, you want to sleep. You want to eat, bathe…the list just goes on and on! Be downstairs in twenty minutes,” he added, closing the door behind him.

Kiora stared at the door. She couldn’t be sure, but she would almost bet he was joking. She sometimes forgot Alcander knew how to do that. Smiling, Kiora climbed out of bed. She forced down the fish and then put on her practice gear. If she thought the last set of gear was tight, this pair was surely a size too small. It took some jumping and twisting to maneuver herself into it.

Heading down the hall, she looked over the rail. Alcander and Emane were standing below. Alcander leaned against the banister while Emane pulled and tugged at the skintight black gear.

“This is ridiculous,” Emane grumbled, pausing to push his hair out of his eyes.

Kiora giggled as she came down the stairs. Alcander looked at her unabashedly, his eyes raking over her as they had the first time she had walked out in her gear. Emane, on the other hand, stared slack-jawed before his cheeks turned bright pink and his eyes darted away. She couldn’t help but check out the pair of them. Alcander was leaner, but no less toned than Emane, and their clothing didn’t leave much to the imagination. Giving her head a quick shake, she hurried down the remainder of the stairs. Once she reached the bottom, Emane glanced back at her, his eyes making short, jerky movements as he struggled to keep them on her face.

“Your clothes are so tight,” he finally said.

“Not as tight as yours,” Alcander pointed out.

“Why, thank you for noticing, Alcander.”

Kiora rolled her eyes. “Are you ready, or are we going to stand here all day?”

“If you summon Emane’s
weapons
to the courtyard, we can begin.” Alcander said the word as if it were a disease.

Once outside, Alcander eyed the pile of weapons and Emane’s shield. “How are you supposed to fight?” he asked. “Those will weigh you down.”

“Since I can’t produce a shield spontaneously with my fingertips, I have to make do with this.” Emane picked up his shield.

Alcander looked at it closely. “What good does that do against magic?”

Emane’s eyes narrowed before casually turning around and examining the rest of the pile. “Not much—it’s fairly useless, actually. But it’s the best I have.”

Kiora opened her mouth to explain that the Guardians had infused it with magic and that it could reflect spells back at the caster, but Emane shot her a look to silence her.

Alcander huffed. He pointed at the sword. “And what will that do?”

“This happens to be a magical sword that prevents the healing of your kind when I stab it through your gut.” Emane’s eyes glinted as he spun the sword in his hand.

Kiora didn’t appreciate the visual.

“You have to get it close enough first,” Alcander retorted. His fingers moved so slightly that Emane missed the motion and the sword flew from his hand. Flying end over end, it then buried itself in the grass. Emane’s hand flew out just as quickly, calling his sword back to him. It wiggled before freeing itself from the earth and flying across the courtyard into Emane’s hand hilt first.

“Drem managed to teach me a thing or two before Dralazar showed up.”

Alcander moved his hand again, but Emane was ready for him this time. The spell caught the edge of Emane’s shield, sending it spiraling back. The spell connected with Alcander, jerking him to the side and nearly knocking him off his feet.

“Oh, that’s right…” Emane slapped his sword against his shield. “This reflects magic. I had forgotten.” He tossed his head with a smile as if to say “Silly me.”

Alcander actually smiled at him, although it was closer to a sneer than any pleasantry. “But can you move fast enough to deflect them?”

“Can you get out of the way if I can?”

Alcander seemed to think about that for a second before firing two shots as he leaped into the air and then bubbled. Emane’s shield moved upwards, sending the magic flying back into empty space where Alcander had stood.

“Behind you!” Kiora shouted as Alcander appeared behind him. Emane tried to turn, but Alcander fired a shot, knocking Emane onto his face.

“No cheating,” Alcander chided Kiora.

“No cheating,” Emane grunted, picking himself off the ground. “No cheating, he says as he uses magic to catapult himself twenty feet in the air.”

“That was not magic.”

Emane turned to look at him skeptically. “No magic?”

“My physical abilities are my own. That’s why Shapeshifters don’t use any magic once they shift. They adapt the physical strengths of what they have become.” He looked around. “Where is Drustan? I told him to meet us out here.”

“He was still sleeping when I came down,” Emane said.

“You work with Kiora,” Alcander said to Emane, “while I go wake the Shifter. Again.” He stomped off to the house.

Emane smiled at Kiora. “You don’t have a sword.”

“I hate swords.” She groaned. “I am no good with them and I am never going to need to use one here.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really.”

“What happens if you run out of magic during the battle? Like last time?”

“A sword would not have helped when Dralazar showed up.”

“You don’t know that. And what about after that, when you were stuck in the woods—by yourself, I might add—which were full of Hounds? And then when Soolan showed up? And what are you going to do when the Shadow appears and you don’t have any magic? Or—”

“All right!” Kiora threw her hands up in submission, a sword appearing in one at the same time. “There. Are you happy?”

“Very. Now, hold your sword how I taught you.” Emane dropped his shield and moved toward Kiora. He swung his sword and it connected with hers. Kiora’s arm vibrated.

“Ow!”

“Ow? Kiora, I barely connected.”

“It still hurt,” she insisted.

He teased her as he walked around her. “Come on, Kiora. You have to move your feet, remember? Just turning your head to watch me is not going to cut it.” To emphasize his point, he caught her between the shoulder blades with the flat side of the sword.

She turned to face him and he moved in, quickly pushing her sword back until they were nearly nose to nose.

“You are not trying,” he said with a grin.

“I don’t know what I am doing.”

Alcander and Drustan came out of the house. Alcander yelled across to Emane, “Are you going to flirt with her all day, or shall we train?”