Page 106 of Draekora

“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 theZ’aoto 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 thetraesosbowl, theZ’aosloshing about within the transparent boundary. Together the Meyarins shuffled away from the pool, moving closer to each other until theZ’aoformed 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 theValispathand disappeared, theZ’aoheld 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 tobecomedraekons, 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 perhapssomethingshe’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 message 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 theValispatharound 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.

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