Page 59 of Draekora

“Leaving you alone was deplorable of me,” Aven said, avoiding Alex’s words and going back to his original topic. “I did it because, at the time, I was consumed by a need for justice. That desire is no less strong in me now, regardless of my failed attempt to serve my people. But for the moment, that’s beside the point.” He inhaled a breath. Released it again. “I’m here to apologise, Aeylia, for my inexcusable behaviour. I can’t offer you a sound reason for abandoning you, but please know that for this past week, I’ve been filled with a deep regret over what I did. I am truly sorry.”

Everything from the look in his eyes to his slumped shoulders told Alex that he meant every word he’d said. But she didn’t need his apology. While that night had sucked, mostly because of the foul Skraegon, if Aven hadn’t left her alone she may never have bumped into Zain and thus never have had the chance to coerce Roka into giving him a shot at theZeltora—which was something Zain wasstillrefusing to do, but Alex maintained that he just needed time. None of that would have happened if Aven hadn’t run off on her. And seeing him so down about it had a strange effect on Alex—almost like she feltbadfor him. So she did the only thing she could.

“I accept your apology,” she told him quietly—and genuinely. “And I appreciate you offering it, Aven. It means a lot. But now that we’ve done this, I want you to promise me something.”

He took a step closer to her, his eyes losing some of their bleakness as hope replaced the dark emotions. “Anything.”

“I want you to let it go,” Alex told him. When the shutters came down on his expression, she sighed internally and decided that she would take what she could get, qualifying her statement by saying, “I want you to let go of your regret about abandoning me.” It cost her, but she continued, “Whatever your crusade for justice is, that’s your call. But as for us, why don’t we just… start over?”

“Start over?” he repeated, his face looking dubious but hopeful again. “You would consent to that?”

Alex shrugged, mentally wondering what the hell she was thinking. “I’m sure you’ve picked up on the fact that I’ve been uncomfortable around you since we first met”—in both the past and future, that was true—“so I figure it might be a good idea for us to wipe the slate clean and start anew. What do you think?”

Alex knew—sheknew—what she was doing was risky. Lady Mystique had said it was impossible to change anything in the future, since the events had already happened and thereforewouldhappen. But maybe, just maybe there was a way Alex could leave a mark on Aven that somehow softened him towards mortals. Even if he would still follow through on his awful massacre the next time the humans visited—and she prayed that would be many, many years away yet—perhaps if she spent enough time with him she could sow a seed that might one day allow her to break through his hatred of mortals and…

Well, she didn’t know the ‘and’ part of that just yet. All she could do was hope that her presence in the past might dosomethinggood for the future. Because right now, all she had was hope. And that hope would have to be enough to get her through the next few weeks.

“If you are willing,” Aven said quietly, moving forward until he was close enough to reach out and grasp her hands, “then I would like that very much.”

While Alex had offered the olive branch, she was nowhere near psychologically capable of not reacting adversely to his touch, but she managed to only slightly stiffen when his fingers linked with hers and gave a gentle squeeze.

It was then his brow furrowed and he lifted up her left hand until it was at eye level where he opened her palm and frowned at her flesh.

“By the light, what manner of wound could leave such a mark on you?”

Alex snatched her hand back, curling it protectively at her chest and backing away quickly.

“Aeylia,” Aven whispered questioningly, his face flooding with concern—and the irony of that was not lost on Alex.

“I—It—Really, it’s nothing,” she told him, mentally screaming at herself to settle down. But her heart was racing just from his quiet enquiry about the scar on her hand, something that no one else had yet noticed in her time there. “Just a nasty cut, that’s all.”

Aven looked sceptical. “I’ve seen many wounds caused by blades, but none thatlaendracouldn’t heal.”

“Raised by mortals, remember?” Alex said, trying to offer him a quirky smile that probably came out more like a grimace. “I had to heal like one of them. Nolaendrafor me.”

Half of that was true—thelaendrapart. The other part was a lie, since the wound had sealed closed almost as soon as Aven had sliced her with A’enara and completed his forbidden Claiming ritual. Fletcher had tried to get rid of the glowing, silvery scar, but to no effect. The same was true for the entry wound on her back where the blade had sunk into her flesh. Fletcher had admitted to wondering whether the instant healing of both wounds and resulting scar residue was because of Aven’s Meyarin blood or perhaps merely due to A’enara itself. To this day, Alex had no answer to that question, and she’d come to accept that it might remain a mystery forever.

“That does make sense, however it must have been quite the injury for you to not naturally heal entirely from it,” Aven pressed, watching her carefully.

“It got infected,” Alex said without thinking. At Aven’s baffled look, she realised that, since Meyarins couldn’t get fatally sick, it was likely they couldn’t get blood infections either. She quickly tacked on, “I mean, the blade was laced with Hyroa blood and it made it really hard for me to heal.”

Aven continued looking at her quizzically, causing her to remember that his race had a different name for the snarling beasts and their incapacitating blood. Straining her memory, the name came to her and Alex cried it out, perhaps a little too loudly, “Sarnaph!” She cleared her throat and in a much more normal voice went on to finish, “The blade was laced with Sarnaph blood. That’s why I had such trouble healing from it.”

The horrified look on Aven’s face told her that her lie was a believable enough reason to explain her scar and she felt her body relax again—slightly.

“That must have been a traumatic experience for you,” he said, his tone showing just how much he meant it. “I’ve never heard of anyone surviving Sarnaph blood poisoning withoutMenada dae Loransabeing performed on them.”

Not even Alex’s new translation abilities could fully interpret the phrase he used, so she repeated it in a question. “Menada dae Loransa?”

“The Claiming of Life,” Aven told her, causing her body to lock instantly. “It was once a procedure used by healers under the most dire of circumstances. It allowed them to bind the life of another Meyarin to themselves, enabling them to share energy, almost like thevaelianaconnection you have with your draekon.”

Everything inside Alex trembled at his words, and it only became worse as he continued.

“The ritual was prohibited long before I was born largely due to the side effects of the bond when activated by someone unwilling to Release the recipient after their life had been saved.”

Alex managed to force two words through her stiff lips. “Side effects?”

Aven nodded, his face dire. “While the connection was in effect, the will of the injured party was no longer their own. They were fully under the control of the healer until they were Released from the bond.”

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