Page 99 of Draekora

Basically, he hacked the crap out of Alex. The wounds themselves often needed immediate attention, and even if they didn’t, they couldn’t risk anyone else seeing her bleed. From small scratches to nausea-inducing lacerations, even unchecked stab wounds and broken bones, Niyx didn’t hold back in his attacks, regardless of receiving the same injuries as she did thanks to their connection. Despite him feeling firsthand how Alex was handling those injuries—which was often the only reason she remained alive—he really did have a greater pain threshold than hers. What caused her to double over in pain was comparative to an ant bite to him, for all he reacted. When he’d practically severed her sword arm in one of his attacks, he’d merely ripped off a piece of material as a makeshift bandage for her, saying it was a good excuse for them to practise their ambidexterity. He’d then proceeded to attack her left-handed—his own right hand as gored up as hers—and continued until she’d almost expired from blood loss, whereby he’d shovedlaendraacross her wound and, once healed, forced her to keep training.

What was amazing, though, was that every day Alex started to see improvement in her Meyarin fighting skills, her injuries becoming less and less. And that was largely because of something that happened on her first day of training. The moment they’d landed in the forest, Niyx hadn’t paused to offer any kind of safety lecture, he’d just launched straight at her. She hadn’t expected the attack and was knocked unconscious almost instantly. When she’d come to, it was with Niyx standing above her, holding a hand to his equally throbbing head and demanding to know why she hadn’t ducked. Furious, she’d yelled back just as loud that she needed a minute to tune in to her Meyarin senses before “—some idiot decides to throw a sucker punch at my face!”

After that, she’d explained how she went about calming and focusing herself enough to flick the switch to activate the blood in her veins—to which Niyx had looked at her as if she were crazy. He’d then run a hand through his hair and blown her world apart by saying there shouldn’tbea switch—that she needed to be ‘playing Meyarin’ all the time if she truly wanted to become competent enough to face the future. He’d said, if anything, she should have to flick her inner switch in theoppositedirection, with the option to ‘act human’ only when she deliberately chose to do so.

So, along with kicking her butt physically, the unrelenting Meyarin set about helping her remain consistently locked in to her immortal senses. That meant she didn’t just spend her time avoiding the sharp edge of his blade, but she also did other tasks he set out for her: she had to run through the forest for hours using Meyarin speed, like when she’d been on thevarrungard; she had to climb up the sheer rock face of the Golden Cliffs, then she had to do it again but by scaling up through a waterfall; she had to hold her breath underwater for impossible lengths of time, and then repeat it in ice water found in crevasses at the top of snow-covered mountains; she had to fall from great distances with nothing to catch her but her own ability to tuck and roll at just the right moment; she had to spend unnatural amounts of time hanging suspended from trees while liberating herself from something similar to a straightjacket—withoutsummoning A’enara; and lastly, and possibly the most extreme, she had to handstand-walk around the rim of a crater at the summit of an active volcano.

Niyx had, for that one, recruited Xiraxus’s help in ‘spotting’ Alex in case she lost her balance and began to fall into the magma chamber, since despite her Meyarin blood andvaelianabond, none of them would have survived that. And just to add insult to injury, since the volcano Niyx had chosen was situated on one of Draekora’s floating islands—buthowhe knew its location, he refused to say—half the winged beasts had come along to watch the show, to Alex’s embarrassment. She’d been forced to look like a total fool walking on her hands around a crater spouting bursts of lava, and they’d practically been calling for popcorn. Even Zaronia hadn’t been able to hide her amusement when the sweaty-faced, skin-burned, clothes-on-fire Alex had stumbled back to the base of the mountain and glared at the entertained assemblage.

Suffice it to say, Niyx had put Alex through the ringer over the last five days, pushing her to thrive beyond her limit. Every night she fell into an exhausted sleep, only to be awoken at dawn by the merciless Meyarin who seemed to take great delight in her painful misery. Despite their early sessions, he always returned her to the palace in time for her breakfast with the queen, which the king was joining more often than not these days, too—mostly to get away from the manic fervour of the palace’s last-minute festival preparations.

The times the king joined them were surprisingly enjoyable. Astophe, Alex had quickly discovered, had a sharp wit and a keen intelligence. During one of their early breakfasts together, Astophe had asked if she’d like to play a game of Stix with him. Having never played before, Alex had been hesitant, but Astophe had been a kind and patient teacher, showing her exactly how best to understand the game of strategy that turned out to be a mixture of chess, checkers and tic-tac-toe—but the aim was tolose, because the first person to have all their pieces wiped from the board was pronounced the winner. Within a few matches, Alex had started giving the king a run for his money, something which delighted him to no end.

When breakfast finished each day—and after at least one obligatory Stix match with the king, or more, if his time permitted—Alex and Niida would meet up with Kyia and spend their mornings overseeing the final production and distribution of the masquerade costumes to the denizens of Meya. Her time with the two of them was like a vacation for Alex because after lunch she was Niyx’s to torture again. Roka was still busy training theZeltorarecruits, so other than a few fly-by sightings of the prince—where he apologised profusely for neglecting her but promised he’d be back as soon as he could—Alex didn’t see much of him. Aven too was a rare sight, thanks to his involvement in organising the festival that was now only three days away. Every time Alex saw the leader of theGarsethhe looked harried and stressed, determined to make the end-of-summer celebration the best in the history of Meya.

Noticing just how frazzled Aven had been of late, a couple of days ago Alex had stopped him in the hallway and asked if there was anything else she could do to help make his load lighter. Part of that was because he’d looked like he hadn’t slept in a week, but the other part, the larger part, was the hope he might give her an excuse to have a few Niyx-free hours. What she hadn’t anticipated as a result of her offer was the emotion that had washed over his face. He’d stared at her in a way that had made her squirm with discomfort, before gently telling her everything was under control. Then, before she’d had time to react, he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, leaving her frozen to the floor when he whirled away, calling over his shoulder that he’d see her later.

His clear show of affection had brought great alarm to Alex, since even though she was able to accept him as her friend in the past, even acknowledge him as someone she’d come to care greatly about, she couldn’t forget who he would become in the future. And that was not someone who she would ever want kissing her—on the cheek or anywhere else.

When she’d shared her concerns with Niyx that afternoon, at least vaguely in the form of ‘I’m leaving soon and don’t want to inadvertently lead anyone on,’ Niyx had just looked at her as if to see whether she was being serious before erupting in laughter.

“You’re kidding, right?” he’d said to her in between sword thrusts. “You do know he’s been half in love with you since you forgave him for ditching your ass in the city that day?”

Barely avoiding having her spleen punctured by his blade, Alex had gaped at Niyx. “But that was weeks ago!”

“Which means he’s had plenty of time to get to know you and even up the other half,” Niyx returned, swiping at her head. “You better watch yourself, kitten. My best friend thinks you’re Meyarin and he’s falling for you—amortal—and falling hard.”

Alex ducked and spun, meeting his weapon mid-air as she said, “I think this might be a slight problem.”

“A slight problem?” He sounded incredulous. “A slight problem?”

“I can’t stop him from feeling whatever he’s feeling, Niyx, as mental as that is—and believe me, given everything I know, it’sreallymental,” Alex said, her mind reeling. “But I sure as hell am not encouraging him!”

Niyx’s rebuttal was as quick as his next thrust. “You aren’tdiscouraging him, either!”

Since then, Alex had done everything she could to avoid Aven, not wanting to lead him on further than he’d apparently already been led—as unintentional as that had been. Her efforts had proven effective, as she hadn’t seen him since he kissed her on the cheek a few days ago. But that was likely also because she’d spent almost every other hour training to become Superwoman. It was a feat that Alex could admit was finally paying off.

“What’s going on with you today?” Niyx asked, drawing her back to the present as he paused his attack and looked at her with shrewd eyes. “You’ve been improving a lot lately but today it’s like we’re right back to where we started.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex panted. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Why not?” he asked, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

During their first sparring session, Alex had learned his preferred state of dress when fighting was minimal—which meant all he wore were boots and long black combat-like pants belted at his waist. The first time Alex had seen him half naked, she hadn’t been able to stop staring, but it wasn’t because of his ridiculously defined abs; it was because of the silvery claw marks highlighted against his tanned skin, the diagonal scars stretching across his chest.

He’d noticed her staring and had made some flippant remark about her drooling over him, but she’d seen the emotion in his eyes—the fear of his near-death experience, the relief of being alive, the anger athowhe was alive and the regret that he would always bear the mark of the Sarnaph—and of the Claiming. In that moment, Alex was thankful that her own scars were tiny by comparison, the one on her handandthe one where A’enara had lodged into her back. Apparently only the most grievous of injuries were able to mar the flesh of those with immortal blood, and Niyx’s claw marks topped the charts.

Alex would never say it to his face, certain that she would receive some ridiculously lewd comment in return, but she thought the scars just added to his overall appearance, as impossible as that should have been. Meyarins on the whole were a tad too perfect, in her opinion. They were almost too unnaturally good looking. But Niyx’s scars, even when hidden by clothing, gave him a flaw that made him all the more real. They were a mark of what he’d been through, a badge of honour and a testament to his decision to help Alex learn to fight no matter the cost.

That was just plain beautiful to her.

“Aeylia!” he barked at her.

She shook her head and apologised again. “Sorry, what did you say?”

His lips pursed. “Why didn’t you sleep?”

“That would be my fault,” came Xiraxus’s rumbling voice as he landed in their clearing with athumpthat wobbled the ground under Alex’s feet and shook the nearby trees of the forest.

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