Wings of Tavea

Chapter THIRTEEN

Magic’s Desire


EMANE PACED AROUND THE room like a caged animal, jumping when a jumble of weaponry landed on the floor in front of the fireplace.

“Lomay decided to send you your things,” Drem said, his large ears swiveling. “How thoughtful.”

“This is not funny,” Emane snapped.

“I don’t think it was meant to be.”

Emane growled. Picking up his sword and dagger from the pile, he strapped them around his waist before stomping to the door and throwing it open.

“That is not a good idea.”

Emane snorted.

The next thing Emane knew Drem was standing between him and the door.

“How?” Emane began, looking back to where Drem had been sitting a moment earlier.

“I am fast—a natural gift,” the old man said, his brown eyes wide. “I know you cannot feel threads, but I assume you can see.” He turned to the side, sweeping his arm out the door, inviting Emane to look.

Emane stepped to the threshold. The land below him sloped down, and at the base of the hill sat an immense spread of tents. A few creatures were milling outside as the sun began to rise.

“Something has got them all worked up,” Drem said, peering out. “Group after group has moved through this area. I assume they are looking for you and your traveling party.”

“Yes,” Emane breathed, looking out over the army. Now he understood Kiora’s reasons for going with Alcander in the first place. She had felt something like this approaching.

“I have seen at least six other groups pass through here. The land will be crawling with the Shadow’s armies. Unless you have learned how to bubble, you won’t make it six steps out the enclosure.”

Emane wanted to explode. His chest was heaving with pent-up frustration. Turning away from the door he slammed his fist into the wall.

“Feel better?” Drem asked, shutting the door.

“No! No, I do not feel better,” Emane yelled. “I am the Protector. How can I protect her when I am clear across the valley trapped in some house? Lomay tricked me.”

“Not surprising,” Drem said, moving back over to the couch. “Lomay does what he wants to do, for reasons he does not explain. You are here now, so let’s get on with it.”

“Get on with what?”

“Lomay brought you here so I could train you.” Drem pulled up his sleeve to reveal what looked like a rope of grey rock flecked with black and gold minerals, twisting up his skinny forearm.

Emane paused. “What is that?”

Drem smiled, sending his ears bobbing upwards. “Magic. Lomay gave it to me years ago so I could learn how to use it.” Drem turned his head to the side. “It doesn’t work how they say it should, does it? Your magic?”

Emane’s hand moved over to his arm, rubbing the snake beneath his shirt. The healing always worked. But the other stuff was a constant struggle, even his weaponry. It was better, but still forced and awkward. “Not always, no,” he admitted.

“Because this,” he tapped the stone around his arm, “is not the same magic as theirs, and they don’t fully understand how to use it.”

“But you do?” Emane asked skeptically.

“I should. I have done nothing but hide in the side of this hill learning how to use it for the last fifty years.”

Emane looked around at the small house, frowning, “Why would you do that?”

“Because that is what Lomay wanted. What he wants, he usually gets. That, and my mother probably would have drowned me at birth had Lomay not intervened.”

“But I can’t stay here,” Emane protested. “Kiora is back there, alone. What if she needs me?”

“I can’t imagine the Solus would be in desperate need of your help in your current state.”

It was Alcander’s words all over again, and it sent Emane into a rage. “My current state?” he roared. “Kiora and I have worked together, fought together. My current state has worked just fine. She is powerful enough to make up for my weakness and I make up for hers. I do not need to be told constantly how worthless, or without, I am. Kiora does not have a problem with it, and I am sick and tired of the rest of you having a problem with it.”

Drem stood slowly, making his way towards Emane. Tilting his head up he looked Emane in the eye. “ I understand your anger, truly I do. Regardless of your past successes, I ask you this: would you like to live?”

Emane looked down at the strange old man. “Of course.”

“I do not know where you have come from or what you have fought. But the fact that you survived into adulthood tells me that wherever you were hiding, being a Witow was not frowned upon.”

Emane shook his head. “Most of us were Witows.”

Drem’s eyes took on a far off look. “That is a place I could only dream of.”

Emane’s heart softened. In that one wistful look Emane saw his own pain. “Perhaps one day I can show it to you.”

Drem’s eyes focused back in on Emane. “Truly?”

“When it is safe, yes.”

“Well then.” Drem reached up, clapping Emane on the shoulder. “We need to train you, to teach you. So you can survive this world. Because I would very much like to see this world of yours.”

* * *

KIORA LOOKED AROUND THE giant cavern. It was clearly designed for training purposes. The room was almost a perfect circle, and circles had been drawn on the floor with white paint. The center circle was only large enough for two people to stand in. Around it were several more concentric circles, spreading all the way to the walls. She was standing in the outside ring that encircled the entire room.

“What is this place?” Kiora asked.

“This,” Alcander motioned around the room, “is the nearest we have to a proper training arena.”

“A training arena?”

Glancing sideways at her, Alcander said, “I suppose you don’t have these where you are from.”

“No. What do you do with it?”

“You learn how to fight long-range.” Alcander motioned to the circle they were in. “And short-range.” He pointed to the tiny circle in the center.

“All right.” Kiora straightened her shoulders. “What am I learning today?”

“My specialty, one-on-one combat.” Putting his hands on his hips, he added thoughtfully, “This might hurt a little.” Kiora was sure a smirk pulled at the side of his mouth.

“What am I allowed to do?” she asked.

“I believe in teaching practical situations. You will learn to fight how evil fights.” He raised his eyebrows. “Which means no rules.”

“Great!” Kiora bubbled and ran.

Behind her she heard a deep laugh. “I thought you might pick that.”

Kiora turned just in time to see Alcander splay his fingers, pushing something outward. A moment later a rippling green circle of magic spread out from him, rushing across the arena towards her. Kiora looked around. There was no escape. Every piece of the arena was being raked over by whatever he had just released. Making a split-second decision, Kiora dropped her bubble to throw up a shield. The green magic melted around her shield, leaving her unharmed, and continued on until it hit the back wall.

“There you are.” He smiled sweetly.

She dropped her shield. “What was that?”

“Nothing much.” He shrugged. “I came up with it a few years back to hunt out people who like to bubble. Old magic is easier to mix than nature magic. I put a few different elements together and came up with it. I call it the sphere.”

“You came up with that?”

“Don’t act so shocked,” he said. “I have gifts of my own, even if I can’t control all four elements.”

“How does it work?”

He shook his head. “No lessons yet. First I need to see what you can do.” He strode across the room, his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that simultaneously flipped her stomach and made her want to retreat. Kiora held her ground out of sheer determination not to embarrass herself. Stopping within inches of her, Alcander spoke a charm under his breath. Both of their clothes immediately took on a light glow.

“What did you do?” Kiora asked, running her fingers over the illuminated fabric.

“It’s a protection spell. It prevents any fatal magical blows from killing you.”

Kiora frowned. “If it protects against magical blows, why don’t we use it during a fight?”

“Because it is the easiest charm to undo and everybody knows how to undo it. It would be useless in battle. But in training it’s perfect.” Crossing his arms in front of him, he almost smiled. “And I said it wouldn’t kill you, I didn’t say it wouldn’t hurt. How much combat training have you had?”

Kiora thought about it. She had learned how to use her magic, and she had been in a few battles. But training? “None.”

Alcander’s right eye twitched. “I should have expected that would be your answer.”

His irritation made her blood boil. “That’s right,” Kiora snapped. “Because I don’t know anything about anything!”

Any bit of amusement Kiora had noticed from him earlier fled. His eyes narrowed in an icy gaze. “Let’s train.” He shouted directions as he crossed the room. “We start in the largest ring. You may go anywhere in the ring, but you may not leave the ring.” He spun to face her. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“You may take the first shot.”

She hesitated.

His hand flicked out, shooting a bolt of magic straight at her. She barely had to time to gasp before it hit her square in the chest and sent her flying across the room. Luckily for her head, she landed before she slammed into the wall of the cave. Unluckily for her, her behind was throbbing. She moaned, dropping her head back.

“Don’t hesitate,” he yelled.

Glaring at him, Kiora shouted back, “You said I could go first.”

“Lesson one: Don’t trust evil. Be on your guard no matter what they say.”

In one movement she pushed off the ground and shot a white bolt of magic at him. Alcander flipped himself up and over, looking more like a bird than a person, his white hair flowing behind him as he nimbly avoided her magic. He landed silently on his feet.

Her jaw hung open. “How did you—”

Instead of answering he threw more magic. She put up a shield and the magic bounced off it.

“Never try to have a conversation during a fight,” he scolded.

“Why not?” she yelled, shooting magic back at him. “I can multitask, can’t you?”

She thought she heard him laugh but she couldn’t be sure—she was too busy diving away from another flare of magic. Unfortunately, her dive left her legs exposed and his magic sizzled against the enchantment he had placed over her. It kept his shot from burning a hole through her leg, but it still hurt. She swore, rolling to her feet.

“You want to talk? Let’s talk then,” Alcander shouted.

She threw another bolt of magic, stronger than the first, and again he jumped over like it was nothing.

“Is it true you grew up without evil?” he asked, throwing a bit of magic that nipped her arm and spun her in a circle.

She tried to rub her throbbing arm as they circled around the ring, eyes glued on each other. “It’s true.”

“No evil at all?”

“Why is that so hard to believe?”

He laughed. “Because evil is reality. There is no facet of my world not impregnated with it.” He whipped out his wrist.

An invisible current swept her feet out from under her. She came down hard on the rock, cracking her head. She moaned, gripping the back of her head.

“Get up!” he demanded. “If you stay down, they will kill you.”

She scrambled to her feet, trying to ignore the pounding in her head. She threw more magic. He didn’t even have to jump this time; he simply stepped out of the way.

“Come on, Kiora, think! You keep doing the same things over and over again.” He began walking again and she moved in the opposite direction, still circling. “Have you ever been lied to?” he asked.

“Recently?” But the answer in her head was: About everything!

“No, before. Did your people lie?”

“No.”

“Cheat?”

“No?” Her brain raced to think how she could catch him off guard.

“I can’t imagine.”

“And I—” an idea flashed in, “can’t imagine living as you have.” She sent a bolt flying right were she had every time. He jumped to avoid it. Grinning, she extended her other hand, releasing more magic right into his flight path. She saw his eyes widen, but there was no stopping the inevitable. The magic collided with him a good ten feet in the air, changing the trajectory of his body. He flew end-over-end out of the circle and into the wall.

Kiora was torn. Her instinct was to rush to him and apologize for hurting him. But at the same time, she was a little proud of what she had done.

Alcander was against the wall, gasping for air.

“Are you okay?” she asked, taking a step towards him.

“Fine,” he gasped, holding out his hand to stop her. “That . . . was . . . good.” It looked like she had knocked the air out of him.

The pride left, and she felt awful. “Sorry.”

“Don’t ever be sorry.” His eyes glinted.

Something Malena and Eleana had told her when she was first learning of evil flashed into her mind. They had told her one of her greatest gifts would be the pain she felt at others’ pain, and her kind heart. It made a little more sense now. “I will always be sorry,” Kiora whispered.

Alcander rose to his feet. “Come on, next circle.”

They stepped into the next circle, smaller than the first.

“Do you know how to do anything besides a full shield?” he asked.

“No, I thought there was only one kind of shield.”

“No, you do a full-body shield which is great, except for when anything behind you attacks. Small hand shields allow you freedom of movement.” He put both hands out, palms flat. She tensed, ready for a surprise attack. He smiled in approval. “Good girl. Now watch.”

Two shields the size of dinner plates flared out of his palms. “The closer you get to your enemy, the less room you have to maneuver and the more important it is that you stay flexible.” Stepping back he looked at her. “I want you to fire off as many shots as you can, as fast as you can.”

Kiora did as he asked. She took the first shot at his face. His hand moved so quickly it was a blur, the shield blocking the magic. She shot at his feet. He didn’t bother to block it but leapt over it. She took shots at his mid-section, arm, head, knee. Every shot was nimbly blocked.

She stopped. “I don’t understand why it is better than a full shield.”

He dropped his two mini shields. “Put up your shield.”

Kiora pushed it forward. He began firing rapid shots at her. Every one bounced off the shield, leaving a shower of green sparks behind. The more he hit, the more residue flowed down her shield, obliterating her vision. She could barely see as he launched his gravity-defying body over the top of her. He fired off the first shot before he even landed, hitting her right between the shoulder blades. She stumbled forward and felt another blow slam into her lower back as his feet hit the floor. She landed face first on the rock, scraping against it as she slid forward.

“That’s why,” Alcander said.

Her face against the cold stone flashed her back to her time with the Shifters, training with Eleana on wind. Kiora started laughing, her shoulders shaking into the floor.

“What’s so funny?” Alcander demanded.

“I was just thinking how furious Emane would be right now,” Kiora said, pushing herself up with a grin. She ran her hand over her cheek and held it out. Not a lot of blood, but she was bleeding. “He would not appreciate your method of training.”

“He is overprotective, isn’t he?”

“I don’t know,” she said, wiping the blood on her pants. “But protective? Yes, he is.”

“My methods create results.” Dropping his head to the side, he coyly asked, “What do you think of my training?”

She put her hand on her hips, evaluating him. “My brain thinks it is exactly what I need. My body hates your guts.”

“That,” Alcander looked her up and down with that same glint in his eye, “is too bad.”

Her heart took an extra beat, realizing the conversation had just taken an unexpected turn. “What does that mean?” she demanded.

His eyes became even more intense, his lids lowering. “You know what I mean.”

She shifted, crossing her arms in front of herself. “You’re the one who told me I was weird looking.” Nervously, she reached up to check for more blood. Her fingers came back dry. Swallowing, she refolded her arms.

He took a step closer to her. “No, I said you were different looking, that I had never seen anything like you.” His blue eyes threatened to suck Kiora straight into them. “I never said you’re weird looking.”

Her mouth went very dry and her palms began to sweat. What was going on? He took another step forward with a confidence that, to be honest, made her angry. Did he think she would just stand there while he walked over and kissed her? She flicked her wrist. Her magic collided with his stomach, knocking him off his feet.

Clearing her throat, she said, “Never let your guard down, Alcander.”

He gave her a look that suggested her little stunt had made her all the more endearing. He leaped to his feet. “Next circle,” he demanded.

She walked into the smaller circle. It was getting tight. This was the last one before the ridiculously tiny one at the center.

“Why did you run off after the battle?” he asked.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk while we fought,” she said, tucking a few stray hairs behind her ears. She didn’t want to talk about that.

“I thought you could multitask.”

The magic started firing as the conversation continued.

“You wouldn’t understand,” she said, diving to avoid a shot.

“If you’re going to dive out of the way, at least throw a shield,” he chastised. “Try me.”

She threw magic at his feet, forcing him to jump. “It hurts me to hurt others.” That was the simplest way she could think to explain it. She threw a piece of magic she hadn’t known she could do. The magic started small at her hand but fanned out quickly. Alcander was forced to put up a full shield to deal with it.

“Nice,” he said, complimenting her shot. “So what, you were hurting. Do you think I enjoy killing?”

“It’s not like that,” she insisted, putting up the hand shields to catch his close-range shots. She couldn’t move as fast as he could and a shot caught her in the knee.

“Move faster,” he instructed. “If it’s not like that, then explain.”

She blocked two more shots. “I don’t know anything different than what I feel. I have always been like this. But from what I have been told, and from what I have seen watching others—” She sent two shots in rapid succession, one high and one low. He blocked the high one but missed the low one. It clipped his legs out from under him. “Take the worst day of your entire life, multiply it by a thousand, and you might understand how I feel.”

Alcander went very still, his palms pressed against the ground.

Kiora sensed she had hit a nerve. “What?”

He stood abruptly. “Time for a break.” He walked more stiffly than normal out of the room.

She stood for a bit, listening to his footsteps disappear, then decided to follow him. She sidestepped through the tunnel and walked outside to find Alcander sitting with his back against the rock wall looking out over the canyon. He looked like a statue that had been carved and left to stand guard. His face was so perfect—it was disconcerting. The angles were so precise, so clean. His ears barely poked out from the side of his wispy hair, making him look very alert. The sadness she felt from him was tangible. Normally he was very good at keeping his emotions hidden. But the wall was clearly down at the moment, allowing her to feel a piece of what he was feeling.

“What was it?” she asked gently, sitting as close to him as she dared. “The worst day of your life?”

Alcander huffed, his eyes not moving.

“That bad, huh?” She pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. They both sat there for a long time, arms-length apart, looking silently out.

Kiora focused on the sliver of light poking its way through the top of the canyon to prevent her eyes from wandering to him. There was something so different about him. He was closed to her, yet she felt like she had known him forever. His coldness was something she needed to understand.

“I didn’t always live here, as you know.” He stopped talking as abruptly as he had begun. Resting her chin on her knees, she patiently waited for more. “I lived in the castle with my family until I was ten.”

“How old are you now?”

He smiled a genuine, soft smile. “Older than you. Eighty.”

Kiora almost choked. “Eighty!”

“Magic keeps us young, surely you know that?” He glanced at her. “It will keep you young as well.”

She frowned; she hadn’t thought about that. “Does the rest of your family live here?” she asked. “Your mother?”

A dark shadow passed over his face. “No.”

Hesitantly she reached out, putting her hand on the crook of his elbow. “What happened to them?”

He looked lazily at her hand. “I am surprised Emane can stand you touching him. You pour off magic.”

She jerked her hand away.

“It’s all right, it doesn’t hurt. I just find it interesting, that’s all.”

Kiora ran her fingers over the uneven rock beneath her, feeling every bump and crevice. “Your family?”

“You just don’t let things go, do you?” He sighed. Relaxing against the rock, he stretched his legs out in front of him. “They are dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

He glanced at her sideways. “I blamed you for a long time, so I suppose it’s only fair that you be sorry.”

“Me? ” Kiora frowned. “You didn’t even know me.”

“You’re the Solus, the chosen one, the protector of good, the savior of the Taveans, light bringer, earth restorer. The names go on if you would like me to continue.”

“Please, don’t,” she moaned grabbing her head. She was getting ill just listening to them.

“I heard stories about what you would do, how you would save us all . . . .” He paused, “amongst other things.”

Her head jerked up. There was something amiss in his voice. But he moved on before she could put her finger on it.

“I was told that evil would never be allowed to take over because you would come.” He released a deep sigh, embedded with years of sadness. “I grew up in the last Tavean stronghold. My parents would put me to bed with fairytales of how safe we were because of you.” He snorted. “Little did they know you weren’t even born yet. I would go to bed at night, safe and secure with dreams of the Solus watching over me.” His jaw tightened. “Then the evil came. The gates fell. The guards were slaughtered. My father went out to fight while my mother stayed with me and my four sisters. We expected the attackers would be Shifters.” He shook his head slowly. “But they weren’t. The attackers were our fellow Taveans.”

Alcander leaned his head against the rock wall behind him, closing his eyes. “Their eyes were gleaming red and their hair was changing. The ends were still white, but at the top it was nearly black. As a child I didn’t understand what had happened. I asked my mother but she didn’t have a chance to explain. The door flew open and magic started flying. I was the youngest, and heir to the throne, so my mother pushed me under the bed.”

Kiora knew where this was going. She wanted to both put her arms around him and ask him to stop.

“I saw my sisters fall, one by one, and felt their threads go quiet.”

“Alcander,” she whispered. The pain in her own voice was so apparent she hoped it would make him stop. It didn’t.

“My mother fell last. She fell with her face looking under the bed. Her eyes locked with mine, and she used the last of her magic to put a concealment spell on me. She must have anchored it with my own magic, so it wouldn’t fade when she died.” His teeth gritted and his fists balled. “They took their time killing her. I could tell she was trying not to scream for my sake. But I watched,” his voice shook, “I watched every disgusting and horrible thing they did to her. When they finally let her die, I felt her thread go quiet too. And I knew they were all gone, my entire family snuffed out.”

“Alcander.” Her voice cracked. “I am so sorry.”

Slowly opening his eyes, he turned to look at her. “So you tell me. Is what you feel a thousand times worse than the worst day of my life?” His face was softer than usual, his eyes open windows, his pain apparent.

Kiora looked away. She knew the answer. Maybe it was because she could feel some of his pain. Which was strange, because she had only been able to feel pain like that from one other. Weakly she answered, “Maybe just a hundred times worse, but . . .” A tear slid down her cheek. “Yes.” She was scared to look at him, but after a moment’s silence she had to look up.

His posture had softened even further. “If that’s true, then I am truly sorry for you.” He nonchalantly brushed a stray piece of hair out of her face. It was so natural she barely noticed it.

* * *

THAT NIGHT KIORA TOSSED and turned, her dreams running wildly. There was a group of men she had never seen before sitting in a room with giant marble pillars. Each sat in a high-back chair that resembled a throne. They were talking amongst themselves in subdued voices. Each face looked so angelic. They were glowing even brighter than Eleana, and their presence exuded calmness.

One of the men strode to the window, looking at a land that was stunningly beautiful, just like she had seen in the Wings. The land of fairy tales and royalty, the one the Shadow had stolen the jewel from. The man looking out the window spoke, “It is the only way. We must give it up for them.”

The dream switched and she saw Dralazar standing over Emane, his hand oozing from two snake bites as the head to Emane’s snake bit back down on its tail, becoming still again. “Fix it!” Dralazar screamed over Emane. “Fix it!”

Kiora woke with a start and stifled a scream as a shape loomed over her bed. She raised her hand for protection. The shape pounced on her, pinning her arm at her side.

“Kiora!” the voice gasped. “You’ll kill someone if you’re not careful.”

“Alcander?”

He released her hand slowly. “Yes.”

She wiggled out from under him, pushing him back. “What are you doing?” she yelled.

“I came to check on you.”

“This is checking on me?”

“No,” he said, standing. “This is me trying to protect myself. I have seen what you can do. I would rather not feel it.”

“What is wrong with you?” she said, pushing her back into the headboard. “Who stands over someone’s bed in the middle of night? I thought you were trying to kill me.”

“If you would have just taken the time to feel my thread—”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she interrupted. “I didn’t have much time between opening my eyes and seeing someone standing over the top of me.”

“Fine.” Alcander’s posture jerked straight as he turned on his heel.

Her anger immediately fled. She didn’t want to be alone. “Stop. Don’t go.”

He stopped. “What?” he asked without turning.

“Don’t go.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Why are you here?”

He turned slowly, and she could tell he was genuinely surprised she wanted to him to stay. She found it strange somehow; she was sure not many girls would tell him to leave. “I could hear you screaming from my bed.”

She gulped, her cheeks flushing. “I was screaming?”

“Yes.” He looked at the floor. “Dreams?”

She nodded. “I was dreaming about Dralazar . . . and Emane.”

“You love him?” Alcander asked abruptly.

Kiora’s eyes flew open. “I . . . I . . . that’s personal.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking very much like he wanted to ask her something.

“What?” She turned her head to the side with a bit of amusement. Alcander actually looked uncomfortable. She had never seen that emotion cross his haughty face.

“The accident you had the other day with Emane.”

Her cheeks flushed again, her smile fading. “What about it?”

“I heard rumors about Witows’ sensitivity to magic. Is it true?”

“Sensitivity?”

“You can’t pass magic through them?”

“Pass through them? What are you talking about?”

Alcander shook his head and sat on the edge of the bed, pushing some stray hair back over his shoulder. “You really don’t know much, do you?”

“Look, if you want to mock me, I am sure there are more reasonable times to do it than in the middle of the night,” she snapped.

“I am not mocking. I just forget how little you know.” His tone was gentler than she had ever heard it. “Normally, someone as powerful as you would be very knowledgeable, with probably a lifetime of training. It is strange to me.”

She twisted the edge of her blanket around her fingers. “What did you mean about magic not passing through Witows?”

“If I were to pass, or release, some of my magic while in contact with another magical creature, they would be unharmed. Sometimes you can feel the magic passing, sometimes not. But it is rarely ever painful or dangerous. On the other hand, I have seen people in the heat of battle pass magic through a non-magical horse and . . . well, the horses never fare well.”

Kiora was thoroughly uncomfortable. She didn’t want to be having this conversation with Alcander of all people, but she needed to know. “So if a magical being were to kiss a non-magical being it might—” Alcander smirked. She slammed her hand onto the bed. “I knew it! I knew you were mocking me, just—get out!”

“I’m sorry. I was thinking about something else.” He cleared his throat, wiping the smile neatly away. “If the magical person were to lose control of the magic, it would flow into the other person, yes. In the magical community passing magic while kissing is actually very pleasant.” He smirked again, looking straight at her. “Part of the experience, you would say.”

Her heart fluttered, although she wasn’t sure why. Sure Alcander was gorgeous. All right, he was stunningly gorgeous.

Stop, Kiora told herself. Emane is probably going out of his mind and you are noticing how attractive the man on your bed is. “I see,” was all she managed to say.

“The magical energy released in that . . . situation,” Alcander danced around the topic, “is different than most because of the emotion that released it. It is definitely felt by the other party.”

“Great,” she muttered.

“So it’s true then,” Alcander said, raising one eyebrow. “The Witow doesn’t handle it well.”

“Don’t call him that. He has a name. And if ‘doesn’t handle it well’ means I threw him into a wall and knocked him out, then yes. He doesn’t handle it well.”

Alcander looked at her with the same look she had seen earlier, like he wanted to say something.

“What?” she asked again, her eyes rolling to the ceiling.

This time though, he did not open up. Instead Kiora saw the walls slam shut behind his eyes and all emotion was gone. The same cold, hard eyes she was familiar with returned. “Nothing. Did you see anything else in your dreams?”

“Nothing.” She sighed. “Nothing more than you already know. I saw the Creators talking about giving up their immortality.”

“That’s too bad.” Alcander stood abruptly. “ I will see you in the morning.”

She marveled that she couldn’t even hear his feet touching the floor as he walked out. His white hair was a few shades darker than the white shirt he wore. If it were not for the loose-fitting grey pants, he would have looked like a ghost, gliding silently out of the room.