Wings of Tavea

Chapter FIFTEEN

Jasmine


KIORA STOOD IN THE second to the smallest circle, facing Alcander, still sore from yesterday. “I hope Emane is all right,” she said.

“What exactly do you think will happen to him?” Alcander asked dryly.

“I don’t know. This whole situation makes me nervous.”

“We don’t have time for you to be nervous. He is focusing on what he needs to

learn, and you should focus on what you need to learn. Which, if we are honest, is a lot on both accounts.”

She pursed her lips, and because she was feeling spiteful, took a page out Alcander’s rulebook—an early shot with no warning. To her dismay, he leapt neatly into the air, executed a perfect backflip, and landed almost exactly where he had left.

“That was behavior I would not have expected from an honorable person such as yourself,” he mocked.

“You said no rules,” she reminded him.

“I did,” he conceded. Placing his hands behind his back, he began to walk the circle. “There are many things I could teach you, but I don’t know how much time we have. So we need to focus on your strengths.”

“Will you teach me how to jump like you?”

He actually smiled. “No, that’s a Tavean thing you have clearly not inherited. You need a fair amount of grace if nothing else.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Hey.”

He shrugged. “You like the truth. Now, I want you to play to your strengths. Think outside the box.” No sooner had he finished the sentence than he bubbled.

“Great,” she murmured, tensing. He had of course forgotten to teach her the neat little trick he had used before to locate her bubble. The next second she found herself flat on her back, Alcander leaning over her, his fingers blazing with power.

“Never just stand there. Get up, let’s go again.”

Her eyes widened as he vanished. She leaped to her feet and turned in a circle, hands out in front of her before she was again slammed into the stone floor. She cracked her head this time and moaned. That was exactly the same spot she had hit yesterday. Tears pooled in her eyes against her will. Blinking, she refused to let them fall, no matter how bad it hurt.

“I said don’t just stand there!” he chastised. If I wanted you dead, you would be. Come on, Kiora!”

She pushed up on her elbows as he vanished again. Swearing, she leapt to her feet. Her back, elbows, and head were all throbbing, and the last thing she wanted to do was find herself on her back again. She scanned the room. The dust and dirt in the training area was thick, especially around the edges where it had settled into ridges and cracks.

She called up the wind, swirling it around the room. It recoated every inch in a sheet of dust, except for one circle not five feet from her. It wasn’t as impressive as Alcander’s methods for ferreting out a bubble, but it did the trick.

Grinning, she flicked her wrist and popped his bubble. He raised his hand but she was ready for his shot. She dropped flat to her stomach and knocked his feet out from under him in one sweep. He crashed down next to her. She pulled herself to her feet, bursting with pride. It was her pride that did her in. Magic slammed into her, throwing her across the room and into the wall. Several things cracked, and pain seared through her ankle and elbow. She dropped, her weight landing on the same elbow and ankle that had just snapped. She screamed in pain as her foot rolled backwards at an impossible angle.

Alcander ran, sliding onto his knees in front of her. “I am so sorry,” he said, his fingers hesitantly reaching for her. “Where does it hurt?”

“I broke my ankle, and my elbow, I think.” She threw her head back, clenching her fists as her breath came in short bursts. The pain was increasing in waves.

He reached out to her several times before stopping and running both his palms over his head. “I should have watched where I was throwing you. The spell doesn’t protect against walls, only magic.”

“It’s all right,” Kiora grunted. Her arm slipped off her lap a fraction of an inch, sending pain stabbing through her elbow. She cried out. “I wish Emane was here.”

Her tears made everything blurry, but she could have sworn she saw Alcander flinch.

“I am going to be as gentle as I can,” he said, sliding his arms underneath her. “We need to get you to Lomay.”

“No, no, it’s all right!” she yelped as his arms tightened around her.

“Don’t be a baby,” he said, picking her neatly off the floor.

Her foot dropped suddenly as they rose and she jerked backwards, yelling, “If my elbow wasn’t broken I would punch you!” She buried her head in his chest, her arm cradled across her stomach.

“You can punch me later, after you’re healed.”

“And I am not a baby,” she said into his chest, using the words as a release for the pain she was desperately trying to hold back. “I have broken bones!”

“You’re right,” he murmured against her hair. “You’re right.” He began walking out of the cave. Kiora braced herself for the movement, but he really did walk like a cat, padding so softly she could barely feel anything.

* * *

WAKING, KIORA FOUND HERSELF lying on her bed, the covers pulled nearly up to her chin, and best of all—pain-free. She saw Alcander standing by the door.

“Ready to punch me?” he asked, holding out his arm. “I stand by my word.” She shook her head. “If you are worried about hurting me, I assure you—”

She laughed out loud. “Thank you, Alcander, but no.” She pushed herself up in her bed, wiggling her previously broken foot. “Lomay?”

“Yes.”

“Did he yell at you for breaking my foot and my elbow?”

Alcander’s eyes twinkled even though his face remained stoic. “He did.”

“Good.” She tried to stay serious, but her lips twisted into a smirk.

“I had some clothes made for you,” he said, pointing to the pile at the end of the bed. “I thought you could use something appropriate for dinner tonight.”

“Thank you.” Running her hands through her hair, she grimaced.

“What’s the matter?”

She jerked her finger through a knot in her hair. “I’m disgusting.”

“Hmmm,” he mused. “I thought perhaps humans didn’t bathe.”

She looked up at him. “Are you making a joke? I didn’t know Taveans could do that.”

Crossing his arms in front of himself, he said, “I don’t think you know enough Taveans to make that assumption. Perhaps it is just me.”

She looked at him closer. His voice held its traditional evenness, but his eyes silently laughed.

“Oh my word, you are joking!”

“Of course not. If you would like to bathe, you know where to go. Dinner should be ready by the time you’re done. If you would like me to accompany you, I will be at Lomay’s.” He left Kiora to wonder if she had imagined everything.

Smiling to herself, she climbed out of bed and picked up the clothes Alcander had left for her. There was a white pair of pants—wide, almost like a skirt. She had seen a similar style on several of the woman since arriving. The bright blue tunic had been meticulously embroidered with gold and silver thread. The neck and sleeves were decorated with vines and buds.

Tucking it under her arm, she headed down to bathe. Eyes stopped and followed her as she passed. Kiora waved and smiled. Some waved back, others looked quickly away as if they had done something wrong. She wondered if Alcander had instructed them not to stare. They certainly seemed hesitant to talk to her. Except the children. The children looked longingly after her, stopping their games and watching until their mothers called them. Kiora felt very lonely again.

On her way back to Lomay’s house after her bath, she was startled when someone finally talked to her. The woman with the ostrich body put her hands on her waist, watching Kiora as she walked by, and said, “I told Alcander that was the perfect color for you.”

Kiora stopped, almost looking over her shoulder to see if the woman was talking to someone else. “Um, thank you.” She smoothed down the front of her shirt, running her finger over the beautiful embroidery. “Did you make this?”

“Of course. There are none better than the Omelian. We make all the clothes,” she said with pride. “And I told Alcander those would suit you perfectly.”

“Thank you, they are beautifully made.” She stood there awkwardly before adding, “My name is Kiora.”

The ostrich woman gave a boisterous laugh that made her feathers jiggle. “I know who you are.”

“What is your name?”

“Perina.”

Kiora smiled, grateful someone was speaking to her. “It is nice to meet you, Perina.”

“Perina!” Alcander shouted from Lomay’s door. “Kiora has things to do.”

“Prince Alcander,” Perina yelled back, grinning. “As I have told you before, you must learn how to relax.”

Kiora giggled.

“Maybe I need to cut your clothes a little larger, Alcander,” Perina said, pursing her lips thoughtfully. “I think they are raising your blood pressure.”

“Perina!” Alcander shouted.

“All right, all right.” She laughed, leaning into Kiora. “He acts as if the fate of the world rides on how many steps we take that day,” she whispered, winking. “You are good for him though. He has been calmer since you arrived.”

Kiora looked over her shoulder to see a scowling Alcander in the doorway. She whispered, “Calmer? Really?”

Perina burst out laughing. “You better go before he exiles me.” She walked off, still chuckling.

Kiora walked over to Alcander, grinning.

“Glad to see you are making friends.” Alcander’s eyes were on Perina, who was still laughing. “What did you say to her?”

“Hmmm, me? Nothing,” Kiora said, ducking underneath his arm.

He turned to follow her. Eyeing her wet hair he asked, “Don’t you know how to dry yourself?”

His constant questioning of her knowledge aggravated her. “I like to let my hair dry on its own,” she said snidely, making a mental note to look up hair-drying as soon as she got back to her room.

His eyebrows raised, but he said nothing.

She looked around. “Where is Lomay?”

“Probably spying on the Shifters, if I had to guess,” he said, holding out his arm. “Are you ready for dinner?”

Her cheeks burned with sudden shyness and she linked her arm with his, trying not to notice the slight buzz of magic at his touch.

At dinner Kiora watched for Drustan, but he was not among the group of Shifters delivering the main course. She hoped he was all right. Both his and Lomay’s absence renewed her worry.

Kiora picked up her fork but hesitated. Giving a large smile to the few around the table who had noticed her hesitation, she leaned towards Alcander and whispered, “There is no dragon today, is there?”

Grinning just as wide as she, which was strange for him, Alcander replied, “No, I asked that it be left off the menu. The Shifters were pleased to have the extra meat.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His smile reached from his lips to his eyes.

After dinner, Shifters arrived carrying dessert trays. Drustan was among them. Kiora gave a grateful sigh of relief—he looked all right. She longed to catch his eye, to talk with him. But Drustan avoided her at all costs, even angrily refusing to deliver dessert to her when another Shifter pointed him in her direction.

What was going on? Kiora looked to Alcander. He shook his head almost imperceptibly.

“Later,” Alcander mouthed before turning his attention back to his plate.

Taking a bite of a fluffy white dessert, Kiora tried to push the frustration out of her mind by distracting herself.

Looking down the table, she couldn’t help but smile. The little winged boy who had tried so hard to talk to her the other day had tipped his chair back on two legs and was flapping his wings furiously to keep himself balanced. He was very pleased with himself until his mother caught sight of him and swiftly pulled him back down on all four legs. Noticing Kiora’s laughs, the little boy grinned from ear to ear, stretching tall in his chair as if he were the pride of the camp.

Alcander turned his head to the side as the Shifters moved their way down the table. “They are watching him,” he murmured, barely moving his lips.

Kiora tried to nonchalantly observe the Shifters. Alcander was right—they were either watching Drustan or her. She understood Drustan’s actions a little better now. He was being watched, tested. Despite being a Shifter, they did not trust him.

Smiling, she turned back to Alcander, pretending to carry on a very amusing conversation. “They don’t trust him?”

He smiled in return. “Nor should they. I brought him back alive. It makes them suspicious.” Alcander scanned the end of the table where the Shifters were just finishing their delivery of dessert. “Can you call to Drustan?”

“Yes.”

“Tell him to fight back,” Alcander said before he stood, the smile falling from his face as he grabbed what was left of his dessert.

Kiora wanted to ask him what he was doing, but he was already storming towards Drustan.

“Drustan,” she called, “Alcander said to fight back.”

She saw Drustan flinch as her thoughts reached his, but other than that he made no sign of understanding. Instead he kept his back to Alcander, carefully placing down two more plates.

“Hey!” Alcander yelled, holding out his plate. “You. Shifter. This is not acceptable.”

Drustan looked down. “It looked acceptable enough for you to eat most of it.”

Alcander slammed the plate into the ground at Drustan’s feet. It shattered, sending shards of glass spiraling outwards. Reaching out his hand, Alcander hit Drustan in the gut with magic, sending him flying into a tree.

“Do not question me,” Alcander roared.

Drustan pulled himself to his feet, sputtering with anger. “You have already tricked me in to wearing this,” he snarled, holding up his bracelet-wrapped wrist. “And now you expect me to serve you as well?” Two Shifters rushed over, each taking one of Drustan’s arms, shaking their heads before glaring at Alcander.

“Go,” Alcander yelled. “Get him out of here. Don’t let me see his face again, or you will all suffer.”

The two Shifters dragged a kicking and sputtering Drustan away from the dinner table. Kiora’s heart was beating in her throat, and it was everything she could do to remain seated. Alcander walked back to her chair and looked down at her. “Are you finished?”

“Yes,” she said, placing the napkin on the table.

“Join me.” It was not a question. He held out his elbow.

She swallowed and stood, linking her arm with his.

“Please enjoy the rest of your dinner,” Alcander said to the table of silent onlookers. The group inclined their heads to their Prince and obediently turned their attention back to their plates as he led Kiora away.

Once they were out of earshot, Alcander said, “Hopefully that will give the Shifters something to trust.” They took a few more silent steps. “Did I upset you?”

Her stomach was in knots, sick with worry for Drustan. “No.”

“You are a horrible liar.”

“I haven’t had a lot of practice.”

Alcander led Kiora up the slanted path to the dreaded bridge. But mercifully he led her past it and around a loop on the cliff face.

“Where are we going?” she finally asked.

“Almost there.”

They followed the loop around the backside of the valley wall. The ledge grew thinner until she was forced to place one foot carefully in front of the other. She ran her hand along the rock wall until they reached a lookout hidden at the very back. Alcander sat down, his legs hanging over the side, and motioned for her to join him.

Sitting down next to him, she followed his gaze. The valley stretched out before them, the bridge looking more quaint than scary. The river ran its way through the middle as the people milled about, getting ready for the night. Lamps were being lit by the winged people. They flew from torch to torch, their giant, white wings magnificent in the low light. The strange mix of people was somehow less strange from up here. Instead, it was a beautiful tapestry of shapes, colors, skin, scales, and feathers. Glancing sideways, she watched Alcander’s relaxed face as his hair blew in the breeze, fluttering off his shoulders. She wished Emane could see this softer side of Alcander.

But then Alcander spoke. “Tell me of your home.”

It wasn’t a request, but a sharp, cold demand. She snorted, shaking her head. “Welcome back.”

“What?”

Leaning back on her elbows, she swung her feet. “I was thinking how I wished Emane could get to know you—the you I’ve seen lately—but then you lash out with ‘tell me of your home,’” Kiora said, imitating him as best she could.

His lips twisted. “You are infuriating.”

“I could say the same about you. I never know what to expect. At least I’m consistent,” she added, struggling not to laugh. He apparently did not find it as funny as she did. “What happened?” she said, sitting up. “You have been almost normal, and now—”

“I am curious about your home, that is all,” he interrupted. “But if you don’t want to tell me, we can go.” He stood abruptly, brushing off his pants and staring into the valley.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t tell you, but you could ask nicer.”

He swallowed before he sat back down. The silence was awkward. “It has been a long time since anyone demanded kindness from me.”

“Kindness should always be demanded,” she said softly. “It is deserved.” Glancing over at him, she asked, “What would you like to know?”

“This Meros—is it really a valley of humans?”

She nodded. They both settled against the wall, looking over a valley now alight with the blaze of fires.

“There are a few thousand of us,” she said.

“And they can’t do magic?”

“Not very many, no.”

He wiped some pebbles from his palms. “Isn’t that hard?”

“We didn’t know any better,” she laughed. “So, no.”

A soft smile ghosted over his features before it was gone. “Emane is the Prince then?”

“Yes. Does that bother you?”

“Why would it bother me?”

“I don’t know, but something is bothering you.”

He finally cracked a smile.

“So what is the problem? That he is a Witow? He already saved your life,” she felt obligated to point out.

“I have not forgotten.”

“Then what is it?”

He gazed at the valley in silence. His long hair fell to the side of his face, framing it in white. “It used to be that he was a Witow,” he ventured. “Now I think it is something else.”

“Okay . . . what?”

Alcander chuckled, shaking his head. “I hope Drustan is making progress.”

She rolled her eyes at the change of topic. “I hope so too.” Crossing her arms, she asked, “You didn’t hit him hard, did you?”

Alcander shifted uncomfortably. “I am sure he will bruise. It had to be convincing.”

Her head dropped.

“I do not envy your feelings,” he said abruptly. “Your pain.”

“That is very wise of you,” she said tiredly. “I wouldn’t envy them either.” She tried to peek at Alcander without him noticing. The chill in the breeze had turned his cheeks a little pink, and fine pieces of his hair fluttered. His eyes moved to meet hers and she quickly looked away, rubbing her arms. “What happened after your family died?”

Alcander stopped breathing. His eyes grew glassy, and for a minute she thought he wouldn’t answer. He finally let out the air he had been holding and said, “After the Taveans murdered my family, Lomay came and took me to the camps.”

“You have lived in camps almost your whole life,” Kiora realized. Almost eighty years.

“One camp or another. A prince to rebel camps,” he said bitterly. “A prince who is helpless to save his people.” His hand flung towards the people below. “A prince that has fled from evil’s attacks and watched thousands die while he still lives.”

“I’m sorry.”

He leaned forward, his elbows digging into his knees. “Don’t be sorry for me.” He punctuated each word roughly.

“Why not?”

He gazed at her, his eyes like flint in the low light. “Because I still live.”

“Sometimes living is harder than dying.”

“You wouldn’t know that, would you?” he said sharply.

“No, but neither would you.”

He didn’t answer. She continued talking, fueled by a desire for them to understand each other better. “I watched my mother die too,” she said, picking up a small rock and tossing it over the edge. She could feel his eyes on her, but she kept her eyes averted. “I had a vision—I saw the whole thing. I begged my parents to stay home that day.” She finally met his gaze. There was a softness in his eyes, and a question. “I just thought you should know.”

* * *

KIORA SAT IN BED for some time. First she learned how to dry her hair. Then she read through as many spells and incantations as she could. Her brain felt foggy and muddled with a combination of too much magic buzzing under her skin and too much information sloshing through her head. Setting the book beside her bed, she finally surrendered to sleep.

The palace of the Creators came into view. In the middle of the room stood six men, each looking as ethereal as she remembered. They varied greatly in size and shape. Some tall and thin, others short. The one standing in the middle was the same one who had spoken last time. He was of medium height with a strong build and brown hair and eyes.

“We must give it up. It is the only way to give the people what they need.”

“If we give it up, who will protect them when we are gone? Without our immortality, there will be no one to watch out for them.”

“They will have to watch out for themselves. We will have time to teach them as we grow old. Come, my brothers. Will you do this for them?”

“What do you propose, Nestor?”

With an almost imperceptible movement of the wrist, a stand appeared before them. A large gemstone was perched on top, held in place by three metal arms.

“We will empty our immortality into this. We will then give it to the people to light their world and give them the peace and comfort they need.” Nestor looked around at the faces. “Are you with me, my brothers?” His eyes traveled around the circle. With every eye he met, he received a small nod of acceptance. “Very good. I have one for each of you.”

“What of our families?” One asked.

“Our wives and children will be fine,” Nestor assured them.

Kiora noticed one of the men did not look convinced at that statement, clasping his hands and looking at his feet.

The first Creator placed his finger on the ball. It began to fill with light, glowing like a fallen star. As the jewel grew brighter he grew dimmer, the light on his face dissipating until his skin looked as normal as Kiora’s. He sighed painfully as the last of his immortality left him.

A scream came from behind one of the drapes as a young girl stumbled out. She was beautiful with almond skin, green eyes, and long black hair. She was staring at her arms and hands as if she had never seen then before. Her eyes flew to Nestor, the Creator who was now just a mortal. “How could you?” she screamed.

“Jasmine?” He sounded confused and shocked.

“This—” she shouted, holding out her arms, “wasn’t yours to give, Father. It was mine.”

“But how?”

“She is mortal now,” another Creator said, the one who had looked unsure in the beginning.

Nestor took a step towards Jasmine, his hands out. “No, that’s not what I wanted, I thought—”

The Creator who had look unsure before ran his fingers over the jewel in front of him. “Did you not think the ultimate sacrifice would require everything?”

Jasmine ran out of the room, her father sinking to the floor. Mortals now among gods, he and his daughter.

The scene panned out, switching to something new. Standing next to Dralazar was Layla. Kiora’s blood ran cold as Dralazar leaned over, whispering in her ear. Layla smiled, holding out her hand as fire spurted forward. Dralazar kissed her cheek and ran his fingers through her hair. The scene panned out further, and she realized they were standing in her room of the cottage in the woods. Layla had lit Kiora’s old bed on fire. She laughed as the fire spread across the room, licking the floors and walls, destroying everything that had ever been hers.

Kiora woke to find Alcander already sitting at the foot of her bed.

“My sister,” Kiora gasped, her fingers clawing at the sheets. “Layla is with Dralazar.” She dropped her head, her stomach churning.

“Your sister is not a Witow?”

“Yes. I mean, I thought she was.” Kiora looked at him through her hair. “She hates me.”

Alcander sat quietly for a minute, looking like he was trying to make sense of something. “If there was no evil—” he began.

“How could she hate me?” she finished his sentence.

He nodded.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to shut off the hurt. “I told you I saw my parents’ death. That wasn’t the first vision I had.

“Layla used to be the one who would sit with me when I would black out and wait for me to come to. But over time my visions began to scare her. After I saw our parents die, Layla learned to hate what she didn’t understand.” Kiora bit her lip before continuing. “When Dralazar returned, he used her hate to turn Layla to his side. She started going to the villagers at night, home by home, telling them I was the great evil that had been prophesied.” Alcander’s eyebrows furrowed. “When the battle came, I—” Kiora stopped, taking another deep breath. “I took those who followed me out of the village and hid them. When Dralazar arrived, only those who followed him were left. I had hoped he would spare his own but . . .”

“Of course he did not.”

“I don’t know how many survived that day. Layla blames me.”

“Interesting.”

“I don’t know what happened after I left, but he must be training her.” Kiora punched the bed. “How could I not know she had magic?”

“If she had never done magic, it is possible her thread wouldn’t show it.”

Kiora thought out loud, “That would explain why Dralazar didn’t find me before Aleric did.” Relaxing her shoulders, she smiled weakly. “Thank you, Alcander.”

“For what?”

“Talking.”

“You’re welcome.” His hand moved forward—but reluctantly pulled it back to his side. Swallowing, he asked, “Did you see anything else that might help?”

“I did dream about the Creators again.” Kiora frowned. “Nobody told me Nestor had a daughter.”

Alcander started. “What?”

“Her name was Jasmine.”

He looked at her, confused. “Nestor never had a daughter, or any children. The others did—they parented the Ancient Ones.”

“But . . . I saw her after Nestor gave up his immortality. She was angry because it took hers too.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Kiora, but he didn’t have any children.”