Chapter 29 – Alexandros
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
ALEXANDROS
T he shade is cool underneath the vast shadow cast by Anikêtos. It has been three days since he and Ophelia rescued me from Giorgios’s prison, and I have already grown accustomed to his presence. After a millennium without him in my life, I cannot deny the joy I feel each day he and Elpis choose to remain in the mortal realm.
He stands to his full height, looming over me, and shakes his scales from nose to tail, thus creating a mini sandstorm. I brush the golden grains from my hair. Where is Elpis?
He glances out across the ocean. Taking her midafternoon flight. She is taking her fill of the energy from the mortal realm whilst she can.
I am grateful for your presence here, my friend.
I know.
I recall with startling clarity the day we met, near a beach much like this one. I was barely fourteen years old when I came face-to-face with the most fearsome creature ever to have roamed the skies. I had met dragons before him, but none so terrifying—or so opinionated as he.
You never used to be so prone to bouts of nostalgia, Dragon Whisperer.
I never had much cause to be when we were last acquainted.
He tilts his head, his huge green eyes unblinking. Ask whatever question it is that you are wrestling with, Alexandros. Uncertainty and indecision do not become you.
They are not traits I value or usually possess, but I am aware that what I am about to ask would keep him from his kind for much longer than he anticipated. Whilst I am grateful for all you have done, Anikêtos, I must ask for more. Would you and Elpis consider remaining here in the mortal realm for a short while longer? Until I am more certain of Giorgios’s intent.
He blinks at me before looking to the sky. I must speak with Elpis. Without another word to me, he takes flight and disappears into the clouds.
I make my way through the thick grasses bordering the garden back toward the house. Her presence sets my teeth on edge, and I spin around to face her, my fangs bared and my blood boiling.
“I am only here to help, Alexandros.”
Fury burns hot in my chest, and it is only my many years of practiced restraint that prevent me from tearing out Nazeel Danraath’s throat. As powerful as she is, such is the strength of my rage that she would not have a hope of stopping me. A fact she is well aware of.
“Why would I trust a word that comes from your mouth, Nazeel? You betrayed me.”
“I did not betray you. I did not learn of your fate until days after it happened.”
“Days!” I spit out the word like an accusation. “I was in that place for nearly four weeks. If you knew what he had done, why did you do nothing to fix it? Why did you not tell them I was alive?”
“I could not. I have been grounded. Unable to leave the mountain fortress of our home. I have taken a great risk in coming here today.”
Is that supposed to make me pity her? Supposed to undo the pain and torment she caused? Perhaps if her actions had only affected me, it would, but I will never forgive her for breaking their hearts. Especially Ophelia’s.
She takes a cautious step closer. “That I had no idea of Giorgios’s true motives pains me greatly. Yet, his ability to deceive was so great, he fooled even you, Alexandros Drakos, whose power is unparalleled when it comes to matters of the mind.”
“Do you think reminding me of my own failings will be of any benefit to you?”
She shakes her head. “I am simply pointing out the facts. He fooled us all, hiding his true intentions and the full strength of his own power of the mind. How do you suppose he managed such a feat?”
I grind my teeth. “I do not know.”
She says nothing for a long moment.
“You also think that his powers of teleportation are not innate?” I ask, mirroring the question she is already asking herself.
“You read my mind?” She blinks at me but does not appear overly surprised.
I did not read her mind as such—more like she is an open book. Which is puzzling given the amount of power she possesses. “I can hear every thought in your head.”
She laughs, a musical sound so at odds with the situation that it only fuels my anger. Nothing about this is amusing. A second later, her hypnotizing green eyes are back on me. “If you can hear my thoughts so easily, then you must know I did not betray you, Alexandros. I was of the understanding that you and Ophelia would be reunited within a matter of hours. I simply wished to fully awaken the child’s powers through the quickest and surest route.”
That she was willing to put Ophelia through such torment simply to expedite the awakening of her powers comes as no surprise to me, but it still stokes the flames of my rage. “She is not a child.”
My snarl catches her off guard, and she flinches before quickly regaining her composure. “No, you are quite right. She is not. You and I both know what she truly is, yes?”
“Do not, Nazeel.” Her thoughts are growing increasingly fervent, and I want to ignore them and divert this conversation away from where it is surely headed.
“If you knew the full prophecy, Alexandros. So very few know of the forgotten verse, for it is never spoken of. But the Skotádi know, and that is why they want her. Because she is about to fulfill her destiny. All of the pieces are finally in place.”
“She is not the Chosen One.” I shake my head. “The world cannot have her!” I roar.
She chants the words in her head so that I am forced to hear.
But if the Chosen One can slay the three-headed dragon ? —
if the untamable beast does kneel at its new master’s feet,
and the light is tempted back from the darkness,
then they shall awaken the protector of man.
And the sun must swallow the shadows
to bring a balance that reigns through the ages.
“They are the ramblings of a madwoman, Nazeel. They mean nothing.”
“No, Alexandros, they mean everything .” There is something in her voice—conviction, perhaps—that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Her thoughts race at such speed that it is hard to focus on any one of them, but the dominant emotion is fear—and hope.
I place my hands on her upper arms, hoping to find some calm in her eyes that will help me make sense of the chaos unfolding in her brain.
“I must go, Alexandros,” she pleads. “Kameen will?—”
“I do not care, Nazeel.” I growl my frustration.
“Yes you do.” Tears fill her eyes. “You have always cared far too much, and that is why it had to be you. You are the one who will rise by her side.”
Me? I almost bark out a laugh at the absurdity of such a notion. Nazeel must be delirious. First Ophelia, and now me? “Stop speaking in riddles.”
“I am not!” she insists. “You, of all people, know the innate power of a name, Alexandros.”
“Let her go.” The deep, snarling voice comes from behind me, and I need not turn around to know who it belongs to.
I growl a warning. “Stay out of this, Kameen.”
He moves around me to stand beside her. “I am not your enemy, Alexandros Drakos, but if you harm a hair on her head, I will remove yours from your body.”
I roll back my shoulders. “You can try, Kameen, but you will be unsuccessful.”
His eyes narrow, but the corner of his lip seems to twitch as he looks me up and down. “You would dare challenge me?”
“I do not dare to do anything. As powerful as you are, Kameen Nassari, I am older, wiser, and stronger. And even your disobedient witch will confirm the truth of that.”
“Boys, there is no need for such hostility,” Nazeel says softly, her hand placed on her mate’s forearm.
The ground shakes underneath our feet, and the heat from Anikêtos’s breath washes over us all before his vast shadow blocks out the sun. He nudges my shoulder with the tip of his nose, the most significant gesture of affection a dragon would show any creature not of their own kind.
Both Kameen and Nazeel bow their heads slightly, showing deference to the powerful being now in their presence. “Anikêtos,” Kameen says, his tone carrying the appropriate amount of gravitas.
Anikêtos snorts softly in response. Both Kameen and Nazeel are well-versed in dragon communication, although they have not had cause to engage in such for far too long. Do I need to scorch anyone to ash, Dragon Whisperer?
“Not quite yet, Anikêtos,” I reply aloud. Not that either of the beings standing in front of me needs the reminder of my ability to communicate with dragons, but it cannot hurt.
Kameen rolls his neck, his gaze traveling back to me. “Nazeel is done interfering in matters that do not concern her.” Nazeel flashes him a warning glare, but he does not give her any opportunity to argue with him. “We are leaving.”
Leaving? Just like that? It is far past the point of Nazeel being done interfering. She already interfered, and she put my family in danger. “There is a great battle surely coming, and you must choose a side. Is it with me or with my brother?”
“It has always been with you, Alexandros, even if we did not know it,” Nazeel answers before he can.
Kameen bares his teeth, anger radiating from him, his glare darting between his mate and me. “We do not choose sides. We do not interfere.”
“Perhaps you no longer have a choice, Kameen.”
His jaw tics, but he does not refute my assertion. Instead, he glances at Nazeel—a paradox of a woman if ever I have known one. Despite everything, I am sure of her inherent desire to bring peace and balance, even if her attempts at doing so have been severely misguided. Still, I do not trust her, particularly where Ophelia is concerned.
“We are leaving,” Kameen snaps.
Nazeel places her hand on his cheek and lightly traces the lines of his scars with her fingertips. “Kameen, please. Just one more moment?”
I witness the precise moment the rigid, unfeeling commander of the Order acquiesces. His shoulders drop a fraction, and he tilts his head to the side, pressing his cheek into her palm. I am not sure I would have detected such a change in him only six months ago, before I met Ophelia. But I understand Kameen more now than I ever have. How difficult his love for Nazeel must make his position in the Order.
Seizing the opportunity, Nazeel steps forward and clasps my hand in hers. Anikêtos inches closer, a protective presence at my back. “You understand the true power of a name, Alexandros. Yes?” Her green eyes glisten with such hope that it is difficult to look away from her intense gaze.
So many underestimate the importance of a name, yet it shapes so much of who we are and what we become. Still, I have no idea how that relates to the situation at hand, so I remain quiet and allow Nazeel to fill the silence. “The forgotten verse, Alexandros. It was never forgotten, simply omitted.”
Even as I struggle to comprehend what she is alluding to, there is something in her words that feels so oddly familiar and true, it makes goosebumps prickle over my flesh. “Speak plainly, Nazeel, or do not speak at all.”
“Most people operate under the mistaken belief that our parents or the people who are present at our birth choose our names. And whilst that is true for most, you and I know that some of us are born with a name already etched into our soul.”
The memory of Lucian’s birth comes rushing back, threatening to overwhelm me. I remember the sweat, the screaming, the relief when he was born on a ragged wail that matched his mother’s. Most importantly, I remember how the name Elena and I chose for him became irrelevant the moment he took his first breath. Lucian Drakos was the person he was meant to be from the second he was born.
“Nazeel.” Kameen’s gruff voice cuts through the tension. “We are leaving.”
“It was all predestined, Alexandros.” With that, she and Kameen disappear, leaving me to stare at the spot on the ground where they stood only a moment ago.
Prophecies. Anikêtos snorts.
Do you know of the Lost Prophecies of Fiere? Of the forgotten verse?
I do , he says, preening his scales. Although I have never paid them much heed. Dragonkind has no need for the ramblings of other creatures.
Of that I have no doubt.
But it perturbs you, Dragon Whisperer? Why?
Nazeel is of the belief that Ophelia is the Chosen One.
And you think she is not?
I do not answer him. I cannot bring myself to lie or to confirm the truth I already know.
Recount the forgotten verse to me, I have forgotten its detail , he commands.
I do as he asks, and he is quiet for a few moments. And Nazeel’s riddle about names makes you think…
He stops, and I finish the thought for him. That Lucian is the light that must be turned from the dark.
Thick smoke unfurls from his nostrils. That is not the only name Nazeel refers to though, is it?
My head is crammed with too many questions and memories, some real and some imagined, and I am filled with a sense of dread and déjà vu. I pinch the bridge of my nose, aware of Anikêtos’s analyzing gaze as he awaits my response. What are you talking about, Ani? I snap at him, unable to keep a lid on my frustration. I should take Ophelia and my boys and disappear where nobody will ever find us. Prophecies and Skotádi and the Order be damned.
Your name, Alexandros.
A current of lightning-laced fear shoots down my spine. No. I am named after my great-grandfather. My mother chose my name before I was even conceived.
Regardless, you are aware of its meaning, are you not?
Synapses fire in my brain, and I am transported to my childhood. I recall soft fingers brushing my cheeks, her dark hair falling over her shoulder, and her deep-blue eyes so full of love—my mother, one of the most powerful elementai who ever lived—and how frequently she would tell me the meaning of my name.
Alexandros—defender of men.
The protector of man. Anikêtos’s voice rings in my head now.
“I am not…” I clench my teeth and ball my hands into fists. “I am not a part of some ancient archaic prophecy.”
Then why do you rail against it so, Dragon Whisperer?
“I thought you did not believe in such nonsense?”
Another thick plume of smoke drifts from his nostrils. I have never claimed to not believe; merely to not care.
There is a flash of pink in my peripheral vision, and I turn to see Ophelia headed straight for us. Despite the grave nature of the situation we all face, she bears, as she often does, the sweetest of smiles. It both pleases and saddens me to see it.
Say nothing of this to her, Anikêtos , I warn him.
You do not believe she deserves to know?
I do not believe it would do any good to burden her with such knowledge. Who in their right mind would want to learn that the fate of an entire world rests upon their shoulders?
He blows out a breath that singes the hairs on my forearms even from thirty feet above me. She shall not learn of it from me.
As soon as she is within touching distance, I pull her to my side and wrap a protective arm around her waist. “What are you boys talking about?” she asks, glancing between the two of us.
I run my nose over her hair, and she smells so good it takes all of my restraint to stop myself from biting her. “I was simply thanking Anikêtos for his and Elpis’s help.”
She smiles up at him. “I am forever in your debt.”
He dips his head. I am well aware, Ophelia, as you swore me an oath.
I glare at her. “You swore a dragon an oath to be in his debt?”
She blinks, confusion all over her face. “Yes. I had to so he would come back and help us.”
I speak to her through our bond so he cannot hear. Ophelia, you do not make such a promise to a dragon. They do not see the world in the same way as you and I.
But it’s Anikêtos. We trust him, don’t we?
With my life, agápi mou. But he would ask for yours in an instant to save another dragon. You never make such a promise to a dragon if you are not prepared to wager your soul.
She hardens her gaze, her jaw tipped defiantly. “If that ends up being the cost of getting you back and saving the boys, it was a price worth paying a hundred times over.”
Anikêtos snorts. You are a true warrior, Ophelia Hart, and you, my old friend, underestimate her.
She folds her arms across her chest and flashes me a triumphant grin. She does not have to say or even think the words I told you so . They are clear in every other way.
I press my lips to her ear. “One of these days, little one, I am going to spank all of your sass right out of you.”
She flutters her eyelashes. “I hope so, sir. But right now, lunch is ready, and I would love it if we could all sit down to eat together.”
The only thing I want to eat is her. The beast inside me growls, desperate to feed. That only makes her laugh, and she rubs her stomach. “You can eat as soon as I have. I’m starving.”
We bid Anikêtos goodbye, and I slip my hand into hers, unable to stop staring at her as we walk back toward the house, her skin shimmering in the light of the midday sun.
Anikêtos is wrong—I do not underestimate her. I am all too aware of the things she is capable of. Not her power, for we still lack knowledge of the full extent of her might, but her strength and her courage. Those traits which she had in spades long before her powers were awakened. She is noble and selfless. That is how I know of the sacrifices she would make to save those she loves. And my greatest fear is that she will one day be faced with such a choice, and there will be nothing I can do to prevent her from making it.