Chapter 7
SEVEN
Nova
“This is unacceptable,” my brother said, turning to my guards after I finished recounting Lorien’s visit. “Completely unacceptable.” His voice boomed through the small space of my office. I’d never seen him so furious; the guards looked as though they were fighting the urge to run.
It took a moment, but one of them finally found the courage to step forward and reply. “We’re spread thin, Highness. Between the visitors you’ve asked us to monitor, and the soldiers we’ve sent to aid with the rebirth projects, our numbers—”
“Do you know what the word priority means?”
“Bastian.” My tone was sharp. “It’s over. I’m fine. And I asked my guards not to suffocate me—it’s my fault, really. They merely followed my orders to keep their distance.”
He continued to fume, his gaze shifting between the guard and a pair of marks that Lorien’s magic had burned into the floor.
“You know Lorien has ways of eluding his enemies,” Eamon said, abandoning his own examination of those marks before stepping back to us. “Tricks that no one, our seasoned guards or otherwise, could be expected to anticipate.”
Bastian’s gaze turned only slightly less livid as he fixed it on the guard lingering by the door. “Go find Captain Voss and tell him to meet me in the stateroom at the top of the hour,” he ordered. “We have much to discuss.”
He bowed and hurried away.
Bastian ordered the rest of the guards into the hall outside. He paused at the door after directing them, clearly trying to collect himself. His voice was somewhat closer to his usual practiced calm as he turned back to us and said, “I don’t understand how he slipped past everyone.”
“The same way he escaped right in front of my eyes,” I said, absently scratching Phantom between his ears. “The Vaelora were once able to come and go as they pleased between the realms, weren’t they?”
“She’s right,” said Eamon. “And he’s stronger now that he’s reunited with whatever magic was contained within Aleksander’s body.
Not to mention what he stole from Nova, and what he might have taken from his interactions with the Aetherstone.
” He hesitated before adding, “There’s also the connection Nova and Aleks developed.
As often as their powers worked together, and as close as they were to one another… ”
I averted my eyes, hating the way he spoke of us in past tense.
“What of it?” my brother pressed.
“…Their magic was so intimately intertwined that it’s not all that surprising Lorien was able to find his way back to her. I imagine it was simply like returning to himself.”
Thalia let out a curse. “We should have anticipated him being able to do this.”
There was a long, weighted pause, where we all seemed to be trying to steady ourselves against all the wars approaching from every direction.
How could we possibly guard from every angle?
“This connection between us…” I trailed off, taking several deep breaths before continuing. “Is that why I keep hearing Lorien’s voice in my head when I’m alone? Why I sometimes see his face whenever I close my eyes?”
“Likely so,” Eamon said.
Another line between my nightmares and reality, blurred.
Eamon appeared to be searching for an optimistic light to shine on the situation; it took a long moment before he settled on one.
“I don’t think you’re constantly connected, though, as the Vaelora of old might have been.
Lorien is a corrupted entity, after all.
And you came into your powers much later than normal.
So he may be able to exploit the link, but the bond between the two of you is not absolute, I’d say. ”
“I don’t like him having any sort of bond with her,” Thalia said.
“What about Aleks?” Eamon asked. “You hear him sometimes, too, don’t you?”
I nodded numbly.
“Well, that may be the very thing that’s keeping him from fully succumbing to Lorien’s hold. Perhaps he can hear you through the bond as clearly as Lorien can. And as long as he acts as a sort of wedge between you and Lorien…”
My heart unclenched a bit at the thought.
“I’m not convinced a connection to Aleksander is any safer than one to Lorien,” my brother said.
The back of my neck burned, but I kept my voice cordial, busying myself with cleaning up the broken painting as I spoke. “You trusted him, once. You told our allies as much. Don’t you remember what you said all those weeks ago? He has sworn his allegiance to Nova. That’s good enough for me.”
“Of course I remember.”
“And do you remember how he fought for this realm?”
“A lot has changed since then.”
“Not to me.” He was still Aleks, regardless of what Lorien did to him.
Bastian let out a soft sigh. He said nothing else, however, seemingly content to drop the matter.
But I was tired of wasting time tiptoeing around difficult conversations, so I looked him directly in the eyes and said, “Lorien told me he tried to reach me before tonight. His messages were interrupted, apparently.”
Bastian didn’t deny it, which only made my temper flare hotter.
“So it’s true. You were keeping this from me.”
“I was dealing with it in a calm, rational manner,” he replied. “Looking into the origins of the notes, making sure they were legitimate, that sort of thing. I was going to tell you about them soon enough.”
“When?”
“When I thought it was safe to do so.”
“Will you please let go of this foolish idea of keeping me safe?” I seethed.
He set his jaw.
I glared.
Thalia settled into the chair at my desk. Phantom followed her, placing his head in her lap and demanding pets, while his bright blue eyes remained sharply fixed on me.
Eamon—predictably—ignored our sibling spat and continued his speculating and examining, returning to the marks Lorien’s magic had left behind.
Running his fingers over the shimmering indentations, he said, “This three-way connection is interesting, to say the least. What I still can’t figure out, though, is how Aleksander keeps managing to break through Lorien’s hold on him. ”
“Is he breaking through, or is Lorien releasing him just long enough to further torment Nova?” Thalia muttered.
“Another fair question,” Eamon admitted. “Though he also did it as a child—ousting him more or less completely back then. And this was before Nova came along.”
I went back to cleaning up the painting, an abstract masterpiece that had been hanging in my bedroom originally.
Aleks had always liked it; he said it reminded him of the courtyard where we’d first met as children, and I agreed—the swirls of yellow and white made me think of the flowers that had once grown in that yard.
I lifted it up, shaking away the bits of broken glass clinging to its face. The art itself was undamaged. Still bright, still beautiful, even as everything around it had shattered.
“There’s clearly more to Aleks that we don’t understand,” Eamon said.
My brother opened his mouth, as if to agree, but hesitated when I shot him a withering look.
Luckily—or unluckily, maybe—we were interrupted before our argument could go any further; a servant stumbled into the room, looking flustered.
“I’m sorry for intruding,” he said, breathlessly.
Bastian waved the apology off. “What is it?”
“The Elarithian lord is awake.” The servant darted a harried glance my way before lowering his eyes to the floor. “He asked to speak with Lady Nova, alone.”
My breath momentarily seized.
I could feel the immediate objections building among my companions.
But I was tired of people making decisions on my behalf, trying to keep me safe in a world that was decidedly not safe for anyone.
So I quickly but carefully placed the painting on my desk and said, “If that was his request, then I will speak with him alone.”
Only one nurse stood at Zayn’s bedside when I entered his room.
There were two others skirting around the edges of the chamber, occasionally whispering to one another while casting wary looks in the direction of the bed.
Afraid of whatever could happen next, I guessed—that there might be some lingering trick Lorien had left in his former host.
I was wary, too, but I didn’t let it show.
With my head held high, I crossed the room, fixing my gaze on Zayn. I had to fight the urge to recoil as I approached and fully took in the sight of him.
Or what was left of him, rather.
He’d always been lost among piles of bandages and blankets during my former visits, the low lighting hiding the worst of his condition.
But now he was sitting up, his gaunt face fully on display.
The curtains over the nearby window were drawn back, the late afternoon sun shining brightly over his emaciated body.
Gone was the handsome, always laughing young man I’d come to know.
There were tired lines around his eyes, his mouth.
His skin was pale. His muscular frame was alarmingly thin, distorting the tattoos that covered his arms. Among those inked designs, I found myself searching for a circle with a crescent curving away from either side of it—the mark of the Light Vaelora.
I was relieved to see that mark had disappeared along with Lorien’s claim on Zayn’s body. I used my magic to briefly study the energy his body gave off, too, making certain it wasn’t Lorien’s.
Nothing was visible, at least. But I would have been a fool to think Lorien hadn’t left any lingering effects on his former vessel—even if I could no longer see them—so I still approached with caution.
Zayn’s warm brown eyes were unfocused, staring in the direction of the nurse who had moved to the foot of his bed, yet clearly past her, even though nothing was beyond her except a blank wall.
I swallowed away the lump in my throat. “Zayn Caldor, Lord of the North Reaches.”
His eyes continued to stare at nothing, but his mouth curved in a way that made him look a bit more like the man I remembered. “So formal,” he chuckled, “even after all we’ve been through.”