The glaring red numbers of Rayne’s alarm clock told her it was five in the morning. Was she finally tired enough to sleep? After all the excitement of this weekend…
Sagan sighed prettily in her sleep before rolling onto her side away from Rayne. For the thirtieth time, Tameka kicked Rayne, where she was snug in between her best friends. It was almost as if Rayne’s parents had bought the queen-sized bed for this exact reason.
All night, Rayne replayed the events of the past week, and all night, she thought of Cinder. Of the Icari. Xelan seemed like a wonderful person, but what of Xelan’s people? Did they deserve exile? He’d said they had no choice but to follow their King’s orders regarding the invasion. So, didn’t they need saving, too? And how could Rayne help?
Even in sleep, she couldn’t escape the recap. She dreamt of conversations with Xelan.
“Wait a minute, Icarus was that Greek story. The wing-ed being who flew too close to the sun? That’s what you call yourselves?”
“Where do you think the story came from? Many of your stories and much of your language came from us.” Xelan gazed up at the stars. “Your civilizations were in their infancy when we invaded. You were just learning the meaning of history. Like children, it was easy for you to believe we were gods. So much so the Pharaohs who came long after continued the farce.”
“What about spreading your vampiric nature with your bite?” Rayne bared her canines, and her nose crinkled as she made a hissing face.
Xelan chuckled, and it warmed Rayne’s heart. “No. None of that. It’s not a virus that can spread through our saliva, and I’ve seen firsthand what drinking Icarean blood does to humans. It’s not pretty. We can reproduce with your kind, but the offspring rarely survive. Altogether, we’re not terribly compatible without nacres.”
As a young girl from Little Rock, Arkansas, Rayne couldn’t imagine aliens had invaded human civilizations of 8,000bce without the world maintaining some recorded knowledge of it. But there was something about the pain in Rayne’s temples whenever Xelan came around. It told her she understood. She knew.
Deep in Rayne’s bones, she knew.
The dream shifted, and clouds swirled above. Xelan faded away seconds before lightning struck and ignited Rayne’s blood. The pain flared into white, searing agony. With her palms pressed to the side of her head, Rayne watched the sky shift as she fell to her knees. She screamed as her world split apart like a filmstrip, leaving a vast emptiness behind.
Sights, sounds, and even smells—not all of them good—assaulted Rayne’s senses. A shadow of a man stood in front of an electrified portal. She couldn’t make out any of his features, but she sensed a wave of hatred and malice that tested her resilience.
Rayne’s fist closed and broke a familiar, glass object in her hand. Warm liquid spilled down her fingertips. A high-pitched, keening sound pierced through her ears, and a roar of wind shuddered around her. The portal swallowed the shadow with little resistance.
The pressure increased. It drew thousands upon thousands of Icari into the conduit like air vacating a depressurized plane. At first, terror overwhelmed Rayne. The portal might take her too, but it didn’t draw her in at all. She stood there, unharmed, until all the Icari were sealed behind the conduit.
Once done, the torn fabric of space shimmered into nothing. Beyond it, stood a mirror. The mirror reflected Rayne as a mysterious woman with dark skin and brilliant blue eyes. She and the woman were the same.
“You’ve kept me waiting, Celindria.”
To face the voice, Rayne turned her back on the mirror and found herself in a different space altogether. A high stone ceiling replaced the storm clouds, and loose red soil replaced the desert sand between her bare toes. A pyre blazed in the center of the cavernous chamber.
The flames were black. No heat; no smoke.
Through the licking peaks of the fire, Rayne made out a figure sitting on a stone throne. Devoid of ornament, the plain rock structure was enormous. It could easily sit three of her. The figure, however, had no trouble filling it out.
Along with the change of scenery, Rayne’s clothes were different. Rather than the white billowy gown of the woman in the mirror, Rayne wore loose black pants, laced rather than zipped. They swept the soil as she moved around the pyre. The top clung to Rayne, a wrapped black material revealing her arms and midriff. At least the neckline was a modest scoop. Rayne’s hair was tied back from her face with some of it braided close to her scalp.
The figure remained seated as she tiptoed closer. Built like a mountain, his biceps were as broad as her waist. Should Rayne engage this dream or wait for it to pass? It felt different from the genetic memory. Like she was awake.
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“You are very much asleep, safe in your bed.” A deep rich baritone came from the shadow, hiding his face. He tilted his head as he said, “I expected you earlier. Are you having trouble sleeping?”
Rayne stopped a few steps away—Well, a few for her. It was probably one gigantic stride for him. Prepared to run at a moment’s notice, she shored up enough courage to ask, “Are you real? Do you want something from me?”
Without seeing his face, Rayne could feel his smile. It felt cold. He said, “Yes, I am, and yes, I do.”
The man stood and towered a foot over her, cast in the shadow of his monolithic build. Rayne was the tallest of her three besties at five foot, six inches. The stranger was even taller than Xelan, but with a different aura entirely. The air around the figure blurred until she couldn’t make out any distinctive features aside from his stature.
Rayne didn’t take a step back. Not from the tiger, and not from this figure. She asked, “Who are you?” Despite her resolve, Rayne’s wavering voice betrayed her mounting anxiety.
“There is no hiding who I am.”
A chill down Rayne’s spine raised the hair on her arms and sent her heart racing. When she swallowed her fear, it made an audible sound. “Nox.” His name came out breathy. Clenching her fists, Rayne wet her lips and tried to regain some ground. “Where’s your crown? Should I curtsy?”
Better.
Despite the filter over Nox’s face, Rayne detected a smirk as he said, “Crowns on your world denote power. On my world, my power is known and requires no ornamentation. You’ll soon learn what I mean.”
A shiver overtook Rayne, and she hugged herself. It probably didn’t look very badass, but she couldn’t deny the impulse.
Nox enjoyed her discomfort. It was in the ease of which he faced her, and the satisfaction in his tone. “I aim to do more than discomfort you, Celindria.” He took a step toward Rayne, putting himself right in her space.
She set her jaw and looked up—way up—to meet Nox’s eyes. Whatever filtered his face kept Rayne from discerning individual features separate from his entire face. For instance, his eyes glittered like pools of black ink. His cheeks, brows, and jawline were cut from severe angles. But his lips might soften the harshness, full as they were, if Rayne could marry the complete picture together.
Her nightmare was handsome.
And despite how much Nox frightened Rayne, she glared at him while saying, “Xelan will teach me how to take you down.”
“Always so formidable, Celindria.”
It bothered Rayne that Nox kept referring to her by her ancestor’s name. She opened her mouth to say so when light exploded in her eyes as an iron fist backhanded her across the chamber.
When Xelan said the Icari were wing-ed, Rayne was excited to maybe one day fly. As it turned out, flying wasn’t all that much fun. Mostly because of the landing.
The loose red soil grated Rayne’s skin from her sensitive nerves as she skidded before a wall put a stop to her momentum. Her body begged Rayne to stay down, while every instinct screamed for her to get up before—
Nox’s considerable fist closed around Rayne’s throat and pinned her against the wall. On her knees, she scratched at his hands, but it only made him squeeze tighter, until black coffee grounds peppered her vision.
Seething with anger and hatred, Nox spat, “Has he told you that your ancestor condemned our people to starve under our glaring sun?”
Rayne could only manage a squeak as she tried to answer. Her eyes felt enormous, and they watered, staring into the unforgiving iciness in Nox’s onyx glare. Before the darkness claimed Rayne, Nox loosened his grip enough for her to cough out, “Yes.” She gulped a painful inhale of life-giving air. “He did. And I feel for your people. I want to help.”
The separate features of Nox’s face loosened from their tightened snarl into cold calculation as he considered Rayne’s words. When he let her go completely, Rayne collapsed and coughed into the dirt, until her chest and ribs concaved into themselves.
Nox stared into the black flames, and they danced in the reflection of his eyes. After a long moment, he said, “Perhaps, there is a way you can help.”
Despite the raw agony of her throat, hope flushed through Rayne. She croaked, “Anything,” and meant it.
“Every night we will meet, and we will fight. There are worse horrors than myself ahead of you, Celindria. You must know what you’re up against if you’re to survive what awaits you. Tell your guardian of this, and ask him for a nacre—It is all that will save you, now.”
A nacre.
Xelan spoke of nacres in a way that made Rayne believe the Icari were born with them. But… “I don’t understand. How will us fighting and me receiving a nacre help the Icari?”
Nox met her eyes then, and eight thousand years of solitude weighed down on Rayne. “You are Cinder’s salvation. You simply aren’t strong enough yet. But I can make you strong and teach you Icarean fighting styles. Yes, you have your guardian, but I will be far less delicate with you. You will fight better for it.”
Cinder’s salvation?
Rayne would tell Xelan about this encounter and get some answers. But in the meantime…
“Yes. I’ll train with you.”
Nox gave a single chuckle, and despite the rich effect of his baritone, the sound came out bitter and ugly. “Not training. Fighting. Every night, I will kill you until you’re strong enough—fast enough—to hold your own. Can you endure this, Celindria—”
“My name is Rayne.” The four words escaped on a reflex through gritted teeth. She was tired of Nox calling her by the other woman’s name. “And in case you missed it, I’m a teenager from Little Rock, Arkansas. Not some ghost from Egypt. I write stories and sing in choir. I’m always surrounded by people who love me, and I feel nothing personal toward you or your people. I want to help, and if you think killing me every night will make me strong enough to save the Icari from you—Then bring it.”
On the last, Rayne stood and assumed the basic fighting stance Xelan had shown them earlier in the night. She knew it was weak. Her core wasn’t stable, and her throat was still aching from being strangled. But she was not about to let this Icarus push her around without putting up some kind of fight.
“There’s the warrior’s spirit. You’ll need it.”
Nox punched Rayne fast and hard.
She heard a crack and startled awake, heart pounding and breathing heavy. Sagan awakened enough to pull Rayne’s arms around her. The blond was always the little spoon, but tonight, as Rayne laid awake and watched the sunrise, she could’ve used the comfort of being held.