Page 80 of The Last Guardian

“I want to dance,” Nefeli said at last, turning her gaze to me. She offered me her hand and added, “Alya, come dance with me, please!”

The mere sound of the word on her lips struck me—only my family and Lyra called me by that nickname. It felt natural, comfortable.

At that moment, I realized how light I had felt all evening. As if that emptiness deep within my soul had been filled, if only for a moment—not completely whole, but enough for me to feel myself again.

My thoughts hadn’t been tainted by dark thoughts, sorrow, or pain, nor all the things that awaited me, the mysteries I hadn’t uncovered, and the truths that frightened me.

I smiled, a real, genuine smile at the woman in front of me, and said, “Yes.”

Nefeli’s smile widened as I took her hand and got up from my seat; her fingers tightened around mine.

Shouts and whoops filled the air, rising over the music, as we drew nearer to the fire on the beach. Dax, Bennett, and Sam followed us closely.

“Take off your shoes,” Nefeli yelled, her voice fading beneath the music, “Let yourself feel the drums.”

I did what she asked, feeling the thrumming beat beneath my skin as Nefeli drew near and linked her arms with mine and we swept into turns together.

My feet stamped in time with the fiddles, the cold, thin sand sliding beneath my skin as I let myself be carried away. The drums’ raw timbre grounded the music in rhythm with the crackling flames eating the logs.

Bodies whirled and spun around us, and the ground trembled with feet stamping in time with clasping hands.

Salt beaded on my skin as I loosened to the music for the rest of the night, my feet soaring into madness; my soul wandered across the black canvas of the night, in the places where stars and dying embers met.

THE SOUND OF hooves on the sandy ground echoed through the golden highland as the sun set in the blue sky.

It was a beautiful day in early autumn. Unlike the weather on Lorath, the sun was not hidden here, and the air was warm and dry. Crisper. The leaves had already changed color, spreading into magnificent arrays of gold, orange, and brown.

We’d left camp at dawn, and it had already been a few hours since we were on the road; every muscle in my body ached from the relentless rhythm of the saddle as the black mare trotted along. Or perhaps the soreness was due to the dancing from last night.

Nefeli and I had danced through the night until the first rays of the sun hatched in the sky, as Dax had fallen asleep on the sands, and Sam and Bennett had thrown themselves into the sea to swim. Zaidkiel had disappeared at some point during the night, but my body had been so focused on the music that I hadn’t noticed when.

As my eyes drank in the golden fields for a moment, I glanced at Zaidkiel, his brown horse trotting next to mine.

“Did you grow up here?” The words escaped my mouth before I could control my tongue, and I added, “Uh, before leaving Keraneeth?”

Zaidkiel hasn’t shared much about himself since we met. Even his name had been something I learned from someone else.

He glanced at me, a spark crossing his gorgeous eyes, before returning his look to the road. “I spent my early childhood in Evadrith,” Zaidkiel answered, and my chest stumbled in surprise. “I only came to Shavaar when I reached adulthood.”

Nefeli had told me her age, but I had no idea how old Zaidkiel was, nor what adulthood meant for them. In Perygan, we reached adulthood at eighteen, but our lifespans were far shorter than those of Keraneethians.

I snorted and arched a brow. “What, you’ve reached adulthood already?” I teased.

Zaidkiel chuckled with a smirk. “Do I need to prove to you that I’m no longer a boy? Or should I let you discover it for yourself?”

“You are impossible.” I rolled my eyes, trying my best not to show the smile that begged to curl on my lips. “How old are you anyway? Nefeli told me her age, but yours, I don’t know.”

“Aren’t you curious?” Zaidkiel smiled, gazing at me, and I raised my brow, waiting for him to answer. He chuckled and said at last, “One hundred and eighty-one.”

“Oh, I should have known. Not a boy—a cranky old man, then,” I joked, surprised by my own boldness around him.

Zaidkiel laughed again, a rich sound vibrating through my bones as he passed a hand in his silky hair.

My eyes followed his movement, studying his hand where the ink danced around his veins and formed the same patterns as my mark. With a hard swallow, I said. “When did you get this tattoo?”

Zaidkiel followed my look, glancing at his tattoo. His eyes darkened, followed by a clenched jaw as he replied, “I got it during my time in prison.”

“Ah. Yes, Dax mentioned that—” I paused, biting my lips nervously. “But Dax doesn’t have one.”