Awakening: The Architect's Guardian, #1

Chapter 1

Armando found no joy in what he was doing, but he needed to protect his younger sister.

You’ll regret marrying him, Armando said.

For the third time during their conversation, he spoke those words. Valeria stared at the dark wooden floor of the living room. Though she’d barely looked at Armando in the last few minutes, he knew she bristled at the comment. She gripped the scrolled arms of her chair and released a heavy sigh. In the past hour, they’d fiercely debated over her relationship with Syrik Amasi, the oldest son of a prominent family. Armando hadn’t spoken to any of the Amasis in over a decade and he wanted to keep it that way.

What about your safety? Armando asked, leaning forward in his armchair. How do you know you can trust Syrik or his family?

Valeria pinned him with her gaze and stubbornness glinted in her hazel eyes. I’m not in danger with him—or any of the Amasis.

"How do you know that? Armando shook his head. His sister was usually optimistic, but this was going too far. We’re still not sure what happened to our parents."

Can’t you at least talk to Syrik?

Armando’s intense hazel eyes, showing flecks of green, were made more striking by his medium-brown skin. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his long legs at the ankles. Turmoil rolled through him, as he tried to keep his temper. With a huff, he looked away from Valeria. On the wall to his right were pictures of their deceased parents. A pang of guilt pierced his heart, as he thought of how disappointed Ramón and Olivia would be with him. It didn’t help that Valeria now looked so much like their mother, with the same oval face, large intelligent eyes, and a similar medium-brown complexion.

While his sister’s safety was his priority, being prejudiced had never been acceptable to his parents. Armando closed his eyes for a few moments, trying to shut away his anger and frustration. He had bitter reasons to hate the Amasi Family and any Nitelvosa who bowed to their power. Just thinking of them brought heat under his skin and bile up his throat. He pushed away the visceral reaction he had for the Amasis. When he looked at his sister again, he smiled at the hope in her eyes.

All right Valeria, he said softly. Invite Syrik for dinner tomorrow.

***

Armando took a deep breath, preparing himself for dinner with Valeria’s Nitelvosa fiancé. He finished buttoning his crisp blue shirt, as he promised himself he’d remain calm. He reached for his silver watch and slipped it on his right wrist, thinking he’d have more time to change Valeria’s mind. Having dinner with Syrik that night didn’t mean he’d ever have to see him again.

Unable to put off the event any further, Armando left his bedroom and strode downstairs to the foyer. He enjoyed a strong drink, as he waited for Valeria’s guest and—if she had her way—his future brother-in-law. A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. He answered the door to find Valeria smiling brightly, clutching a medium-sized white gift bag to her chest. Syrik stood proudly by her with his arm around her shoulder. Armando stared at them, processing the hopefulness in their eyes, and his misgivings about inviting Syrik only increased.

Valeria’s eager smile faded. Armando, come on. Let us in.

Armando stepped aside to let them into the house. Welcome.

Syrik inclined his head. It’s good to see you.

He walked into the foyer, firmly holding Valeria’s hand. He’d adorned himself in a multilayered suit of blue, silver, and maroon. The colors signified that he was of House Amasi. Armando clenched his jaw, considering Syrik’s choice of clothing as a show of power. For hundreds of years, the Amasis had remained the most influential family on Planet Rivkaen.

It’s been such a long time, Syrik said. We haven’t spoken since we were children.

That’s true. I imagine much has changed with you. He swept his eyes over Syrik, barely able to bite back a curse. I see you’ve come as you regularly appear. Show me how you really are. Transform.

Armando, is this necessary? Valeria asked.

Syrik gently laid a hand on her arm. It’s all right.

He began to change into his other form, his dark-brown skin shifting to an even richer complexion and displaying a golden undertone. Wings spanning 15 feet unfurled. Thick black feathers, the ends accented with blue, made his 6’ 2 muscular physique more daunting. His vibrant brown eyes gleamed with arrogance, as the tips of his ears became pointed. He grinned and his cuspids extended, adding to his powerful countenance as he grew to 7’ 2.

As Syrik finished transforming, Armando caught sight of Valeria’s gaze. There was no doubt she adored Syrik, The Monstrosity. Armando had created that name during their childhood and he wasn’t inclined to change it. He’d never really liked Syrik, in any form. Syrik’s younger brother, Izdahl, had mixed the Amasi confidence with charm and kindness. But none of that needed to matter because Armando didn’t want any connections to that family.

I’ve seen enough, Armando said, his tone dry. Don’t take up all the space.

Syrik chuckled and returned to his usual appearance. I aim to please.

Armando turned away and led them to the living room. Valeria settled next to Syrik on a brown leather couch and put the gift bag on the coffee table. Armando went to his favorite armchair. There was silence, as he stared at his sister and her fiancé.

Syrik, would you like something to drink? Armando finally asked. Water. Tea. Perhaps some coryn wine.

The wine, please. It’s actually one of my favorites.

It was the same for Armando. Drinking it reminded him of his mother, who’d enjoyed the dry wine made from the coryn, a tart fruit native to the planet. Armando knew it was petty, but he didn’t like having that in common with Syrik.

What about the gift? Valeria asked.

Of course. Syrik pushed the gift bag toward Armando, who stared at him pointedly, before taking the present.

Armando removed a silver box from the bag and set it on the coffee table. He touched the button on the top of the box. It opened to project a hologram of the Tesha Metropolitan Library, one of the planet’s most famous structures.

Valeria told me you’d become an architect, Syrik said. As you may remember, Erol Amasi’s my grandfather. He designed this building, along with the others in that holographic program.

Armando nodded, murmuring his appreciation. While studying architecture at Prenya University, he’d been drawn to Erol Amasi’s work. He’d tried his best to avoid anything the Amasi elder had designed, but had given into his curiosity and gathered more information about Erol’s techniques. The library had become Armando’s favorite and he still visited often, admiring the greatness of the design.

Syrik’s gift reminded Armando of the wonderful days spent studying in the library. Despite his happiness about the present, Armando found it difficult to offer gratitude. He was thankful when Viktor, his chef and assistant, announced dinner was ready. Armando stood and led Valeria and Syrik to the dining room. They weren’t far into the meal, before Armando’s frustration began to rise.

I’m sure Valeria told you Nitelvosa killed our parents, he said, a dark edge to his voice. That happened in an Amasi territory.

Syrik nodded solemnly. I’m aware some Nitelvosa were involved. I offer my deepest condolences, as my family did at the time of the incident. We’ve continued to look into this delicate matter.

Armando noted Syrik’s phrasing. It sounded rehearsed. Is that so? It appears it’s not a priority for your family. The murders happened twenty years ago and they remain unsolved.

Brother, you promised you’d try, Valeria said.

Armando cleared his throat and avoided his sister’s eyes. The meal continued, but with each course, Armando struggled to push aside his misgivings. Vivid images from the night his parents died kept shuffling through his mind. It was hard enough for him to have an Amasi in his home. Knowing he could become related to them was unbearable. He sliced his steak but never took a bite. Viktor would have been distraught to see him mutilate the fine cut of meat.

Losing patience, Armando pushed his plate away. I don’t want you marrying Valeria.

Syrik put down his utensils. You’ve met me. You know my intentions.

I’ve seen how you present yourself. That doesn’t mean Valeria should be with you.

It’s her life, Syrik said, his voice rising.

And I care for her the most.

You have a strange way of showing it. Being paranoid about my family doesn’t help her. Even in death, your Uncle Manuel still controls your mind.

You’re not fit to speak of my family. My uncle raised us after your family ruined our lives.

The Amasis helped you. Why do you insist on believing—

Our parents were murdered in your family’s territory. You all haven’t fully investigated. Do you honestly think, even after all these years, your great-grandmother couldn’t find who killed my parents? I guess the all-powerful Xeira Amasi does have her limitations.

Syrik’s stood, his fangs extending, with his fists clenched. "Do not speak of my family like that."

There you have it. Armando narrowed his eyes. Uncle Manuel was right. Amasis are always ready for violence.

Both of you, stop it, Valeria said.

She’s the only family I have. And you know why. Armando stood, pressing his hands on the dinner table. Go. Now!

Syrik took a deep breath, before turning to Valeria. I’ll see myself out. He gave her a sad smile. Please don’t follow me. I promise we’ll talk later.

Without saying anything else, Syrik hurried from the house. Valeria started to leave the dining room.

Wait, Val, Armando said. Try to understand. I only wanted to—

"Do not speak to me. Valeria pointed a finger at him. I’ve told you before, I don’t need your permission for anything."

Armando walked over to her. Maybe over time you’ll understand. 

You can’t punish Syrik because he’s an Amasi.

It’s not like that.

"It’s exactly like that."

Armando reached out to hug Valeria, but she pushed past him to run upstairs to her room. He sat and finished dinner by himself, barely tasting the food.

***

The next morning, Armando hoped Valeria wasn’t still angry. He dressed and went downstairs for breakfast in the dining room. He and Viktor were in the middle of eating, but his sister still hadn’t joined them. 

Viktor, have you seen Valeria today? Armando asked, as he refilled his coffee. 

I haven’t. Maybe she already went riding.

True. It’s a perfect day for that.

Armando and Valeria kept their horses at the Belford Stables. He thought that, given their argument, she’d vent her frustration by charging through the fields and forests. It would be a beautiful weekend and Valeria loved the crisp spring weather, especially when it was sunny. He thought fondly of the many times she’d encouraged him to go riding with her. But at the back of his mind uneasiness grew. He was glad to have Viktor across from him as a sounding board. Viktor, who’d worked for him for the past three years, would be honest and Armando valued his opinion.

Did you hear the dinner conversation last night? Armando asked.

Viktor brushed back a lock of his auburn hair, as he peered at Armando with penetrating green eyes. You mean the argument you started?

I—Yes. What do you think? Armando spread guava jelly on his toast, as he waited for Viktor’s answer.

I heard some of what happened. Viktor tipped his head, his expression a thoughtful one. Valeria and Syrik will get married.

But you understand why I don’t want them together, right?

Yes. I don’t agree with it. Viktor’s eyes showed his disapproval. "Valeria doesn’t even have to live here. She stays because of you, but you’ll drive her away. You know this."

Armando couldn’t deny Viktor was right. He had good reasons to trust Viktor’s judgment. Viktor had begun working for him after Armando was injured in a car accident. Armando’s recovery had been difficult and Valeria had insisted he get help. After vetting numerous candidates, she’d strongly recommended Viktor. Though he’d been reluctant to accept assistance, Armando had ended up so pleased with Viktor’s work that he’d hired him to provide support at his architectural company. Over time, he’d grown to trust Viktor more than most people.

You’re right. Armando looked toward the stairs. Maybe Valeria will want to talk soon. I’ll apologize.

I’m not sure she went riding. Given last night’s events, why haven’t you already checked on her?

Armando glanced back at Viktor. I’m scared of how angry she’ll be. You know her temper’s worse than mine. I really messed up last night. He looked up at the stairs again. I know I was trying to protect her but...

Honestly, I’m surprised she still lives here, despite being engaged to Syrik. She could have moved out long ago. She stayed for you. After how you acted, she might have finally lost patience.

Armando’s shoulders slumped. That’s not what I want to hear right now.

Viktor gave him a small smile. But it’s what you need.

Armando let out a long frustrated breath, before continuing to eat. After he and Viktor finished breakfast, Armando went to his study to read for a few hours. He expected to see his sister by lunchtime. When she didn’t appear, his nagging doubt grew stronger. He rushed from his office and raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He knocked firmly on Valeria’s bedroom door. There was no response.

It’s me, sis, Armando said. Please let’s talk.

There was nothing. Concern drilled into his head. He opened the door. Valeria wasn’t there and neither was any sign that this was her room. Armando’s bellow of fury was so loud, Viktor came rushing up the stairs.

What’s wrong? Viktor asked.

Armando pointed to the empty room. She’s gone. He turned away and Viktor held onto his arm.

Where are you going? Don’t do anything foolish.

Armando wrenched his arm from Viktor’s grasp. Get off me.

Armando hurried down the stairs, grabbing his keys and wallet from the console by the door, before rushing to his car in the garage. He gritted his teeth, feeling that the car door was taking much too long to open. Part of him knew the door was moving with its usual sleek efficiency. But his heated temper affected how he heard and saw everything. He slid inside his silver car, pinching the bridge of his nose, as pain from a headache pierced him.

Take me to Syrik Amasi’s house, he said.

As his autonomous vehicle made its way to the destination, Armando stared straight ahead, fury taking over his mind.

Chapter 2

Syrik, what have you done? Izdahl Amasi asked.

He’d gone to eat lunch at his older brother’s house. Valeria also being there hadn’t surprised him, but the guilt in Syrik’s eyes remained a source of confusion. During the meal, Izdahl hadn’t asked any of the questions that had swirled in his mind. He’d sat at the table and followed his brother’s lead, discussing everything but the reason for the strained atmosphere.

After the meal, Valeria had quietly disappeared upstairs. Izdahl had the chance to get answers from Syrik. Now, they sat in his brother’s study. Syrik was on his third glass of Xivlif, his favorite strong alcohol.

Last night, Valeria called for me, Syrik said. You know how much I love her. We could have been living together months ago, but I asked her to wait. I’d hoped her brother would accept our relationship. Syrik took a sharp swig of his drink. After that horrible dinner, my patience with Armando ran out. Valeria called and she was crying. So I helped her move out.

Izdahl nodded, understanding his brother’s situation. He studied Syrik, feeling his brother’s deep anger and frustration. Despite agreeing with what Syrik had done, Izdahl knew his brother’s actions would make Armando dislike the Amasis more.

Why couldn’t Valeria just walk out the door? Izdahl asked. Would Armando have kept her from leaving?

I don’t think so. But it was my idea to get her. She asked that I do it quietly.

In the middle of the night? It couldn’t have been easy to spirit her away.

Syrik shifted his gaze to the wooden floor. I used a portal.

Portals were one of the methods of transportation, typically through designated portal stations. Use of them directly into someone’s home was restricted, unless invited or there was an emergency. Some Nitelvosa wanted more leverage and would violate those rules. Doing so often resulted in a heavy fine of 50,000 Amasi Kabari, the strongest currency in the territories.

Just brilliant, Izdahl said. How do you think Armando will react when he finds out?

Stop lecturing me. Syrik refilled his glass and swallowed half of his drink. I only care about Valeria. You’re so uptight. At least, I’m with the one I love. You keep pining over that stubborn asshole. How many years has it been?

Izdahl grunted in annoyance at the barbs. My situation’s complicated. Now stop trying to change the subject. Once Armando finds out what you did, he’ll be furious.

I can’t imagine him disliking me more.

Syrik had barely finished his sentence, when someone rang the doorbell and the house VI announced who it was. Izdahl told the VI to turn on the large video screen mounted opposite of Syrik’s desk. He directed it to show images from cameras at the front of the house. The footage revealed Armando pacing at the door, his hands pulled into fists.

He’s on my property now, Syrik said, rising unsteadily. He’ll wish he never—

Izdahl got up to gently push his brother back into the chair. Syrik resisted, but Izdahl used his greater height and strength to proper effect, forcing Syrik to sit again. You’ll only make things worse. I’ll handle this.

After a few moments, Syrik nodded in agreement. Izdahl made his way to the foyer and opened the door. Armando stood there, his eyes flashing with barely restrained anger. Not for the first time, Izdahl took in Armando’s 6’ 1" height, with his slim but muscular body. His square jaw was stubbornly tilted and fury glinted in his piercing eyes.

He’s still so angry and bitter, Izdahl thought. It didn’t have to be this way.

Armando gave Izdahl a curt nod. Where’s Syrik?

Being here isn’t a good idea. You should go.

Armando’s veneer of politeness disappeared. Go get your brother.

Then please come in. Is there anything I can do to help? Maybe you and I can speak in the living room.

Armando folded his arms. I’m staying here.

Won’t you at least have a seat? Izdahl’s smile was ingratiating. The living room’s not far.

Didn’t you hear me?

I understand you’re upset—

Armando pointed at Izdahl. Didn’t your brother bring my sister here? You can’t possibly expect me to—

Valeria made her decision, Izdahl heard Syrik say.

Izdahl turned to look at his brother, whose cuspids had lengthened. You were supposed to let me handle this.

Syrik cursed. He won’t listen to you. Didn’t you learn that years ago? He only cares about what he wants.

Armando stepped past Izdahl to stand in front of Syrik. Where’s my sister?

Syrik waved a dismissive hand. I love Valeria. You’re trying to keep us apart. I won’t have that.

So you became a thief, entering my home and taking my sister.

Thief? Syrik bared his fangs. Valeria’s not property. She left of her own free will. You pushed her away. Now get out.

Stop it!

Izdahl looked at the staircase. Valeria made her way down it, her eyes red from crying, and walked to Syrik. She held his face in her hands. You don’t have to talk to him like that. Linking an arm with her fiancé, she turned to her brother. Please go home.

Armando took a step toward her. Why won’t you listen to me?

I’m tired of arguing. I’ve made up my mind.

Valeria, this family must know who killed our parents. They’re keeping the truth from us. How can you be around them?

Go home, Valeria said, her voice holding resolve. You’ve taken on our uncle’s prejudices. Our parents would be ashamed of you. You’re not acting like the son they’d raise.

Armando’s shoulders sagged and the light in his eyes dimmed. Izdahl shoved his hands into his pockets, forcing himself not to reach out to Armando. Without another word, Armando turned away, his steps heavy. Izdahl didn’t need to see his face to know how much he was hurting. Armando walked out the door, heading to his car, and Izdahl wondered if he’d ever see him again.

I didn’t want this, Valeria said.

Izdahl turned back to her. I’m sure you didn’t, but there must have been a kinder way.

Syrik gritted his teeth. And exactly what would that have been? You, better than anyone, know what he’s like when he refuses to listen.

Izdahl flinched, thinking of the weeks he’d spent trying to mend his relationship with Armando. He’d thought, after all those years, the memories wouldn’t hurt him. Yet he’d been pulled back into Armando’s orbit without even trying, and was reminded of his bitter loss.

Valeria walked to Izdahl, looking up at him earnestly. Please take care of Armando.

Izdahl stepped back from her. What? You can’t possibly expect me to—

Please. Armando was doing so much better. It’s only because of Uncle Manuel that he’d distanced himself again. Out of guilt.

Yes, and Armando left me because of that. How can you ask me to look after him?

I need your help. Valeria put a hand on his arm, her expression pained. I don’t want to lose Armando too.

Izdahl took a deep breath. All right. I promise I’ll help.

Chapter 3

Three months later...

Is it ten already? Armando asked.

Yes. Jakob Ramsey, his business partner, stretched and yawned. This is your fault. I lost track of time.

Armando chuckled. His excitement about their current project had led to another late night. They were designing the new Center for the Arts at Prenya University, the planet’s most prestigious institution of higher learning. They’d spent most of that day reviewing information from the faculty, staff, and students, to determine what was needed for their alma mater. After several hours of discussion, they were ready to prepare a blueprint. The center would be 80,000 square feet, including a theater with capacity for 600 and an art gallery, all surrounded by a 20-acre park.

Based on Jakob’s massive yawn, any more progress would have to wait.

You should head home, Armando said. Or Kaavya will show up here.

Kaavya had already called, goodnaturedly complaining she’d forgotten how Jakob looked. Jakob had promised his wife he’d work for another hour, to get to a good stopping point. He rose from his chair, as he swept a hand through his thick, black, curly hair. With a medium-brown complexion, his features were a combination of his Norwegian and Trinidadian heritage. He and Armando had bonded over having a parent with ancestry from Planet Earth’s Caribbean region, as Armando’s mother was Vincentian.

I’ll grab my things. Jakob tapped Armando on his shoulder. By the way, Kaavya and I are going to the symphony tomorrow. Want to come with us? I invited the rest of our team.

Faizah Abara and Ryoma Nakamura mainly prepared proposals and designed projects. Yaretzi Tepetl handled most of the client outreach and was usually the first to review potential sites. The three of them had been hired five years earlier. With the company’s projects increasing in amount and complexity, Viktor had become the office manager. They’d all grown close and sometimes went to events together. Armando often joined the outings, but that week he’d felt more tired than usual. He didn’t think he had enough energy to attend a concert.

I might just stay home and relax, he said. But thanks for asking.

Well, if you change your mind, let me know.

Armando waved goodbye and Jakob left their office. With Jakob gone, Armando was alone. Again. He flexed his long legs and walked to one of the large windows. To his left, he saw the main avenue of Tesha, the capital of Arka. As the main city of the Amasi territories, it boasted incredible sights, especially on its busiest streets. He wondered if his sister was somewhere out there, enjoying the night with Syrik.

It had been a few months since Valeria had moved in with Syrik. The previous month, the two had married and gone on their honeymoon. Armando had long ago received a wedding invitation, but he’d refused to attend the ceremony. He’d burned the invitation on the day of the wedding. He often found himself distracted by thoughts of what had happened. Not for the first time, he considered how his family had fallen apart. It had started with his parents dying. They’d been murdered, when he was ten and Valeria was eight. 

Over the years, Armando’s unhappiness had changed to hatred of the Amasis and a general wariness around Nitelvosa. Fed by paranoia that his family was never safe, his warm nature had shriveled, replaced by fury he’d nursed for over two decades. Manuel, his mother’s older brother, hadn’t done anything to dissuade Armando’s harsh feelings. Even on his deathbed, his already weak heart stressed by the loss of Olivia, Manuel had encouraged Armando to continue hating the Amasis. Manuel had also insisted that Armando focus on protecting Valeria. Now, ten years after their uncle’s death, there Armando stood. Disconnected from Valeria, the last member of his family. Depressed and afraid of dying alone.

He shook his head to clear his painful memories and returned to his chair. The night breeze stirred the trees in the business complex’s courtyard. He noticed a memdor, a medium-sized, graceful bird, perched on the tree closest to his window. He was familiar with the varieties of the species, but this one was unique—the vibrant silver-tipped, dark-blue feathers held his attention. It also appeared to enjoy this area, as Armando had seen it numerous times during the past few months. Glad for the distraction, Armando opened the window and let the crisp spring air into the room.

You remind me of a bird I used to see, he said.

He thought of one that had roosted in a tree in his uncle’s backyard, as the bird fluffed its feathers.

Are you having a good day? he asked. Have you been traveling again? He sighed, as he realized he hadn’t left the capital city in over a year. Will you tell me about the places you’ve been?

The memdor tilted its head, a sharp intelligence in its bright amber eyes. Armando laughed, realizing he was so exhausted and lonely that he’d spoken to a random bird. Maybe he would take Jakob up on that offer and go to the symphony. For now, he’d continue to admire the glorious bird with the captivating colors.

***

Izdahl reveled in Armando intently studying him. It was difficult to stay focused and remain in his bird form. He hadn’t expected Armando to notice him. When Armando spoke to him, he almost fell off his perch. His heart warmed at the wistfulness in Armando’s voice. Before he did something he’d regret, like fly to Armando, Izdahl opened his wings and left the tree.

When Izdahl was far away from Armando, he changed into his regular form. He sighed with pleasure, as the night wind lifted him. With his wings spanning 15 feet, he easily caught the air. Before long, he was over Trevso, the Amasi territory next to Arka. While gliding, his mind raced with conflicting thoughts about Armando.

Is this all I can do? Can’t I be myself around him?

As a bird, Izdahl had closely observed Armando for several months. That day, Armando had been more pensive than usual, his mouth down-turned with a deep furrow in his brow. Izdahl had guessed Armando had been thinking about Valeria. What he hadn’t considered was Armando would notice him, let alone speak to him. 

Well, he wasn’t really talking to me. He spoke to a bird. He’d rather tell a bird his feelings.

Izdahl chuckled softly, the sound burdened by somber regret. He landed on the roof of the clock tower at the center of