“He believes in you because he believed in your mother.”
The black and white photo of her mother flashed through her mind. She looked so strong. So capable. Zanya had always wanted to be that person. She wanted to be so much more than a crazy orphan. “Do you really believe I can be like her?”
“Maybe this is another point Renato and I don’t completely agree on.”
“What do you mean?”
He dropped his gaze, sending strands of raven black hair to fall over his high cheekbones. His dark eyes searched the air as if he were searching for the right words. “I believe people are who they are. If you were born to be the guardian, that is who you are. Who you are meant to be. You can’t change it.”
“You’d think I’d be used to my life being totally out of my control,” she said under her breath.
“You never get used to it. Abilities aren’t something you can choose. You’re born with what you have, and you have to live with it. That’s easier for some than others.”
A realization dawned on her. Peter was a healer. Hawa was nimble. Renato was strong. Marzena…well, she still hadn’t gotten over the whole Children of the Corn vibe with her yet, but she seemed well-intended. But Arwan… “Are you Riyata, too?”
“My mother was a wind bender.”
“Is that what you do?”
“No.” He paused and scanned the beach. “Come on. I’ll show you.” He led her to a cluster of purple wildflowers with a green grasshopper clung to one of them.
He flicked the flower, which caused the grasshopper to spring off and fly away in a vivid streak of lime green. “Watch carefully.”
He stretched his hand over the bloom. Like the air had suddenly taken form, a haze of ripples spread around the flower. It surrounded the petals until Zanya couldn’t see it clearly. The matter wavered, like the glistening surface of a creek. When he pulled his hand away, the grasshopper was perched back on the flower.
Zanya's eyes narrowed. “You made it come back?”
“By bending the space around the flower back to when the grasshopper was there. It’s called bending time.”
“Like time travel?”
“No. Time travel doesn’t actually exist. No one can pass through folds of time without touching two points together. It’s like jumping a car battery.” He extended his hand toward hers, palm up. “You can’t transfer energy without something to link them, which in this case...” He waited. She hesitated a moment longer, then cautiously rested her fingers over his. “Is me.” The heat from his touch spread over her skin. “You understand?”
She swallowed. “Not really.”
He pressed his hand firm against hers, sending a chill down the back of her arms. “Think of ‘the now’ as the positive, ‘the past’ as the negative.” He arched his wrists and pressed his palms flush with hers. “I’m the cable.”
She blinked, hoping he didn’t notice the rush of heat in her cheeks. “I see.” Zanya drew her hands back to her chest, her heart racing. His energy was intense. She cleared her throat. “Well, I don’t know much about cars, but that sounds dangerous.”
“If I can’t complete the bend properly, it could be deadly.”
“Are there a lot of time benders around?”
“No. It’s a rare ability.”
“It must be nice to have the power to solve so many problems in the world. Death, accidents, crime, you can go back in time and prevent them.”
“Bending time is difficult with many complications, and shouldn’t be done often. Abilities take practice to master. Renato taught me not to abuse what I can do. To go back in time, to change something that’s already been done, would change the course of history.”
She shrugged. “Who cares, as long as it changes things for the better, right?”
They continued to walk, the house now in clear sight. “Our lives, history itself, are like the ripples. If you go back and change what’s already happened, it changes the ripples. They shift direction, alter course. Some end sooner. Others go on longer than originally destined. The ripples are fragile. We shouldn’t manipulate them if at all possible.”
It made sense of all that had happened in her life. If she hadn’t been left at the orphanage, she wouldn’t be who she was today. She may not have learned how to play violin. She never would have met Tara. The ripples were not only the past, but they were also the future. They held what people would become, and what they would do with their lives that made them great.
Chapter Nine
Zanya’s legs throbbed. Sweat slicked her skin. She pushed harder to keep up with Arwan, who had hiked for the last five miles like it was a casual stroll in the park.
He veered onto a thin game path. “Do you feel like taking a detour?” She exhaled and tried not to groan. Mental note. Apparently the term “hike” actually meant “endless expedition through the jungle until your legs feel like rubber bands.”
Zanya wiped away a bead of sweat tickling down her hairline. “How far, exactly?”
“Not far.”
Considering his endurance, it was worth a more detailed definition. “Which is?”
He stopped and turned to face her. “Are you tired?”
“A little.” She rested her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. “And this humidity is a killer.”
“Maybe we should head back.”
“No. No.” She lifted her hand. “I got this. Guardian or not, I probably need the exercise.” She stood up straight, her back screaming under the effort. “Okay.” She gestured ahead. “I’m right behind you.”
“Just be careful.” He pointed to a huge spider web stretched between two trees. “Those are poisonous.”
Her eyes widened. “Is that real?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” He seemed confused by her question.
“Yeah. Right. Why wouldn’t it be?” Maybe because spiders that big only belonged in Harry Potter. Granted, she’d only checked out the first two books from her orphanage’s library. After the first spider nightmare, she was done.
She ducked around the huge silk trap and followed Arwan over the peak of a hill. Weathered stone walls and mossy steps rose from the other side—a temple buried in the overgrowth.
“I thought you would like to see this.” He extended his hand as she came to a slippery slope, slicked in mud.
“I’m good. Thanks.” She gripped onto a sapling and shifted down, one unstable step at a time. The sole of her shoe slid on the final step and sent her hurling back, butt first into the mud. She sighed and blew a puff of air, flying strands of hair out of her face. “Of course.”
Arwan chuckled. “You sure you can’t use a hand?”
She reluctantly looked up at him, his hand outstretched with an all too amused grin. “Well I’m glad someone’s having a good time.” She took his hand, and he hauled her back onto her feet.
Arwan searched her eyes. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m just…amazed.”
“Right.” She brushed of smears of dirt and pieces of dry leaves clung to her clothes. “How can someone be so absolutely clumsy, right?”
“No. It’s just that you have so much power and you have no idea.” He stepped back. “You’ll see. And when you do…” His gaze intensified. “It’ll be something amazing.”
She swallowed against a dry throat. “It all still scares me.”
He ventured closer to the temple, admiring the ancient features of the temple as if he’d never seen it before. “We all have something to be afraid of.”
She followed him near the ruins. “So…where are we?”
“It’s the temple of Ishel. She is a heaven goddess.” His words were laced with a melancholy tone as he stooped beside the offering bowl. “Many people in the surrounding villages still come here and pay homage with gifts of exotic flowers, fruits, and handmade dolls.”
Vines and tree branches obstructed her view of the peak. “They don’t do a very good job at keeping it up.”
“She was once th
e flower goddess. It’s considered desecration to tear down the jungle growth.”
Zanya carefully maneuvered toward the stone woman, who stood clear of the reaching vines. She was tall and thin with a water lily nestled in her cupped hands. Her angelic face was tipped toward the sky. Tiny wildflowers embellished the waves of hair draped over her shoulders.
Hand-woven straw dolls sat nestled at the statue’s feet. “Why do people bring these dolls?”
“There is a story behind them. Do you want to hear it?” He sat on a mossy temple step and leaned back on his forearms, stretching his cotton shirt over sweat-slicked skin.
“Um…sure.” Anything to distract her.
“The goddess of fertility and the god of water fell in love, bearing a beautiful daughter whom they named Ishel. She grew into the loveliest of all women.
“The god of wrath set his sights on her, and asked her father for her hand in marriage. Only Ishel loved Kinich, the sun deity. Out of adoration for Ishel, Kinich would shower her flowers in light, making them bloom and grow.
“Ignoring her wishes, Ishel’s father agreed to the union between her and the god of wrath. This threw Ishel into a deep depression. She stopped tending to her flowers. They all died, and the earth became barren. Eventually her father took pity on her and revoked her union, giving his blessing for her to marry whomever she chose. Ishel rejoiced and ran into the arms of Kinich, where they conceived a child. Before their baby was born, the god of wrath took vengeance by banishing Kinich to the surface of the sun, where he would stay for all eternity.”
Zanya snorted. “Well what did she expect? That they’d live happily ever after? That just doesn’t happen.”
“Well, soon after that, Ishel went into labor and died in childbirth.”
“Oh, this story just keeps getting better.”
“It does, actually. The Maya don’t believe death is the end. We…” He blinked and tightened his jaw. “They don’t believe life ends when we pass from the middleworld to the afterlife.”
“So, what happened to the baby?”
“Ishel entrusted her daughter to be raised by a sworn protector. Because she died in a noble way, her soul ascended to the heavens and took her place as Goddess of the sun, beside her love.”
Zanya admired the weathered stone statue. “Where do the dolls come in?”
“They symbolize Ishel’s love, representing their child—the product of her union with Kinich—and the remaining part of her that still roams the earth, tending to the flowers.”
Zanya ran her fingers along the goddess’s stone gown. It seemed somehow transparent over the delicate curves of the goddess’s legs.
A tropical butterfly with brightly colored wings fluttered past her. She followed it through the air and around the stone structure. “Wow. I’ve never seen a butterfly like that before. It’s so big!” She followed its path to a large flower where it settled, pumping its wings. “We don’t have any like that back in Ohio.”
He held out his hand. “Come on, there’s one more place you’ll want to see.”
She fisted her hands and then relaxed her fingers, considering his gesture. It was a bad idea. The last time they touched, she’d felt something that scared her. Something she swore she wouldn’t let in ever again.
“It’s on the way. Then home, I promise.”
She drew in a deep breath, stepped forward, and rested her hand in his.
***
Arwan
After another ten minutes of hiking, they had finally arrived. Arwan picked up a stick from the ground.
“What’s that for?”
If he told her where they were going, it would ruin the surprise. Hopefully the creatures hadn’t migrated due to the heavy rains. “You’ll see.”
Soon they arrived at a clearing, where hundreds of tall, thin bushes with elegant purple blooms dotted the ground. Mature trees formed a canopy overhead, while gaps in the branches allowed beams of sun to speckle the jungle floor.
“I thought you would like it here.”
“It’s…neat.”
He chuckled. “You have no idea what it is yet.”
“True…” She inspected the space. “What is it?” She shifted her weight.
Did she lie when she said he didn’t make her uncomfortable? It seemed like he did. Every time he smiled at her, she evaded his gaze.
He disregarded the thought and walked forward. “Be careful. Don’t touch the bushes.” He blazed a path through the maze of shrubs. She followed close behind. When they reached the center, he faced her and leaned in close, hovering his lips beside her ear. “Can I hold you?” She stepped back as a clear streak of panic arched through her. He waited, patiently, for her to calm and to decide. At the slightest nod, he took her hand. “I just want to show you something. Come closer.”
He slid his hand around her waist and drew against his chest. He savored the beating of her heart. He could hear it, though no ordinary human would have been able to.
Not even an ordinary timebender.
Being near Zanya allowed him to sense many things he never had before. Like the arc in her pheromones when she looked at him; the way her breath sped when he stood close; the rush of heat in her skin when he touched her.
She rested her palms against his chest. The warmth of her skin flared.
He brushed the back of his fingers over her cheek. “You’re blushing.”
She pressed the backs of her hands on her face, blushing more intensely. “Must be the humidity.”
He caressed the silky curve of her cheek. “I hope not. You’re lovely when you blush.”
The aurora of light around her flared brighter. He parted his lips as the light reached out to him, soothing the chaos always blustering inside him. “Do you do that on purpose?”
Do what?”
Warm light beamed from her eyes. To tell her she was glowing wouldn’t sound sane, though not much of what had happened over the last couple of weeks made much sense to her, either. “Never mind.” He readied the stick in his hand. “Are you ready?”
“I think so…” She glanced down at the broken branch. “Unless you’re going to beat me. Then no, not ready.”
He let out a hearty laugh. “Even if I did, you could take me. But no. That’s not it. Just watch.” With a powerful strike, he whacked a nearby bush on its base, launching dozens of butterflies into the air.
The flight of a few caused a chain reaction, and soon the graceful creatures filled the sky. Several landed in Zanya’s hair and on her arms.
Zanya tilted her head up and smiled at the array of colors gliding overhead. A butterfly rested on Arwan’s shoulder, pumping its cobalt blue wings. She curled her lips and blew gently, her warm breath caressing his neck.
She didn’t seem to notice, but a subtle, soft light glowed in her chest. It pulsed and churned, as if it had a life of its own. As if it was calling to him.
The rage constantly burning inside of him shed away. He lifted his eyes to hers. The world fell silent to his ears.
He pulled her closer. She braced both hands on his chest. Being near her provided the first glimpse of inner peace since he could remember.
She leaned in closer, hovering her lips over his. Her hot breath broke over his mouth.
Zanya sucked in a sharp gasp and stepped back. The panic in her eyes forced him to look away, silently cursing himself. He’d pushed her too far, too fast.
“I…” The pain streaking her voice caught him off guard. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
Before he could respond, Zanya ran back toward the house, stumbling through the trees until he stood alone in the clearing. The jungle was quiet. The animals must have sensed his agitation. They always did, and became silent, as if there were a predator nearby.
He balled his fists. He should have shown more discipline. More restraint. He could put the entire mission in jeopardy over a pretty face. But deep down he knew it was more than that. She wasn’t just a girl. She was the guardian. That had to come
first.
Each step out of the clearing pounded against the jungle floor. When he escaped the maze of bushes, he charged his fist into the trunk of a mature tree, spitting layers of bark and redwood in every direction.
Chapter Ten
Zanya
Zanya darted up the stairs to her room, where she found a note tacked to her door.
The seeker has arrived. Please come see me as soon as you get in.—Renato
She didn’t care about the seeker, or Renato’s note. All she wanted was to see her best friend, tell her about what happened, and hopefully make some sense of it all.
He wanted to kiss her.
Why?
More importantly, why did she want him to? She’d leaned into him.
Zanya palmed her forehead. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.”
She walked through the house, into the west wing—the most likely place Tara would be. But she was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Peter.
Something thumped overhead from the floor above. Zanya's gaze climbed the stairs that led to the bedrooms. “Tara?”
There was no reply.
She slowly scaled the steps, listening when she reached the second floor. “Tara?” She knocked on one of the doors. Zanya's gut wrenched. Just because her friend believed Peter was respectable, didn’t mean it was true, or a risk Zanya was willing to take.
Another noise thumped from inside another room. Zanya crept to the next door and listened. “Tara?” More shuffling noises. If her friend was in trouble, invading their privacy was the least of her concerns. Zanya turned the knob and shoved open the door.
Her skin turned clammy and the warmth drained from her face.
A boy with dirty blond hair and crystal blue irises shot up to his feet, his strong arms and lean body tense.
Zanya's eyes widened and she stumbled back, slamming her back into the wall. “Jayden.” She slid down the wall and cradled her head in her hands, swallowing down the nausea clawing up her throat. It had to be another bad dream. This couldn’t be happening.
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