Birthright (The Stone Legacy Series Book 5)

by Theresa Dalayne

  An explosion of fire hit the barrier, sending shards of bark and plumes of smoke into the air.

  A section of the wall blackened and fell away, leaving a hole just feet off the ground.

  He would have given anything to tell her to go back. Not to look at him. She’d seen him like this just twice before—the time he tore Sarian’s head off in the underworld and watched his limp body collapse to the floor. Then in the jungle, when she nearly killed him. If it weren’t for Drina saving him when he didn’t want to be saved, Zanya would have ended him that day.

  He shook the soil from his fur and leapt into the jungle, slinking through trees with cat-like agility. His tail whipped in the air, helping him keep balance as he vaulted over fallen trees and balanced on the edge of a cliff, blazing his own path until he could no longer be detected.

  His ear twitched and he halted, his body frozen in place. The apes and birds screamed their alarm calls before scattering and flying to safety, leaving him in silence.

  He growled instinctively as clumsy footsteps grew closer, snapping twigs and tearing through low-lying plants. A cool wind drifted through the trees, carrying the scent of Zanya’s sweat.

  The others’ shouts echoed through the jungle. They were calling for her—crying for her to return to the safety of their home.

  Of course she didn’t listen.

  She splashed through a puddle, and then must have grabbed hold of a low branch, shaking its leaves.

  Zanya was close. She’d tracked him this far, and surely knew by now she wasn’t looking for a man.

  He lowered his body and lay flat against the ground, using the undergrowth to camouflage his presence. But being solid black with a tuft of golden fur on his chest wasn’t the best camouflage in a world of green. He’d have to hope his silence and stillness would be enough.

  Her footsteps grew louder and slower as she fell into a cautious pace. “Arwan?” Her voice shook when she called his name. “Where are you?”

  He pinned back his ears and wrapped his tail around his body, quieting his breaths. If he ran, she would see him for sure. Not just that, but she could outrun him with little effort.

  If she would just move in another direction, it would give him time to figure out how to morph a second time—this time back to his true form. Though change had always happened without consent, he’d eventually have to learn how to control it. Now was as good a time as any.

  Zanya paused, her breaths quick. “Did she hurt you?” She took another step forward. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get there in time. I was just so…” She whimpered, and a low sob rolled out of her throat. “I was so tired. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I couldn’t push past it, and I left you out there alone.”

  Arwan peered at her through the greenery. She inspected the ground, then crouched and pressed her fingers into one of his tracks. “My God.” She stood and scanned the jungle. “Will you please come out?”

  He settled closer to the ground.

  She walked several more steps, and then stopped. “Arwan.” There was a pause. “I know you’re here somewhere. I tracked you.” Her tone became stern, and she perched her hands on her hips. “Goes to prove I was paying attention all those times you dropped tracking tips on our hikes.” She stood in silence, listening, watching, and waiting for him to show himself. Her eyes narrowed. “Seriously? You’re going to hide like I haven’t seen you like this before?” She crossed her arms. “Shows how much you trust me. I thought we were past this. I thought you understood how…” She swallowed. “How I feel about you.” The last words passed through her lips in a soft plea.

  Arwan lifted his head just enough to spy over the plants. Her back was now turned to him as she searched the jungle in every direction.

  “I’m not going to let you hide from me.” She ran both hands through her hair, pushing it harshly out of her face. “Not this time.” She dropped her hands to her sides and balled her fists. “So help me, I will tear this jungle apart, tree by tree.” The light in her chest flickered to life. “Even if it drains me of everything I have.”

  He growled. She knew harming herself would lure him out. And he knew she wasn’t bluffing.

  “We are bonded.” The last word came out of her mouth with more bitterness than he was prepared for. “I deserve to know who you are. All of you. I deserve that much!” A storm collected overhead. Raindrops fell from the sky, smacking against leaves and already drenched soil. A drop fell onto her cheek. Then another on her eyelash. She blinked it away, her face flushed with color. She pivoted, still searching for him in the trees. “You don’t think I’ll want you anymore.” She pursed her lips and hung her head. “You don’t think I’ll still love you.”

  A strike of lightning flashed through the air, splintering a tree in half beside her.

  The air seemed to ripple with power.

  From her expression, the power scared even her.

  Her sacred light continued to grow in intensity, piercing the air through the cracks of her fingers as she clutched her chest.

  A cloud loomed above her, carrying an electrical storm. Veins of energy darted inside, building and flashing until the energy was too powerful to keep contained.

  Zanya closed her eyes as the lightning storm grew brighter.

  Something was wrong. It seemed as though she was not controlling her abilities, and instead, they had a mind of their own.

  Her stone was not protecting her.

  There was no one who would, except him.

  Arwan pushed to his feet and snarled. He leapt forward and shoved her out of the way, just as the electrical charge released and struck the ground where she stood.

  They tumbled to the ground. He was careful not to lay his enormous weight on her, now dwarfed in comparison. He scrambled and shot to all fours, and saw her sprawled out on the ground, mud streaking her cheek.

  The light in her chest burned brightly for a few moments before it dulled, and finally vanished. She coughed and gasped in a breath, clawing at her chest.

  Arwan nudged her with his snout. She was frozen to the bone.

  Whatever happened to her back there had done more than drained her of her abilities.

  It had nearly killed her.

  He lay beside her and rested his head lightly over her chest. She needed the warmth, and without the others here to lead her back to the shelter of their home, this was the only way.

  He wanted more than anything to cringe away. Flee into the jungle. Hide, as his instincts were compelling at him to do. Everything inside of him screamed at him to run. Everything but his unwavering devotion to her. That, and only that, was enough to make him stay.

  She buried her fingers into his thick, black fur. “There you are.” Her voice was raspy and barely recognizable. “I knew you wouldn’t leave me.”

  He closed his eyes and relished the warmth of her touch.

  “Can you talk to me?”

  He lifted his head and stared down at her, his shadow shielding her eyes from the sunlight as it broke through the dispersing storm.

  It was a fair question—one he’d never considered. He somehow met her gaze, finding it strangely easy to hold it, even in this form.

  But with a fair amount of effort, he couldn’t communicate. What beast could?

  “It’s okay.” She ran her hand down his snout. “I guess I couldn’t really expect it.”

  Her breathing had evened out, and her skin was no longer like ice.

  “Zanya! Arwan!”

  He looked to the left and let out a low growl.

  “It’s okay.” She forced herself to sit up, swaying as her eyes fluttered open and closed. “The others are here. You can go.”

  She was so pale. So weak.

  “Zanya!” It was her mother. Of all people, she would be the least tolerant. “Where are you?” Her voice grew closer. Too close.

  “Go.” Zanya gave a weak attempt at shoving him away. “Before she sees you.”

  Chapter Nineteen


  Zanya

  Zanya opened her eyes to wooden beams running the length of the vaulted ceiling in her bedroom.

  She carefully turned her head, unsure of the effect any movement would have on her muscles. But she needed to see if Arwan was there.

  She frowned and slid her hand over the sheets to where he usually lay—now empty and cold.

  She forced herself to sit up in bed, her head assaulted with pounding waves against her temples.

  A deep throb spread behind her eyes.

  “Headache?”

  She sucked in a breath and squinted to the far side of the room where Peter sat.

  He leaned forward, analyzing her from a distance. Even under the circumstances, it was good to see him again. “You were pretty out of it.”

  “Yeah.” She strained to speak through the pain and slouched against the headboard. “What happened?”

  Peter shrugged. “I was hoping you’d be able to tell us. When we found you in the jungle, I couldn’t detect anything wrong with you. No cuts or bruises or concussions. You were just…passed out.”

  She rubbed the back of her neck, recalling the last moments she spent with Arwan. After he left, she must have lost consciousness. It was the only explanation that made sense.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Peter stood and walked toward her, then lowered himself onto the foot of her bed. The mattress sighed under his weight.

  “Talk about what?”

  “Whatever’s going on with you.”

  She drew her brows together. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He analyzed her a moment longer, then let out a long, quiet breath. “That’s too bad. Your mom and Renato are worried.”

  She bit her lip. The others. They were still here—though not inside the house. It was too quiet. “Did they want to leave after the tree attacked? Beigarth was pretty angry we didn’t tell them about the danger sooner.”

  “He was pissed, but never mentioned leaving. They’re all still here, outside. They made camp on the stone floor so they could guard the house.”

  “Oh.” She relaxed her muscles. “You guys could crash on the couch and set up some blankets on the floor. I don’t mind.”

  He chuckled. “Hawa was the first to volunteer to sleep on the couch, but Renato said we should all stick together. We have to keep you safe. Besides, your mom said you deserved some privacy, now that you’re bonded and all.”

  “My mom said that?” She snorted. “Talk about hypocritical.”

  “Yeah, maybe. But it’s true.” He gave her a shy glance and grinned. “You’re all grown up now.”

  “Oh, shut up.” Her smile vanished when her mind wandered to Arwan. “Except he’s not here.”

  “That’s the other thing.” Peter sat in silence, twisting a pulled thread from the seam of his sleeve.

  He was just as readable as Tara—both of them unable to lie or keep a secret without their true nature showing through. “What’s another thing?”

  He pressed his lips into a tight line. “Everyone wants to know what happened out there between him and Contessa. They’re worried. They’re…talking.”

  “About what?”

  Peter’s silence said all she needed to know.

  “Arwan isn’t dangerous.”

  “Maybe that’s true. But maybe not. He was out there with Contessa—alone.”

  “So what?”

  “So, maybe…” Peter shrugged. “I never thought I would say it, but maybe she’s rubbing off on—”

  “What the hell, Peter?” She gripped the blankets and leaned forward. “Did you come in here to help or just piss me off?”

  He raised his hands as if declaring defeat. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

  “Messenger?” She threw the blanket off, revealing the same clothes she had worn earlier that day. “I don’t need a messenger. I’m right here, and if anyone has something to say, they can say it to my face.” She pushed out of bed, rushed through the house, and barged through the front door to the camp outside.

  The sun was bright and crisp, only increasing the humidity in the air. Nearly a dozen tents were pitched on the stone platform. A small fire-pit was set up in the center with kindling and branches of dead wood stacked on either side—some probably from Yaxche.

  “Hey, listen up.” She clenched and unclenched her fists, waiting as several of her comrades crawled out of their tents with sleep-glazed eyes and tousled hair. “I want to make something really, really clear, and I’m only going to say this once.” She scanned the faces of everyone who had come to help. Her friends. Her family. The people she trusted most—or was supposed to, at least. “This is my house. Arwan’s house. Our house. If anyone has a problem with that…well,” she shifted her weight, “you’re free to leave.”

  Marzena frowned. “Zanya.”

  “No.” She’d never spoken harshly to the young dreamwalker before, but now was a time she needed to listen, not speak. “We need to stick together. We need each other now more than ever. I can’t do this alone. But Arwan is one of us, whatever his origins are, and whatever you may think about him. None of you know him the way I do. So if you have a problem with respecting our home or respecting him,” she looked directly at her mother, “you need to just suck it up and get over it—or get the hell out.”

  Her mother watched her for a moment before dropping her gaze without recognition or the slightest hint of emotion.

  “Fine with me,” Tara said. She finished crawling out from her tent and stood, wiping her palms down the front of her jeans.

  A low murmur of affirmations hummed through the space.

  All except her mother, who dug through her bag without a sound. Zanya would take that as a yes. At least until her mother gave her a reason to think otherwise.

  The red curls framing Tara’s face bounced as she walked to Zanya’s side. The others resumed unpacking and chatting with one another.

  Tara crossed her arms and leaned against Zanya’s hip. “Where is Arwan, anyway?” Her tone was low and cautions.

  Zanya gave a sideways glance, matching Tara’s volume. “I don’t know.”

  “Is that like a,” she winked way too obviously, “kind of I don’t know? Or you seriously don’t know?”

  “I seriously don’t know.”

  The edges of Tara’s mouth turned down. Frowning didn’t fit her. She was always smiling, joking, or daydreaming.

  “Don’t worry,” Zanya continued. “He’ll be back.”

  “Oh, I’m not worried about him not coming back. I’m just not sure what’s going to happen when he does.”

  Zanya tried to pretend her friend’s concern didn’t worry her just as much. “What do you mean?”

  Tara stared at Zanya’s mother, who hadn’t said more than a few words since she’d arrived. “She’s losing it. I can tell.”

  “Should I be concerned?”

  Tara shrugged. “I don’t know. You think she’d actually try anything?”

  “Did you forget when she tried to shoot him in Renato’s house?”

  Tara made an O-shape with her lips. “Yep. Forgot about that. Probably because I was with Peter when it happened.”

  Zanya inspected the crowded camp. “Which tent is yours?”

  Tara gestured to a small green one set up near the center. “They made me be in the middle because I’m ‘human,’” she quoted with her fingers, “and if anything ‘happens,’ I should be most ‘protected.’”

  Zanya tried not to laugh at her friend’s triple-air-quote and bitterness at their good intentions. “I think it’s a good idea.”

  Tara rolled her eyes. “At least I have a thin mattress, and with the fire going, it won’t be so bad.”

  “You can stay in the house on the couch. I’d give you the bedroom, but Drina is already sleeping in it. I don’t want you to be lonely.”

  “I’m not lonely. Peter keeps me company.”

  Zanya paused. “You guys are in the same tent?”

  �
�Yeah, but you’ll be happy to know we kind of committed to the whole celibacy before marriage thing, so don’t worry.”

  “Celibacy, huh?” She exhaled, allowing the weight on her chest to vanish with it. “That’s cool.”

  Tara’s face flushed pink. “Don’t tease.”

  “No, I’m serious. He loves the hell out of you, and he’s willing to wait. That’s pretty impressive.”

  Tara fluffed her hair. “Yeah, it must be near impossible to stay away from all this.”

  Zanya chuckled. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

  Without warning, Tara threw her arms around her and hugged so tight, Zanya could hardly draw in a breath.

  “What’s this for?” Zanya grunted, tapping Tara on the back in a plea to loosen her grip.

  “I never got to congratulate you.” Tara squeezed her one last time, then let go and stepped back. “You’re my best friend, and for all intents and purposes, you got married. That’s a pretty big deal.”

  “Yeah. I guess it is.”

  Tara glanced down at her hand. “No bling, huh?”

  Zanya dragged her thumb over her ring finger. “We didn’t exactly have time to go shopping.”

  “It’s all a bust anyway.”

  Zanya paused. “Wait, what?”

  “You know. A ring, the white satin wedding dress. Fresh flowers in centerpieces. Round tables with silk cloths, not to mention those stupid advice cards where people write tips for a happy marriage. People are so opinionated. The whole wedding thing is totally overrated.”

  “Yeah.” Her chest tightened. “Totally overrated.” She’d never thought about it, but not having a wedding was a little like being robbed of a beautiful dream.

  “Oh. I almost forgot. I brought you something from home.”

  It was the first time Zanya had heard her refer to Renato’s place as home. Tara dug in her pocket and pulled out a round pendant made of wood, strung on a leather chain. “I thought you might want it.” Tara dangled the wicker amulet Cualli had made her—the same one she’d fished from a waterfall with Hawa, back in Belize.

  Zanya touched it with her fingertips. “This brought me so much comfort.” She let it go. “You wear it. Maybe it’ll bring you some comfort too.”