Birthright (The Stone Legacy Series Book 5)

by Theresa Dalayne

  Heat flared inside him, spiking his blood with adrenaline. He pulled away enough to look into her eyes. “What are you doing to me?”

  She pinched her bottom lip between her teeth and shrugged. “Enjoying the morning.” She leaned back, creating space between them while displaying a shy smile. “I thought I had lost you. Seeing you this morning is like…” She stared up at him from behind a curtain of dark lashes. “It’s like getting the best present in the world.”

  He gripped her by the waist and lifted her up onto the countertop.

  There was something different about her today. He tilted his head while tuning in to her body, her breathing, her every movement. “You’re…happy.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” She wound her arms around his neck and pressed her forehead against his. “Besides the inevitable war and impending doom, life is good.”

  He chuckled and skated his hands up her legs. His fingers teased the inside of her thighs before he positioned his hands on her hips. “You’re not a normal happy. It’s more than that.”

  “Like you said.” She planted her hand on her belly. “It’s you and me. There’s nothing more worthy of protecting. You and my stone helped me understand.”

  A sharp knock made Zanya jump.

  Arwan tightened his jaw and looked toward the noise. “Yes?”

  “Um…Balam brought something…dead,” Tara said from outside, her voice groggy with sleep.

  “Thanks,” Zanya shouted. “We’ll take care of it.”

  “Good, cuz it’s gross. I’m going back to sleep.” Tara’s mumbles grew fainter until they disappeared completely.

  “I guess it’s time for you to get to work so we can eat.” She hopped off the counter. “While you’re doing that, I’ll go get dressed. Today we need to train.”

  “You can’t train.”

  She paused. “What do you mean? I’m the one who needs it the most.”

  “But it’s dangerous. Not just for you, but for the baby too.”

  Zanya’s pressed her hand against cheek. “I know you’re worried, but I have to do this.” She flickered electricity over her skin, forcing him to step back or get shocked. “Don’t forget what you told me when we first met.” She rubbed her fingers together and conjured a fire in her hand. “I’m stronger than I think.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Zanya

  After Arwan left, she changed into the training gear her mother had brought from Renato’s home.

  She’d never been close with anyone who was pregnant, but she did study human anatomy and reproductive health in the orphanage, so pregnancy wasn’t completely foreign.

  She hadn’t experienced any morning sickness yet—though that probably wouldn’t come for a few weeks, at least. Her belly wasn’t swollen at all, and wouldn’t be for a good while—for a normal human child, at least. In this case, it was anyone’s guess. She’d enjoy her figure while it lasted, and use her training gear as long as she could.

  She tied her hair into a ponytail and secured her stone into its home on her wrist, then walked outside into the humid jungle air. Everyone was just waking up, and most of the tents were still zipped shut with their sleeping occupants inside.

  It was the perfect opportunity to have a quiet, private discussion with Grima—the other half of the two petrifiers.

  The only problem was, besides Tara and Peter’s, she didn’t know whose tent was whose.

  She crept through the quiet campsite, listening for any sounds that would tip her off. Each enclosure was large enough to accommodate two normal sized people, which meant both of the Viking petrifiers would have their own accommodations, seeing they were both larger than the average Riyata.

  Snoring tipped her off on Beigarth’s location. Grima wouldn’t be far. Zanya tiptoed further until she heard loud breaths rising from a nearby tent. She paused beside it, listening to the low, hushed snores. It had to be Grima. But Zanya couldn’t exactly knock on the tent door, and didn’t want to call her name and wake the rest of the camp.

  Thankfully, she had a skill that was silent and effective—dreamwalking.

  Zanya closed her eyes and used her ability to find Grima and connect with her mind. It was clear she was in a deep slumber, as the bond between her and the lady Viking was clouded. She nudged Grima’s mind to wake her, but the haze didn’t clear.

  Zanya withdrew from the mental intrusion and opened her eyes. The heavy breathing continued. Maybe she didn’t snore as loudly, but she was just as heavy of a sleeper as Beigarth. Zanya was left with no choice but to go in and wake her in person.

  She pinched the zipper of the tent door and slid it in a clockwise arch. A large bulge of writhing blankets stirred inside. Maybe she was finally waking up. “Grima.”

  The movement stopped.

  “Grima, wake up.” Zanya set her hand on what she assumed was a foot.

  There was a gasp, and Hawa sat straight up, the blanket secured under her arms, covering her bare chest. Jayden popped up beside her. “What the hell,” Hawa said. “A little privacy, please?”

  Zanya bolted to her feet and stumbled back, tripping over the tent behind her. She flailed and nearly fell backward, but caught herself on a stone arch instead.

  Jayden crawled out of the tent with a blanket wrapped around his waist. “Is everything okay?”

  “No, everything is not okay,” Zanya whispered harshly, now shielding her eyes from Jayden’s half-nakedness. “Oh my god, get some clothes on!”

  “I’m not the one who barged into a tent! I thought something happened!”

  “I told you it was probably nothing,” Hawa taunted from the tent. “Now get back here.”

  “Yes, please.” Zanya waved him on. “Go back in there.” She covered her face with both hands, heat filling her cheeks.

  “I was just making sure,” Jayden said.

  “Yeah, well, now I’m cold,” Hawa snapped back. “You let all the heat out.”

  “Mmm, I can warm you—”

  “No.” Zanya covered her ears. “Absolutely not.” She turned away from them, determined not to hear another word of their sexy banter.

  She wasn’t upset Jayden had moved on—even though Hawa was a surprising choice—but at this point, Jay was more like a brother than a boy she once loved, and the thought of him with some girl was just too much.

  Her skin crawled, and she did a little cootie dance to shake it off.

  “Are ye looking for me, lass?”

  Zanya dropped her hands and stared down at Grima, who had poked out of the tent Zanya had tripped over. Zanya nodded, doing anything and everything to forget her horrifying encounter with the lovebirds. “I need to talk to you.” She fanned her face with her hand, trying to ease the heat in her cheeks.

  “I felt ye knock.” Grima tapped her finger on her temple. She stood from her tent, her strawberry hair glistening in the soft morning sun. The others would be up soon, and Arwan would be ready to cook the meat he cleaned. Luckily, the slight disruption didn’t wake anyone else, but she had better make this quick and not push her luck.

  She waved Grima toward the tree line. “Can we take a walk?”

  Grima slipped her feet in a pair of leather shoes and tied a leather belt over what looked like a cross between a vest and robe. “Aye.”

  Zanya walked toward the fruit trees, where Cualli had been keeping a plentiful stock for the group to eat freely. Not all of the fruits they had were native to Mexico, but it was a perk of having a flower and plant goddess as an ally.

  “What can I do ye for?” Grima asked, her soft tone both curious and cautious.

  “I wanted to ask you something.” Zanya reached up and plucked a ripe, red pomegranate from a branch. She pressed it to her nose, inhaling the sweet aroma. “Why is Beigarth so determined not to show me how to petrify? I may be the guardian, but if nobody teaches me how to use my abilities, I’ll have to try on my own.”

  “That’s not a keen idea, lass. Not in the least bit.”

  “
But why?” she asked, though she knew exactly why. The ability was deadly. Not only that, but it was non-reversible, and it could turn on her if she lost even the smallest bit of control. But if she didn’t push the subject, she’d never get answers. Sorry to say, a scare tactic was her last resort.

  “Beigarth’s heart is in the right place, dear. Ye have to trust that.”

  “I can’t just pretend I’m not capable of petrifying. It’s a valuable tool. I saw how Beigarth dealt with that hellhound in the underworld.”

  “Aye. And did ye see what happened to the beast? It turned to dust.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Dear, when ye petrify a thing, yer taking away its soul. Ye turn it to stone. A dead, lifeless thing that’s cold when it’s cold outside, and hot when it’s hot. There’s not a grain of life left in it. Not ever again.”

  Zanya held up the fruit. “Can you show me? Just once, and I won’t ask you again.” She extended the ripe fruit. “Please.”

  Grima examined it a moment, then took it from Zanya’s hand. “Lass…” Grima’s eyes narrowed. “This is no ability to use without thought put into it first. Once ye learn how to use it, ye must control yer emotions and never let anger tear it out of ye. It can…” The corners of Grima’s mouth turned down. “It will take something from ye if ye let it. It will take someone dear if ye can’t control it.” Grima lowered her gaze. “And it will tear yer heart out.”

  ***

  Arwan

  He washed his hands clean of blood and bits of flesh from the white-tail deer Balam had caught for the camp. The edible organs were harvested and sat in a pail of water, while the deer hung upside down from a tree, its back legs spread to show a gaping, empty torso exposing its ribs.

  He crinkled his nose from the smell of blood that overwhelmed his senses. But the deer would feed the group for a few days before Balam would have to hunt again.

  The only task left was to section the animal and haul the meat back to the house. That was another task entirely. First he’d skin it. The fur would make for a good lining to a crib once the baby arrived. Meanwhile, it would keep Zanya warm at night.

  He removed a knife crafted from bone—ideal for skinning animals. It kept from punching holes in the hide, unlike a steel knife that cut through anything it touched.

  He had Renato to thank for teaching him how to process an animal. It was a survival skill he would use for the rest of his life, and hopefully pass down to his daughter when the time was right.

  “I was sent to check on you.”

  Arwan ground his teeth and stood, the blade secure in his hand. Eleuia never found him alone unless she wanted to antagonize him. Whatever she had to say, it couldn’t be good.

  Without acknowledging she was there, he approached the deer and pulled aside a flap of skin, then nicked small, precise cuts in the white layer of tissue bonding the skin with muscle.

  “Actually, I volunteered to come check on you and your project here.”

  He sensed her behind him, and kept a sharp ear out for any quick movements. Though she’d tolerated him up to this point, there was no telling what she had up her sleeve. If she did come here with ill intent, it wouldn’t be the first time.

  Arwan worked to skin it as quickly as possible. Hair stuck to his fingers as traces of blood began to dry.

  He paused and pushed down a wave of nausea.

  He’d never been disgusted by blood in the past. But after his last experience in the underworld, it made him think of only one thing.

  “Listen…” Eleuia walked to his side, where he watched her in his peripheral vision. “I’m just trying to do what’s best for my daughter.”

  He made circular incisions around the hooves of the animal, and then straight cuts up its legs toward the belly. “What’s best for her is not making her stressed every time you’re around her.”

  She said nothing in response.

  “What do you want?” He made one last cut, and then lifted the whole pelt off of the deer and laid it fur side down on the ground.

  “We’re going to be in each other’s lives,” Eleuia said. “That’s impossible to avoid now that you got Zanya pregnant.”

  He paused and clenched his jaw. “You should try not to talk about your grandchild like she’s some kind of infectious disease.”

  “She?” Eleuia shifted her weight. “Do you know it’s a girl?”

  He rolled the pelt and shoved it into a pack to clean when he got back to the house. “Zanya says it has to be a girl. You should know better than anyone.” He stood and cut the animal down from where it hung, then began slicing into the meat. “You haven’t told me why you’re really here.”

  She crouched and balanced her forearms on her knees, her fingers laced in front of her. “Renato saw something in you. Cualli sees it too. But most importantly, Zanya sees it.”

  Arwan looked up at her.

  “You’re the father of that baby. As long as you take responsibility for that, and treat Zanya as she deserves…”

  “She means more to me than my own life, and I would gladly lay it down to protect her. I have, and I will always put her and our family first. No matter what.”

  Eleuia held his gaze, and then nodded. “All right, then.” She stood. “I guess that’s all there is to talk about.” She grabbed the sack of deer pelt and hauled it off the ground. “We’re waiting for you back at camp. It’s time to train.”

  “She shouldn’t be training. I tried to tell her that, but she won’t listen. Maybe you can talk some sense into her.”

  Eleuia snorted. “No one can talk sense into her. You should know that by now. Besides.” She paused and looked back at him. “She’s not training. You are.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Zanya

  “Please,” Zanya said. “I know it’s a risk, but…” Arwan would be done processing the deer soon. They were running out of time. “Everyone else is going to fight with their lives, and if I can’t protect them, everyone will die. Including me—and my baby.”

  Grima’s lip twitched.

  “Please. I can’t learn this ability without you. All of our lives depend on it.”

  Grima turned the pomegranate in her hand, staring at its red, smooth surface. A deep exhale followed the tightening of her jaw. “If ye swear not to use it unless ye have no other choice. No practicing. Not even a wee bit. Do ye understand me clearly, lass?”

  Zanya nodded. “I swear it.”

  “Ye need to stand away from me if I’m to show ye how it’s done.”

  Zanya shifted back. “How far?”

  Grima’s features hardened. “Far, lass. Very far.”

  Zanya did as she was told, and moved under the shade of the trees while Grima cupped the fruit in both hands.

  “Is a terrible thing ye do when ye petrify a thing,” Grima went on. “Ye must clear your mind and concentrate on not a single thing. Find a void inside—a quiet place where nothing lives. Close your eyes not to be distracted by anything around ye.”

  “In the underworld, Beigarth didn’t seem to do any of that.”

  “Aye. My cousin is a master of the curse.”

  “Curse? Our abilities aren’t a curse. They’re a gift.”

  “No, lass.” Grima spread her fingers over the pomegranate. Bits of red showed through the gaps in her fingers. She brought it up to eye level. “Not this.” Grima closed her eyes, and the jungle suddenly stilled. It was as if the wind stopped blowing, the birds quieted, and everything around them muted in anticipation—or maybe fear.

  There was no light to signal Grima was using her ability. No obvious sign to tell it was over. Just the silence, and Grima’s saddened expression.

  A tiny ripple punched through the air, so small it was almost unnoticeable. But Zanya sensed it. It carried the same cold, desperate panic as when something was terribly wrong, and there was no way to fix it. That hollow, carved-out hole in the gut—that was what the ability felt like.

  When Grima opened her eyes, s
he unveiled the once vibrant fruit to show a gray, lifeless stone resting in her palm. “Ye see, lass. There’s not a hint of life left in it.”

  Zanya stepped forward to inspect it closer. “Is it safe to touch?”

  “Aye.”

  Zanya picked up the heavy ball. It was cold, though it had the same smooth surface as it did before it was changed. “Does everything come out like this? I mean, it looks exactly the way it did.”

  “Aye. But when ye change a living thing that’s more than a wee fruit, you feel it deep in yer bones.” She gestured to her face with two fingers. “Anything with eyes. They become hollow, and ye know yer to blame.”

  Zanya nodded. “So there’s a price to pay.”

  “Aye.” Grima turned halfway, making it clear she was done with the demonstration. “A terrible price.”

  ***

  Arwan

  Back at the training house, Arwan handed the meat off to Beigarth, who had more experience handling a fresh kill than the others. While the Viking washed and stored the meat, Arwan rinsed the brown, dried blood from his hands.

  It had been a long time since he’d scrubbed blood from between his fingers. It reminded him of the possibility…the possibility of having the blood of his fallen comrades stain his skin.

  When he was done, he walked out to the campground in search of the others. Eleuia waited for him with her hands shoved into the pockets of her fleece sweater, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail.

  It was amazing how much Zanya looked like her, though he’d never been willing to see it until now.

  “Ready?”

  He narrowed his eyes, still apprehensive of her sudden change of heart. “For what?”

  “Like I said.” She extended her hand toward the protected circle, where the others were loosely gathered. “Training.”

  “We have bigger things to worry about than my training.”

  Eleuia tilted her head, her features suddenly sobered. “What does that mean?”