She turned away, shielding her stomach from his touch. “I can’t do that.” She looked at Tara. “I thought I didn’t want this baby. But now I can’t stand the idea of losing her.” She pressed her hand over her mouth. “This is all my fault.” Tears flooded her eyes. “I told her I hated her. I said it. How could I be such a horrible person?” Sobs rolled out of her chest.
Tara wrapped her arms around her and cradled her close. “You and the baby are going to be fine.”
The room fell silent when Jayden walked in. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Hey.” He nodded with a crooked grin. It was his familiar face that took the edge off. “Want some company?”
Zanya nodded and reached out to him.
His features sobered. He walked to the bed and laced his fingers between hers, kneeling beside the bed. He rubbed her hands, staring up at her with wide eyes and an expression of pure helplessness. “We’re all here for you.”
Zanya nodded. “Where’s Arwan? He should be here. He should—” Her breath was stolen with another jab to her gut. Heat crawled down her legs. She squeezed her eyes shut until the worst of it passed. “I can’t do this. I can’t lose her.”
“You’re not losing anyone. Drina is in the kitchen brewing you some herbal tea. She looks…” He chuckled and wiped a tear from her cheek. “She looks pretty pissed, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she came up with some kind of crazy witchdoctor formula just for you.”
Zanya held Jayden’s hand. His skin was like ice, but it was still him, and that was all that mattered. “I need Arwan here. I can’t get through this without him.”
Jayden glanced at the others. “Um…” He swallowed and lowered his gaze to the floor.
Zanya forced herself to sit up as much as she could. “Jay…where’s Arwan?”
He finally met her gaze. “He’s got some unfinished business. He…” He exhaled and squeezed her hand. “Zanya, I don’t know if he’s coming back.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Arwan
Standing outside the house, Arwan stripped off his pants and tossed them aside. A shiver crawled over his skin while he stood in his shorts, cool jungle air drifting over his body. The entrance to the underworld was still sealed, though not for long. The king was on his way, and this time, Arwan was ready for him.
The ground trembled beneath his feet.
Arwan took that as his cue to unleash the beast.
The transformation took seconds, and the pain subsided quickly after.
Yaxche broke through like before, creating a portal for the king to ascend into the mortal realm. And as soon as he did, Arwan was reminded that although he had saved Hawa, Renato was out of his reach. His mentor was slaughtered in the underworld, while Arwan was drifting in and out of consciousness. In that realm, time was its own entity, and Arwan could do nothing to change the past.
This time he would make his mentor’s death count.
The king rose, wearing the same horrifying pelt. Arwan did his best to ignore it, and braced for the scene.
The king stretched out his arms, displaying the full shape of hanging, wet flesh draped over his body. “The sacrificed Riyata was a brilliant choice. His strength ran deep.”
This time, Arwan would not fall to his knees like he did before.
This time, he met the king as a beast.
The king chuckled and peeled off the fleshy remains, casting them to the ground.
As soon as he did, Arwan lurched forward.
The king reached for his whip but Arwan anticipated the move and beat him to it. Arwan was on top of him in an instant, and tore the weapon out of the king’s grasp.
The king glared. “It is a shame you will not live to take my throne.”
Before he could reach for his second weapon—the blade that had nearly killed him—Arwan plowed into him and pressed his massive paw on the king’s chest and pressed.
This time, the king’s heart would belong to him.
Arwan dug his claws into the king’s flesh, snapping ribs and tearing through his sternum.
The king flailed and lurched, but to no avail.
His heart was within sight, beating with black, putrid blood.
The blood of a damned soul.
Without hesitation Arwan reached inside with his claws and tore the still-beating heart from the king’s chest and cast it aside.
The king’s body fell limp and his eyes fogged over with a layer of white.
Yaxche’s roots reached from the soil and coiled around the heart.
The muscle beat once.
Twice.
It stalled, and beat one last time before Yaxche yanked it underground.
Arwan stepped back, circling the king’s lifeless remains.
After so many years and so much heartache, it was finally over.
“You did well, boy.”
Arwan froze and looked up at Drina, who was hobbling toward him.
Still in his beastly form, he was unsure how to react. Drina had only seen him like this a handful of times. She didn’t appear scared. Her features were soft as her gaze cast lightly over him.
It shouldn’t have surprised him. Drina loved and accepted him for who he was. She always had, and would, no matter what.
“You have done well, boy.” Drina walked forward, her stride now smoother than usual. His keen hearing caught the sound of a bird in flight. But not just a bird—an owl. He peered up at the sky as Ishel—the middle world goddess of plants and flowers—soared overhead.
“Do not be bitter, my boy. I asked her to stay away from the fight.”
My boy?
Arwan tilted his head, listening, watching, and waiting. There was something different about Drina. Her tone was more even, and she had less of an accent.
“This was your fight,” she continued, “and your destiny to fulfill.” Drina stood up straighter, no longer hunched like an old Mayan priestess. “And I am very, very proud of the man you have become, my son.”
Her appearance morphed and wavered. Glimpses of his mother’s features came in and out of focus like a mirage.
Ishel swooped down from the sky, changing into her human form just as her feet landed softly on the ground. The middleworld goddess stood back, her head bowed.
Drina’s form continued to alter until a glowing being stood before him.
His mother, the Star.
Her big brown eyes mirrored his own, and her illuminated skin made the moon seem dim in comparison. Arwan whined and lay on the ground. She should not have seen him in this form—his true self.
“Do not be ashamed.” Her silken gown draped over her shoulders in the most elegant way. She reached out and rested her hand on his head, burying her fingers into his fur. “You are perfect.” She glided her hand down his cheek. “I only wish you had known it was me all along.” He picked up his head so he met her gaze. Rolling galaxies existed in irises of her eyes. “I could not part with you, even after my mortal body was dead and gone. My soul is bound tightly to yours, and I gave you my love the only way you could accept it—through the illusion of Drina.” Her laugh was like music. “Such a crass, angry woman you needed to love you. But a mother knows her son, and I knew you would not allow anyone else close while your heart was still hurting. Yet you needed guidance.”
It all made sense now.
Drina’s agelessness was not due to her Mayan magic.
She had been a mere presentation—a mask worn by his mother, so she could raise him in a world he believed had betrayed him long ago.
His memory whipped back to the campfire in previous months, when Drina allowed a glimpse of his mother to show through her. The priestess had claimed she was in communication with his mother’s spirit, but in reality, his mother had merely lifted the mask for a fleeting moment to give him hope.
All this time…
“Do not be angry with me. I only did what would save the mortals from the underworld king and his wicked realm. Without you, the middleworld would have surely fallen.
You were the only hope of mankind. You, who was born as the prince of both heaven and hell.”
Arwan forced himself to morph back to his human form. Ishel waited with her feathered robe to cloak him, while her long, flowing hair shielded the most intimate curves of her body.
He could not stay a beast while his mother stood before him for the first time.
She raked her fingers through his hair and knelt in front of him.
He tried to lift his gaze to meet hers, but now in his human form, he was somehow more vulnerable, and dwarfed beside her majesty
She hooked her finger under his chin and lifted his gaze. “Worry not.” Her lips curved into a soft smile. “I will keep your mentor close. Through his sacrifice, he has earned his seat at my table.” She placed a kiss on Arwan’s forehead. “And in my heart.”
“Mother…” The word came out in a croaked whisper. He wove his fingers between hers. “Don’t leave. I can’t be alone again.”
“Do you not see?” She leaned forward and held him close. He breathed in the essence of her being—the bright, clean scent of her hair and the comfort only a mother’s touch could provide. “You have never been alone. The guardian is your future. However…” She pulled back and looked into his eyes. A streak of sadness lingered in her gaze. “I fear you will not have the daughter you so desperately tried to protect.”
He choked on tears, but managed to hold them back. He had failed at being the man Zanya needed, and the father his unborn child would never know.
“Great things are destined for you, my son. Your bloodline is precious, and once inherited, will bind the heavens, middleworld, and underworld in an unbreakable chain to unite the realms. This is what I had intended with your conception, and why you are not only precious to me, but to all of mankind. The mortals do not know, my love. And as is their nature, they fear what they do not understand.”
Arwan nodded, hanging on every word. But it wasn’t enough. “I don’t know who I am…”
“You are, and always have been, my son.” She stood and gazed down at him. “You must embrace your new role as king and soul mate. It is not an easy task, but with the strength you have inherited from both myself and your father, you are able.”
“King?” He pushed to his feet, clinging to Ishel’s garment wrapped around him. “But…” He looked at the portal to the underworld. “I can’t. Zanya needs me. I need her…”
“Then you must order the tree to retreat into the underworld, and never return.”
He furrowed his brow as a realization hit him like a charging wave.
Now that his father was gone, he had inherited the role as ruler of the dark realm. Now that the king had perished, Arwan was the rightful heir.
He turned to the portal and tilted his head, staring at the tree’s roots lying still, as if awaiting instruction.
Arwan reached out and swiped his hand through the air, willing them to retract back into the soil. The tree obeyed, and recoiled into the pits of hell where it belonged.
He stood a moment, silent and still, and somewhat numb. What did this mean for his future? Now that he was king of the dark realm, how would be fulfill his obligation to his crown while staying true to his heart?
He turned back to see Ishel standing with Balam at her side.
Arwan scanned the area, but his mother was not there.
In his gut, he knew what it meant.
She was gone, forever.
Chapter Forty-Three
Zanya
The following night, Zanya lay in bed with Arwan beside her, where he belonged.
After the conflict the day before, he explained what happened.
He had killed his father, and Drina had been his mother all along. As a result of his father’s death, he inherited the throne to the underworld, and was now ruling king.
It was all too much to process in one day, so for now, Zanya focused on getting well. With the help of Peter’s healing, and her own abilities seemingly coming back, her body was on the mend. The bleeding had stopped and the pain had mostly subsided. But the lump in her throat hadn’t gone away, and she was too terrified to investigate whether the baby had survived.
Silky moonlight shone through the windows in their bedroom. Zanya turned on her side and gazed up at the sky, admiring the endless amounts of stars, like faraway diamonds hanging overhead.
Arwan turned and wound his arm around her, his body contoured to hers from behind. He propped his chin on her shoulder. “How are you feeling?”
“Okay…I guess.” She set her hand on her stomach, still hopeful. “Everything’s just…” She couldn’t find any word to describe it. Unsure, maybe?
“I know.” He pressed a kiss on the curve of her neck. “But Grima is better.”
“And Yousef and Ahmed are still dead.” She dared not mention Renato, who she missed more than she could ever express. “And Drina…” She turned on her back and looked into his face. “I know she was never real, but she was real to me.” She grinned. “I miss that angry, snoring old woman.”
Arwan chuckled, the curve of his mouth begging to be kissed.
So she did.
He cradled her cheek and drifted his hand down her body, over the curve of her waist, resting on her hip. His fingers spread over her skin.
She went rigid and pulled away. Her cheeks flushed with heat. “It’s too soon.” Her throat ached. “I don’t even know…”
“You don’t have to explain.” He glanced at the leather pouch clasped around her wrist where the stone was kept. She knew what he was thinking, though he didn’t say it aloud. But she’d been too terrified to look at her stone and see if the little blue light still flickered inside. “You should get some rest.” He raked his fingers through strands of her hair and kissed her forehead. “We have a lot to talk about tomorrow.”
Zanya nodded and then lay back down, anxiety bubbling in her chest. The room fell silent, and Arwan’s breathing steadied as he drifted off to sleep.
Eventually she’d have to face her fears and know the truth. If tomorrow they were going to discuss the future, she had to plan around whether the baby made it through.
She unclasped the pouch on her wrist and drew in a shaky breath as she closed her eyes, and then slid out her stone. She flinched when it was cool to the touch, and not warm as it had been before. After rolling it in her hand for a moment, she built the courage to open her eyes.
Bright white and blue lights wavered inside as they always did, reaching out to her with the invisible connection they shared. She peered at it closely, searching, hoping, desperately wanting to find the tiny flashing light…but there was none.
She pursed her lips and coiled her fingers around the stone as a tear slid down her cheek. The deepest sense of sorrow settled in her chest and coiled around her heart. She pulled her legs to her chest and wept silently into her pillow, the pain too raw for her to speak.
The mattress bounced with movement, and Arwan’s strong arms slid around her and lifted her into his lap. She buried her face into his chest and wept freely and openly, with no effort at holding back.
He stroked her hair with a long, soft touch. “Shh, mi amor. No llores. Sé que duele pero no llores. Estoy aquí para ti y siempre lo estaré. Siempre.”
“I want to go home,” she sobbed. “This place isn’t home. We’ve lost so much. I can’t bear to live here and be reminded every day—”
“Shh.” He hugged her tighter. “Whatever you want, mi corazon. We’ll tell them in the morning, and tomorrow we’ll make plans to go back home—to Belize.”
Chapter Forty-Four
It had been nearly a week since they had returned to Belize—to Renato’s estate, where it had all begun.
It was strange without Renato there. Each time Zanya walked into the large study in the back of the house, she could almost see him sitting behind his desk, smoking his bone pipe with stacks of books piled around him. The room still smelled of the earthy tobacco, and his energy seemed to live in the walls
. It would never be the same as it was before, but this was truly home.
Tara and Peter had taken the west wing, along with Jayden and Hawa. It had gone from a bachelor pad to the couples’ retreat. They were a strange combination of people, but it worked, and they all seemed happy. Besides, with Marzena in the north wing, there was no way the dreamwalker would tolerate Jayden living in her space with Hawa. It was either relocate or die—according to Jayden, at least—and Hawa took pity on his phobia of being around the ‘creepy child of the corn’ as Jayden called her. Only when she wasn’t around, of course.
The main wing had become hers and Arwan’s, almost solely. Her mother took Renato’s old wing, and seemed at peace there, among the treasured belongings of her late brother. Eleuia had started to play the cello again. Zanya listened from the main wing as the low, smooth tones echoed through the house, filling the air with music once again.
Zanya had missed the comfort of a melody. She knew when she was ready, her violin waited in the music room for her to claim. Maybe she would find it one day and begin to play. But for now, she had to focus on finding direction and meaning in their now-quiet lives.
Eadith, Beigarth, and Grima all parted ways when the rest returned to Belize. The fire conjurer was eager to return to her life in Paris, and the two Vikings had adventures to seek on the high seas. Zanya was pretty sure there were no Viking ships still sailing the oceans, but she wouldn’t tell them that. They had dreams of living quietly on farms and raising livestock to feed the nomads of Europe. It didn’t sound so bad if Zanya thought about it, and she wished them both the best.
Before they parted, Grima demanded Zanya keep in touch with her dreamwalking ability. Zanya offered a phone number, but Beigarth gave a hearty laugh and smacked her on the back.
Birthright (The Stone Legacy Series Book 5) Page 26
