She could only guess that meant they didn’t believe in phones.
Eleuia walked onto the veranda, where Zanya sat, watching Arwan and Peter practice martial arts on the beach. They’d fallen back into a familiar routine of training. Maybe they were eager to resume their normal lives—whatever normal meant these days.
Zanya cradled a cup of tea in her hands, inhaling the scent of herbs and mint. Lately, coffee made her feel queasy. The last few weeks’ events had taken their toll, both emotionally and physically, and she was determined to give her body anything it needed to mend. Even if that meant sipping herbal tea over coffee in the morning.
Her mother strode to the alabaster railing and leaned against it, inhaling the crisp morning air. “It’s a beautiful day. Want to go for a swim?”
Zanya crinkled her nose. “No, thanks. I’ve had my fill of water for a while.” Ever since she and Arwan drowned to go to the underworld to rescue Jayden’s soul, the idea of swimming had never been quite as appealing.
Her mother shrugged. “Maybe I’ll paint, or play the cello a little…” She rubbed her face and exhaled, then looked at Zanya. “Is it just me, or are you bored out of your mind too?”
Zanya laughed. “If I’ve learned one thing, it’s that boring isn’t always bad.” Zanya sipped her tea. The seagulls soared overhead, screaming their usual tune. Other than that, there was only the sound of distant jungle trees being tousled by the coastal winds. “It is pretty quiet, though.”
And quiet gave her time to think, which usually brought back memories of all she’d lost…
“Yeah.” Her mother inspected Zanya a silent moment. The corners of her mouth turned down. “How are you feeling? Any more pain?”
Zanya shook her head. “Just some nausea, and I’m still pretty wiped out, but Peter says that’s to be expected.”
“And I’d expect he’s right.” She walked to a nearby chair and sat.
Zanya watched Arwan while he instructed Peter on certain martial arts moves she knew nothing about. But it was nice to see him in his element again—training and sharing his knowledge with others. It gave him purpose.
“How have things been with him?”
“Okay. Quiet.”
Arwan kicked Peter to the ground. Both of them laughed as Arwan extended his hand and helped Peter off the sand. Arwan’s smile was genuine, but Zanya knew deep down he was still in pain over the loss of Renato and their daughter.
He stayed awake some nights staring into the distance. Even when she would rest her arm over his chest and curl her body against his, he would remain silent.
“What about…” Her mother swirled her finger over the crown of her head. “You know. The whole king thing. What do you think he’s going to do with that?”
“I honestly don’t know. He hasn’t been back there, if that’s what you’re asking. He doesn’t talk about it. But one day…” She exhaled. “One day his realm will call for him. And when it does…” A heavy weight settled in her gut. “We’ll face it together.”
There was a bang at the front door. “Zanya!” Tara screamed. “Come quick!”
Zanya dropped her mug of tea before darting into the main foyer, where a lanky teenage boy swayed on his feet, his eyes rolling back in his head. A second later, his knees buckled.
Zanya caught him before he could hit the floor.
Arwan, Peter, and the others joined them in the foyer. “I heard a scream.”
They stared at the stranger, half-conscious in Zanya’s arms.
“Who are you?” Zanya pushed silvery hair out of the stranger’s face and looked into his ghostly eyes. They were white or, more like void of pigment completely. Now that she noticed, his skin was as light as powder.
“Help…” He reached up to touch her face.
Hawa grabbed his wrist. “Don’t let him touch you.”
The boy’s appearance changed into a teenage girl—Hawa.
Hawa gasped. “He’s a shifter.” She pulled back, and as soon as she did, the boy’s appearance changed back.
“What do we do?” Zanya looked up at her mother.
“We need to get him out. He’s a stranger, and we don’t know what he wants.”
“Help…me,” the boy whispered before passing out completely.
“We need to get him inside and let him rest.” Jayden crouched beside him. “He’s obviously one of us.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s peaceful,” Eleuia responded.
“I’ll take care of him,” Jayden said. “I’ll be responsible for whatever happens.”
The entire group stopped and stared in silence.
“What? Like I can’t be responsible?”
Hawa set her hand on Jay’s shoulder. “I’ll help…just in case.”
Zanya’s mother looked at Arwan. “What do you think? This is your house now. Should he stay?”
Arwan was silent for a long stretch of time.
“Please.” Jayden shifted his weight. “I was this kid…we all were. We were all lost until Renato found us. The least we can do is pay it forward and carry on his legacy.”
Arwan’s rigid muscles relaxed, and he nodded. “Okay. But he stays in the west wing, with you. Put in him a bedroom with a door that locks, and keep it locked until we know who he is and what he wants.”
Jayden acted without hesitation and scooped the boy up off the floor. “It’s gonna be okay, kid. Hang in there.” Hawa followed him to the west wing.
Tara clung to Peter. “How do you think he found us, or knew who we are?”
“I don’t know, but we can’t take any chances.” Arwan scanned the faces in the group. “This means there are others out there. Others we don’t know about, but who know about us.”
“And that means we’re vulnerable,” Eleuia said.
“But I thought it was over. Now that Sarian, Contessa, and the old King of the Underworld are dead…” Tara bit her bottom lip. “It is over with, right?”
Arwan’s eyes narrowed as he seemingly searched his mind for an answer. “The truth is, there is no way to tell for certain. New threats could rise any day. We have to always be prepared, just in case.”
Jayden and Hawa walked back into the main foyer. “Well…” Jay ran his fingers through his hair. “The kid’s asleep.”
“He can’t be older than thirteen,” Hawa said. “What’s he doing out there alone like that?”
“I don’t know,” Peter said. “But it’s kind of cool—his ability, I mean.”
Zanya recalled shifting once before, and it hurt like hell. If she could avoid it, she would, and couldn’t imagine that being the only ability she had.
“Maybe…” Jayden shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “Maybe we can keep him?”
Eleuia snorted. “Like he’s a stray dog who wandered in?”
“No. Like he’s an abandoned kid who needs someone to protect him.”
Tara furrowed her brow. “Who are you?”
“He has a point.” Hawa leaned in close to him and lowered her voice. “Like at Thirteenth Street.” She glanced at him shyly—the first time ever Zanya had seen her look even remotely close to being shy.
Jayden grinned and winked at her, then looked back to the group. “I’m just saying. Everyone needs a place to call home.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Arwan
Hours passed and night had fallen over the quiet estate. Tomorrow they would break ground on the graveyard project, where Eleuia had already mapped out the tombs for Yousef, Ahmed, and Renato. To think they needed their very own graveyard was a chilling reminder.
Arwan walked barefoot through the silent house to do his nightly rounds. The familiar wooden floors in the main wing gave him comfort. As he passed by the entrance to the west wing, he could hear Jayden and the newcomer talking from the living room on the other side of the door. He paused and listened to Jayden’s calm, steady tone as he investigated the kid’s background. Arwan couldn’t help but be surprised at the seeker’s softer side. He would be good
at welcoming any others in the future—if they were to come. Perhaps that had been his calling all along.
Tara’s quirky voice raised above Jayden’s—loud, as was her nature, though he’d grown to care about Tara more than he ever imagined. He recalled the first time he met her in the kitchen, while she picked at a stack of Peter’s burned pancakes. Everything was new and confusing. He had no idea what to expect of the spunky redhead, and now saw her like a younger sister.
They still hadn’t figured out what to do about her mortality. The idea of changing her to Riyata was not out of the question, though it was something they hadn’t revisited since they returned home. Perhaps one day soon they would speak to Zanya about it. But for now, they would have to leave it in the hands of fate.
Arwan continued past Renato’s old wing where Eleuia now stayed. It was quiet, except the sound of gentle sobs from somewhere inside. Arwan’s throat tightened. Eleuia had lost so much. It was only natural that she would need time to mourn the loss of her stone, her brother, and her granddaughter.
Arwan lowered his head as a sharp pain pierced his heart.
He also needed time. Thankfully, Zanya had tuned into that, and was giving him the space he needed to heal and move forward.
He continued his rounds, past the north wing where Marzena lived. Classical music flowed from inside. She and Renato shared the same passion for classical music, and now the dreamwalker—who had been Renato’s friend and confidante for many centuries—was alone.
He moved on, making a full circle back to the main wing.
Smooth, gentle notes carried through the air, catching his attention. He followed the sound up the grand staircase and down the hall to the bedroom he shared with his soul mate, and opened the door.
She played another note, then paused and lowered her violin to her lap. “Oh, hey.” Her cheeks flushed with color. “I hope I didn’t bother you.”
“Not at all.” He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “I’m glad to see you playing again.”
“Yeah. It’s been a long, long time.”
He walked to the far end of the room and sat on the chaise, watching her. She fiddled with the strings, plucking them one at a time with her fingertip, and stealing a glance at him every few seconds.
He crossed his arms and slouched down, fatigue coiling his muscles. He hadn’t slept well for the last week, and it was taking its toll. Maybe a little music would help. “Don’t let me stop you.” He nodded at the instrument. “Please, keep playing.”
She tucked the violin under her chin and held the bow with a soft, delicate hand. As she dragged the bow over the strings, the room filled with a relaxing melody, easing his mind.
Arwan closed his eyes as he fell deeper into the song. With each note, his spirit swelled with admiration for the woman who owned his heart.
Moments later, a stretched note ended the tune. He opened his eyes to see her stand from the bed and walk toward him with her hand extended. “Come on. You’re tired, and you need some sleep.”
“That noticeable?” He took her hand and forced himself to stand.
She didn’t walk back to the bed, but instead stood in front of him and slid her arms around his body. Zanya breathed, her chest rising and falling with the action, her heart rate rising. She slid her fingers under his shirt and slipped her hands around to his stomach and down his abs. “I miss you.”
He may have been exhausted to the bone, but no amount of fatigue would keep him from being close to the woman whose soul was bound to his. He kissed her, softly at first. But the way she pressed her body against his made his skin rush with heat.
He wrapped his hands around the back of her thighs and hauled her onto his waist so she straddled him while he stood. Zanya coiled her arms around his neck and parted her lips, kissing him deeper.
He walked to the bed and eased her down, hovering his body over hers. She stripped off her shirt and threw it aside, then buried her fingers in his hair and pulled him closer.
Hot breath rushed from her nose as she slid her tongue over his.
His skin prickled and his stomach flipped. He would be forever obsessed with the way her mouth tasted, and the warmth of her body against his.
He broke their kiss and ran his mouth down her neck, chest, and down her stomach, where he worked to unhook her leather belt. She arched her back and breathed in, her heart racing under his touch. He could hear it, just like he sensed the wave of heat over her skin and the rise in her endorphins. Sometimes having inhuman senses was overwhelming, but in this rare case, they enriched the experience.
When he unclasped her belt and worked open the button to her jeans, he trailed more kisses over her stomach.
Her heart skipped faster.
Abnormally faster.
He paused and looked up at her face. She didn’t seem to be in distress.
He positioned his hands on either side of her waist and looked at her belly…
It was impossible.
He pressed his ear to the gentle curve of her stomach below her belly button, and closed his eyes.
Quick ticks echoed from inside.
He pulled back and gazed at her stomach, then at her face.
Zanya pushed up on her forearms. “What’s wrong?”
Arwan smiled—a full, uninhibited smile.
Zanya tilted her head. “What?”
The grief in his heart lifted, pulling a laugh out of his chest. He had never been so happy in his life. Not ever.
Epilogue
Zanya
Two years later…
“Ren, you can’t put that in your mouth.” Eleuia picked Zanya’s son up off the beach and wiggled the shell out of his chubby hand. “It’ll cut your gums.”
“His name isn’t Ren, Mom.” Zanya crinkled her nose and wiped grains of sand from her son’s olive skin. “It’s Renato. I don’t want him getting used to nicknames.”
“Fine, fine.” Her mother handed her son over and brushed her hands together. “I’m going to get lunch ready. Where’s Arwan?”
Zanya sensed his approach and turned to see him walking toward them on the beach.
“Speak of the underworld king.”
Zanya rolled her eyes. “Very funny.”
“Oh, come on. You’ve lost your sense of humor since this little boy came into the world.” Her mother pinched Renato’s cheeks and kissed his neck, making him giggle. Renato threw his arms around Zanya and hugged her neck so tightly he nearly cut off her air. She widened her eyes and took his arm, uncoiling it so she could breathe. “Careful, son. You’re stronger than you know.”
“He’s stronger, faster, and more skilled than all of us,” Arwan said with a broad smile.
Renato flailed his arms and screeched, reaching out for his father.
Arwan stole him from Zanya and threw him in the air, making her son’s eyes light up with joy—and maybe a little magic.
“Okay, I’m off,” Eleuia said. “Salad with fresh bass and gnocchi. Sound good?” Without waiting for a response, her mother spoke in the high-pitched baby tone she often used when talking to Renato. “Because my big boy loves his gnocchi, doesn’t he?” She tickled his tummy. Renato belly laughed while kicking the air with his bare feet.
While her mother walked away, Arwan set Renato onto the warm sand and crossed his arms, staring down at their son. “Enough play. Now it’s time to train.”
Zanya arched an eyebrow. “Train? He’s barely walking, and you expect him to do any of the fancy capoeira moves you try to teach Peter?”
“It’s never too early to start.”
She bit her tongue. If teaching their son made Arwan happy, it made her happy too.
She’d learned to pick her battles.
Just two years ago, having a child had been wiped out of the equation when they thought they’d lost their chance.
Then to discover, despite all odds, their miracle had pulled through after nearly vanishing forever—undetectable in its weakened state, even to the sto
ne itself.
And on their child’s birthday, to find out the daughter they had been so elated to welcome into the world was, in fact, a son.
Her son.
Nobody knew what it meant for the long line of stone guardians. Was she the very last? Or would Renato one day inherit the stone? Nothing was certain anymore.
“Hey, hey, hey!” Zanya pointed at the wobbling toddler. “Stop that right now.”
Renato hovered his hand over the ground, with a tiny tree sprouting from the earth. It grew leaps and bounds in front of their eyes.
Arwan snatched him up and tickled him, breaking his concentration. “You know how your mother feels about you growing trees when you’re bored.”
“It’s only a problem when he decides to do it in the house. How many times do we have to fix the floors? I’m trying to break him of the habit now, before our home is turned into a rainforest.”
Arwan chuckled. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“Lunch is almost ready.” They turned to her mother, who shouted from the kitchen door. “You guys coming inside?”
“Be right there,” Arwan shouted. When her mother went back inside, Arwan looked into Renato’s face. “How about you show Grandma how to grow trees later? She’d get a kick out of it.”
Renato nodded.
Arwan put Renato back onto the sand and waved them forward. “Come on, let’s get inside before your mom comes out here. You know how she gets when she has to repeat herself.”
Zanya snorted. “Yeah, I know.” She extended her hand to Renato. “Come on. Time to go inside for lunch, and then a nap.”
Her son’s light gray eyes darkened, and he pushed out his bottom lip.
“Nope. That’s not going to work this time.” She wiggled her fingers with her hand still outstretched. “Let’s go.”
Renato looked at the tree he’d grown. Still upset, he touched one of its leaves, making it shrivel. The rest of the tree quickly wilted, turning to a dry, brittle stick in the ground.
Zanya watched her son stomp back to the house with his arms crossed over his chest.
Birthright (The Stone Legacy Series Book 5) Page 27
