“These are our travel itineraries.”
When he handed one to Tara, her eyes lit up with excitement. “I’m going? Seriously?” She clasped the envelope against her chest and beamed up at Renato.
He chuckled and nodded. “Yes, seriously.” The word pushed out of his lips in an unnatural way. “The solstice would not be the same without you.”
Jayden was the first to examine the tickets. “A train. Sweet.”
“I was not sure if everyone had the necessary paperwork to fly, and Guatemala is not far.”
“It’s comin’ up quick.” Beigarth clenched his fist in front of him and flexed his arm. “I can feel it in me veins.”
Renato smirked. “Our new friend is right. The winter solstice is around the corner, and this will be the first year we travel with a group since Ellie left.” He took a moment, and then exhaled. His gaze rested gently on Zanya’s mother. “It feels remarkable to be able to speak about you as being alive.”
Her mother bowed her head in a playful gesture.
“This’ll be the lass’s first year.” Grima’s chubby cheeks pushed out in a broad smile. “She’s a wee bit wet behind the ears, she is.”
Heat rose in Zanya’s face. “Yeah.” She cleared her throat and turned to her uncle. “Mom told me you would explain more about the lights?”
Renato finished passing out the envelopes, leaving two on his desk. One had to be his, and the other must have been for Arwan, who was absent from the meeting.
“The lights of Aurora are more commonly known as the Aurora Borealis, or northern lights.”
“I’ve seen pictures of them. But I thought you could only see them in really cold places like Alaska and Canada.”
“A common misconception.” Renato removed his pipe from his desk and lit it with a strike of a match. “The lights of Aurora are visible from anywhere in the Northern Hemisphere. In fact—” Plumes of smoke filled the air. “The Maya were the first to recognize the power behind the lights. Then, in 1621, a French scientist named Pierre Gassendi named the lights after the Roman goddess of dawn, Aurora. He was an eccentric fellow for a man of science, as I recall. And I was beside myself when I learned the lights had been named after a Roman goddess rather than a Mayan goddess.”
Eleuia groaned. “Please don’t get him started on that again. We’ll never hear the end of it.”
Zanya chuckled. “So, what do you know about the power of the lights?”
“Scientists long ago disclosed how the lights occur. When highly charged electrons from the solar winds collide with elements in our planet’s atmosphere—like nitrogen and oxygen, for example—the interacting elements create the illuminations. The color depends on which gases meet.”
“Okay, but I don’t see how that applies to us.”
“The one variable that scientists—or any other people on earth—have failed to consider is how the gases are pushed down.”
Zanya raised her eyebrows. “Um.” She wanted to be able to offer an intelligent answer, but she fell flat.
“The reason the gases are pushed down, the reason the winter solstice is so precious to us, and the reason bonds are able to be made, is because the gods of Tamoanchan descend from the heavens, moving through the atmosphere as they descend to earth, and grace us with an affirmation that yet another spring will be underway.”
“But…” She squeezed out of her cramped seat and leaned against the armrest. “What you’re saying is we’re actually going to see the heaven gods—the gods of Tamoanchan?”
“No, not see them. No one has ever actually laid eye on the heaven deities. But when two Riyata choose to bond, the gods use the lights as a means to embrace the couple’s commitment. That is how the bond is sealed.”
She stiffened her lips and looked away. “Or the gods just decide for you that you can’t bond.” She couldn’t hold back the bitterness edging her tone. She glanced up at her uncle. “You know. No free will and all that jazz.”
“They do not decide for us. Usually we decide for ourselves, as everyone else has the right to. But just as a fish and a bird cannot live beside one another, some bloodlines are just not compatible. Two Riyata are fully compatible, and the gods pair them as a favor.”
“But shouldn’t two people be able to decide on their own if they want to be together?”
Her mother huffed. Zanya glanced over her shoulder, and her mom shrugged. “Sorry. It’s just that you remind me of myself when I was your age.”
“And exactly how long ago was that?”
Her mother’s lips fell open. “Touché.”
“Regardless,” Renato continued, “the gods of Tamoanchan have been around much longer than any of us, and it is with our best interest in mind that these rules are set in place.”
The echo of footsteps on the wood floor caught Zanya’s attention. She turned to see Arwan walk into the study and cross the room toward Renato.
“Ah. Just in time.” Her uncle extended the envelope.
“What’s this?”
“Travel plans,” Hawa leaned against Renato’s desk, using her envelope as a fan. “Solstice, remember?”
He silently examined the envelope in Renato’s hand. “I don’t know if I’ll be going this year.”
Renato quickly removed the pipe from his mouth. “Why wouldn’t you attend?”
Arwan glanced at Zanya. She did her best not to show any visible signs of the anxiety bubbling in her chest. He dragged his gaze to her mother and then to the other faces in the room. “Of course I want to go. And I would…” He turned toward Eleuia. “But only if it’s all right with you.”
Eleuia stood in silence.
Arwan stepped forward, never breaking eye contact with her. “I will only attend if you allow me to travel as part of the group. With you, your daughter, and the rest of the Riyata. Otherwise, I’ll stay behind. It’s your first solstice since you’ve come home, and I won’t impose on it if I’m not wanted.”
The room fell silent.
Zanya’s skin burned with anticipation. He’d been through so much. For him to stay behind while everyone attended the celebration would be like rubbing salt in his wounds. Maybe she couldn’t be with him—wouldn’t be with him—but that didn’t mean he deserved to be excommunicated.
Her mother examined him. “You’re serious.”
When Arwan didn’t respond, her lips slowly closed, and she looked at Zanya, who tensed under her sudden attention. Eleuia looked back at Arwan. “Fine. Come along, half-breed. It’s not as though you’ll be able to do anything anyway.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Zanya
Zanya shoved and pushed through the crowds in the train station. She gasped when someone shoulder-checked her, nearly knocking her off-balance. She glared back at the stranger, readying an energy ball that would zap him so hard it would burn the hairs off his ass.
Her mother grabbed her arm. “Keep walking.” She pulled Zanya’s forward. “I’ve seen that look before.”
“I wasn’t going to do anything,” Zanya mumbled.
“Somehow I don’t believe you.”
“I’m sorry.” Renato acted as a plow to clear a path for Marzena, who followed close behind him. “It is just days before Christmas celebrations, so even the train station here in Guatemala is rather busy.”
“No kidding,” Tara said, clinging to Peter’s arm.
The train ride had been long. Thankfully she’d had her own bunk with a travel-size pillow, a soft mattress, and thick velvet curtains that blocked out the light. With the rhythmic motion of the train, she was able to sleep through most of the trip. And when she wasn’t asleep, she lay back in her bunk and played an imaginary violin, humming the notes while she glided the air-bow over the strings. When they returned home she would start playing again. She longed for the peace it gave her.
They hiked to the outskirts of the train station, where taxis and busses waited along the curb. “We have to take two cabs,” Renato said. He flagged down a six-passeng
er transport van. When it pulled up, Renato opened the front passenger door and pointed to another van behind them. “There is another cab for the rest of you.”
Zanya slipped into Renato’s cab, taking the window seat. Tara and Peter sat in the far back. Hawa settled in beside them. Arwan sat in the seat next to Zanya.
Zanya curled into her seat and turned her attention to the commuters hustling past. Part of her wished the winter solstice would just pass and she could go back to feeling like herself again. Sure, her powers were stronger than ever, but her emotions were all over the place, and she could barely stand the constant longing that haunted her every waking moment.
The van creaked and rocked to the side when Beigarth took a seat beside Arwan. His freckled lips rose into a full smile. “Ye ready, lad?” He elbowed Arwan in the ribs.
He grunted from the blow and nodded. “Ready.”
Beigarth clenched his fist in front of him and flexed his arm, as if the gesture related everything he wanted to say.
Thanks to the Beigarth’s natural cheer, the weight that had settled in her gut had all but vanished. She turned back to the window and leaned on her bag, watching as more crowds hustled by.
Her focus shifted to Arwan’s reflection in the glass. He was watching her.
The heat radiating from his skin made her uneasy. She secured her grip on her pack. It was just her luck to get stuck beside him the entire ride.
She rested her forehead against the cool glass, and her breath fogged the window.
Beigarth settled deeper in his seat, shifting Arwan even closer. His leg pressed against hers, and her stomach warmed with butterflies. It didn’t take long for the warmth to morph into sharp pains. She gripped her belly.
“Are you okay?” His voice came out in a cool, smooth whisper.
She hated him for talking to her.
If he could only read her thoughts, he’d see how not okay she really was. She nodded, squeezing her eyes shut.
His hand rested on her forearm. “Zanya.”
She balled her fist, and he quickly withdrew his touch.
“Please talk to me,” he said softly. She could barely hear him over the multiple conversations filling the van’s cabin. He leaned in closer. “Can I just say something?”
She fogged the glass again with a long exhale. “What?”
“I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Too little, too late, don’t you think?”
“Yes.” His tone was solemn, which brought her anger down a notch. “I know I can’t say anything to make up for the way I’ve treated you.” He rested his other hand over the top of hers. This time she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. “The truth is, even if I hadn’t kept my secrets, I still don’t deserve you.” He removed his hand from hers, leaving her skin cold.
She clenched her eyes shut, fighting the raw ache in her throat. “You’re such an asshole.”
His deep sigh worsened the ache in her chest. “I hope you can enjoy the solstice. It’s really something. Like nothing you’ve ever experienced.”
Almost an hour later, they arrived at the entrance of the ruins. When the cab finally came to a stop, Zanya impatiently waited for the door to open and her turn to climb out of the taxi.
She and Arwan hadn’t said a word to each other for the rest of the drive.
The shocks squeaked and the van rocked when Beigarth stepped outside. Arwan followed the petrifier, and Zanya sat in the taxi, waiting as the rest of them filed out, until only she, the cab driver, and Renato remained.
Her uncle turned in his seat. “Are you ready, Zanya?”
She gazed out the window at the growing crowd. “Is everyone here Riyata?”
“No. But those who are not Riyata are Maya descendants and locals, all of whom enjoy the holiday as much as we do.”
“So how do we tell the difference between them and the Riyata?”
“Unfortunately, unless the lights reach down and bond them, or they introduce themselves, we won’t.”
“Oh.” She gripped her bag and slid to the end of the bucket seat. Arwan stood just outside, talking to Beigarth. A sad smile found her lips, and she lowered her head.
“Zanya.” Her uncle’s soft voice made her look up. “Are you all right?”
She shrugged.
Renato turned to the driver. “Excusanos un momento, por favor?”
The cabby nodded, stepped out of the taxi, and shut the door behind him.
Renato removed his pipe from the inner pocket of his jacket and ran his finger over the surface, touching the intricate carvings. His expression softened, lost in thought. Her focus shifted to the images carved into the white bone.
Elephants and caribou formed a ring around the pipe’s bowl, and small M shapes mimicked birds soaring in the sky.
Renato’s hand was steady, but the way he breathed, quiet and controlled, made her chest tighten. “Have I ever told you how I acquired this pipe?”
She shook her head.
“This pipe was given to me by my closest friend, Barout. After the Maya civilizations collapsed, many of us separated into clans and lived as nomads. Barout was part of my clan, as was your mother, and dozens of others. His sister also traveled with us.” His gaze slowly drifted into the distance. “Her name was Ysalane.”
Zanya sank back in the seat. The pain with which he spoke her name made it clear he had loved her. “Were you guys bonded?”
Renato shook his head. “Ysalane and I never had the chance to bond.” He was silent for a long moment before he spoke again. “She passed before the solstice arrived that winter. Barout gave this pipe to me the night before he left. I have not seen or spoken to him since. The death of his sister tore the heart from his very chest.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “And from mine.”
She watched Arwan through the open door of the cab. “What was she like?”
“She had a beautiful voice and would often sing fables to keep our spirits high. And she loved the ocean. She wore earrings made of white seashells. They were small and spiraled. She wanted children—” His voice caught. “I miss her so very much. The void in my soul has never been filled.”
Zanya pulled her knees to her chest and searched for something to say, but there was nothing. When someone was cut so deeply, time didn’t always heal the pain.
She rested her chin on top of her knees and peered out the window at the stone temples. Once they’d been the pride of the Maya civilization; now they were only visited by tourists, Mayan descendants, and then the Riyata, who came just once a year for the winter solstice. While she admired the debilitated city, one fact stood out in her mind.
Growing up sucked.
When she was younger, it was easy to blame her heartache on everyone but herself. Her mother for abandoning her. Her father for probably ditching her mom long before she was born—before Zanya knew the truth. Her doctors for not believing she wasn’t crazy. God, if he even existed. She’d been a victim of circumstances her entire life, and believing that made her feel better. A little less responsible for being so screwed up.
As she grew older, she learned she’d have to eventually stop pointing fingers and make the decision to move past the pain. She also realized she’d have to take control of her future and fight for something more than what life had handed her. It was the only option, aside from ruining any chance she had at a real life.
“I don’t want you to live in regret, Zanya. Do not live like me. Arwan is a good man. I understand he wronged you, but regardless of what your mother may say, his heart is not black. It would be such a transgression of love if you robbed yourself of the opportunity to care for someone as much as I cared for Ysalane.”
She smiled softly, and a stinging tear slid down her cheek. “Thanks, Renato.” She shrugged. “But we’re just not meant to be. Even if I could forgive him, we can never be together.” She lowered her head. “It was all a mistake. One big, horrible mistake.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
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Arwan
The air was cool on the evening of the solstice. Arwan drew in a deep breath as he stood alone, admiring the abandoned hills in the lowland. His mind wandered through time, recalling the first winter solstice he’d attended as a young man, when the ruins were not ruins, but mighty temples at their greatest.
He would never forget the first time he stood in the lowlands at the base of the Temple of Tikal, staring at the top of the temple, where the shaman stood beside the ruler of the kingdom. The king and his soothsayer had been dressed in brightly colored clothing and jewelry made of turquoise, gold, and amber.
Large fires were scattered between temples, turning the dark skies orange and red. Attendees dressed for the occasion. Women wore chokers made of coral and decorated their hands and feet with henna, which made their olive skin stand out against the silky moonlight.
Offerings would be placed around the flames—sweet-berry wine, maize, and handmade glass beads served. There was no blood shed that day for sacrifices, as the winter solstice was about life, not death.
But it was the drums that made the solstice truly memorable. As a young man, he’d wandered between the temples, watching musicians gather in groups. They braced drums between their legs and beat their palms over stretched ox-hide, infusing the night with rhythm and life.
“Arwan. Look.” Renato’s voice pulled him back to his current place in time. He turned to the horizon, where the sun slowly dipped below the rigid mountains in the distance. “It will begin soon.”
Renato turned to Zanya and pointed to where they would stand when the lights appeared. The higher they were, the better, which was why royalty had claimed their seats at the top of the ruin in the past. Now no one was allowed on the stone structures, as they had been deemed a world heritage site long ago.
The rest of the newcomers gathered together, excitedly chatting and taking amongst each other. Arwan stood on the outside of the circle and dropped his head. The darker half of him was silent—for now.
A man dragged a crate of food past him, and Arwan pulled off his thin jacket and rested it on the ground. Renato noticed and nodded, giving him permission to help with the preparations.
Lights of Aurora (The Stone Legacy Series Book 3) Page 21
