Birthright (The Stone Legacy Series Book 5) (11 page)

Chapter Twenty

Zanya

“So are you going to tell me what happened?” Zanya sat on their bed beside him, careful not to spill the basin of water infused with herbs that Drina had made. The mixture smelled a little like tea tree and chamomile, meant to calm him after the ordeal.

Arwan closed his eyes as she dipped a rag into the liquid and pressed it over his forehead.

“The others are worried.” There was no point in saying why. It would only hurt him.

“They should be. I couldn’t control it. Contessa’s darkness, it…” He looked away from her, seemingly searching for the right words. “It’s like her darkness brought mine to life. Like they fed on each other, and it was too much for me to hold in.” He tried to sit up, but it was obvious he was still too tender to do much more than lie still on the bed.

She didn’t remember him being this drained after his first shift in the underworld, or his second shift in the jungle—except she almost killed him then. “How did you turn back?”

He lifted his gaze. “I couldn’t at first. I wanted to, but the beast was too strong.”

“For being…changed, you seemed to still be yourself on the inside. I mean, you didn’t hurt me. You didn’t seem to want to, either. It was more like you were protecting me.”

“Always.” He set his hand on hers. “No matter what.”

“So…” She bit her lip. Probing could cause him to pull away, but there were certain things she had to know. “Can you remember everything from when you’re…changed?” That seemed to be the gentlest way to word it. “Are all of your thoughts your own? Like, do you know who you are, and who I am?”

“Everything’s the same, except I can hear every sound, smell scents from miles away, and see ten times better than when I’m in my human form.”

“That’s got to be overwhelming.”

“It almost drove me insane.” He slipped his fingers between hers. “But it was you. You were what brought me back. In the jungle alone, knowing I had something to return to. That’s what brought me back to myself. The bond we have is stronger than the darkness, and I knew you were waiting for me.”

She leaned forward and pressed a kiss on his forehead. “Always.”

He winced as the mattress moved when she sat back. “That bad, huh?” She set the bowl of liquid on the floor. “This remedy Drina mixed up isn’t going to heal you as fast as I can.”

“You need to keep your strength. Especially after today.”

“And
I
need
you
to be at your best if Contessa or the tree attack again, so stop whining and hold still.” She pressed her hands over his bare chest and channeled healing heat into his body. His tense muscles eased and his chest sank with a deep exhale. She lifted her hands and smirked in a
that-wasn’t-so-hard-after-you-stopped-being-an-ass
kind of way.

He touched her cheek. “Thank you.”

A stern knock on their bedroom door commanded Zanya to stand. She narrowed her eyes. Anyone knocking that hard better have a damn good reason. “Who is it?”

“Your mother.”

The room fell silent. Zanya glanced at Arwan, who waited for her to decide what to do without giving his own preferences. He didn’t argue not to let her in, or even grimace at the sound of her voice. He had every right to do those things, but chose to be a better man.

Yet more proof he wasn’t who her mother claimed him to be.

Zanya walked to the door and cracked it open just enough to look her in the eyes. She tried not to seem bitter or cold. There was already enough tension to go around.

“Everything okay in there?”

Zanya bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying something she’d regret later. “Do you need something?”

“Renato and I are setting up a training ring for you outside.”

“Now? I’m kind of busy with—”

“You need to train. That much is obvious from how you performed today.”

“How I
performed
?” The light in her chest glowed as a result of her annoyance.

Her mother’s gaze flickered to the luminance, and she frowned. “It must be hard to keep your mark as the guardian hidden when it’s in such an obvious place.” This time her words came out smooth and genuine, easing the heat in Zanya’s gut.

“It can be challenging.” Her light dimmed until it was once again gone.

“So…” Her mother stole a peek over her head, into the room. “How is he?”

“Not trying to tear my throat out, if that’s what you’re asking.”

She snapped her jaw shut. “What should I tell Renato? Are you coming or not?”

“Go.” Arwan’s voice was raspy, but bolder than before. Zanya turned to see him sitting up, obviously stronger now that she’d healed him. “She’s right. You need to train. I’m fine.”

Zanya turned back to her mother. “Tell Renato I’ll be down in five minutes.”

“Use your powers and tell him yourself. You need all the practice you can get. Oh.” She reached for something on the floor, sitting just out of sight. “I forgot to give this to you.” She extended a small duffle bag. “Thought you might need it.”

Zanya took it from her hand, and before she could ask what was in it, her mother had walked away. She shut the door, staring down at the bag. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You can do it,” Arwan said.

“You don’t even know what I’m talking about.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He threw off the blankets and slipped on a pair of shorts over his boxers. “Whatever it is, you can do it.”

A soft smile spread across her lips. “Thanks. At least you’re confident in me.”

Arwan walked to the dresser and took a folded t-shirt out of a drawer. “They need you. We all do.” He pulled it over his head, and let out a small groan as he slipped his arms into the sleeves.

Moving around was a good sign, though he was moving slower and more cautiously than usual. Still, it was enough to make her feel okay about leaving him alone in the room for a while.

Arwan gestured to the duffle bag. “What is it?”

“Let’s find out.” She set it on the foot of the bed and yanked open the zipper. Her leather training gear was inside. She skimmed her fingers over the smooth surface, touching several scuffs and dents along the way. These were her mother’s from years ago. Zanya had found them in Renato’s house and worn them during her last training session, when she learned how to sprint like Hawa.

Here it was again, this time formally gifted by her mother.

The small bit of recognition was appreciated.

“It’s my training gear.” She lifted the top piece out of the bag.

“Are you going to wear it?”

“I don’t know. Should I?”

Arwan walked past her and opened the door, pausing in the threshold. “Maybe she needs to see you in it. For closure.”

She set the training gear on the bed. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll be there to watch you train. I just need to talk to Renato first.”

***

Arwan

Arwan walked through the living room and past Balam, who was in his jaguar form, huddled beside the fireplace. Cualli had been gone since the group arrived, probably tending to her duties to the plants and flowers that needed her.

When he opened the front door, Zanya’s mother was there. She stood up straight, watching him with narrow eyes.

He squared his jaw. “Waiting for Zanya?”

“Yep.” She eyed him. “Feeling better?”

He nodded. “Thank you.” He walked past her toward the group’s camp.

“Don’t thank me,” she mumbled. “If it were up to me, we would have put you down like the dog you are.”

He froze, heat simmering in his bones. He turned and faced her.

She raised a single brow. “Careful,
half-breed
. Don’t let that anger get the best of you. It could turn you into a real beast.” She grinned.

“I’m glad to see you are feeling well enough to be on your feet again.” Renato’s familiar voice rescued Arwan from the moment. He turned to his mentor, who paused, his gaze flickering between Arwan and Zanya’s mother, Eleuia. “Is everything all right?”

Eleuia walked forward and bumped her shoulder against Arwan’s as she passed. “Fine. I was waiting for Zanya to come out for her training, but she’s taking a while to get changed. I’ll go wait with the others.” She peered up at the sky. “We’re running out of daylight.”

“Duly noted,” Renato said. “I’ll be sure to retrieve her if she’s much longer.”

Eleuia seemed satisfied with her brother’s response, and joined the others, all waiting in a tight group.

“Did you know?”

Renato returned his attention to Arwan and slightly cocked his head. “What?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He shifted his weight. “Tell me you didn’t know all this time.”

Renato had been by his side since he was a young boy. He was there when his mother left. He taught Arwan how to cope with his nightmares. He was even there the first time he turned.

Arwan would never forget the first night he transformed into something unworldly. How terrified he was. The unimaginable pain of that first shift. The years that followed, confused and panicked every time he felt the darkness within him flare to life.

“I knew you were different.” Renato looked him straight in the eyes. “Your mother did not give me any history on you before she left. She did not tell me what your future would hold, or how painful it would be as a foster parent as I grew to love you like my own son, and was then forced to watch you face your darkest fears. It was only after Drina told me you were dark that I knew, and by then you were my family. By then, it was too late to turn you away.”

A burst of fury tore out of Arwan, and he grabbed Renato by the shirt and slammed him against a stone pillar. His hands shook. His breath quivered as he fought to contain the beast. “Do you know who my mother is?”

Renato’s eyes narrowed. “Your mother was a windthrower from the north. No matter her mistakes, she cared for you a great deal.”

“A windthrower.” Arwan loosened his grip. “Nothing else.”

“Else?” Renato’s features softened. “What else would there be?”

It was the defining moment he was looking for.

Renato did not know.

The front door opened and Zanya stepped out. She froze when she spotted Renato pinned to the stone beam.

Renato used a counterattack move and broke Arwan’s grip, then spun him around and locked his arm under Arwan’s chin. “And
that
is how you dissolve a threat even when your back is against a wall.”

Arwan tapped on his mentor’s forearm, cuing him to let go.

Zanya smirked and walked toward the group. “Come on you two. Enough private lessons. We have work to do.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Zanya

“So where are we going to practice?” Zanya walked to the group, huddled on the protected stone platform. “We don’t have a lot of space.”

“I think we can be of some good.” Grima looked at her cousin, Beigarth. “Ye up for a wee bit of work?”

“Aye. Let’s give it a whirl.”

The two petrifiers walked to the edge of the platform and crouched down, hovering on the brink of the protective circle. “If space is what ye need.” Beigarth pressed his index finger on the ground. “Space is what ye’ll get.”

Grima pressed her hand to the soil and closed her eyes. The two sat still and silent, channeling their abilities into the ground.

Crackles and pops spouted from the earth as the ground turned a murky gray. The petrifiers pushed their ability out further, consuming whatever lay in its path, and turning it to stone.

Zanya’s jaw dropped. Before her eyes, the soil, leaves, trees, and whatever was left of dead roots from Yaxche was immediately hardened and petrified.

When Grima and Beigarth stood, a large training circle stretched in front of them.

Beigarth pushed out his chest. “And that, lass, is how it is done.”

Tara squealed with delight from behind her. “That was freaking awesome!” She pointed to another part of the forest. “Do it again, over there. Or there.”

Zanya chuckled. “Do you want to be the one to explain to Cualli why half her jungle is rock?”

Tara froze, then lowered her hand. “On second thought…”

Zanya looked back at Grima and Beigarth. “That
was
pretty badass.”

“Too bad we can’t use it,” Hawa said. “It’s not protected like the rest of the house.”

Everyone turned and stared at Drina, who stood beside a pillar. “It needs to be done.” She retrieved her knife for the second time and mumbled. “Just when my last cut healed.” Then hobbled toward the new training ring to create a fresh protective barrier with her blood.

“While Drina’s taking care of that,” she cringed, “let’s figure out what I’m learning first.”

Eadith, the tall, French fire conjurer, stepped forward. Her blonde hair was pulled back, making her face seem even thinner than usual, with high cheekbones and full, pouty lips. “Your fire conjuring skills are…”

“Non-existent.” Zanya shrugged. “Seems like as good a place to start as any.”

They waited a few minutes for Drina to finish, and when she was done, Renato signaled for the others to spread out. “Remember, stay inside the training ring and you will be safe. Venture outside, onto the soil, you are putting your life at risk.”

“I think that’s pretty easy to remember,” Jayden said. “Don’t get eaten alive by evil tree—check.”

They all settled in place, and a tiny thrill ran through Zanya when Eadith’s eyes sparked with light.

Zanya had never conjured fire before. It was an ability she’d read about in the scribes’ journals at Renato’s house, but the idea of making fire appear from nowhere was a little more than scary. She could have set the house on fire, or worse, herself.

“The key,” Eadith said as she walked to the center of the ring, “is finding the fire within you first.”

“Within me? How do I do that?”

“Some people feed off of their anger. Others use passion.” Eadith held out her hand, palm facing up. She cupped her fingers. “Use whatever gives you the most energy and focus on that. Then, you start with a spark.” Electricity rolled over her skin.

Zanya’s lips parted. “I’ve been using the currents for a while now.”

“Yeah.” Jayden scoffed. “Mostly to zap me.”

Eadith ignored Jayden’s comment and continued without missing a beat. “Good, then you’re halfway there. It takes a spark to make a flame. You must push yourself further and create more heat.” She rubbed her fingers together until a tiny flame flickered to life.

Zanya lifted her hand and drew in a breath. “First a spark, then a flame,” she whispered to herself. She closed her eyes, summoning a current of electricity to roll down her arm. The energy buzzed in her ears. Then she channeled it to her fingertips. The effort flickered, like a pop of static electricity, and then fizzled out. Zanya dropped her hand. “What do
you
use to channel your ability?”

Eadith’s features hardened. “I remember my sister’s laughter.” From her expression, Zanya knew it was a bittersweet memory. The flame in Eadith’s hand grew into a rolling ball of flames, reflecting in her teary eyes. She wound her arm back and pitched the flame at a nearby petrified tree, striking the trunk and splitting the hundred-year-old mammoth in half. The stone cracked and crumbled to the jungle floor.

Zanya knew little about Eadith’s past. In fact, she didn’t know much about any of the newcomers, except they were there to fight by her side and win this war. Even if it meant laying down their lives. Truth be told, she didn’t need to know any more than that.

“Okay.” Zanya squared her stance and tried again. She focused on the heat deep in her gut and channeled it to her right hand. The sparks came, along with a metallic taste in her mouth.

“Concentrate,” Eadith said. “Command your abilities to work for you. Demand they do as you say. Build the heat until it threatens to explode out of you. Then envision that heat as
fire
.”

Zanya held her breath and bore down. Heat crawled through her veins, making her body pulse with the need to set it free. The currents of electricity changed color, and the hair on her arms stood on end, followed by strands of her hair rising, ticking her scalp.

She needed to push harder. One last rush should be enough. She could feel it—deep in her bones. Zanya called on her stone for help, and when it answered, a succession of images scrolled through her mind—seeing her mother for the first time, and then the day she bonded with her stone. She dug deeper, and found the moment the lights of aurora touched her and Arwan, weaving their souls together forever.

A pulse of electricity shot down her arm. Zanya sucked in a breath when a flame sparked to life, wavering in the palm of her hand.

She smiled brightly and looked at Eadith. “I did it!”

“Now grow the flame. Find that memory and hold onto it. Channel that emotion into the fire.”

Zanya reached for the memory of the exact moment they bonded. Her heart leapt and her mind jumped to the two of them on their first night together—his tight muscle packed under warm skin. His hot breath when it teased the curve of her neck. Their bond deepening—breakable only by death.

The heat in her hand grew until the ball of fire was the size of a grape, then an egg, and then a grapefruit. Soon the fire was too hot to hold close, and she was forced to stretch her hand away from her face.

“Now throw it,” Eadith commanded.

Zanya’s gaze scanned the faces of group. “Make a way.” They clustered on one of two sides, leaving a gaping path in the center.

She chucked the flame like a softball—but it didn’t get far.

The fire broke apart as soon as she threw it, scattering over the group and landing in tiny balls of inferno over herself and the jungle floor.

Zanya screeched and frantically flicked the flames off her clothing. The tiny burn marks healed within seconds. “What the hell!”

“It takes practice,” Eadith said.

“Did that happen to you when you first started?”

“No. Never.”

Zanya flicked the last of the flames from her clothes. “That’s comforting.”

“Practice. Don’t give up.” Eadith rejoined the group.

“Okay.” Zanya shook it off and turned back to the others. “Who is next?” Her gaze landed on the Arab windthrowers. “I kind of already have the whole wind manipulation thing down, I think.” Renato quickly translated for the twins. The two chattered in their native tongue before the short one, Ahmed, stepped forward.

She’d always known the brothers to be lighthearted, goofy guys. They appeared to be teenagers, maybe seventeen or so, and had always provided a bit of comic relief. But now, as the young man stepped forward, his already dark eyes seemed to grow darker as his youthful features sobered.

Ahmed slipped the string of prayer beads over his head and gave a crooked smile. He snapped his hands forward, pushing a gust of wind toward Zanya. It slammed into her like a train and knocked her to the ground, tearing the air from her lungs.

She coughed and wheezed, forcing herself to her feet before she was really ready to stand. She stumbled and caught herself, then stood, clutching her stomach. She ground her teeth and jutted her hands out, throwing a counterattack.

Ahmed’s eyes widened, and the wall of wind slammed into him, throwing him back into the group. His twin brother, Yousef, caught him around the arms and squinted as dirt and leaves smacked into them, carried by the gust.

Peter chuckled. “Nice.”

“It seems you have no trouble with that ability,” Renato stated, his chest puffed out. “Very good.”

Sweat collected on Zanya’s brow. “It’s tiring, though.” She pushed stray hairs out of her face and stood up straight, recovered from the wind assault. “Who’s next?”

“Perhaps you should rest,” Marzena said, standing beside Renato. “You are young and gifted, but you have a weakness. Show
that
, and your enemy will prey on it, using it to their advantage.”

“There’s no time for her to rest,” her mother said. “She has to push forward, tired or not.”

It was tough to say, but her mother was right. “Like I said, who’s next?” She looked at Grima and Beigarth, standing side-by-side. “I don’t know how to do your ability.” She waved them forward. “Come on down.” Once she said it, she realized it sounded like the intro to a bad game show.

The two Vikings looked at each other and remained silent.

“I believe their ability is a bit…advanced,” Renato said. “Perhaps you should wait until you’re completely recovered.”

Before her mother could speak, Zanya responded. “No. Contessa could strike at any time. It’s now or never, right?”

Her mother stepped forward, a bit of humility in her gaze. “I think Renato’s right. This one is too much.”

“Weren’t you the one who just said I had to push forward no matter how tired I am?”

“Yes, but not with this. I couldn’t even perform their ability.”

“Maybe that’s because you didn’t try hard enough.”

Her mother lifted her chin, holding her gaze. “I know you think this whole thing is about you, but you staying alive is imperative to all of us. That’s something you still haven’t learned, because you’re inexperienced and
stubborn
.”

“Wonder where I get that from.”

“This is not a productive use of our time,” Renato interrupted.

“I think she should learn every ability,” Hawa said. “The more weapons we have, the better.”

“I don’t get it.” Jayden shoved his hands in his pocket. “What’s the harm in trying?”

“Children.” That word, coming from Marzena, caught all of their attention. “Wisdom in combat is perhaps the most vital weapon of all. If an ability is too powerful to master, using your strongest powers is a wiser option.”

“What’s up with everyone being so…scared?” Zanya gave Jayden a “please shut up” glare. He shrugged. “What? Am I the only one who sees it?”

Of course, he didn’t shut up.

“I understand what you’re saying, but how dangerous could it be? This is what I’m meant to do, right? If anyone should try to master all abilities, it’s me.”

Grima stepped forward. “Aye, lass. But it’s a power ye cannot learn.”

“Why?”

“Because we will not teach ye.” Beigarth’s voice contrasted Grima’s warm, caring tone.

“Why not?”

“It’s too dangerous, lass.” Grima made an obvious effort to have a sweeter approach. “Listen to us. We are doing ye right. Ye just don’t see it yet.”

A long silence thickened the air.

Peter was the first to speak. “Well, if that’s it for today, I think we should get the fire going.” Peter took Tara’s hand. “It’ll be dark soon.”

The group loitered a moment, and then dispersed without further discussion.

Zanya stood in place, watching as they meandered back to camp.

Arwan was the only one left standing in the new training circle. “Are you okay?”

“What the hell just happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why…” She touched her brow with a tinge of sweat on it. “Why didn’t they want to teach me? I don’t get it. I need to know everything. The more I know, the better.”

Arwan examined her. “Are you okay? You look pale.” He pressed his hand to her forehead. “No fever.”

“I’m fine. I heal, remember?”

“Yes, but if your powers are drained, they may not work.”

Her focus shifted to Balam stalking out of the jungle with a dead boar hanging in his jaws. He dragged it to her feet and dropped it. Blood oozed from its blunt nostrils.