Birthright (The Stone Legacy Series Book 5) (26 page)

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.

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.”