Birthright (The Stone Legacy Series Book 5) (7 page)

Chapter Twelve

Zanya

“‘That boy?’” Zanya sat back on the cold stone floor. “As in, you’re the son of Star and the underworld king? Like, some kind of half—” She choked on the word, and then parted her lips. “Oh my…” That must have been what Cualli had meant. He was special. A miracle, even.

And Cualli knew the whole time.

Her stone buzzed wildly against her skin, sending her into full-on alarm. She tightened her jaw and turned, searching the open entrance of the ruin. They were being watched. Whether it was Cualli and Balam, or Contessa doing the watching, she couldn’t be sure.

“Come on.” She draped Arwan’s arm over her neck and held him against her hip. “You need to get up. We have to go home.”

Arwan didn’t move.

She pursed her lips. “Arwan. Come on.” Her stone buzzed louder, making her heart race. “Something’s wrong. Someone’s here. We have to go.”

“What?” He dragged his gaze to her face with a blank stare, as if he hadn’t heard anything she’d said.

If they were going to get out of there without risking a toe-to-toe confrontation, she had to snap him out of it. “Sorry about this.” She rubbed her fingers together, building an electrical current over her skin. Energy buzzed over her fingertips, and she thwacked him on the ribs.

He gasped and his muscles stiffened. She secured her arm around him to make sure he didn’t fall. He flinched, and the emptiness in his eyes vanished.

He blinked and looked at her—really looked at her. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Now come on.” She ground her teeth and pushed with her legs, hauling him to his feet. He slumped against her at first, but gradually gained his own footing until he stood without her help. “I don’t know who it is or how close they are, but my stone is totally freaking out. We have to—”

Soft, padded steps silently carried Balam into the ruin.

Zanya let out a heavy breath. “Oh, thank God.” She pushed strands of hair away from her face. Though she was happy to see him, she couldn’t find it in herself to smile. If Cualli knew about Arwan’s heritage, Balam most certainly knew as well, and that meant both of them had kept it from her.

Though…as a cat, it was impossible for him to say so. She rolled her eyes. Okay, he had a good enough excuse.

The goddess, on the other hand…

Zanya glanced at the empty entrance. “Where’s Cualli?”

Balam paused and peered at her with those familiar yellow eyes. Zanya stilled. “Is something wrong?”

The jaguar god quickly slunk out of the ruin. She looked at Arwan. “I have a feeling we should follow him.”

“I think so.”

Zanya traced Balam’s path out of the temple and down hundreds of narrow steps, where the jaguar waited. Once they’d caught up, Balam continued down the path of destruction made by Zanya’s storm.

She and Arwan exchanged a skeptical glance before pushing forward. Balam’s tail swished and twitched, and every few yards he paused and shook off his paws, flicking mud and murky water into the air.

Finally, they rounded a curve in the path. Zanya slowed to a stop at the sight of Cualli in the distance.

The goddess’s porcelain skin shimmered in the sun as she knelt on the churned soil, hunched over a tangled mess of uprooted plants. The tips of her golden strands skimmed over the ground, sprouting new, green ferns still in tiny spiraled balls.

Cualli reached out and touched the tattered leaf of a jungle palm. It fell off the plant into her hand. The goddess allowed it to slip through her fingers to the ground.

Cualli’s statuesque figure stilled while she stared at the fallen leaf.

Zanya wanted to say something, but couldn’t think of anything that would make it right. Under the circumstances, they needed a quick path to the temple, but now, seeing the goddess mourn over the very plants and flowers she was destined to protect, Zanya would have gladly hiked days to avoid the destruction she’d caused.

Balam stalked around Cualli and sat in front of her. The goddess turned, set her gaze on Zanya, and frowned. When she stood, Zanya took a cautious step back.

“What have you done to my jungle?” Her normally euphoric voice seemed sharp and dangerous.

“I’m so,
so
sorry.” Zanya bit her bottom lip, searching for something more to say. “We had to get to the Temple of Inscriptions, and—”

“You found it necessary to destroy my jungle to find your way there?” She extended her hand down the path of wreckage. “As if you could not clearly see the temple from this very place, towering over the trees I have cared for, for generations.”

“I…” Zanya swallowed. Every time she’d seen Cualli, the goddess had always been at peace. This was the first time she’d witnessed the pissed off version, and
she
was on the receiving end of the crap-o-meter.

After all, Renato had tried to give her a lesson in the consequences of using abilities once before—in his office—when she conjured a windstorm inside. He told her not to use her powers unless she was willing to clean up after them. At the time she thought he was playing the role of overbearing uncle. But now she understood.

“I did destroy your jungle.” She stepped forward, looking Cualli in the eyes. “And I take full responsibility. It was an urgent situation. There was a tree—”

“Yes.” Cualli glared, and Zanya could have sworn she felt the ground tremble beneath her. “There were many.”

Zanya swallowed. “No. Not the ones I…” She wiped a tingle of sweat from her brow with her fingers. There was no good way to word it. “Not the ones I destroyed. There’s another tree. Yaxche.”

Cualli’s features softened and her tightly pursed lips parted. “Yaxche?” The heat around the goddess seemed to fade, returning her to the familiar, gentle deity Zanya had always known.

Zanya’s tense muscles eased. “I’m surprised you haven’t noticed.” Zanya closed her eyes and hung her head—resisting the urge to palm her forehead. “I didn’t mean it like that.” She exhaled and raise her gaze, then tried again. “
I mean
, it consumed a group of birds near our home, and then animals. A lot of them. It was as if they were—”

“Drained of blood.”

Zanya nodded.

Cualli extended her hand, and Balam obeyed her gesture by walking to her side. Balam had always been her protector. The goddess calling on him to stay close wasn’t a promising sign. “Then there are greater worries we must address. Yaxche is feeding on middleworld life.” Cualli shifted her gaze to Arwan. “And you, half-breed. Have you found the answers you seek?”

Arwan watched her without a response. He may have found answers, but they weren’t what either of them had expected.

“I don’t know what we should do,” Zanya said, finally breaking the silence. “Contessa is definitely responsible for Yaxche reaching into the middleworld. That much we know. But how to fight it—fight her—is still a bridge we haven’t crossed.”

“The tree will destroy everything,” Arwan said. “Animals, plants, humans. Once Contessa grants it permission, it will consume our world, allowing the underworlders to break through, and our realms will merge.”

Zanya bit the inside of her cheek. She hadn’t considered that as an option. But if Yaxche was used as a bridge—the way it was intended—that was exactly what would happen.

They’d fight a losing battle.

Cualli dragged her fingers between Balam’s ears. “Then we must call on all of our strengths to be sure that does not come to pass.” She trained her sights on Balam and gave a single, subtle nod.

A deep growl grew from inside his chest.

Balam bared his teeth, his ears pinned, and the fur on the back of his neck standing on edge.

Cualli looked at Zanya. “I suggest using your gift to call any reinforcements you may have.”

Balam snarled and leapt forward, forcing Zanya to stumble back.

His legs quivered beneath him, and all at once, his jaguar form morphed into a towering man with bronze skin and bright yellow eyes. His face was adorned with streaks of blue paint, and bone earrings—what looked like animal teeth—hung from his lobes. A leopard loincloth covered the space between his lean, muscular legs.

It was the first time Zanya had ever seen Balam in his human form.

High, sharp cheek bones. Mocha skin. Dark lashes. Long, black hair hung down his back, tied with a thread of leather. No shoes, pants, or a shirt.

He was Cualli’s guardian and friend, and he was glorious.

Balam must have sensed her fascination and looked away. He was obviously uncomfortable, so she’d do the best she could to not stare.

Cualli settled her hand on Balam’s muscular neck. “While you ready yourself, Balam will stay by your side, in whatever form you need him.”

“Ready myself?” Zanya shifted her weight. “For what?”

Cualli lifted her chin, her eyes gleaming with magic. “War.”

Chapter Thirteen

The next day, Zanya sat on the sofa in her living room, struggling to gather her thoughts while she stared at the smears of mottled blood staining her windows.

Balam was lying in the corner—back in his familiar jaguar form. It would take time to get used to him being around, but when the goddess gave an order, she wasn’t about to argue. Even if that meant listening to the jaguar snore half the day. How he was so relaxed, she’d never know.

Zanya hadn’t used her seeking ability to find anyone from her group since she and Arwan fled the bonding ceremony. She blocked any effort Marzena made to reach out. She just wasn’t ready.

But ready or not, it was time.

Zanya drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes, focusing on the smooth tone of Renato’s voice and the warmth behind his chestnut brown eyes.

Flashes of light pulsed behind her lids, and her stone hummed excitedly against her skin. Then, silence. Zanya drew in another breath. The scent of tobacco from Renato’s pipe tickled her nose and pulled her closer to his subconscious.

It was like making a phone call, and the person’s voicemail picks up. But instead of talking to a machine, her thoughts filters through the recipient’s mind, leaving them with a clear message.

Come to Mexico. Bring everyone. Hurry.

“How’s it going?”

Arwan’s voice broke her concentration. Zanya opened her eyes while Arwan crossed the room and sat beside her. “Did you get through?”

She nodded, and then swallowed the lump in her throat.

He took her hand. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I hope so.” The idea of war was unsettling, but when it was between realms, it could mean the end of existence as they knew it.

Balam’s ear flinched, and he lifted his head. The big cat pushed to all fours and walked across the living room until he was inches from the glass. A low growl simmered in his chest.

Zanya stood with a knot in her gut and walked to the window, squinting at the bright sun. “What…” She fixed her palm against the cool glass, watching what appeared to be a mass exodus of Mayan villagers, who were following a trail along the river. “Where did they all come from?” She stood so close to the window, her breath left a patch of fog, which vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

The villagers there wore similar clothing to those near Renato’s home, which wasn’t more than a simple loincloth and strings of hand carved beads. Women walked topless with baskets balanced on their heads. Babies were swaddled and strapped to their mothers’ backs in a cloth sling that hugged the mothers’ bodies. Though most of the men seemed older, they all still had long, black hair, which was tied in a braid, bun, or ponytail. They held an assortment of weapons, and flanked the traveling group on all sides.

Arwan walked to her side. “They came from their homes, in the jungle.”

“I didn’t see any of them when we were hiking here.”

“You’re surprised?”

“Well…” She pursed her lips. “I guess not. The villages pretty much blend into their surroundings, don’t they?”

“And that’s how they prefer it.”

She frowned. “Until now.”

Balam padded back to the spot he’d been napping, pawed at the floor, circled the area a few times, and then plopped on his belly, resting his massive head on equally massive paws. His bold, yellow eyes slid closed, and he settled back to sleep.

Zanya glanced at Arwan. “Well, Balam doesn’t seem very concerned.”

“Maybe he knows what’s going on.”

“Too bad he’s not in his human form. He might actually be able to tell us something.”

Arwan placed his hand on the small of her back, spreading warmth over her skin. “Just take care of your side of things, and Cualli will do the rest.”

Zanya cocked her head, examining Arwan’s relaxed features. “You have a lot of confidence in her.”

“We have no reason not to.”

“Yeah.” Zanya gave a soft smile. “You’re right.”

Arwan leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “That’s the first time you’ve said that since we bonded.” He pulled her closer and placed a kiss on her neck. “Or maybe ever.”

His hot breath prickled her skin. “It may be the
only
time, so enjoy it while it lasts.”

“I intend to.” He hooked his arms behind her legs and back, and scooped her up, cradling her against his chest.

She sucked in a breath and hooked her arm around his neck. “What are you—?”

He cut her off with a kiss.

Her muscles tensed, and she pulled back. “Whoa.” She glanced at Balam. “What about…”

“What?”

Her cheeks flushed with heat. “You know.” She gestured toward the jaguar with a nod. “Him,” she whispered.

He chuckled. “I think he knows exactly what humans do when they’re bonded and in love.”

Her stomach fluttered. They were bonded, yes. But he’d never said the other thing aloud before. Neither of them had.

“Still, it’s kind of…” Her throat tightened. “Awkward.”

Arwan set her down. “Okay.” He hooked his finger under her chin and teased his lips against hers, testing her willpower. “Tell me when you feel comfortable again. I’ll be here.” He kissed her again, harder this time. The tip of his tongue slid over hers, spiking her body temperature.

She coiled her fingers around his shirt, quick to notice the firm muscle under the soft cotton.

When he pulled away, Zanya bit her lip. “That’s not fair.”

“What?”

She arched a brow. “You know what.”

He examined her with a crooked smirk. “You’re beautiful.”

She softened her tight lips. “I…” She squared her jaw. “Hey. You did it again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,
mi amor
.”

She glanced at Balam a second time. “Jaguars are nocturnal, right?”

He grinned and then shook his head. “Sorry.”

“Heavy sleepers?”

He arched a brow.

She blew out a puff of air and crinkled her nose. “It’s probably not a good time.”

“Whatever you say.” He winked and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I’m going to shower. Let me know if anything else happens.”

***

Arwan

He stood in their bedroom, leaning on the dresser that faced the wall. He had to get himself under control.

Since their first night together, Arwan had craved her touch. He craved her like thirst wrapped around his throat, every cell of his body on fire for some relief.

He never thought someone would love him—let alone be his soul mate. Now every moment he spent near her, all he could think of was the scent of her hair, the curves of her hips, and the power she harbored. She was a walking, talking, complex powerhouse of strengths, and she had complete control over him.

Her footsteps in the hall grew closer until she lingered in the doorway. There was no need to turn around to know she was there. He could hear her heartbeat, and smell the faint scent of her skin, teasing his need to be with her.

“Arwan.”

He stripped off his shirt and tossed it in the laundry basket in the corner. “Yeah.” He turned to face her and leaned back on the dresser, determined to appear like he wasn’t going stir crazy like a caged animal. She was fragile, and he would force himself to respect her wishes, no matter how difficult it was.

She stepped inside, twisting her fingers. “You’re mad.”

“No.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m just…”

She watched him with a steady gaze. Her breath paused as she waited for his next word.

“Tired.”

“I know the feeling.” She ran her hand over her muscles, massaging a sore spot. “This whole thing has me pretty freaked out.” She dropped her hands to her side. “I’m trying to be brave, but I have no idea what we’re in for. A war between realms? What will that even look like?”

This, he couldn’t lie about. Not even if it would put her at ease. “It’s going to be long, ugly, and terrifying.”

Her gaze snapped up and her lips parted.

“But we’ll make it through. I have to believe that.”

She hugged herself and shifted her weight. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“You can’t fall apart now.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Just, those people leaving like that. They know something’s coming, don’t they?”

He walked to her and pulled her against his chest. “I don’t know.”

They could have sensed something, or Cualli could have warned them to leave before things got bad. Either way, they were more alone than ever.

She put her arms around him and pressed her cheek against his chest. Her fingers spread over his bare back. “You’re all I have to keep me sane,” she whispered.

He gently propped his chin on the top of her head. “You’re all I
have
.”

Zanya looked up at him, searching his face with those shimmering gray eyes. “That’s how it’s supposed to be, right?” She slid her hands over his back, across his ribs, and up his stomach. “Me for you, and you for me.”

He shifted, his skin on fire where she touched.

She waved her hand, ordering a gust of wind to swing the door shut. Strands of her hair carried in the breeze

“Careful.” He tightened his grip around her waist. “You may wake Balam.”

She pushed onto her tiptoes and hovered her lips over his. “I don’t care.”