Lights of Aurora (The Stone Legacy Series Book 3) (20 page)

BOOK: Lights of Aurora (The Stone Legacy Series Book 3)
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Chapter Twenty-Eight

 

 

Zanya

 

Zanya shifted her weight on the mat as Arwan walked toward the center of the room, Renato and her mom bickering behind him.

“Oh thank God.” Peter cradled his ribs. “Where have you been?”

Hawa stood silent while Tara glanced nervously at Zanya. She had every right to be worried. If Arwan stepped one foot on the mat, Zanya would conjure a lightning storm and finish what she’d started.

“Well?” Eleuia said to Arwan. “What are you waiting for? Show her your moves.”

Arwan’s jaw visibly flexed. He slid off his shoes.

Was he seriously going to try to train her? Zanya exhaled, annoyance stripping away any patience she had left. She had been in the dojo all day. With few breaks and little sleep the night before, she wasn’t in the brightest of moods as it was.

Arwan moved to the center of the mat, avoiding eye contact.

“What are you training on?” When nobody answered, he looked at Zanya.

She turned to Renato. “Is this really necessary? Peter and I were doing fine.”

“What?” Peter was still clenching his ribs when he glanced between Zanya and Renato. “But it’s good to train with more than one person. That way you can test yourself with different levels of skill.” He locked his eyes on Renato. “Right? Tell her I’m right,” he whispered harshly.

“Of course he’s right,” Eleuia said. “Give the poor healer a break. He’s done enough work for one day.”

Peter mumbled, limping off the mat.

Coward
.

“Fine.” Zanya threw her hair into a messy bun. “Basic defensive blocks. Upper, middle, lower, and X-block. Got it?”

Arwan nodded. “Ready?”

Her mother laughed and then pressed her fingers over her lips, her eyes bright with amusement.

“Whenever you are,” Zanya said.

Arwan threw a basic forward punch. She countered with a side block, and Arwan flew back. Her arm sparked with electricity.

He shook out his hand. “I thought you weren’t using your powers.”

She grinned. “Oops.”

He settled into a fighting stance. “Again.” He charged, throwing a downward strike with a hammer fist.

She used an X-block to counter, and the force of her energy pitched him across the room. He tumbled to a stop at the edge of the mat and slowly picked himself up. He shook his head as if his vision were impaired and rubbed his eyes.

She threw her hands in the air. “You know what? This is a waste of time. I can clearly take care of myself.”

“But it’s funny as hell.” Hawa chuckled, standing beside Eleuia. Now both of them were snickering.

“You may be able to defend yourself with your abilities, but without them, you panic.” Renato’s words sobered the moods of everyone in the room. “And when you panic, you will end up dead.” He gestured to Arwan. “Again.”

“No, thanks.” She walked off the mat. “I’m done for today.” She pushed open the door and marched down the hall. The rhythm of footsteps behind her flared her anger. Only one person would be stupid enough to follow her. She fisted her hands. “Leave me alone.”

“We need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

The footsteps quickened until he caught up to her. “Zanya, please. I should have told you, and you have every right to be angry.”

“Good, because I was going to be if I had a right or not.”

He took her hand and tried to slow her down. She channeled a shock through her fingers, and he yanked back. She spun to face him. “Listen to me. I don’t know when you decided I didn’t need to know
that
side of you, but I gave you every opportunity to explain. Now it’s too late. You told me you were half-underworlder and I was okay with that. Why didn’t you tell me the rest?”

“I didn’t…” He swallowed. “I didn’t want to face it myself. I’ve spent my entire life denying who I am—pushing it away because my darkness only hurts people. It was the reason my mother died, and it’s the reason…” He paused, searching her face.

She crossed her arms, tapping her fingers over her bicep. “The reason what? Because it better be good.”

“The reason we will never be able to bond.”

Her lips parted. “What?” Her seething anger was suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of unexpected grief. “And you knew? All this time?”

He nodded.

She sharpened her gaze. “It figures. You led me along anyway.”

“I never led you anywhere I wasn’t willing to go. I know we can’t bond, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be together.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “Yes, it does.” Her throat ached as she stepped back. “I’m meant to bond with someone, and that’s clearly not you.” Her glare intensified. “Not that I would have chosen to be with you, anyway. Not after this.”

 

***

 

The next morning, there was a knock at Zanya’s bedroom door. She grabbed her stone and sat up. “Who is it?”

“Mom.”

Zanya rested her back against her headboard. It was almost ten o’clock in the morning, and her mother was probably there to drag her to the dojo for another full day of training. She rubbed her eyes and sighed. “Come in…I guess.” She mumbled the last bit.

“I heard that.” Eleuia butted the door open with her hip and stepped inside, a mug in each hand. Zanya was surprised to see her wearing normal clothes, her hair down in waves—like the first time they’d met. “How did you sleep?” The scent of fresh coffee made her stomach growl.

“Okay.” Total lie. She gestured toward the mugs. “Is one of those for me?”

“It is.” Her mom sat on the foot of her bed and handed her a cup. “Tara made it. I wasn’t sure how you like it.”

Zanya sipped the sweet, milky brew. “Oh my God. This is so good. And just in time.” She squinted at the sun pouring through her window. “I bet Renato has been up for hours. He’s probably waiting on me start training.”

“Not today. We have special plans.”

Zanya took another sip of her coffee. “What’s going on?”

“You’re going to meet some of the people we are traveling to the winter solstice with. Other Riyata I have gotten to know over the years. They heard about Sarian’s death, and it was enough to make them come out of hiding. They want to meet the new guardian. Do you think you can handle socializing for a couple of hours?”

“I guess. How many people are coming?”

“Just a few close friends.”

An hour later, Zanya descended the stairs to the empty kitchen. Murmurs leaked through the crack of the French doors that led to the veranda.

“Pretty weird, right?” Jayden walked into the kitchen and settled beside her.

“What’s weird?” Besides how totally awkward it was to see him.

He nodded to the doors. “Your mom’s creepy friends.”

Zanya glanced at the veranda. “They’re outside. Right now?”

“Yup.” He pulled out a wooden diner chair and took a seat. “So.” He propped his feet up on another chair in front of him. “Are we going to talk about what happened?”

Zanya walked around the counter and poured another cup of coffee, the earthy aroma steaming into the air. “Nope.” She added some creamer, and the colors swirled together in her cup.

Jayden followed her with his gaze as she walked toward the French doors.

“My mom has guests and she asked me to introduce myself, so whatever you want to say is going to have to wait.”

“Until when?”

She drew in a deep breath, readying herself to be socially presentable. “Never.”

Zanya pushed open the door and walked outside.

Two olive-skinned teenage boys were throwing gusts of wind at each other in horseplay. They were windbenders, no doubt. They wore clothing that seemed to have come from the Middle East rather than Central America.

A woman with long blonde hair that fell straight and sleek down her back lingered beside the railing, playing with a flame between her fingers. She glanced up at Zanya, her eyes flickering like the flame she’d conjured out of thin air.

Her mother stood from the love seat and smiled. “Zanya. These are my friends.” She pointed to the two boys. “Ahmed and Yousef are twin windbenders from the East.” The boys dropped their hands, and the unnatural breezes suddenly died.

The tall one with darker hair rested his hand on his chest. “
Marhabah
. My name is Yousef.” His gaze flashed at the shorter brother. “This is Ahmed.”

Ahmed waved and then shot a gust of wind at Yousef, knocking him onto the sand. The boys picked up where they’d left off, throwing strong gusts at each other in fun.

“And this,” Eleuia said, “is Eadith.”

The tall blonde stepped forward and clenched her hand, extinguishing the flame into a plume of smoke. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Grima and Beigarth are on their way,” Eleuia said.

“There are more?”

Her mother grinned. “Many more, but Grima and Beigarth are the only others traveling with us. You’ll see more at the solstice celebration.”

Zanya leaned against the cool rock wall. “Where exactly are we going?”

“The Tikal Temple, in three days.”

“Is it close?”

“South, in Guatemala,” Eleuia replied.

Zanya sipped her coffee. “So Tikal is where the bonding ceremony will be?”

“Yes,” Eadith said. “It is where the lights of Aurora touch those destined to bond during the great celebration. Your mother says this will be your first solstice?”

“Um, yeah.” She turned to her mother. “Arwan said—” She paused, then continued. “I heard about these lights before. But I don’t get what they are, really.”

“Renato would be able to explain it better. He’s good at that kind of thing.”

Deep, hearty laughs echoed from the beach. Zanya turned to see Hawa leading a man and a woman over the beach, toward the veranda. The man was dressed in thick wool clothes, and the woman had strawberry-red hair woven into a braid. Her pinkish skin glowed in the tropical sun.

“Here’s Grima and Beigarth.” Eleuia stepped closer to the railing. “They’re originally from Germany, and settled in Ireland—Vikings, from the old country. They may take some getting used to.”

“Vikings?” This was just getting better and better. “Not to sound rude, but when I saw Eadith and met the Arabs, I couldn’t help but think—aren’t all Riyata Maya descendants?”

“At some point in time, yes. I think their grandmother, six or seven generations back, was some kind of earth shifter. There are almost no full-bloods anymore. Now the cultures are so widely diverse. Most of the gifted Riyata don’t look the slightest bit Mayan.” She shrugged. “That’s what happens when you’re one-sixteenth Maya—or whatever they are.”

“Renato told me Riyata and humans don’t end up together very often, so how did they branch out so far?”

Pain flooded her mother’s face, and her eyes darkened with grief. “That was the first thing I thought when I met your friend and the healer. He’s in for a lot of heartache.”

Zanya clenched her cup tightly between her hands.

“Don’t go making them feel bad about being together. They’ll figure it out.”

Zanya examined her mother, who had gone quiet. “Is that why you never talk about my father?”

Her mother swallowed, then glanced down at her empty mug. “There’s nothing to say. I selfishly fell in love with a mortal human.” She circled the rim of her cup with her finger. “I didn’t expect to lose you both so soon, but if I hadn’t given you to your father, Sarian would have found us all, and there would have been no heir to protect the stone once you were gone. The obedience spell would have automatically been broken, and Sarian would have had decades longer to do his will.” She glanced up at Zanya. “The world would have been lost to their kind.”

Thick air lingered between them, only cleared when her mother cast her gaze to the beach. “Grima and Beigarth are cousins. I think you’ll really warm up to them.”

Zanya blinked, and Hawa was suddenly leaning against the railing, while the Vikings trailed far behind.

Hawa watched Ahmed and Yousef roughhouse on the beach. “Arabs?”

Eleuia nodded.

“Thar’s the wee lass,” the man’s deep voice bellowed from the beach.

Zanya drew in a sharp breath as she stared at Beigarth’s thick finger, pointed straight at her. His wide smile was partially hidden behind thick, wiry facial hair that was the same color as his sister’s bright red bow.

Zanya shifted closer to her mom. “What do they do?”

“They’re petrifiers.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s exactly how it sounds. They don’t use their ability often because it’s not reversible and obviously lethal. There aren’t many of their kind left.”

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