~ 10 ~
Max burst into the library and came to a halt, not understanding what he was seeing before him. He’d heard the child crying. Heard Renata’s screams.
His lover was writhing on the ground, curled into the fetal position as the little girl knelt beside her. Evin had her hands on Renata’s cheeks, and tears poured down her face, which was set in grim determination. The child looked up as soon as Max and Zana ran in.
“Evin, what are you doing?” Zana yelled at his daughter.
Max knelt and lifted Renata in his arms, but Evin kept her hands on Renata’s cheeks.
“The sick”—she sniffed through her tears—“it had to come out. Her heart was hurt.”
Empath. Max could see the little girl’s skin growing pale even as her golden eyes glowed brighter and brighter.
He said, “Evin, her hurt is too much. You need to stop.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I can make it better. Someone has to make it better.”
Max heard someone else come in the library, but he couldn’t turn from Evin’s eyes.
“Let her go.” It was a woman’s voice, rasping and unused. “Evin, let go.”
The little girl shook her head. Max held Renata in one arm and gently took Evin’s small hand from Renata’s skin.
“Let go, little one,” he said. “She’s lighter now. Can’t you feel it?” Maxim did. The spiked energy that always emanated from Renata had softened under the little empath’s hand.
Thawra came and knelt by Evin, pulling the child into her embrace and pressing Evin’s face to her neck. “Shhhhh.” The mother made some sign at Zana, and the Grigori took off down the hall.
Renata was unconscious, her body limp and heavy. He could feel the glow of her magic resting within her, and for the first time in a long time it felt… tired. Not extinguished, but dimmer. He lifted her and sat on the sofa, pressing kisses to her forehead and writing spells on her forehead.
Peace. Hope. Love.
He wrote those simple spells in the Old Language over and over across her forehead.
Peace. Hope. Love.
Max couldn’t think of anything more elaborate than that.
Peace. Hope. Love.
Finally, she let out a ragged breath and curled into him.
“Rest, my love.” He held Renata and looked to Thawra and Evin. The little girl was limp and drawn, far paler than she should be. “What does she need?”
“These,” Zana said from the hallway. He was carrying…
“Is that a box of crayons?”
He set them on the ground beside Thawra and took Evin from her arms. Shoving aside the woven rug on the library floor, he took a crayon from the box, shoved it into Evin’s hand and laid her gently on the ground.
“Draw it out, ladybug.”
“No paper,” Evin whispered.
“Draw on the ground.” Zana smoothed back her hair. “Don’t worry. It’s a strong mountain. It can take the memories.”
Thawra lay beside her daughter and held her from behind as Evin’s small hand began to move.
Was this how Evin exorcized the emotions she took from others? Max watched in wonder as the black crayon began to move across the plaster-covered floor. He couldn’t take his eyes away as angry black lines raked back and forth. Slashes and swirls of black, the crayon pressed so hard it broke in Evin’s hand. Zana didn’t flinch, he simply handed her another crayon, this one in charcoal grey.
Color touched her cheeks as the picture began to form.
Evin propped herself up on one arm. Then two. She reached for another crayon.
Deep blue joined the swirls of grey and black.
Amethyst purple to deepen the night sky.
Thawra and Zana backed away as Evin regained strength. The little girl crawled across the floor, entirely focused on the picture forming beneath her. Zana held his arms out and Thawra went to him. They sat on the ground, their back against the sofa, watching their daughter create a dark masterpiece on the ground.
Deep umber slopes beneath a jewel-toned sky. Black swirled with grey swirled with white. Evin glanced over her shoulder at Max and reached for the dark green, leaning close and concentrating on the drawing that took shape on the ground. The little girl leaned back and nodded. Then she bent down again and scraped at something with her fingernail. Reached for the gold. The silver crayon. The grey again. She added details with all the furrowed concentration of a master.
By the time she finished, her face had lost the drawn appearance and only appeared tired.
Zana went to his daughter. “Enough?”
Evin nodded silently.
“Take her in the living room,” Max said softly. “I’ll bring Renata up to her bedroom in a minute, but I want everyone in the house. It’s too cold in here.”
Zana nodded and lifted Evin in his arms. The little girl wrapped her arms around her father and laid her head on his shoulder. Her bright gold eyes locked with Max’s.
“She’ll be better now.”
“Thank you, Evin.”
He had a feeling Renata would be having a conversation with Zana and Thawra as soon as she woke. A young empath could easily hurt herself by taking on too great a sorrow, and Renata’s sorrow was incredibly deep.
Max stood and finally saw the drawing that Evin had created on the floor of the library.
She’d drawn a mountain that rose high among a rolling range of snow-covered peaks. The deep blue and purple sky was clear and studded with bright gold stars where the little girl’s fingernail had scraped away the darkest colors. The storm Evin drew swirled around the slopes of the mountain, as violent as the howling wind outside. Black and grey joined by silver-toned ice that beat and battered the angled heights.
But though the storm swept the slopes, the bottom of the mountain sat wide and sure in a valley bathed in moonlight. Deep green trees covered the mountain, partly shielding it from bitter wind.
The mountain rose in the night sky, steady and unmoved despite the violent storm that battered it.
Oh, my love. Max kissed Renata’s forehead. Your strength humbles me.
He walked around Evin’s drawing and back into the house. Zana and Thawra were arranging blankets and pillows under the tree for Evin, who smiled into the rafters, pointing at the brightly colored stars decorating the ceiling. Thawra and Zana hovered over her, making their own bed near the fire. Max could hear the wind battering the old house, but nothing creaked or moaned. It was as steady as the mountain it rested on, rooted in the love and magic that had built it.
Max walked up the stairs and into their bedroom, shutting the door behind him.
He woke to the feel of soft lips pressing kisses to his chest. Max opened his eyes and saw Renata, bright-eyed with a mischievous smile curving her lips.
“Shhhhh.” She nodded toward the door. “We still have company.”
There were no shadows in her eyes. No worry marring her forehead. She slid up Max’s body, wearing nothing but her skin, and took his mouth, luxuriating in his sleepy kiss as she shoved his pants down his hips.
“Naked,” she murmured against his lips. “I want you naked.”
“Yes.” He bit her lower lip and sucked it into his mouth. “I’m getting that.”
He rolled to the side and kicked off his pants, running a hand down her back and over her bottom before he hitched her muscled thigh over his own to open her. He was already hard and aching, but all he had to do was catch her scent for that to happen. What heated his blood that morning was the lightness in her eyes.
Renata smiled against his lips and hummed happily as Max slid into her. She curled her leg around his hips and rocked in an easy, sleepy rhythm as they made love in the cozy warmth of their room.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“Happy Midwinter.” Her eyes sparkled. “I thought this was a good start to the day.”
“This is the best start to any day.” He voice was rough. “I want to wake up with you every day.”
She bit his chin. “How about most days?”
A grumble.
“And,” she said, “on the nights we aren’t together, I will dream-walk by your side. We’ll meet each other in our sleep and love each other there, even when we’re miles apart, my love.”
His heart was so full he couldn’t bear it. Dream walking was a special magic reserved for mates. Only mated scribes and singers had the ability to meet each other in dreams, their souls touching even if their bodies were apart. He rolled Renata to her back and sank into her, their easy pace forgotten. He needed her. Needed her laughter and her heat and the brightness in her eyes. Needed the peace of her presence and the comfort of her hand.
“You are my mate,” he said, taking her mouth in a hard kiss. “You are my mate, Renata of Fatima.”
Her lips were flushed with pleasure, swollen from his kisses. Her breath came in quiet pants as he drove her body to climax.
“You are my mate, Maxim of Riga,” she breathed out. “I will have no other.”
“I will have no other.” He heard the quiet catch of her breath. “I want no other but you. Forever.”
Her body tightened around him, and her back arched in pleasure when she came. Max drove into her, biting the pillow beside her instead of shouting his pleasure when he climaxed. He let out a long breath and fell to the side, gathering Renata to his arms, locking their bodies together.
“I want to stay in bed all day,” he said.
“We have guests.”
Somewhere below them, the smell of baking bread and the sound of bright voices drifted up the stairs.
“Hang our guests,” Max said. “They know where the food is.”
Renata ran her fingers through his short hair. “Is Evin well?”
He nodded. “What did she do?”
“It felt like someone lancing an infection,” Renata said. “It all poured out. And it hurt. So, so badly.”
He hugged her closer.
“But then it was gone. And… I don’t know. Things feel clearer. The pool is still filled with water, but she cleaned out the leaves and muck that had fallen in. I can see the bottom now.”
Max kissed her forehead. “I’m glad.”
“You know we can’t really hide in bed all day, right?”
He lifted his head. “There’s a washbasin in the corner. We’ve made do with worse amenities over the years.”
She laughed, truly laughed, and he fell in love with her all over again.
“We can’t stay in bed all day,” she said. “Today is Midwinter. And there’s a little girl downstairs who deserves to celebrate.”
That night Renata helped Evin light the Midwinter candles, the sweet smell of beeswax filling the dining room where their feast was laid out. Combining their food stores had led to a far more luxurious meal than Max had expected.
They had a roast from Zana’s frozen store of winter venison he’d hunted before the storm and roasted potatoes Renata had brought from the village. She’d also brought mild red sauerkraut and a cabbage salad with carrots. Thawra had taught Renata how to make soft sweet rolls she called kulicha, filled with dates and hazelnuts, and a chickpea stew simmered in spicy tomatoes and chilies.
Evin had stuffed herself with so many sweets Max didn’t know how she ate anything once they sat down, but Zana filled her plate and she ate everything but the sauerkraut, chattering away about the songs Renata had taught her that day and the newfound silence in her mind.
And though Renata still sat at the opposite end of the table from Zana, she smiled and asked him more questions about his life and business in Syria. She told him she had a sister with Jaron’s blood and sat silently as Max told them the story of Jaron’s fall and hopeful redemption. Max could tell the story moved both Zana and Thawra greatly.
After dinner, Max got out the guitar to play some Midwinter music, and Renata surprised him again by singing a traditional song in the style of the Southern Alps, her voice lighter and more playful than he’d ever heard in his life. He watched her as she sang, imagining the living room filled with their own family, imagining friends who came to visit this house, filling it with love and laughter and new memories.
He wanted it desperately.
Renata met his eyes, smiling as she sang one song after another. In the music, he heard her heart waking.
She would always be a warrior. Always.
Perhaps if life had not turned the way it had, she wouldn’t have been. Perhaps she would have been a scholar and a mother and a mate, passing on her songs to other singers and living out her life with another man.
But the storm had come, and it had not been gentle. The scars had broken the path of her life, cutting off some trails even as it cleared others. In another life, Max might never have known her, might never have loved her.
Did that make him thankful for the storm?
No. He simply accepted it.
Max set the guitar down and joined Renata on the sofa when they were finished singing. Thawra had taken a mandolin from the music room and tuned it. She started playing on it, picking through the notes carefully until she became accustomed to the instrument.
“It’s very like a tambur,” Zana said. “Not exactly, but it’s close.”
“And she plays?” Renata asked.
“She plays beautifully.” The love on the man’s face was so evident Max almost looked away. “Her mother taught her before she died, and Thawra has already started teaching Evin.”
Evin was sitting at her mother’s feet, watching everything Thawra did with unwavering attention.
“Your daughter is extremely bright,” Renata said.
Zana put a hand over his heart and bowed his head. “Thank you. She is a gift to us.”
“She picked up the simple magic I taught her today almost instantly.”
Max said, “She reminds me of Matti.”
Renata nodded. “I had the same thought.”
“Who is Matti?” Zana asked.
“My brother’s child,” Max said. “She has two different fallen archangels in her bloodline, so Matti and her brother are… different. We think. But Ava and Malachi seem well prepared in dealing with them.”
“We have no idea what to do with her magic,” Zana said. “Thawra does her best to understand, but her abilities are quite different than Evin’s. She can feel emotions very strongly, but she doesn’t drain them from others the way Evin does.”
“She might be able to if she’s trained in more magic,” Renata said as Thawra started playing a lively tune by the fire.
“Perhaps,” Zana said. “The only solution so far has been to isolate them. That’s why we liked this mountain. The village is close enough for me to visit for supplies, but the caves are isolated enough to keep them from being overwhelmed.”
Max watched Renata, wondering if her mind was going where his was.
“You should stay,” she said quietly.
Zana was wary. “I know something very upsetting happened here. I can guess some things. I know this is your home. We do not want to disrespect your home in any way.”
“The school in the village is good.” Renata ignored his objections. “It’s a long walk, but it’s possible.”
Max put a hand on the back of her neck. “Renata, are you sure?”
She took a deep breath and turned to Zana. “I am uncomfortable with you. That is not your fault. It simply is.”
Zana nodded but didn’t say a word.
“But I respect what you have done to protect your mate and child,” she continued. “And your daughter…” Renata cleared her throat. “She healed a very deep wound in me. One that I did not think would ever leave me. I am not healed entirely, but I will be one day. And I have Evin to thank for that.”
Zana said, “There is no debt.”
“It’s not a debt I object to,” Renata said. “You’re right. This is a safe place. It’s also a good one. There was a garden here once. There was a dairy that produced the sweetest milk I’ve ever tasted. This was a safe place for travelers and those seeking shelter.”
Max squeezed her hand. “There is a cottage beside the dairy barn.”
“It could be repaired,” Renata said. “You could live here and make this place a haven again. You could take care of guests and fix things. You know how to do that.”
Zana nodded, and Max could see the man’s eyes shining. “I am good at fixing things. And Thawra is an excellent gardener. I have never kept cows, but I grew up with goats.”
Renata laughed and blinked hard. “Goats would work too.”
“Renata—”
“I think you found this place for a reason,” she said in a rush. “I think your family came here for a reason. Your steps were guided by heaven, and we should honor that. Stay here, Zana. Raise your children here. Max and I can help you.”
“And you would be a help to us,” Max added. “I know this place would be well tended in your and Thawra’s care.”
Renata said, “And there are songs I should teach Evin. She has the gift of memory. She can learn the songs.”
The music had stopped, and Max glanced over at Thawra and Evin. Thawra had a hand on her chest and eyes that stared at Renata with wary hope.
“Make this your home,” Renata said to her. “This was a home for so many for generations. It wants the presence of children again. I can’t be here all the time, but if you make this place your home… I would be very happy about that.”
Evin’s small mouth was hanging open. “Can we stay?”
“You would have to walk a long way to school,” Max said, “and help your mother and father.”
The little girl nodded. “I can do that.” She turned to her mother. “Mama, I can do that.”
Thawra started crying. She put a hand to her throat and forced out the words, “Can you teach me… to sing?”
Renata nodded, and Max put his arm around her shoulders.
“Yes,” she said. “I can teach you to sing.”