“And the other part of you?”
“The other part of me remembers Kostas. Sees this man, Zana. Recognizes the struggles free Grigori have willingly taken on to fight against their own nature when they have fathers who encourage them to plunder this world.”
“To plunder us,” she whispered.
“Zana was not alive during the Rending. Few Grigori who are living now were.”
Renata’s throat was tight. Tears stung her eyes. “I tell myself that over and over, Max. But every time I smell their scent, I’m right back in the library, grasping at hollow clothes and empty blankets where the babies were. They killed our mothers. Killed babies in their cradles. Killed more than warriors. They killed the innocent.”
“I know.”
“They killed those who were running. Killed my parents who only wanted to create beautiful things and sing songs and debate arcane academic points with other scholars. They killed Balien, who was only trying to protect others.” She turned around to face him. “They killed your mother. Your aunt. Your father. They might as well have killed your uncle and your grandfather too. Our people were cut in half. Thrown into chaos.”
Max smoothed her hair back from her forehead. “I know. But not by him. Not by Zana.”
“By others like him.”
“And many of the same people hunt him now. Hunt his mate and child.” Max squeezed his eyes shut. “There are no easy answers, Renata. When do we forgive the children of our murderers? When do we let go?”
She felt the hot tears slip down her cheek. “I don’t know if I can.”
He said nothing, but he didn’t turn away in disgust or disappointment. He held her closer and kissed her forehead. He kissed the tears from her cheeks and rocked her back and forth as she cried silently.
“You’re a better person than me,” she said.
“No. I just don’t remember my loss as keenly as you do. I was a child.”
Renata said nothing, but she didn’t agree. Max was a better person than her. He’d lost his mother and his father before he could even remember them. He’d been raised in a world devoid of art and beauty and fine things. He’d grown up in a world were kindness was a luxury and gentleness a weakness.
And yet he didn’t turn away from the most vulnerable. He chose to use his strength and the harsh reality of his own past to create a safe place for those who needed it, even if they were the blood of his enemies.
Renata took a deep breath and lifted her head from his chest. “Did you need something from me?”
“I only wanted to check on you.” He played with her hair. “I can bring some food up if you don’t want to come downstairs.”
“I’m not a coward,” she said. “I just… I don’t want to let that girl see how I react to her father. It’s not her fault, and she loves him.”
“She’s a darling child,” Max said. “She’s safe and secure. Obviously loved. She’s bright and funny. You can tell she feels very safe here.”
Renata smiled a little. “Her home was in the caverns, so she snuck into the library. My home was in the library, so I snuck into the caverns.”
“Both of you little rule-breakers. Probably driving your poor mothers crazy.”
Mothers.
“Thawra,” Renata said. “The kareshta woman.”
“What about her?” Max asked.
“She has no shields.”
“No.” He cleared his throat. “I actually thought about that, but since she refuses to talk—Zana says she’s never spoken willingly as long as he’s known her, and that’s over fifteen years—I don’t think shields would be effective. She has to use her voice to make magic, doesn’t she?”
“Yes.”
Max shook his head. “I don’t think she would.”
“Would she for her child?”
Max frowned.
“There are spells,” Renata said. “Spells to protect your daughter from the voices.”
“But Evin is old enough to learn her own shielding.”
“And if her mother refuses to shield her, I’ll teach her those spells. But if Thawra thinks that the only way she can protect her daughter is with her voice, then I’m betting she’ll use it. And if she uses it for her daughter, she can use it for herself too. And if she uses it for herself, then she’ll know that she has power.”
For some reason, giving Thawra power felt important. That was something her mother would be proud of. That was something Renata could do. She couldn’t bring back her family, but she could help this mother and her child.
She could at least do that.
Max kept Zana out in the yard, chopping firewood with him while Renata went to the library. As she entered, she heard Evin giggle. Thawra was building a fort from the blankets and the furniture left in the library, using odds and ends to hold the blankets in place as Evin rolled under them in the red sleeping bag Max had given them.
“Are you and Baba going to sleep down here with me?”
Thawra signed, and Renata was surprised and pleased that the woman used British Sign Language, the same as her sister Mala used.
We’ll sleep in our own bed, little bug.
“But why? There’s room here,” Evin whined. “I want us to be all together.”
We are always together. Maybe Baba wants a rest from your kicks at night, huh? Thawra smiled.
“I do not kick Baba!”
You do. You kick me too.
“Are you going to tell the nice man about the new baby?”
Renata must have made sound of surprise, because Thawra and Evin both turned toward her.
“You’re pregnant?” Renata asked.
Thawra looked frightened, and Evin quickly scrambled out of the blanket fort and over to Renata.
“I was just pretending,” the little girl said. “I was just—”
Thawra clapped and brought Evin to attention.
Don’t lie, she signed. Especially to those offering shelter to us. Let me and Baba deal with this.
“Mama, I’m sorry.”
Thawra’s whole face softened. Little bug, don’t be sorry. I’m happy you’re excited about the baby.
“Babies are exciting things,” Renata said quietly. “I’m sure you’ll be an excellent big sister.”
No wonder the Grigori had fought so fiercely. He wasn’t only protecting his child, he was also protecting a pregnant mate. Irin men were known to be more than a bit wild and overprotective when their mates were pregnant.
Apparently Grigori men were the same.
You understand sign, Thawra asked.
“I have a sister who lost her voice during the Rending,” Renata said. “She uses the same sign language you use.”
Zana taught me when we were first together, Thawra said. Before that, I had no speech, though I could read and write a little.
“And Mama and Baba taught me!” Evin, sensing she wasn’t in trouble, had climbed on the back of a sofa. “That was my first language, wasn’t it Mama?”
Yes, little bug.
“But now I speak sign and Arabic, and English, and I’m learning Italian.”
Renata walked over as Thawra tried to get Evin down off the furniture. “You must be very smart.”
“I am. My Baba says I am a clever, clever girl.”
Thawra’s eyes were wary and worried as Renata drew closer.