“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.