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.”
11
Six months later…
“Where did you send them?” Renata asked as they reached the crest of the hill.
“Cappadocia,” Max said.
They’d handed off the car in the village. Zana and Thawra would be taking it for the summer while Max and Renata stayed at Ciasa Fatima.
“Cappadocia?” asked Renata. “Not Istanbul?”
“It was a popular decision. Evin is finished with her first school term. Orsala wanted to work more closely with Thawra, and the brothers in the library there heard we had the world’s best carpenter in our employ. They built an addition on the library and need bookcases to fit the caves. They were willing to pay handsomely for the work, so it seemed like perfect timing.”
“And Thawra can have the baby surrounded by Irina healers,” Renata said. “That will make the birth more comfortable.”
“And the scribes can teach Zana the spells he’ll need for the child. So you see? A summer in Cappadocia will be warm but will suit everyone.” He put an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “Particularly me.”
Renata smiled and kissed him. “I’m just glad Zana hasn’t bought goats yet.”
“Chickens are the only things we have to keep alive. And the vegetable garden.”
“So you’re going to be a farmer for the summer?”
He raised his eyebrows. “I’m always up for a challenge.”
“You better be with a mate like me.” She ducked under his arm and raced across the meadow, leaping over the new fences that Zana had built and up onto the porch that no longer creaked.
Max tackled her just as she got the door open. He threw her over his shoulder and dropped his backpack.
“The chickens can wait.” He slapped her backside. “I need to claim my woman.”
“You know, it’s a good thing I packed my knives away, or I’d carve my mating vow into your ass.” She slapped it for emphasis, but she was lying. She would never mar Maxim’s ass. It would be a crime against heaven.
“You’d never do it,” Max said as they walked up the stairs. “You like it too much.”
The house smelled of lemon oil and pine. Thawra would have aired it out and made it ready for them before they left. There were flowers in their bedroom, and the windows let in the clear mountain air.
Max set her down and stood staring over her shoulder with his mouth agape. “Heaven above.”
“What?” Renata turned from the windows and noticed the bed.
It was a work of art. The formerly rustic wooden bed had been carved with an intricate pattern of stars and flowers. Shining mother-of-pearl inlay decorated each star, the flowers were brightly painted, and darker woods were mixed into the pattern, giving the entire headboard stunning dimension. It was clearly inspired by Syrian design, but the flowers carved into the lattice were the bright yellow, purple, and orange flowers that grew in the meadow in front of the house.
“Oh, Maxim.”
“What a gift he has,” Max said. “And what a mating gift for us.”
Renata smiled. “If you ruin this bed, Maxim, I will never forgive you.”
He huffed. “That was a hotel bed in Copenhagen, and I can’t believe you’re still bringing it up.”
“Still.” She walked over and dragged him to the new sofa by the window. “Maybe we better start on a slightly less valuable piece of furniture.”
“If you insist.” Max dragged Renata’s shirt over her head and tossed it out the open window. “You won’t be needing that for the next few weeks.”
“What if I get cold?” The mountain air hit her skin, but she could never be cold looking at Max naked.
As he was becoming. As quickly as possible.
“I’ll warm you up,” he said. “What are mates for?”
Renata closed her eyes and gave in to the poetry of his brush on her skin. The dark henna started at the nape of her neck and traveled down her spine, spells her body would capture and hold on to as Maxim made his vow. She sat in the flicker of firelight, cross-legged in the house where she’d been born, waiting for her mate to finish the magic that would tie them together.
“I searched through the storm,” he said in a low voice, “and I found you.
“My beloved is a fox on the mountainside.
“She ran from me until I whispered gently.”
Renata angled her neck as the sable brush traced over her shoulder and down her arm. He wrote his spells in the Old Language, the language of heaven and the angels. The language she would sing as they made love.
Come, my beloved
Come to my hand
Come to my bed
My Renata, born in love
Born again in blood.
I will ever be your cleft in the rock.
Ever your faithful shelter