Page 51 of The Storm
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 Renatahelped 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 calledkulicha, 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 atambur,” 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.”
