Page 68 of The Storm
From what Kyra could tell, Max and Leo didn’t know. They didn’t speak about the past in this family, but age and impending death had loosened Artis’s tongue.
He said, “I don’t think I heard Lauma and Peter say a dozen words to each other in the year he was working with me.” Artis let out a weak cough. “But then Lauma marches in here—this very room—and says, ‘Teti!Peteris and I will be mated in two weeks. Be sure to send the letter to his family.’ And that was that.” He shrugged massive shoulders. “Peter was the same solemn scribe he’d ever been, but he smiled at Lauma and Lauma adored him.” He nodded at Kyra. “She looked at him the way you look at Leo. So yes, maybe they werereshon. How to make sense of it otherwise?”
“You had two daughters,” Renata said. “No other children?”
Artis’s eyes lost focus. “How could we have asked for more? With blessings like those two? We tempted fate, I think.”
“Why?” Renata asked. “Because they died? Many died. My whole family died. You had two grandsons remaining. And a son-in-law. You were luckier than most.”
Artis raised his eyebrows. “You have a sharp tongue.”
“And?”
“Keep a whetstone handy. You’ll need a sharp tongue with Maxim.”
Renata laughed, and Kyra couldn’t hide her smile. Renata reached for Artis’s empty plate. “I’ll get you more.” She rose and left the room.
“I’m not hungry,” he said. “But I do enjoy being fussed over.”
“Shall I get you more milk?” Kyra rose, but Artis grabbed her wrist. It startled Kyra, and she felt a jolt of energy move from her skin to his. “Artis?”
He released her immediately. “So much power,” he said, flexing his hand. “Do you burn him when he touches you, daughter of the Fallen?”
Kyra bit back her first response. He was an old man, set in his ways. “I would never hurt Leo. He is the other part of me.”
Artis raised his eyes. “You have gold eyes like my Evelina. Even brighter than hers.”
“She had Leoc’s blood?” Ava had told her only those with Leoc’s blood retained the amber gold color of angelic eyes.
Artis’s eyes narrowed. “She had a touch.”
It was more than a touch.Kyra said, “You said she was a baker.”
“She was a baker because she wanted to be a baker. But she saw things too. Her parents didn’t want her leaving the village, so they didn’t force her into seer training.”
“But is that why she was killed? Because she was a seer?”
Artis drew back. “They were all killed. Not for any reason. Simply to break us, I think.”
She could see him drawing into himself. He turned his face back into the sun that filled the corner of the room and closed his eyes. She felt the weight of his grief like an old wound. It no longer bled, it ached, begging to be relieved.
A week. If that. Kyra had seen those weary eyes before.
Artis would be gone within a week.
* * *
Renata couldn’t findMax in the house, so she went out to the woods and followed the trail that led down to the sea. She stepped on the worn path, letting the breeze surround her, and followed it down a small hill toward the sound of water and seagulls.
When the sun touched her skin, she could feel the summer warmth, but more often she walked in the crisp cool of the pines. She hadn’t found any occupied houses for miles. There seemed to be a few vacation homes along this stretch of the coast, but they were all empty.
Forest gave way to rolling dunes covered in grass and low green shrubs. Max sat on a rise of sand, his hands braced behind him, staring at the tide washing out. The ocean was grey that afternoon. In the distance, the deeper blue of the water gave way to a bright, cloud-spotted sky.
She walked behind her mate and sat down, stretching her legs on either side and wrapping her arms around his back. Max leaned into her, loosely holding her hands over his heart.
Renata leaned down and whispered, “Did all the butter-churning wear you out? I promise I’ll be more gentle next time.”
Max’s chest rumbled with a laugh. “Woman…” He sighed. “You give me peace.”
