Under the Mistletoe, page 16
part #1 of Home to Heritage || Book Five Series
Devin wiped away a tear running down her cheek.
“I told you.” Jess rolled off the bed and walked out the door toward her own room.
It was like reading Logan’s journal of how she’d crushed him. She switched over to the phone and called him again, but it went straight to voicemail. So she sent off another text.
Devin
Call me. Please.
She flipped back to the chapter. Might as well rip off the rest of the Band-Aid.
The moment Rand rode through the Cambrian gate, he dropped to the ground from Calavar and approached Orin, who stood by his horse. “Brother.”
Orin shifted, revealing Astryn, who stood on his other side. Heat traveled though him as every inch of his skin screamed for him to reach for her, to touch her, to wipe away the tear stain that remained on her cheek. Rand dropped his gaze. “I think it best if I return to Anathia until the ceremony.”
“But I need you here.” Orin’s whole body seemed to stiffen. No doubt he thought Rand just wanted to shirk his responsibilities between now and then. But better his brother think him lazy than what this truly was.
Rand lifted his head but kept his eyes firmly on Orin’s. “You have plenty of men here. After this attack, I need to make sure our keep is secure.”
“He’s right.” Timus spoke from next to him. “No one there knows what has happened. Someone needs to go, and you, Orin, are needed here for the final preparations for the wedding.”
Orin still seemed hesitant. “When will you leave?”
Rand nodded at Timus. He had little doubt that his friend saw more than he was letting on. “At first light.”
“So soon?” Astryn’s words came out breathless, and when Rand’s eyes flicked in her direction, he was pretty sure she hadn’t meant to say it out loud. She dropped her head and looked away.
“It’s best.” Rand led his horse toward the barn. Only it didn’t sound soon to Rand. In fact, it didn’t sound soon enough. If Calavar didn’t need to rest, he’d leave right now.
Devin rolled on her back. She didn’t know if she wanted to cry on his shoulder about how she must have hurt him or scream at him for believing she’d even do that. She wasn’t Astryn, for crying out loud. The safety of everyone they knew didn’t depend on her marrying Liam. She’d already told Logan she wanted him.
Yeah, she definitely felt more like screaming now. It didn’t matter. Until he was willing to open communication again, she couldn’t do either. And she felt completely helpless.
He was tired of LA, and he was tired of not having a phone, since it was lost in Chicago along with his bag. Logan ran his hand through his much shorter hair as he slid the contract back toward the Hollywood executives across the wide conference table. “I still won’t sign that. I want a say in the script.”
They had been at this for four days, and if he had to repeat himself one more time, he might lose his mind.
A woman named Linda pushed it back, eyeing him over her dark-blue-rimmed readers. Her red lips pursed as she tapped her gold nail against the paper. “You’re not a screenwriter, you’re a novelist. Leave the screenwriting to the screenwriters.”
“I’m not asking to write the screenplay.” Logan pushed it back toward her. “I’m saying I want to approve it. Maybe offer suggestions if your screenwriters come up with some story twists that don’t fit the novel. I built that world and created those characters. I am not letting things slip in that don’t fit the world or dialogue that doesn’t fit the characters. I’ve seen too many screen adaptations that fans of the books hate. I owe my success to my readers, and I’m not doing that to them for any price.”
This had been the very reason he hadn’t signed away the movie rights to the publisher. At least for books two through four. He hadn’t had much bargaining power for book one. But the movie executives didn’t want just one film. It was the whole series or nothing.
The people across the table leaned their heads together and lowered their voices.
Mark and Sandy cringed next to him, but he didn’t care. Sure, he’d like to see the books made into movies, but only if they were done well. He had no doubt that they were salivating over the potential paycheck from a can’t-miss blockbuster, but the books made him plenty for his simple lifestyle. His lonely lifestyle.
But his cabin didn’t bring the usual longing. What he wanted to do was get back to Heritage.
Part of it was definitely Devin. He should have talked to her before he’d left. If she really was interested in his brother, then he wanted her to know there were no hard feelings. Sort of. But the more he turned the idea over, the more things didn’t fit. Devin didn’t come across as someone so fickle, and unless he’d read the room wrong the night before, she liked him, not Liam.
But getting back to Heritage was more than that. Being there had breathed new life into him in a way he hadn’t even known he needed. He missed people. Missed family. And something in him had sparked to life the moment Easton had leaned toward him, wishing for a family for Christmas. It was as if that had planted a seed of an idea that had grown into the desire to not just stop taking what he had for granted but also share what he had with others. Specifically, Easton, Alani, and Tyce.
The idea had come to him and pretty much sat in his brain ever since he’d boarded the plane to LA. Adopt the kids. It sounded so crazy in his head that he hadn’t even spoken it aloud yet. He couldn’t be a dad. He was too young. At least for kids this age. He’d been sixteen when Easton was born.
And he needed a wife, right? Did they approve single dads for adoption? Even if they did, he had no idea what to do with kids. Goofing around with them was fun, but what about the other ninety-nine percent of life? There was too much he didn’t even understand.
Yet no matter how hard he tried to avoid the idea or push it away, it just landed inside of him and hung on. What did he do with that? Not to mention that no matter what Easton feared, the Barlows were in the process of adopting them. It could be final before he got back.
That was a good thing. Then why did the idea stab something inside of him? He didn’t want to adopt just any kids. Easton, Alani, and Tyce had opened his heart like never before. He was growing to love them, no doubt about it. Tyce’s enthusiasm for life, Alani’s sweet tenderness, the glimmers of hope he saw in Easton’s eyes. Logan knew it was foolish to think he was the only person who could be there for them, but he truly believed he could be the key to unlock the potential in them that their circumstances had buried. And maybe they were the key to unlocking how empty and narrow his life had become.
And if he did decide to adopt them, what did that mean for him and Devin? Ideally, Devin would round out the perfect picture, but what if that wasn’t what she wanted? What if he had to choose between her and the kids?
He’d spent the last year lamenting that love wasn’t for him. And with the way he’d left things with Devin, dating and marriage might never be in his future. But could he alone take on the kids? He was a mess. Because adoption took more than a thought. More than a willingness. He’d seen it firsthand with Luke and Hannah.
He would have to relocate closer to a school and…so many things he couldn’t even wrap his mind around. Because, frankly, what did he know about raising them?
The three across the table sat back as Linda picked up the contract. “Are there any other concerns you have?”
“No, that has addressed all the other issues.” It better have after four very long, tedious days of going back and forth. “Make that change and you have a deal.”
“Then welcome to the Summitstone Pictures family.” They all stood and shook his hand across the table. “We’ll have the final contract ready to sign here in the morning, along with a check for the advance agreed upon.”
After a few photos were taken, Logan made his way to the exit. Sandy walked in front of him, but Mark dropped into step with him as he approached the elevator. “I can’t believe you pulled that off. I told you the new look would help.”
Logan punched the button and waited. New look all right. He didn’t even recognize his reflection in the shiny brass doors. His hair had been trimmed up in a cut that cost more than a week’s worth of groceries. Then the guy had added streaks of color, but he was pretty sure he got ripped off on that. It looked the same to him. Just more expensive.
Sandy kept going on about how the light-blue button-down shirt drew out his eyes. Maybe. But at least the deep-brown leather coat was comfortable enough. Now the jeans? He’d never go back to his Levis. He didn’t know what rich-people brands did to the material, but the blue faded jeans that hung on his hips felt like butter. He could sleep in these things.
All this because he’d made the short connection in Chicago, but his bag had not. Not only that, but evidently it got separated from the tag, so who knew if he’d ever see it again? He shouldn’t have even put his phone in it, but his head had been a bit of a mess when he’d gotten to Grand Rapids. So Sunday’s preparation had been less about what he’d say and more about what he’d look like. Sandy had convinced him he needed a stronger appearance for these meetings. Maybe she was right, because he’d gotten all he wanted.
Except for his phone. He didn’t even have people’s numbers memorized. His family was used to his long bouts of silence, but he needed to call Devin. Then again, maybe their conversation was better left to when they could talk face-to-face.
As he pushed out of the building, photographers lined the fence, lifted their cameras, and started rapid-firing. “What’s that about?”
Sandy offered a dismissive wave. “I think they just hang out waiting for A-listers to walk out, and dressed like that, you look like an A-lister. They’re probably trying to figure out who you are.”
“How disappointing will it be when they realize they just have a picture of a small-town guy from Michigan?” He climbed into the limo that transported them back to the hotel.
After they all settled into the oversized car, Sandy and Mark exchanged a look. Now what?
“With this deal,” Mark began, “we need to solidify the plot of book four. Christina has been impressed with your work, although she said everything you’ve written since Rand took off back to Anathia is a bit lacking.”
He didn’t argue. She was right. But his head was a mess. He was halfway through the story, and he still hadn’t dealt with Anwar. Maybe he could focus on that. That and figuring out a way to get Rand and Astryn in the same country again.
“Okay, I’ll work on that.” The streets weren’t as crowded as when he’d visited New York, but there were definitely no acres of woods like Heritage. It was store after store as far as he could see, but most had lights or tinsel announcing the season. If he peered hard enough, he could just make out the Hollywood sign in the gaps between the buildings as they passed.
“This bumps up the timeline. We need you to submit a new synopsis for book four next week.” Sandy had her iPad out and was tapping it at a rapid pace.
“Next week?” His mind spun. They wanted him to take it a whole different direction? Didn’t they know how huge a job that was?
“I’m not trying to overwhelm you.” She took off her glasses and tapped the earpiece against her mouth. “But we have to keep pushing forward, now more than ever. Bringing in a coauthor might not be a bad option. And if you choose that, we need to get the ball rolling.”
They still hadn’t ruled out the idea of a coauthor? A tightness settled back in his chest. He’d hoped that what he’d written so far would build their confidence. But maybe it hadn’t been enough. “I’ll get a synopsis to you a week from today.”
“Make it Wednesday. Thursday we have an editorial meeting at PJP.” Sandy was now tapping into her phone. “That is six days.”
Mark glanced up from his phone. “They said everything will be wrapped up by ten tomorrow. So I can get you out on a flight by one, but since I need to give you time to find your bag in Chicago, you won’t get to Grand Rapids until close to midnight.”
“Take it.” He just wanted to get home. He didn’t care when it landed him there.
“So what are you going to do with your big check?” Sandy focused back on him. The tightness of her shoulders seemed to finally relax for the first time since he’d landed in LA. “Luxury vacation? A new cottage?”
He blinked at her, then flipped through the contract until he came to the amount agreed upon. It hadn’t seemed real until this moment. But there was that number, that large number, and tomorrow, he could deposit it into his account. There was that undeniable tugging again toward Easton, Alani, and Tyce.
He’d always seen himself as a writer. But maybe he was meant to be more. And that started with not just opening himself to the idea of romantic love, but opening himself up to the love he had to give.
He gave Sandy a shrug. “I don’t know exactly, but I have a feeling it’ll mean a big change.”
He pulled out his laptop. Big contract or not, he still had a scene due tomorrow. Then he had to plot out all of book four again if he had any hope of saving his story from falling into the hands of—he shuddered—a coauthor.
Stone of Anwar: Chapter 16
She had to gain control of her traitorous thoughts. Cambria was counting on her. Astryn used the garden shears to cut one of the long red roses off a bush and laid it in her basket.
It had been days since she’d seen Rand, and yet she could still feel his fingers on her neck. Hear the deep timbre of his voice as he said her name. The heated look in his eyes just before her father’s voice broke the silence. She’d believed—hoped—it would fade. But five days past and it was as fresh as the moment it had happened. What was she going to do?
Movement at the base of the plant jerked her attention. She pushed aside the ground cover and pulled up short. A bunny was struggling against a cord wrapped around its back paw. She reached out with a slow, gentle hand, but the rabbit didn’t bolt or fight, worn out from the struggle.
After closer inspection, the line appeared to be a poorly constructed snare. With care, she lowered the shears and cut the rabbit free, but the paw underneath was bloodied and mangled. She tossed aside the rose, placed the bunny gently in the basket, and stood.
“What will you do with it?” A tall, regal woman stood in her path. Astryn had never seen her before, but her garments were Anathian blue and of fine fiber. Perhaps she was part of Orin’s entourage. The woman stepped closer and raised her chin. Her right eye was a striking green, while her left eye was a brilliant blue.
“I will take it to my healer.” Astryn tried to put strength into the words, but there was something unnerving about the woman.
“Your healer cannot help. You know that if you search your heart.”
“Do you suggest I leave it here to suffer?”
“Do you not know the power of the pendant you wear?”
Astryn’s hand went to her bodice where the necklace that Orin had given her dangled. She had put it on every day since the kidnapping.
“That, my child, is Anwar, the Stone of Light. Hold the pendant in one palm and cover the rabbit’s injured paw with the other.”
When she didn’t move, the woman stepped closer, causing Astryn to look up. “I think if I—”
“Do as I say.” The words were gentle but somehow more irresistible than a king’s shouted command.
With the way the rabbit’s breathing had slowed, it didn’t even have time for her to get to the healer, so what was the harm in humoring this strange matron?
With the basket hanging from her right elbow, Astryn wrapped her right hand around the pendant and covered the injured paw with her left. A searing, burning pain filled the palm that covered the paw. She yanked back her hand, but there wasn’t even a mark. The basket rocked, and she glanced down as the bunny twisted, trying to right itself.
Astryn gasped and dropped the basket. The bunny didn’t seem to mind the fall as it hopped back into the underbrush without even a limp. A shiver shot down her spine, and the air seemed to press in on her.
Astryn spun toward the woman. “Who are you? How did you make the stone do that?”
The quick movement must have been too much, because she staggered sideways.
“One question at a time. But first, sit.” She pointed to a nearby bench and waited for Astryn to claim a spot, but she didn’t join her. “Healing the rabbit cost you. You transferred some of your life to the animal. You will regain that strength, but you must understand there is a cost each time you use it. The larger the living thing and the greater the injury, the greater the cost. Don’t forget that. It cost me everything.”
“What do you mean?”
“You asked how I made the stone do that. The simplest answer is, the stone didn’t do anything, and neither did I. The stone is just a stone. But long ago, Origin chose to empower the stone. Make no mistake, the power is His. His alone. Not yours, not the stone’s. But if someone is willing, their life can be transferred through the stone to others. It takes an open heart and pure motives. It takes a heart consumed with love and the desire to do anything for those they love. The power will never move for an impure purpose.”
Astryn fingered the pendant hanging around her neck. “How do you know all this?”
“Because that stone once hung around my neck. Origin gifted it to my husband, who gave it to me.”
To her? But it had been Orin’s mother’s…and she’d died years ago…The warmth drained from Astryn. Her eyes darted around the garden for her nearest guard. “Are you a ghost?”
“No, child, ghosts do not exist. And don’t call for the guard. They will not see me, because I am not here. I live with Origin now in the Land of Plenty. I have only come as a messenger. You see, even my own children don’t know its power.”
“What did you mean when you said it cost you everything?”
“It was the day the love of my life, King Maltic, lay dying. I couldn’t bear a world without him, so I poured all my strength into the stone even though I knew he was too far gone. It revived him, but only for mere minutes. My strength was not enough. So instead of saving him, we both died in the woods that day. I had a moment more with my dear Maltic, but I failed to put my kingdom first. I lost watching my boys grow. I lost the opportunity to shape the crown of the next generation.”
“I told you.” Jess rolled off the bed and walked out the door toward her own room.
It was like reading Logan’s journal of how she’d crushed him. She switched over to the phone and called him again, but it went straight to voicemail. So she sent off another text.
Devin
Call me. Please.
She flipped back to the chapter. Might as well rip off the rest of the Band-Aid.
The moment Rand rode through the Cambrian gate, he dropped to the ground from Calavar and approached Orin, who stood by his horse. “Brother.”
Orin shifted, revealing Astryn, who stood on his other side. Heat traveled though him as every inch of his skin screamed for him to reach for her, to touch her, to wipe away the tear stain that remained on her cheek. Rand dropped his gaze. “I think it best if I return to Anathia until the ceremony.”
“But I need you here.” Orin’s whole body seemed to stiffen. No doubt he thought Rand just wanted to shirk his responsibilities between now and then. But better his brother think him lazy than what this truly was.
Rand lifted his head but kept his eyes firmly on Orin’s. “You have plenty of men here. After this attack, I need to make sure our keep is secure.”
“He’s right.” Timus spoke from next to him. “No one there knows what has happened. Someone needs to go, and you, Orin, are needed here for the final preparations for the wedding.”
Orin still seemed hesitant. “When will you leave?”
Rand nodded at Timus. He had little doubt that his friend saw more than he was letting on. “At first light.”
“So soon?” Astryn’s words came out breathless, and when Rand’s eyes flicked in her direction, he was pretty sure she hadn’t meant to say it out loud. She dropped her head and looked away.
“It’s best.” Rand led his horse toward the barn. Only it didn’t sound soon to Rand. In fact, it didn’t sound soon enough. If Calavar didn’t need to rest, he’d leave right now.
Devin rolled on her back. She didn’t know if she wanted to cry on his shoulder about how she must have hurt him or scream at him for believing she’d even do that. She wasn’t Astryn, for crying out loud. The safety of everyone they knew didn’t depend on her marrying Liam. She’d already told Logan she wanted him.
Yeah, she definitely felt more like screaming now. It didn’t matter. Until he was willing to open communication again, she couldn’t do either. And she felt completely helpless.
He was tired of LA, and he was tired of not having a phone, since it was lost in Chicago along with his bag. Logan ran his hand through his much shorter hair as he slid the contract back toward the Hollywood executives across the wide conference table. “I still won’t sign that. I want a say in the script.”
They had been at this for four days, and if he had to repeat himself one more time, he might lose his mind.
A woman named Linda pushed it back, eyeing him over her dark-blue-rimmed readers. Her red lips pursed as she tapped her gold nail against the paper. “You’re not a screenwriter, you’re a novelist. Leave the screenwriting to the screenwriters.”
“I’m not asking to write the screenplay.” Logan pushed it back toward her. “I’m saying I want to approve it. Maybe offer suggestions if your screenwriters come up with some story twists that don’t fit the novel. I built that world and created those characters. I am not letting things slip in that don’t fit the world or dialogue that doesn’t fit the characters. I’ve seen too many screen adaptations that fans of the books hate. I owe my success to my readers, and I’m not doing that to them for any price.”
This had been the very reason he hadn’t signed away the movie rights to the publisher. At least for books two through four. He hadn’t had much bargaining power for book one. But the movie executives didn’t want just one film. It was the whole series or nothing.
The people across the table leaned their heads together and lowered their voices.
Mark and Sandy cringed next to him, but he didn’t care. Sure, he’d like to see the books made into movies, but only if they were done well. He had no doubt that they were salivating over the potential paycheck from a can’t-miss blockbuster, but the books made him plenty for his simple lifestyle. His lonely lifestyle.
But his cabin didn’t bring the usual longing. What he wanted to do was get back to Heritage.
Part of it was definitely Devin. He should have talked to her before he’d left. If she really was interested in his brother, then he wanted her to know there were no hard feelings. Sort of. But the more he turned the idea over, the more things didn’t fit. Devin didn’t come across as someone so fickle, and unless he’d read the room wrong the night before, she liked him, not Liam.
But getting back to Heritage was more than that. Being there had breathed new life into him in a way he hadn’t even known he needed. He missed people. Missed family. And something in him had sparked to life the moment Easton had leaned toward him, wishing for a family for Christmas. It was as if that had planted a seed of an idea that had grown into the desire to not just stop taking what he had for granted but also share what he had with others. Specifically, Easton, Alani, and Tyce.
The idea had come to him and pretty much sat in his brain ever since he’d boarded the plane to LA. Adopt the kids. It sounded so crazy in his head that he hadn’t even spoken it aloud yet. He couldn’t be a dad. He was too young. At least for kids this age. He’d been sixteen when Easton was born.
And he needed a wife, right? Did they approve single dads for adoption? Even if they did, he had no idea what to do with kids. Goofing around with them was fun, but what about the other ninety-nine percent of life? There was too much he didn’t even understand.
Yet no matter how hard he tried to avoid the idea or push it away, it just landed inside of him and hung on. What did he do with that? Not to mention that no matter what Easton feared, the Barlows were in the process of adopting them. It could be final before he got back.
That was a good thing. Then why did the idea stab something inside of him? He didn’t want to adopt just any kids. Easton, Alani, and Tyce had opened his heart like never before. He was growing to love them, no doubt about it. Tyce’s enthusiasm for life, Alani’s sweet tenderness, the glimmers of hope he saw in Easton’s eyes. Logan knew it was foolish to think he was the only person who could be there for them, but he truly believed he could be the key to unlock the potential in them that their circumstances had buried. And maybe they were the key to unlocking how empty and narrow his life had become.
And if he did decide to adopt them, what did that mean for him and Devin? Ideally, Devin would round out the perfect picture, but what if that wasn’t what she wanted? What if he had to choose between her and the kids?
He’d spent the last year lamenting that love wasn’t for him. And with the way he’d left things with Devin, dating and marriage might never be in his future. But could he alone take on the kids? He was a mess. Because adoption took more than a thought. More than a willingness. He’d seen it firsthand with Luke and Hannah.
He would have to relocate closer to a school and…so many things he couldn’t even wrap his mind around. Because, frankly, what did he know about raising them?
The three across the table sat back as Linda picked up the contract. “Are there any other concerns you have?”
“No, that has addressed all the other issues.” It better have after four very long, tedious days of going back and forth. “Make that change and you have a deal.”
“Then welcome to the Summitstone Pictures family.” They all stood and shook his hand across the table. “We’ll have the final contract ready to sign here in the morning, along with a check for the advance agreed upon.”
After a few photos were taken, Logan made his way to the exit. Sandy walked in front of him, but Mark dropped into step with him as he approached the elevator. “I can’t believe you pulled that off. I told you the new look would help.”
Logan punched the button and waited. New look all right. He didn’t even recognize his reflection in the shiny brass doors. His hair had been trimmed up in a cut that cost more than a week’s worth of groceries. Then the guy had added streaks of color, but he was pretty sure he got ripped off on that. It looked the same to him. Just more expensive.
Sandy kept going on about how the light-blue button-down shirt drew out his eyes. Maybe. But at least the deep-brown leather coat was comfortable enough. Now the jeans? He’d never go back to his Levis. He didn’t know what rich-people brands did to the material, but the blue faded jeans that hung on his hips felt like butter. He could sleep in these things.
All this because he’d made the short connection in Chicago, but his bag had not. Not only that, but evidently it got separated from the tag, so who knew if he’d ever see it again? He shouldn’t have even put his phone in it, but his head had been a bit of a mess when he’d gotten to Grand Rapids. So Sunday’s preparation had been less about what he’d say and more about what he’d look like. Sandy had convinced him he needed a stronger appearance for these meetings. Maybe she was right, because he’d gotten all he wanted.
Except for his phone. He didn’t even have people’s numbers memorized. His family was used to his long bouts of silence, but he needed to call Devin. Then again, maybe their conversation was better left to when they could talk face-to-face.
As he pushed out of the building, photographers lined the fence, lifted their cameras, and started rapid-firing. “What’s that about?”
Sandy offered a dismissive wave. “I think they just hang out waiting for A-listers to walk out, and dressed like that, you look like an A-lister. They’re probably trying to figure out who you are.”
“How disappointing will it be when they realize they just have a picture of a small-town guy from Michigan?” He climbed into the limo that transported them back to the hotel.
After they all settled into the oversized car, Sandy and Mark exchanged a look. Now what?
“With this deal,” Mark began, “we need to solidify the plot of book four. Christina has been impressed with your work, although she said everything you’ve written since Rand took off back to Anathia is a bit lacking.”
He didn’t argue. She was right. But his head was a mess. He was halfway through the story, and he still hadn’t dealt with Anwar. Maybe he could focus on that. That and figuring out a way to get Rand and Astryn in the same country again.
“Okay, I’ll work on that.” The streets weren’t as crowded as when he’d visited New York, but there were definitely no acres of woods like Heritage. It was store after store as far as he could see, but most had lights or tinsel announcing the season. If he peered hard enough, he could just make out the Hollywood sign in the gaps between the buildings as they passed.
“This bumps up the timeline. We need you to submit a new synopsis for book four next week.” Sandy had her iPad out and was tapping it at a rapid pace.
“Next week?” His mind spun. They wanted him to take it a whole different direction? Didn’t they know how huge a job that was?
“I’m not trying to overwhelm you.” She took off her glasses and tapped the earpiece against her mouth. “But we have to keep pushing forward, now more than ever. Bringing in a coauthor might not be a bad option. And if you choose that, we need to get the ball rolling.”
They still hadn’t ruled out the idea of a coauthor? A tightness settled back in his chest. He’d hoped that what he’d written so far would build their confidence. But maybe it hadn’t been enough. “I’ll get a synopsis to you a week from today.”
“Make it Wednesday. Thursday we have an editorial meeting at PJP.” Sandy was now tapping into her phone. “That is six days.”
Mark glanced up from his phone. “They said everything will be wrapped up by ten tomorrow. So I can get you out on a flight by one, but since I need to give you time to find your bag in Chicago, you won’t get to Grand Rapids until close to midnight.”
“Take it.” He just wanted to get home. He didn’t care when it landed him there.
“So what are you going to do with your big check?” Sandy focused back on him. The tightness of her shoulders seemed to finally relax for the first time since he’d landed in LA. “Luxury vacation? A new cottage?”
He blinked at her, then flipped through the contract until he came to the amount agreed upon. It hadn’t seemed real until this moment. But there was that number, that large number, and tomorrow, he could deposit it into his account. There was that undeniable tugging again toward Easton, Alani, and Tyce.
He’d always seen himself as a writer. But maybe he was meant to be more. And that started with not just opening himself to the idea of romantic love, but opening himself up to the love he had to give.
He gave Sandy a shrug. “I don’t know exactly, but I have a feeling it’ll mean a big change.”
He pulled out his laptop. Big contract or not, he still had a scene due tomorrow. Then he had to plot out all of book four again if he had any hope of saving his story from falling into the hands of—he shuddered—a coauthor.
Stone of Anwar: Chapter 16
She had to gain control of her traitorous thoughts. Cambria was counting on her. Astryn used the garden shears to cut one of the long red roses off a bush and laid it in her basket.
It had been days since she’d seen Rand, and yet she could still feel his fingers on her neck. Hear the deep timbre of his voice as he said her name. The heated look in his eyes just before her father’s voice broke the silence. She’d believed—hoped—it would fade. But five days past and it was as fresh as the moment it had happened. What was she going to do?
Movement at the base of the plant jerked her attention. She pushed aside the ground cover and pulled up short. A bunny was struggling against a cord wrapped around its back paw. She reached out with a slow, gentle hand, but the rabbit didn’t bolt or fight, worn out from the struggle.
After closer inspection, the line appeared to be a poorly constructed snare. With care, she lowered the shears and cut the rabbit free, but the paw underneath was bloodied and mangled. She tossed aside the rose, placed the bunny gently in the basket, and stood.
“What will you do with it?” A tall, regal woman stood in her path. Astryn had never seen her before, but her garments were Anathian blue and of fine fiber. Perhaps she was part of Orin’s entourage. The woman stepped closer and raised her chin. Her right eye was a striking green, while her left eye was a brilliant blue.
“I will take it to my healer.” Astryn tried to put strength into the words, but there was something unnerving about the woman.
“Your healer cannot help. You know that if you search your heart.”
“Do you suggest I leave it here to suffer?”
“Do you not know the power of the pendant you wear?”
Astryn’s hand went to her bodice where the necklace that Orin had given her dangled. She had put it on every day since the kidnapping.
“That, my child, is Anwar, the Stone of Light. Hold the pendant in one palm and cover the rabbit’s injured paw with the other.”
When she didn’t move, the woman stepped closer, causing Astryn to look up. “I think if I—”
“Do as I say.” The words were gentle but somehow more irresistible than a king’s shouted command.
With the way the rabbit’s breathing had slowed, it didn’t even have time for her to get to the healer, so what was the harm in humoring this strange matron?
With the basket hanging from her right elbow, Astryn wrapped her right hand around the pendant and covered the injured paw with her left. A searing, burning pain filled the palm that covered the paw. She yanked back her hand, but there wasn’t even a mark. The basket rocked, and she glanced down as the bunny twisted, trying to right itself.
Astryn gasped and dropped the basket. The bunny didn’t seem to mind the fall as it hopped back into the underbrush without even a limp. A shiver shot down her spine, and the air seemed to press in on her.
Astryn spun toward the woman. “Who are you? How did you make the stone do that?”
The quick movement must have been too much, because she staggered sideways.
“One question at a time. But first, sit.” She pointed to a nearby bench and waited for Astryn to claim a spot, but she didn’t join her. “Healing the rabbit cost you. You transferred some of your life to the animal. You will regain that strength, but you must understand there is a cost each time you use it. The larger the living thing and the greater the injury, the greater the cost. Don’t forget that. It cost me everything.”
“What do you mean?”
“You asked how I made the stone do that. The simplest answer is, the stone didn’t do anything, and neither did I. The stone is just a stone. But long ago, Origin chose to empower the stone. Make no mistake, the power is His. His alone. Not yours, not the stone’s. But if someone is willing, their life can be transferred through the stone to others. It takes an open heart and pure motives. It takes a heart consumed with love and the desire to do anything for those they love. The power will never move for an impure purpose.”
Astryn fingered the pendant hanging around her neck. “How do you know all this?”
“Because that stone once hung around my neck. Origin gifted it to my husband, who gave it to me.”
To her? But it had been Orin’s mother’s…and she’d died years ago…The warmth drained from Astryn. Her eyes darted around the garden for her nearest guard. “Are you a ghost?”
“No, child, ghosts do not exist. And don’t call for the guard. They will not see me, because I am not here. I live with Origin now in the Land of Plenty. I have only come as a messenger. You see, even my own children don’t know its power.”
“What did you mean when you said it cost you everything?”
“It was the day the love of my life, King Maltic, lay dying. I couldn’t bear a world without him, so I poured all my strength into the stone even though I knew he was too far gone. It revived him, but only for mere minutes. My strength was not enough. So instead of saving him, we both died in the woods that day. I had a moment more with my dear Maltic, but I failed to put my kingdom first. I lost watching my boys grow. I lost the opportunity to shape the crown of the next generation.”
