Page 26 of Dark Rover’s Luck (The Children Of The Gods #95)
26
KYRA
K yra pulled out her phone and glanced at the time. "It's getting late. Do you know how long it will take for Vrog to be done with Parisa's boys?"
Max should be getting home any moment now, and the tension in the invisible thread connecting them was slowly growing taut. She kept busy during the days he worked at the keep, but any separation that was longer than a few hours was difficult. She'd even offered to join him in the dungeon, but he'd refused, saying that confidential stuff was happening and only Guardians were allowed there. Kian had had to clear her previous visit to the dungeon, and there was no reason for her to be there again.
He was probably trying to protect her from the ugliness of his job, but she'd seen enough during her lifetime to harden her soul and not let things like that get to her.
Soraya shook her head. "Vrog doesn't work with a timetable. He takes as long as each child needs."
"That's commendable," Kyra murmured.
The sound of small feet in the hallway drew her attention, and a moment later Cyra appeared in the kitchen, her dark curls tousled from sleep, clutching a well-worn stuffed rabbit. She spotted Kyra and hesitated, her expression turning shy.
"Hello, little one," Kyra said softly. "Did you have a good nap?"
Cyra didn't answer, instead looking to her mother with solemn eyes.
"Come here, habibti ," Yasmin said, opening her arms.
The child crossed over to her and climbed into her lap, burying her face against her mother's shoulder.
Yasmin stroked her daughter's hair with a concerned expression. "She's been like this since we met the Clan Mother," she said to Kyra. "Withdrawn, quiet. Not like herself at all."
"Children process things differently, I guess." Kyra watched the little girl. "I can't claim authority on the subject. I don't remember Jasmine's childhood."
She yearned to take the little girl and clutch her to her own breast, but Cyra needed her mother, and she wouldn't appreciate a needy aunt taking her away from that soft bosom.
"Is something bothering you, sweetie?" Kyra asked.
The girl burrowed even deeper into Yasmin's shirt, hiding her face with the stuffed bunny.
"She sometimes gets like this. It happened even before…" Yasmin swallowed. "I think she has bad dreams but refuses to talk about them."
Kyra's gut twisted. Javad had been a good father and husband, and his kids loved him, so suspecting him of having done anything inappropriate was out of the question. But little Cyra's uncles hadn't been paradigms of male morality, and Kyra had heard her share of child abuse stories that involved relatives and were perpetrated against children as young as Cyra and even younger.
She moved closer, kneeling to put herself at eye level with the child. "Hello, Cyra. Do you remember me? I'm your Aunt Kyra."
The girl nodded, peeking out from her mother's shoulder with wide, dark eyes.
"Do you know that I'm a mighty warrior?"
The girl shook her head.
"Well, I am, and I will not let anyone hurt you. I promise. Do you believe me?"
Cyra looked at her from under her long, dark lashes, with eyes that were oddly penetrating for someone so young. Then she nodded.
"So, if there is anything that's bothering you, if anyone has done something bad to you or even made you uncomfortable, you can tell me, and I will make sure that it never happens again."
Unsurprisingly, Yasmin looked troubled by what Kyra was implying, but she didn't say anything.
Cyra glanced at her mother, who nodded encouragingly. "It's alright, habibti . You can tell Aunt Kyra anything."
"I have a spooky dream." Cyra's voice was barely above a whisper. "I see a beautiful doll, but it's not a girl, it's a man doll. I've never seen a man doll before."
"There are man dolls in America," Kyra said, keeping her tone light though her interest sharpened. "I can get you a few to choose from."
"There are?" Cyra lifted her head. "It was a very beautiful man, with glowing skin like the pretty lady." She paused, her small brow furrowing. "He was sleeping. He was so alone and lost."
A chill ran down Kyra's spine. Was sleeping Cyra's way to say dead?
"He was sleeping, but not sleeping," the girl said as if she'd read Kyra's mind. "He's so alone."
Yasmin looked alarmed, pulling Cyra closer. "It's just a strange dream, sweetness. Don't be frightened."
"I'm not afraid," Cyra said. "I'm sad for the beautiful man. We need to find him so the pretty lady can play with him. She misses him so much."
Kyra felt the warm weight of the pendant against her skin. This wasn't just a child's dream. Somehow, this four-year-old girl must have tapped into Annani's consciousness and seen Khiann through the goddess's loving eyes.
Given Jasmine's descriptions of a body in stasis after such a long time, Khiann was a little more than a skeleton now, not the beautiful man doll that Cyra had seen.
The other adults in the room had gone quiet, watching the exchange with varying degrees of concern and confusion.
"Thank you for telling me, Cyra," Kyra said, touching the child's hand gently. "That was very brave of you."
Cyra studied her face. "Can you find him, Aunt Kyra?"
"I'm going to try," Kyra promised. "Would it be okay if I asked you more about your dream another time? Maybe you could even draw a picture of what you saw?"
A child's drawing was not going to help them with more information about Khiann's whereabouts, but perhaps it would help Cyra process the dream.
The girl nodded, a flicker of her usual brightness returning to her eyes.
"Just one more question. How long have you been dreaming about the beautiful man?"
"After meeting the pretty lady."
So, Kyra's suspicion was probably right, and Cyra had the ability to tap into the consciousness of those around her. That would explain her earlier bouts of moodiness, as she might have been affected by others.
Still, Kyra wasn't an expert by any means, and her assessment might be completely wrong.
"Go wash your hands for dinner," Yasmin said, kissing the top of her daughter's head before setting her down. "Ask Essa to help you reach the sink."
As the child scampered off, Yasmin turned to Kyra with worried eyes. "What was that about?"
"I think your little girl has psychic abilities, which isn't really surprising given that Jasmine and I have a touch of those as well. I think that she tapped into the Clan Mother's mind. The goddess believes her husband, Khiann, is in stasis somewhere in the Arabian Desert, not dead as most believe, and she wants me and Jasmine and maybe even Fenella to find him."
"And you think my four-year-old daughter somehow saw him through the goddess's mind eye?" Yasmin sounded incredulous.
Kyra nodded. "It also might not have been the first time since you said she used to get moody like that on other occasions. You have to tell Vanessa about it and have her talk with Cyra. A young child like her must have difficulty processing adult issues she inadvertently gets exposed to by touching people's minds."
Yasmin shivered. "That's terrible. How do I shield her from that?"
"I wish I knew." Kyra sighed. "I hope Vanessa does."
"This has been just a bizarre day," Rana muttered. "First, we learn that we're distantly related to a Scottish bartender, and now my niece is having visions of an ancient god? What's next?"
Before Kyra could respond, the doorbell rang, and a moment later, Parisa walked in with her four boys and Max in tow.
Kyra's heartbeat accelerated, and a smile bloomed on her face. She rose to her feet and pulled Max into a brief embrace. "I'm sorry I wasn't home when you got there."
"I didn't get there. I met Parisa on the way, and she told me you were here, so I joined."
"Excellent. I'm glad that you did," Yasmin said. "We are about to have dinner."
He leaned in to kiss her cheek. "I don't want to impose. Kyra and I should leave."
"Don't you dare." Yasmin cast him a mock glare. "Family doesn't impose, and the more the merrier."
He flashed her one of his charming smiles. "Okay, if you insist."
"I do." Yasmin motioned for Soraya and Rana to join her in the kitchen, and the three started a well-coordinated dance of preparing a quick dinner for their not-so-small clan.
"How did you boys do with Vrog?" Kyra asked.
"He's great," Tyrus said. "I like studying on my own much more than going to school and listening to boring teachers."
Zaden seconded his brother's opinion with a nod. "Where is Essa?" he asked.
"Helping the little ones wash up for dinner," Yasmin said.
As the four boys headed down the corridor to search for their older cousin, Parisa turned to Kyra. "I'm worried about the older boys and their induction ceremonies. How exactly is it going to happen, and who is going to organize it?"
"I have no clue." Kyra shifted her gaze to Max. "Can you shed some light on that for us?"
"Certainly." He sat on one of the stools and pulled Kyra to him to sit on his knees as if it was the most natural thing to do. "But maybe we should do that after dinner with the boys present. I'm sure that they are just as curious as you are."