He handed it to her, bent down and kissed her cheek before he walked toward the car.

“Jasper?” She looked at the drive and took a few steps toward him. “Dad!”

He turned, grinning. Mischief lit his eyes. “What?”

“What is this?”

The smile turned wistful. “I finally got it right.”

“Got what right?”

“It’s for you, Ava.” He slipped on his sunglasses. “It’s your song.”

Ava gripped the precious piece of plastic in her hand and watched him drive away.

“CANIM?” Malachi peeked his head through the door of their room in Istanbul. Ava pulled off the earphones and set them to the side of the desk where she had her books spread out.

“Hey,” she said. “What’s up?”

He watched her, his heart shining out of his eyes. “Your song again?”

“It’s beautiful.”

“It is.” He walked over and sat on the bed. “It’s the best thing he’s ever written.”

“Yeah.” She smiled and spread her hand over the history book she’d been reading. “It is.”

She fell silent and he watched her.

“You have a secret,” he whispered. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“You must be magic.”

“You have no idea.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment. Malachi just waited for her to speak.

“Do you know anything about gemstones?”

“Not much,” he said. “Is this a hint?”

“No, I don’t need a ring from you.” She closed the book and went to him, straddling his lap so they were face-to-face. “Jasper is an ancient stone,” she said, stroking her fingers along the close-cropped hair near his neck. “It’s used for protection.”

“Is that so?” he whispered.

“Yes.” She laid her head on his shoulder as his arms came around her. “It’s supposed to keep away evil spirits.”

His hands tightened on her hips.

“She gave him the name Jasper to protect him.” Ava closed her eyes and released a sigh. “She did it to protect her child.”

Chapter Thirty-three

MALACHI LAY ON THE PICNIC blanket in Yıldız Park, his face soaking in the afternoon sun as Ava combed her hand through his hair and took pictures with her phone. A group of children shrieked nearby, the laughter almost piercing his eardrums.

“What are they doing?” he murmured.

“I think there’s a squirrel.” She laughed. “Uh-oh. And now there’s a dog.”

“Özel dilerim!” Malachi heard one mother call, apologizing for the racket.

“Bir şey değil!” Ava reassured the harried mother with a laugh. It’s nothing.

She had picked up the language quickly after they’d moved to Istanbul. After living there over a year, she chatted with the vendor at the market and ordered from her favorite cafe with ease. Ava was still fascinated by languages, but most of her study was now focused on learning everything she could about the Old Language, particularly spells—like those Vasu had given her—that might have been lost.

She and Sari also corresponded regularly with Kyra, though the kareshta still lived in hiding.

He kept his eyes closed and imagined the scene as the dog barked and the children ran laughing into the trees. Their shouts and laughter had finally become a comfort. He loved his city, and human families were a part of it. A tumble of accents and languages flowed along the paths, though most of the visitors in the middle of the week were local. He heard a teacher instructing a drawing class several meters away, but no one came close enough to bother them.

Damien and Sari were away from the scribe house, visiting Orsala, who had taken residence in Cappadocia with Mala. The quiet scholars in Göreme didn’t quite know what to do with the fierce Irina warrior, but Mala would not leave Orsala, so they learned to stay out of her way.

Officially, Malachi was in charge. But since Rhys was at the house, cranky because the air-conditioning was out again, Malachi was more than happy to escape. He and Ava had snuck out with a picnic basket, Leo giving them rude hand gestures as he waited on the phone with the repair company.

“Malachi?”

“Hmm?”

“There’s something…”

He heard the catch in her voice and opened his eyes. She looked upset. “What is it?”

Ava shook her head. “I don’t know how to tell you. I didn’t expect…”

“Ava, what’s wrong?”

Her cheeks were flushed. “Everyone said it wasn’t likely, so—”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m pregnant.”

His heart skipped a beat.

“I know,” she whispered, “with everything, it’s not the best time. You still have concerns. I know that. And the dreams still… I need you to be happy.”

“Ava.” His heart was so full he thought it would pound out of his chest.

“I need you to be okay with this because I’m scared to death.”

He wanted to reassure her. Wanted to tell her what a gift she’d given him, but the words wouldn’t come.

So Malachi turned his face to her belly, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed the tiny life that grew inside.

Impossible, improbable life.

A miracle.

She bent down and leaned her head on his. “You’re happy?”