Chapter 14

Zephyr, Shadow Port

She'd thought their homein Los Fortis had a view butdamn.

Zephyr stood near the windows, having just entered the penthouse, being delivered by a very quiet man to the building. She had used the code Morana had given her and rode up the elevator. It was already morning, sunlight filling in the entire space from behind the clouds, leaving a clear view of the new city before her. Zephyr had never seen the sea like this, and imagining seeing the view every day was incredible. She took her phone out and opened the camera, holding it up to take a photo.

"You should lower the exposure," the voice came from behind her, and she yelped, dropping her phone to the floor. It clattered, the screen cracking, and she groaned, bending to pick it up while looking up at the boy who had padded into the kitchen at the same time. The sudden movement sent a wave of dizziness crashing over her. She extended her arm to hold onto something but, with nothing but air, fell to her knees on the hard floor.

Ouch.

She sat her ass down, trying to let the wave pass, breathing in carefully with her eyes closed as the good doctor had told her.

"Count to three," the voice came again, and she opened her eyes, seeing Xander watching her curiously from the kitchen. He had grown up since the last time she'd seen him. His hair was a little longer with boyish waves, his frame a little taller. The most notable physical difference were the frameless glasses perched on his nose that hadn't been there before.

"Three what?" she panted, catching her breath and holding her heart.

"Three. Like one, two, three. Breathe. One, two, three. Breathe," the boy instructed, going so far as to demonstrate.

Since she had nothing better to do, Zephyr followed his tutorial, breathed in, counted to three, exhaled, and repeated—once, twice, thrice. By the fifth set, her heart was beating normally again, and her dizziness was a distant memory.

She gave the boy a grin. "Thanks, Xander."

"You're welcome," the boy said, opening the fridge. She watched as he took out a glass bottle of orange juice. "Have you had breakfast?"

Was this boy, who couldn't be more than eight, offering to make her breakfast? What was Morana feeding him?

"Not yet," she replied, getting back to her feet and heading into the kitchen. It was a dream kitchen with so much open space and top-of-the-line appliances that it made her want to cook. "What are we making?"

He paused, looking her up and down but never quite in the eyes. Zephyr knew he was high-functioning autistic, and she had done her research on how she could make sure he had a good time with her on the flight over. The two times she'd interacted with him, he'd always been such a cool kid. She liked his company.

"Can you cook breakfast?" he asked her, his tone slightly disbelieving.

Zephyr blinked with exaggerated drama. "Excuse me? Of course, I can."

"I had to ask. Morana burns water. Tristan and I have agreed to never let her in the kitchen. It's a hazard."

A laugh bubbled out of her. "That's kind of cute."

"It's a safety precaution," he said so seriously that it cracked her up even more.

"If I promise not to burn your house, can I cook? I make killer pancakes!" Zephyr offered, her own stomach grumbling in response to the thought of food.

He nodded, pointing to what she assumed was the pantry. "The Ingredients are there. Please make sure they are buttery."

Zephyr saluted him. "Yes, sir." She opened the pantry and took out the ingredients. Xander poured her a glass of orange juice and then got her the mixing bowls and pans.

"So, I'll be here for a bit." She informed him while making the batter, hoping he didn't have an issue with that. From the little she had seen of him, he seemed pretty chill.

He validated that judgment when he said, "I know. Morana texted me."

Zephyr felt her eyebrows go up. It was definitely a little odd for a child his age to have a phone and be texting, but she didn't judge. Everyone had a different dynamic, and both he and Morana were quite unique personalities.

"What did she text you?" Zephyr asked, more curious than anything.

The boy fumbled in his pajama pockets, bringing out a small device. It wasn't as high-tech as most of the ones she saw; it was more basic than anything. He tapped on it several times and turned the screen so she could see.

Zephyr squinted at the tiny alphabets, wondering if they were the reason for his early eye prescription. The text read: