Page 50 of Dark Rover's Gift

18

AREZOO

"One more!" Drova encouraged as Arman struggled through his fifth push-up. "Keep your back straight."

"It's hard!" Arman grunted, his arms trembling.

"Hard things are worth doing," Drova said. "That's how you get stronger."

Cyra sat cross-legged beside them, counting loudly and not entirely accurately. "Seven, nine, eight!"

The scene felt surreal—a Kra-ell warrior running an impromptu boot camp for human children at a playground. But the boys were eating it up, despite sweating and grunting.

Focusing on her cousins, Arezoo didn't notice Ruvon returning until he was standing beside the bench and blocking the sun.

"Here is your coffee." He removed one of the paper cups from the cardboard tray and handed it to her.

"Thank you." She forced a smile as she took it.

"I also brought this." He pulled a small paper bag from beneath the carrier. "It's a Danish. I didn't bring more because I didn't know if you were allowed to eat this. I mean, if you and your family are following any dietary restrictions. But I can go back and get more."

She loved the Danishes from the café, and she was a little hungry. "We don't follow any dietary restrictions. Not anymore." She reached for the paper bag. "We are not religious, and we are very happy to be free of being forced to follow rules that were imposed on us. We are Persians, originally. Our ancestors were Zoroastrian and were forcefully converted. My grandmother was secretly a Zoroastrian, but my grandfather wasn't, and he ruled his house with an iron fist. Thankfully, my mother and her sisters were always rebels at heart and only appeared to accept the dogma to survive. They pretended to comply."

She didn't know why she was sharing all this with him. Perhaps she wanted to shatter any illusion he might have about her beliefs. She wasn't the meek and subservient woman he might have expected, being Iranian.

The truth was that Arezoo didn't know much about Zoroastrianism other than the few things her grandmother had told her about it in secret. Still, perhaps she should learn more about it now that she was free to do so and had access to nearly any kind of information she sought.

That was probably the greatest freedom of living in a country that didn't restrict access to knowledge.

Ruvon nodded. "I understand completely."

Did he?

"Does the Brotherhood have dietary restrictions?"

He shook his head. "We only did that when we were stationed in countries that had them. Mortdh's teachings did not include anything about food other than cautioning about indulging in excess."

Well, that made sense. Immortals didn't need to worry about things being healthy or unhealthy, and the comment on excess had probably been more about conserving resources than the health or well-being of the foot soldiers.

Still, she was surprised that he'd shared that with her.

When an uncomfortable moment of silence followed, Ruvon glanced at Drova, who was now demonstrating a complicated push-up routine and singing a catchy tune to accompany it.

"I should give Drova her coffee before it gets cold," he said. "I don't want to interrupt her routine, though. It's damn impressive."

Arezoo chuckled. "It is. I could never do that even if I trained for a hundred years. She's incredibly strong."

He cast her a look that was hard to decipher, but it was so intense that she had to look away.

"Drova!" she called out to hide her unease. "Your coffee is here."

Drova jumped to her feet with her usual fluid grace and sauntered over, not even breathing hard. "This is just what I needed. Thanks, Ruvon."

"You're welcome." He handed her the cup and put the cardboard tray on the bench. "That was an impressive performance."

"It was nothing." She waved a dismissive hand. "One of the Guardians saw it on YouTube or one of the other social mediaplatforms and started doing it, and it caught on like wildfire. Everyone is doing it now in conditioning."

"It's a catchy tune," Ruvon said. "And it's challenging."

---