Shards of Hope (Psy-Changeling 14)

Changing subjects, because thinking of Zaira made things hurt inside him that had been torn wide open when he touched Vasic’s bond with Ivy, Aden threw the stick again for Rabbit. “Ashaya Aleine has agreed to work with our techs on the implant.”

“You aren’t worried about how she might use any data she uncovers?”

“Aleine has proven her principles, but the squad has officially hired her for the project. The contract specifies confidentiality.” Aden didn’t think the DarkRiver leopards, whom Aleine called packmates, would misuse the data, but he wasn’t taking the risk.

“I can’t work out how you managed that,” Vasic said. “It’s not as if Aleine isn’t in demand.”

“According to Aleine, I ‘seduced’ her with a glimpse of the implant.” Aden had hoped the scientist wouldn’t be able to resist, was glad to be proven right. “I need to talk to Walker.”

Judd’s brother had been Aden’s teacher once, the only teacher who had ever truly seen him. The telepath had also helped Aden come up with the new curriculum for Arrow children, his answer to Aden’s initial request a simple one that betrayed the powerful heart that beat in Walker’s chest.

“Of course I’ll help, Aden.”

Walker might never have worn the badge of the squad, but he was one of them in a way Ming LeBon would never be. Walker understood loyalty, understood that even an Arrow’s life had value.

“I can teleport you to him if you make contact—it’s still relatively early in the afternoon in his region.”

Aden made the call. Walker was in the middle of building a table with the children he supervised, but agreed to meet with Aden. “I’ll see you at the church in three hours,” he said. “That’ll give me enough time to finish this and get down there.”

Aden didn’t know what connection the Laurens had with Father Xavier Perez, but his church was a known meeting point. Walker was waiting for them on the back steps when they arrived, his forearms braced on his thighs. Dressed in worn jeans and a simple white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, his dark blond hair swept roughly back, he could’ve been any ordinary man. It was his pale green eyes that gave him away—intent and focused and strikingly intelligent.

Walker rose to his feet and joined Aden near the trees at the edge of the yard, Vasic ’porting away after a nod of greeting.

“You said you lost an Arrow,” Walker said, his expression grim in the early evening light. “How?”

Aden told him, could see Walker taking it in. “I’ve accepted I have to lead from the front,” he added, though he didn’t yet have a solution as to how to get Zaira to accept his proposal. “But I’m younger by at least a decade from the ones at most risk. Seeing me make it won’t be enough—and while my parents can keep them stable, I want more than a life in stasis for the senior Arrows.”

Folding his arms, Walker leaned back against a tree. “For a long time, I saw myself as too damaged by Silence to ever be a good father, much less a good mate.”

Yet Aden knew Walker was both. “How did you get past it?”

“I had to.” A blunt response. “I had a daughter, a nephew, and a niece who needed me. I also had a brother who needed me, for all that he was an adult.”

The wind riffled through Aden’s hair as he stood there. “Judd was lucky to have you.” Aden hadn’t known it at the time, but unlike most siblings whose brothers or sisters were claimed by the Council for the squad, Walker had never lost touch with his brother—he’d kept Judd connected to the family unit, and in so doing, saved his soul.

“No, I was the lucky one.” Walker straightened, the two of them falling into an easy walk through the peaceful old graveyard behind and to the left of the church. “Marlee, Toby, Sienna, and Judd, they forced me to be a better man. The children expected me to know what to do in an unfamiliar environment, teach them how to live in it, and Judd expected me to care for the children’s well-being so he could focus on their safety.”

Walking through the neatly kept grass, Aden began to see what Walker was telling him; the other man was a teacher who never simply gave his students the information. They had to work for it, and in the process, learn. “I have to find a way to connect the old generation of Arrows with our most vulnerable.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “I’ve been hesitant because many of the senior Arrows have very little flexibility in them—I don’t want them doing inadvertent damage.”

“I understand your worry.” Bending down, Walker took a second to replace a bouquet that had been blown off a gravestone. “But being needed is a powerful driving force.”

Aden thought of how he needed Zaira to need him, how it felt to be important to someone not because he was an Arrow but because he was Aden, and knew Walker was right. “Do you have any suggestions about how we can do this?” Aden wasn’t arrogant, not when it came to his people. He’d take advice where he could get it and from Walker he’d listen to even the most outlandish suggestion.

“I wouldn’t advise full integration all at once and you should regularly touch base with your parents to see how the older Arrows are handling any changes, but there’s no harm in creating more opportunities for regular contact between adult Arrows and Arrow children. It can be as simple as having a senior Arrow teach a class of six-year-olds.”

Aden knew no Arrow would disagree with that type of an educational request, so the mechanics were achievable. “I think,” he said, considering the idea from all angles, “the classes would work better if done in partnership with a teacher more in sync with life beyond Silence.”