Shards of Hope (Psy-Changeling 14)

“I understand his worry.” As far as anyone knew, this was the first time a leopard changeling and a wolf changeling had conceived together.

Drew’s expression turned solemn. “Yeah. I think everyone does—which is also why Mercy is being so weirdly nice.” A suspicious edge to his tone, as if he expected his brother’s mate to turn into a hissing, bad-tempered cat at any instant. “She says she can feel the pupcubs and they’re as happy as pie, but since Riley can’t feel what she does . . .”

A ball came rolling their way on the heels of Drew’s words and Judd used his telekinesis to throw it back. Where that would’ve once made the kids look on in awe, now they just raced after the ball. He’d become normal to them, part of the landscape of adults they trusted without thought. Aden, he thought, was attempting to create the same for children who’d never known kindness at adult hands.

Judd had been one of those children until Walker hauled him back into the family. Now he was a man who’d fight for the innocent and the vulnerable at Aden’s side. Because no child should ever grow up surrounded by coldness and fear.

Chapter 44

EIGHT HOURS AFTER waking in Aden’s arms, Zaira went to the valley to speak to Nerida about more soldiers to add to the rotation on watch over the saboteurs. Even with the two extra people Nerida had already sent in, Zaira’s crew was stretched—she didn’t want them burning out, especially since they had to be prepared to strike should a higher-level target or targets present themselves.

She was heading into the main complex when she ran into a teenage trainee.

“I’m sorry, sir.” The girl snapped into an at-attention pose.

“Not your fault,” Zaira replied and was about to walk on when she realized she’d never seen this trainee at any of the sessions she led. “What’s your name?”

“Beatrice Gault.” The girl swallowed.

“Why haven’t you attended the senior martial arts sessions?”

“I have, sir. In the back row.”

Zaira stared at Beatrice’s face, trying to remember. In the end, all she got was a vague recollection of a trainee who’d been wholly unmemorable. Beatrice had made no mistakes, needed no correction, but she’d also not been the best of the best. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Zaira would be taking the session again.

“Yes, sir.”

Walking into the building, she told Nerida her needs and the other woman said she’d organize the extra personnel. “Do you want Arrows who’ve worked or lived in Venice previously?”

“If you can spare them, yes,” Zaira said, aware that her city had unique pitfalls newcomers might not understand.

Nerida scanned current placements and operations assignments on her organizer. “I may have to throw in one or two who haven’t had experience there.”

“That should be fine. I’ll partner each newcomer with someone familiar with Venice.” Leaving Nerida, she went to head out to catch her teleport back to Venice, hesitated.

After a moment’s thought, she turned and made her way to the room where she knew Walker and Cris were going over personnel files and holding interviews so they could match up children with compatible adult Arrows. Flexibility was to be built in, in case of serious clashes, but the squad had to start somewhere.

Cris looked up as soon as Zaira entered, tawny brown eyes pinning her in place as the experienced Arrow had so often done when Zaira was one of her trainees. “Zaira—I thought you were dealing with the situation in Venice.”

“I am.” Zaira hesitated again because this wasn’t her area of expertise . . . but something about Beatrice had triggered an echo in her. “Are you assigning the older teenagers and those in their early twenties to family groups?”

Cris gave her a considering look at what had to be an unexpected question coming from her. “Our focus is on the children,” she said. “However, we are placing teenagers up to age sixteen. Anyone older will in all probability prefer independent accommodations.”

“That doesn’t mean they don’t need families.” Zaira had always had Aden. It had been enough to keep her sane, remind her she had value beyond being a cog in the Arrow machine.

Zaira’s instincts said Beatrice might have no one who reminded her of the same.

Leaning back, Walker Lauren frowned. “You’re right. Children return to a healthy family unit throughout their lives.” He ran a hand through his hair before nodding. “We need to make sure every Arrow has a home to return to, regardless of age.”

Zaira should’ve left then, her point made, but she couldn’t forget Beatrice’s voice—so flat and with an edge of defeat, as if she was used to not being remembered. Zaira knew what it was like to feel so alone, to feel that no one in the world knew of her existence. Sometimes, while she’d been trapped in the cell created by her parents, she’d screamed and screamed just to see if anyone would come.

No one ever had.

“Assign Beatrice Gault to me,” she said.

Walker looked at her, careful and with the same intense quietness to him that was such an indelible part of Aden. “All right,” he said at last, as if she’d passed some silent test. “The smallest children take priority, so it may take up to seventy-two hours for the assignment to be made. We’ll have to speak to her first.”

“Understood.” Leaving the room, she reached for Aden’s mind.

Her breath caught.

He’d left their private telepathic pathway open as if in invitation and as she slipped in, it felt like coming home. The rage wanted to curl around him like a wild pet, affectionate and sure of its welcome. Never had he rejected her. Never. Her emotions for him a primal pulse within her, she said, It wasn’t your fault.