Shards of Hope (Psy-Changeling 14)

At one point, they ended up speaking about the mirror, that part of the conversation almost fully telepathic. I was surprised when Walker told me how young you were when you discovered the mirror. I would’ve expected Marjorie and Naoshi to know.

They were Arrows on active duty and around only for short periods. Walker and I first glimpsed the mirror while they were away.

And you just didn’t share the discovery when they returned, Zaira said, guessing he’d used the techniques he’d learned from Walker to hide the mirror’s psychic evidence.

“No, I didn’t.” Aden’s voice held no regret, nothing but a quiet confidence. They’d been telling me I was a weak disappointment as long as I could remember—for all I knew, the mirror was a mutation that would just make things worse. His lips softened unexpectedly, his mental tone different as he added, Walker kept telling me it was a unique gift. That’s what carried me through the years until I realized the mirror’s purpose.

Zaira’s respect and liking for Walker Lauren kept growing. Can you do it without permission? she asked. Draw power? Not like with Vasic when you were children, but with someone who doesn’t have any reason to allow the draw.

He bent close to her, lips brushing her ear. “Yes.” There were circumstances in which I had no choice—I took it from trainers who were hurting children, or from Arrows so far in Silence that they no longer had any idea of conscience. Breath warm against her, he continued to pet her shoulder with those slow, caressing strokes that made her own breath hitch.

I didn’t know at the time that I was making them stronger when I returned the power because I only ever drew a very basic amount—that small draw is why I was never caught. Vasic and I figured out the power differential when I was about fifteen, and that’s when I knew exactly how careful I had to be to avoid detection.

Shifting back from her a little so she could see his face, he said, As for the people from whom I siphoned power without permission, I don’t excuse myself by saying I did it for a good reason. I made a choice to survive, and some of those choices were borderline.

They didn’t sound that way to Zaira, but Aden had always had a far stronger moral compass than she’d ever possess. You worry too much.

His smile lit up his eyes. Will you teach me to play?

It appears I have to. Picking up a piece of fruit from the dessert tray that had been left on the table when the meal was cleared, she held it to his lips. Try this. They’ve put something on it. A faint spice that didn’t overwhelm.

He ate it, and it was intimate, the moment. She didn’t understand why, except that it was Aden. Allowing herself to lean into him, she surrendered to the here and the now, to this instant under the starlight.

•   •   •

ADEN sensed Zaira relax totally against him, and something tight in him twisted tighter. He’d never felt her this way, never seen her shields fall this low. He could almost see her mind, the veil that hid it from him paper-thin.

It was tempting to tear through it, see all of her, but in so doing, he’d destroy the trust that bound them together and savage her. Never would he do that, no matter how much he craved the piercing intimacy of a true psychic bond, one that would hold even over the greatest distance without any conscious effort.

Fingertips grazing the silk of her upper arm, he sat with her under the stars until the restaurant began to go quiet. Rising to his feet, having already taken care of the bill, he held out a hand, giving her the choice.

Always, he would give Zaira the choice.

When she slid her hand into his without hesitation, he felt a warmth deep within, warmth that curled outward in fine tendrils that infiltrated every cell in his body. Getting up, she walked with him past the other tables and down the steps that hugged the side of the house. Hitting the ground, they began to walk along the narrow roads that formed the village in which this restaurant was located.

The houses were lit up inside, but there were few people on the streets.

“Can you guess where we’re going?” Zaira asked, no urgency in her tone and her hand trustingly in his.

“Yes.” The squad owned a home in this village, part of their network of bolt-holes for those who needed to go under. Oddly enough for such a small town, it was a great place to hide. “My father told me this village was founded by rebels hundreds of years ago,” he said. “While they are welcoming, the people ask no questions.”

“An interesting cultural tradition.”

“A useful one.” Walking with her down a narrow alleyway lit only by the lamps hung up on a balcony above, he said, “I assume the home is empty right now?”

“Yes, and no one will disturb us tonight.” Zaira leaned her body against his.

His own body tense with an anticipation that was all the deeper because he knew the taste of her now, he led her to the door of the Arrow home and coded them in. The house was in the same simple style as those around it, made from the red sandstone prevalent in this region, but its hidden security features were of the highest grade. Entering, he turned on a wall sconce, then locked the door behind them.

When he led Zaira upstairs to the bedroom, she walked to the balcony doors and opened them to reveal the two lanterns that hung on stands outside, sending just enough light into the room that none other was necessary.

“You did this?” he asked, and when she nodded, he felt as if he’d been given the world. He hadn’t expected romance from his tough and lethal commander.

Picking up a lantern, she brought it inside and hung it on a curl of metal that stuck out from the wall and had clearly been designed for the lantern. “Close the doors.”