Shards of Hope (Psy-Changeling 14)

Walker nodded. “One of the empaths, possibly, or even a non-Psy teacher.”

Halting, Aden turned to face the telepath. “How can a non-Psy teacher hope to understand children so violently powerful? He or she would have few defenses against a child’s tantrum.”

“Marlee’s art teacher is a human,” Walker told him. “She’s elderly and frail and has no defenses against wolf claws or Marlee’s psychic strength, yet she’s kept a classroom in control for decades.”

“Arrow children aren’t used to non-Psy teachers,” Aden said, his mind already working the possibilities. “There’s also the security aspect—I can’t risk exposing the children to those who might sell the information of their location and abilities.” As shown by Zaira’s childhood experiences and Pax Marshall’s recent moves, some people would do anything to control such power.

“I can recommend some who can be trusted, including two from SnowDancer and one from DarkRiver who are on short-term contracts that’ll end in the next few months.” Walker stopped at the edge of the graveyard, beneath the spreading branches of a tree with leaves of a silvery green. “For now, I can help advise the people you already have.”

Aden looked out at the peace of the graveyard and beyond to the trees, but his thoughts were far distant. “I want to make the squad a family.” A place where even the outcasts could find hope. “Not just tied together by mutual need, but by bonds of emotion.”

Walker put his hand on Aden’s shoulder. “You will,” he said. “You were an extraordinary boy and you’ve grown into a man as extraordinary.”

The pride in Walker’s words meant more to Aden than anything either one of his parents could have said. Because where Marjorie and Naoshi had abandoned him to further their cause, Walker Lauren had put his life on the line to come back into the Arrow training rooms one last time to give Aden the final telepathic lesson he needed to stay safe.

“Why did you come back after you were relieved of duty?” he asked as they started to walk again. “You risked everything.” Walker had been transferred out to a more mainstream military school partway through Aden’s elementary schooling, after the squad’s leadership decided he wasn’t a ruthless enough teacher for child Arrows. His covert entry back into the training center would’ve been seen as a breach of security, with the attendant fatal consequences.

“If I could have, I would’ve taken you with me,” Walker said. “That I couldn’t do, but I could make sure you had the tools to survive.”

It didn’t quite answer Aden’s question, but he didn’t push.

Then Walker added, “You’re not my son, Aden, but that’s how I’ve always thought of you.”

A stretching pain in Aden’s heart that threatened to steal his breath. Unable to speak, he simply nodded and knew it was inadequate, but he also knew Walker would understand. Walker had always understood him. “The squad will need you more than ever now,” he said at last. “Can the SnowDancer alpha spare you?”

“I’ve spoken to him.” Walker turned his face into the cool wind. “I’m responsible for a group of children in SnowDancer, too, and I intend to continue in that role, but I’ve been taken off all other tasks so I can assist you.” Finally, he could help the boy he’d been forced to leave behind in a situation that would’ve crushed so many.

He’d never forgotten Aden, never not thought about him. Small and with those wise eyes that were old beyond his years, the boy had been better than all the darkness around him. Now he was a leader struggling to guide his people out of that same darkness and Walker would do everything in his power to help him. “What about you?”

Aden looked at him with eyes that were even older than when he’d been a child. “Me?”

“You speak only of the squad. What about your own needs?” Aden had always focused on others, never on himself.

“I—” Aden paused, the hesitation unusual enough that Walker turned to face him.

The younger man looked into the distance for several seconds before returning his attention to Walker. “It’s selfish to think of myself,” he said at last and Walker had the sense he was fighting an internal battle. “The squad’s needs come first.”

Reflecting on his own family, on the pack, on what he’d noted of their alpha, Walker said, “In the years since I joined SnowDancer, I’ve learned that joy makes me a better father, a better brother, a better uncle, and a better mate.” He thought of his mate’s smile, of the way Lara had of loving until it spilled over onto everyone in her vicinity . . . and how her love for him was a pulse in his heart. “The fact I’m happy colors my every interaction.”

He clasped Aden’s shoulder again, as he might with Toby. His nephew was a very different boy from the man Aden had become, but they were both his sons of the heart. “I’m not saying you’re not a good leader, Aden. I’m saying taking time for yourself won’t make you any less of a good leader, and the effect of your happiness will trickle down through the entire squad. Take what you need, what you’re fighting not to need.”

What he didn’t say, because it was too heavy a burden for any man to bear, was that Aden was already a leader who was on his way to greatness. If he didn’t lose his way, if he didn’t break under the strain, he’d become a man who would be written of in history. To make it, he needed someone to walk with him, to hold him when things became too hard, and to fight for his right to his own happiness.