Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 131364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
As if she’d used herself up to kiss him one last time.
Chest burning, he said, “I love you, my wild bird.”
That was when his phone buzzed. It was Saoirse. “We’re out of options, Adam.” Tears in his sister’s normally warm and confident voice. “We just tried and failed with our last idea. And Bram’s done, will be leaving the Canyon as soon as he regains consciousness. He lost it two minutes ago, but Naia says he’s not down deep, should wake on his own.”
Adam swallowed hard. “You did everything you could. And tell Bram…” What did he say to a man who had spent his last hours on the planet fighting for the life of Adam’s mate? It was a debt he could never repay. “Get Dahlia to call me when Bram wakes,” he said. “I’ll talk to him as they drive out.”
Eleri’s chosen brother deserved to say good-bye to Eleri if he wished, even if only through a comm. “Hey, Chirp?” he said quietly to his crying sister. “I love you. Go hug your fledglings and your mate. And thank you for trying so hard.”
After they ended the call, he stroked nonexistent strands of Eleri’s hair off her face just to touch her. “We don’t say good-bye in Diné Bizaad,” he told her, his voice grit and stone. “We say hágoónee, and inherent in it is the promise of another meeting.” Bending down, he touched his lips gently to hers. “So I will say hágoónee, Eleri. Only that. Never good-bye.”
Ripples of white and blue light across her blanket.
When he looked up, he saw that the comm had switched over to an image of another part of the forest, this one centered around a tumbling stream, complete with the sound of water falling over rock.
It’s so quiet here, Adam.
He exhaled at the kiss of memory connected to their one magical day together. The stories they’d shared, the love they’d—
It’s so quiet here, Adam.
He frowned, because it hadn’t been quiet in that cave. The sound of rushing water had been a deep thunder. Not a constant thunder, either, one that became white noise. No, it had altered in pitch and tone as the water made its way along its ancient channels and carved new ones.
He hadn’t even noticed that day—not after the bats decided to swarm.
My father’s father used to say that our clan lands were blessed with the quietest places, that we were renowned for it until many came here to bathe in the silence…
His heart raced at the echo of his grandmother’s words, his mouth dry.
There were endless peaceful places on the planet, from the ice fields of Alaska to the beaches of isolated Pacific islands, to the jungles of the Amazon. Why would people travel specially to a striking but not in any way exotic location like Arizona to experience that?
But his grandmother hadn’t said the most peaceful. She’d specifically said the quietest.
Eleri had used the same word.
Quiet.
Aria’s grandfather had lived in a time before Silence, a time when the Psy had mingled with humans and changelings on an everyday basis. A time where a quiet location could mean two very different things.
Eleri’s body jerked at that same instant, her eyes flying open. Blood bloomed across the whites of her eyes almost at once, her breath shallow and rapid and her pulse a race car under his grip.
“Go under!” he ordered. “Go under, Eleri, so you don’t give yourself a stroke!”
But it was too late. Her body spasmed in an unstoppable seizure, the readings on the monitors going haywire before she went limp. And he knew. He’d felt the wrench on the blood bond, had barely managed to hold on to it.
There were no more weapons left in her arsenal—or his.
Dr. Czajka rushed in, deep bluish shadows under her eyes and her scrubs wrinkled. He stepped back to let her and her staff work, but the doctor dismissed everyone else after two minutes, then faced him. “If she wakes again, she’ll die in excruciating pain. Her official next of kin is Bram Priest—he’ll—”
“He’s in the same state as Eleri,” Adam said, his mind set. “He made it clear he didn’t wish to die in our infirmary. I don’t think Eleri would want to die in a hospital, either. Is she stable enough for me to take her home to the Canyon?”
“Yes,” the doctor said, and began to unhook Eleri from the monitoring systems. “You’ll need sign-off from Sophia Russo—she’s the secondary next of kin for all Js. And you have to make sure Eleri doesn’t wake again.” A hard look. “Allow her to go in peace.”
“Is there a risk she could wake on the way?” If there was, Adam couldn’t do what he’d planned—because he would never, ever permit Eleri to die screaming in agony, her mind crushed under a million voices.