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)
Leaving the organizer on the desk, Eleri got up and walked out the front door to stand in the middle of the parking lot. The world was silent and cold, the moon a luminous globe high above…and she could just glimpse the edge of the Canyon from this position. No wings flew out of it, no lights glowed in the small section she could see.
What would my life be like now if I’d spoken up that day in the courtroom?
Chapter 11
Mating is a complex subject on which changelings are reticent to speak with outsiders, more so in the aftermath of the catastrophic violence in the recent past. And even those willing to speak on the subject a minor amount will shut down when asked about rumors of mates who ended up on opposite sides of the battle lines during the wars.
—The Traveler’s Guide to Changelings (1st edition, 1836)
Four hours after convincing Naia to go to bed, Adam woke from a dreamless sleep of his own. He’d forced himself into it—he couldn’t feed their healer energy if he was out of it himself. And being wing leader didn’t allow for such niceties as emotional exhaustion. Adam functioned because he had to function.
Since Amir hadn’t woken him, it meant nothing had changed.
Wanting to rage at the world, he got ready for the day though it was still pitch-dark outside, then went to track down one of his senior people who was awake. Someone would be, not only because that was how a clan functioned, with the watch never down, but also because they’d work around the clock until they found the person who’d dared hurt one of their own.
He ran into Saoirse a minute later.
She took one look at him and enfolded him in her arms, the springy curls of her hair a familiar brush against his cheek. And though he was the most powerful person in the clan, for a moment, he allowed himself to be nothing but Saoirse’s little brother, whom she’d bossed around and protected in equal measure throughout his childhood. Her hold was warm and strong like their mother’s, the scent of her a thing of comfort.
“You off to work?” he asked when they drew apart, having noted that she’d already showered and dressed for the day.
“No, I’m going to the kitchen to grab coffee and snacks for Amir and Kavi.” Worry in the familiar tawny brown of her eyes. “I’ll stay put and get our fledglings to school—I have a feeling they’ll want to fly or drive down with Mom today. They love Jacques.”
“Yeah.” Jacques was a champion at putting on a grim face, but the fact that the kids followed him around just the same told the true story of his nature. Adam had seen his gruff friend sit down in a tiny chair across from a five-year-old Malia after Adam’s niece invited them both for teatime with her plushies.
Now he tugged on one of his sister’s curls, the act one he’d done since he’d been that little brother who wanted to annoy his much older and cooler big sister. “How about you, Chirp?” With Jacques and Adam having been friends since crèche days, she treated him as another little brother.
A hard swallow. “Telling myself he’s stubborn and will make it out of pure contrariness.”
It was Adam’s turn to hold her, press a kiss to her curls as he’d done to Malia only yesterday…and a lifetime ago. Before they parted, his big sister said, “You want me to get you coffee and snacks, too, Bear?”
Jacques would’ve grinned at that sisterly offer—then demanded his own snacks. “No, I think I’ll grab something after I get an update on the situation.”
“I saw Dahlia in her office.”
“Thanks.”
“You take care, little brother, or I’ll go big sis on your ass and make you sit down for a proper meal.”
He found Dahlia where Saoirse had last spotted her—she was pacing the space, which had a direct exit to the Canyon—while she stared at a large wall screen on which he saw a report from local Enforcement, along with information on everything their own people had found.
Dressed in khaki pants and an olive green tee that she’d tucked into them, she’d scraped her hair off her face into a tight ponytail. Multiple cups of half-drunk coffee sat on her desk.
“DeeDee,” he said, the nickname a young Jacques had given her when they’d learned her last name was Dehlavi rolling off his tongue before he could think better of it.
She flinched.
“Shit. Sorry.”
Dahlia waved it off. “No, it’s fine. I’d do anything to hear him call me DeeDee while turning down yet another invitation to a party.” A rough inhale. “You want a recap?”
“Yeah. What’ve we got?”
“Not fucking much,” Dahlia spit out. “Signs a vehicle was parked toward the end of the nearest road, but the tire impressions were smudged and, from what we could tell, could fit half the vehicles in the region anyway. Enforcement forensics took a print, will run it, but I don’t hold out any hope—Beaufort also pointed out that it hasn’t rained for a while; print could’ve been there for days.”