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)
Eleri caught her breath at the sight. “This is a place built for beings with wings,” she said, as if working through her own thoughts. “From the height of the ceilings to the width of the corridors, to these winged roads in and out.”
There were other, more secret exits and entrances, too, literally tunnels drilled into the Canyon through which a full-grown falcon could travel in flight a significant distance before emerging through exits concealed by careful placement of rocks. Created in the lead-up to the Territorial Wars by a wing leader who’d seen trouble fomenting, they meant no falcon would ever be trapped inside the Canyon, even should their enemy hover jet-choppers all around their living area.
He was excited to see his mate’s reaction to the incredible skill of the clan’s ancestors. This morning, however, he wanted to look after her. Like bears, falcons liked to feed their mates during the mating dance. Wild falcons had a habit of dropping dead prey in front of the one they wished to court.
Changelings were a touch more sophisticated—most of the time.
In committed pairs, preening was a profound part of how they showed affection and intimacy; if she let him, Adam could spend an hour just combing Eleri’s hair or massaging oil into every inch of her skin until she was drowsy and half-asleep and all tended.
But even had food held no meaning for him beyond nourishment, he’d have wanted to give it to her, because it was a small thing that brought great joy. It was clear from her thin but strong build that she ate only to fuel her bones and muscles and brain. She didn’t grab a handful of strawberries to snack on because they were sweet and juicy, or sink her teeth into a sandwich overfilled to the brim with her favorite fillings.
What had been done to her, the damage to her brain? Adam couldn’t turn back the clock on that, but he could show her small joys bit by tempting bit. He began by leading her to where today’s kitchen team had laid out the food and let her choose what she wanted. She stuck to relatively bland items, though she did also accept the bowl of fresh-cut fruit salad he scooped up for her.
Small bites of sweetness, crisp and colorful.
While she finished making up her plate, he went into the kitchen, to return with a packet of nutrients she could mix into water or juice; the clan stocked it for Psy friends like Sascha and Judd. “I know you need it after that psychic burn,” he said.
“Yes, nothing else works as well.”
Once he’d grabbed some food, too, he took them over to where Dahlia sat alone at a table that caught the edge of the sunshine. The second had shot them an avidly curious gaze when they walked in, but not intruded—not because she was a falcon, but because she was Dahlia.
Adam’s clanmates could be as nosy as a flock of geese at times.
“You’re raptors!” he’d been known to yell while trying not to laugh. “Have some decorum!”
Now, he slipped in beside Dahlia so that Eleri could have the seat across from him that permitted a view out of the opening into the natural splendor of the canyon. Much as he wanted to hoard Eleri to himself, he wanted more to bring her into his clan, make her part of its living, beating heart.
“Dahlia, this is Eleri. Eleri, Dahlia is my wing-second alongside Jacques.”
Dahlia’s smile was big and open, a thing that had gone missing for too long after her failed wedding. She’d found it again—but it remained far too rare. Adam hated knowing that his generous, courageous clanmate was hurting, but being unable to fix it for her.
“I hear you’re the magician who broke Jacques out of semi-shift jail.” Dahlia lifted her glass of iced tea in a toast. “I’d kiss you if I could.”
Eleri stirred the nutrients into a glass of water, her voice ice when she replied. “Don’t. Js are taught to break arms and other body parts as part of our training.”
Dahlia’s laugh was a huge thing, her eyes ringed by falcon yellow. “Oh, I like you. Especially since you have the best poker face I’ve ever seen—I can’t tell if you’re dead serious or if you’re messing with me.”
Adam had the instinctive sense that it was the latter. Eleri acting as the girl she’d once been? The girl who’d had within her the ability to feel the entire rainbow of emotions, from amusement to anguish. That girl might’ve joked this way with a young Dahlia—and Dahlia, being as tough and blunt as she was, would’ve appreciated such a friend.
“I,” Eleri replied as he sat back and let the two women talk, “once read the memory of a poker player who murdered her partner after said partner colluded with external forces to throw a Las Vegas match for money. Unfortunately for the partner, he underestimated her passion for the game.”