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)
If you do reciprocate…well, invite her to share in the feast.
~Aunt Rita
—From the February 2073 issue of Wild Woman magazine: “Skin Privileges, Style & Primal Sophistication”
They were only ten seconds away from the infirmary when Malia ran around the corner. “Is Jacques awake?” Her eyes shone, her curls pushed back from her face by a glittery headband. “Mom and Dad both said he’s doing much better.”
“No, he’s not awake yet.” Adam didn’t lie to his fledglings, and Malia was mature enough for the complete truth, so he added, “But his brain activity is solid—his body just needs more time to heal.”
Making a high-pitched sound, his niece jumped into his arms, all energy and happiness. He had to release Eleri’s hand to catch her. Laughing, he squeezed her tight. “Where are your manners, little bird?” He tapped her on the nose after he put her down. “Say hi to the reason Jacques is doing better. This is Eleri.”
Malia all but bounced on her toes but knew better than to touch Eleri without permission. “Are you an E?” That she’d figured out Eleri wasn’t changeling or human wasn’t a surprise—Eleri’s expression, the way she held herself, it was all Psy.
All her.
“No, I’m a J.”
“Oh.” Saoirse and Amir’s eldest fledgling frowned before shrugging with teenage insouciance. “Do you hug?”
When Eleri shook her head, Malia released a large exhale. “I highly recommend it. It’s the best. And Uncle Adam’s a gazillion-star expert!” She squeezed him again. “Can I go see Jacques?”
“Not just yet.” He pulled on a single curl with affectionate care. Blackbird tendencies or not, he’d grown up with a sister who had the same curls—he knew better than to mess them up when so much time had clearly gone into separating them out with perfection.
“Ask Naia for permission in a few more days,” he added, “and she’ll make the call.” Jacques wouldn’t mind being surrounded by clan when he was on the road to recovery—it was the idea of being cried over by people who had to watch him die that he’d hated.
“I definitely will!” His niece beamed at Eleri. “Thanks, Eleri!”
Then she was gone, a whirlwind of a child with a falcon’s soaring heart.
Eleri was quiet as she watched after her. “How does it work, you being her uncle and her wing leader?”
“Context.” Adam shrugged. “In daily life, I’m Malia’s uncle, but when it comes to matters of the clan and of discipline, I’m her wing leader. It’s instinctive, that understanding—her falcon understands it so deep that confusion is impossible.”
A nod, but Eleri’s attention was still on where Malia had vanished. “I wonder now that Silence has fallen, if our children will grow up this wild and free…this confident in their right to exist exactly as they are.”
“Why the hell wouldn’t they?” Adam demanded, having caught the hesitation in her tone.
“Our minds make us different from humans and changelings in ways subtle but profound. Control, control is everything.”
Adam raised a hand, sliced out his talons. “Try again.”
Her hand lifted, her fingers brushing his talons in a caress that made his falcon spread its wings inside him, the raptor wanting to show itself to her.
“I’m not sure it’s the same. Because there’s an inherent wildness in this, too.” She touched his talons again. “But telepathy like mine? There’s a pressure to it from the very beginning, an inward threat—because if a changeling doesn’t learn to handle their strength, they might hurt others. If we don’t learn to shield, we will be the ones hurt. Our control is self-protective in a way that teaches us to be wary from childhood.”
“We can argue about that over breakfast.” When he took her hand again, she wove her fingers through his, but her expression was…melancholy?
“It isn’t too late,” he said roughly. “We’re young. A lot of people don’t even meet until after their third or fourth decade.”
The look she sent him was unreadable. “You have to understand, Adam.” A soft plea. “I lost countless pieces of myself in the intervening years. There’s no coming back from this, no future road. Even if I manage to stave off Exposure by a hitherto unknown method, I’m never again going to be who I once was.”
“You’re enough. You’ve always been enough.”
Her eyes shimmered, then went black. “I really am hungry.” A quiet diversion.
Falcons were patient hunters, so he’d be patient, and he’d wait until she was ready to listen, ready to trust. “Then let’s feed you.”
It was late enough by then that only a few clanmates sat in the main kitchen and dining area—which had a massive opening out to the canyon through which fell sunshine bright and warm. On rainy days, it was the wet that came through, and anyone who didn’t want to get it on them just sat further inside.
Today, three clanmates in falcon form sat at the edge, soaking up the sun.