Allegiance of Honor (Psy-Changeling #15) - Nalini Singh Page 0,43
been Remi, alpha of the RainFire leopards, who’d suggested Aden utilize the teens to look after the youngest in the squad. It was how changeling packs worked, older children often in charge of younger ones—the arrangement built bonds across age lines, blurring the boundaries that had so often kept Arrows siloed in defined boxes.
The same applied to contact between children and elders.
Aden’s parents were technically elders, but he couldn’t see either Marjorie Kai or Naoshi Ayze interacting with the young without causing irreparable harm to their soft hearts. Yuri, though he was a number of years younger at forty-seven, was proving a better mentor in that respect. Aden hadn’t expected it of the remote Arrow who’d lived more than four decades in Silence, but Yuri had proven to have endless patience when teaching a child.
And perhaps, just perhaps, those children were teaching Yuri, too.
The truth was that after Edward’s suicide, Aden worried about many of the senior Arrows, including the man who was one of Zaira’s most trusted people. He knew Yuri had struggled with the fall of Silence, unsure where he fit in this new world. Yesterday, however, Aden had happened upon an unexpected sight: Yuri seated at an outdoor table with Carolina standing on the bench beside him, the six-year-old’s hand on his shoulder and her pale blonde hair tied back as she peered intently at the organizer he was repairing.
Her concentration had been fierce, her forehead scrunched up. “I can do it, Yuri,” she’d said. “I can. Please, can I try?”
It was impossible for such a scenario to have taken place prior to the fall of Silence, but if it had, Yuri would’ve acted on his training and shut down the child’s request for the logical reason that Carolina didn’t yet have the manual dexterity to complete the delicate repair. But yesterday, Yuri had given the six-year-old the tiny laser tool, then held her soft hand steady with his scarred and leathery one as “she” made the repairs.
His expression had never altered, but the fact that he’d stayed there in the sunshine, nurturing a small child’s confidence . . . it spoke volumes.
A single act of kindness can change a life.
Zaira had said that to more than one Arrow, and it had slowly become an unofficial motto among the adults. When an Arrow who’d never experienced parental affection—the vast majority of the squad—didn’t know what to do or how to react to a child’s need, they defaulted to whatever seemed the kindest response, even if that response went against their training. Aden didn’t think Zaira realized the staggering impact of her words—adult Arrows liked structure, too, especially in this strange new territory they were attempting to navigate, this family they were building.
Music whispered on the wind, carried to him through the open windows of a classroom, art of any kind a gift that had returned to the Psy after over a hundred years. The century of Silence meant they had no teachers. Humans and changelings did, but the squad would never permit anyone into the Valley they didn’t know inside out.
So the children learned from recorded lessons.
From the sounds Aden could hear, at present, they were enthusiastic if not in tune. Smile deepening, he went looking for Vasic and Zaira. The most important people in his life were both in the Valley this morning, and he wasn’t surprised to find them together. His mate and his best friend hadn’t always been friends themselves, but these days they often ganged up on Aden when they believed he needed a break.
Today, however, they were discussing a troubled telekinetic teenager who needed help of a kind only one adult Tk was qualified to provide. “Stefan,” Zaira said to Aden when he came to stand with his body touching hers. “Do you think he has the time to take on a trainee?”
“I haven’t spoken to him in over two weeks,” Aden said, in agreement with their choice of mentor. Stefan might’ve been termed “defective” during training and transferred out of the squad, but the Arrows considered him one of their own. “Vasic? Will Stefan’s current workload on Alaris allow him time to handle a trainee?” Last he’d heard, the deep-sea station was in the midst of a refit.
Vasic flexed the fingers of his newest prosthetic arm as if testing it, the skin of the unit a gleaming obsidian that meshed flawlessly with his Arrow uniform. “I’m not sure, but I’m seeing him later this week for a telekinetic sparring session. I’ll