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Reagan Marke: DOA. Self-inflicted bullet wound to the left temple.

Eleri didn’t give up the day, even knowing that what she experienced today would be a pale shadow of what could’ve been. She finished breakfast with Adam, then walked with him as he took her hand and told her he wanted to show her a place called the Green Grotto.

“It’s not as stunning as the red one further out,” he said after they’d exited the Canyon through a narrow opening that soon led to a downward-sloping path. “But because of that, it’s not as popular, and more private.”

“Do you remember the first time you came to this grotto?” she asked, wanting more memories to add to her hoard, more pieces of him to secrete away inside her.

His expression altered, lips no longer curved up and skin tight over his cheekbones. “With my parents when I was too young to understand time. It was one of my favorite splashing places.”

Eleri’s blood froze; this was the one area where she could not tread, could never seek to go.

Adam saw Eleri’s expression go motionless and shook his head. “It was never your fault.” Squeezing her hand, he tugged her close enough that he could cup one side of her face.

“My anger at you for what happened in the courtroom was irrational,” he reiterated.

“The rage of a tempestuous and heartbroken youth.” So young and hurt that he’d taken it out on the one person he was meant to protect.

“We’d barely spoken, had no commitment to each other, but I expected you to be loyal. ”

“We did have a commitment,” Eleri said flatly. “From the instant we met. I didn’t know what to call it, but I knew it existed. You were mine and I was yours, and I knew that.”

His entire heart swelled, twisted. “So did I,” he said. “And I still left you—to be hurt over and over, to be fucking reconditioned . I will live with that reality every single minute of my life.”

She stared up at him. “Adam, no, there was no way you could’ve got me out. If you’d tried, the Council would’ve annihilated your entire clan just to send a message.” WindHaven was far smaller and less powerful than DarkRiver, and Eleri had no Councilor mother.

It didn’t matter if Nikita Duncan had or hadn’t protected Sascha; the optics of going after such a high-profile cardinal just wouldn’t have looked good. Js, on the other hand…Js were disposable—and ironically valuable enough for the Council to want them in its iron fist.

“I didn’t even fucking try, my wild bird with eyes like the rain and the desert all at once.” He pressed his fingers to her lips. “Don’t waste your breath on telling me otherwise.”

Agitation below the glacial ice. “You’re wrong,” she said, unflinching. “Just like Reagan was wrong. His actions went against all the vows we take as Js. But he was as close as I ever had to a father—and Adam? I need to talk about him.”

Adam struggled with his rising rage against the man…which was now intermingled with endless gratitude. Because the same man who had attempted to steal justice from his parents had also saved Adam’s mate. “Okay,” he said, the word jagged in his throat.

“I found out that if Reagan didn’t do what he did that day,” Eleri told him, “he would’ve been dead by the end of the day…and I couldn’t hate him for choosing to survive.” Again, a single, betraying tear that escaped the vicious mauling of her mind. “I needed him.”

The two emotions inside Adam collided in a turbulent storm. “I don’t think I can ever forgive him…but I can accept what he was to you and that he was a good man who made a terrible choice.”

He took a rough breath. “Talk about him as much as you want, Eleri. I didn’t understand what I was asking when I told you never to mention him.

” He could damn well fight his instinctive anger if it would help his mate come to terms with her own grief and pain at the loss of the man who had saved her in so many ways, who had protected her when Adam hadn’t even realized the danger.

“I don’t think Reagan ever forgave himself, either.” The Canyon rustled around them in a soft wind. “And he made sure I would never, ever be put in the same position. Because I can do what he can. I can bend memories.”

As Adam’s chest compressed and compressed in a punishing tightness, he waited for her to reveal what horrors she’d covered up with that gift. But no matter what, he wasn’t letting her go.

Not again. Never again.

Whatever happened, whatever she’d done or the mistakes he’d made, they’d figure it out hand in hand.

“Reagan realized it during the WindHaven case, when I was able to sense his bending of the memory.” Eleri’s tone was hollow. “He told me never to reveal my ability to anyone else. With that, he gave me the only freedom he could in a world under Silence, under the Council.”

Once again, Adam thought, the man he had vowed to hate had saved his mate. To say that his emotions toward Reagan Marke were complicated was a vast oversimplification.

“Your parents’ murderer had influential friends,” Eleri continued, as if now that she’d begun to speak, she couldn’t stop. “Js aren’t ordered to bend memories for anyone but the powerful. Reagan didn’t know who those friends were, but the orders came from people he couldn’t disobey and live.”

“Wealth and family,” Adam gritted out. “We dug deep, found links to two Councilors, both of whom are now dead but were in power at the time.”

“Did you ever find out why he did it?” she asked, her hand pressed over his heart in a way that already felt familiar. “We never knew. Reagan didn’t see that in the memory.”

“A reason formed of evil and avarice.” Adam told her all of it.

How the Psy had wanted a piece of land his parents owned; like many winged changelings, they’d invested in a small plot where they could rest up on long flights and that would give them an anchor point in another region.

It had required the permission of the changelings who otherwise controlled that region when it came to their kind, but most changelings were accepting of lone or pairs of winged changelings who wanted to have a temporary home.

His parents had loved their little cabin on the plains and had often flown there to spend a week or two at random times. Adam had grown up going there with them—first in a vehicle because Adam couldn’t fly that far even if Saoirse could, then later as a fledgling who’d had to take many rest breaks.

Each and every trip had been an adventure, his father showing him his favorite landing spots, his mother digging up a high-energy treat from her seemingly endless supply of caches across the route, and Saoirse teaching him sky games.

“Asshole thought he’d be able to annex that land after their deaths by legal maneuvers he’d set in play,” Adam added.

“He was so arrogant that he didn’t do even the most basic research into changeling ownership structures, had no idea that all that belonged to my parents also belonged to our clan. It’s the changeling way.”

They could own things on their own; there was no rule against it.

But most changelings were community-minded by nature and made certain that should anything go wrong, the clan would be able to assume control over their assets.

In turn, a good clan, a clan that looked after its people, never took advantage of that faith.

WindHaven had held the property in trust for Saoirse and Adam. “Fucker discovered he couldn’t outmaneuver an entire pissed-off clan with more than a few lawyers in it.” Angry pain that was talons raking his insides. “He killed my parents for nothing.”

It was Eleri’s turn to hold him, her thin arms tight and strong as she let him bury his face against the side of her head and just breathe.

“My grandmother executed him,” he told her, his voice a rasp.

“I fought for the right but she told me I was too young to be stained by blood, that this was her task as both my wing leader and my mother’s mother. ”

Adam hadn’t been able to fight Aria’s right, not when she said it like that. “But she allowed me to bear witness, allowed me to watch her end him.” She hadn’t been frail then, Aria, but she hadn’t gone alone—that would’ve been stupid, and his grandmother had never been stupid.

Her seconds had stood with her and Adam.

Saoirse hadn’t come, his sister’s maternal heart not built for violence.

But she’d waited for him on the plateau and embraced him with fierce love when he returned home.

“You did the right thing, Bear,” she’d said, holding his face in her hands.

“He thought to prey on our family. He paid the price.”

Saoirse’s approval had mattered. He’d idolized her as a little boy, and still valued her opinions now that he was wing leader. His big sister had always been whip-smart—and had a generous heart, but one that did not forgive trespasses against those she loved.

Maternals might abhor violence, but should the Canyon be invaded, Saoirse and others of her ilk would shoot out the eyes of any invaders without flinching in order to help the fledglings escape. Not wanting violence and being ready to use it as a necessary weapon were two wholly different things.

“Will you tell me more about your family?” Eleri’s question was hesitant.

“Yes,” he said, stepping back so he could look at her face. “I want you to know them. I especially want you to meet my sister—she’s going to love you.” He pushed back a strand of hair that had become stuck to her skin where she’d cried that tear. “Will you tell me more about Reagan?”

A sweep of ebony across her eyes. “He had to bend memories three more times before his death—the authorities used him until he couldn’t stand it anymore.

” Her voice had become quieter and quieter, a bleak descent.

“He broke when he was asked to bend the memory of a psychopath who happened to have murdered three young boys. The murderer was a Tk. Important. Worth, the order said, more than three innocent lives.”