He had promised her a new world, but standing in it felt strange. Where Thólos, in its glory, had been cramped concrete and crowds, there was little of that in her life anymore. Greth was built to mirror nature, rocks, growing things, water—all amidst civilization.

But she avoided Followers. She avoided the city below.

Though Shepherd had not voiced it, Claire knew he would rather keep her separate from his men—too many Alphas coming and going. Twice she had tried to walk outside her rooms, to see if she could do it. The first time she had hardly crossed the threshold, unable to move further. The second time she walked to the palace grounds. Shepherd had been at a distance, working with his men. He was her goal, her first test of herself in ages.

Those silver eyes had watched her every step, her mate having been notified of her approach. When he’d gone still, so had the rest of them—as if they were all infected somehow by her being there. Those first steps ended right past the carved wood doors that separated living quarters from bureaucracy. Claire had frozen, actually immobile, and could not move forward or back. There was some weird limbo, a feeling of wobbling in her belly.

It had been a beautiful day, one of the first in spring. It had also been the second day since she had secretly stopped taking all her medication.

Anxiety was an old ghost, but in those moments—on that first solid try—the ghost had become the devil himself, and Claire could hardly hear over the sound of blood rushing in her ears. Unsure of the expression on her face, all she could think was that it had to be bad for Shepherd to have made his way to her so quickly.

“Have you come here to see me, little one? There was no need for you to leave the nest to do so. I could have been contacted.” Shepherd’s large hand closed over her shoulder, the man frowning because she had unknowingly wandered out in only her nightclothes and robe. “I will return you to our home.”

“I don’t want to go there.” But he was already herding her away from the inner workings of his order, shuffling her toward a high walled segment of the palace grounds very few would dare to enter.

“Why? Are you displeased with our home?”

Swallowing, Claire felt her legs move because he moved her. “No, Shepherd. It is a beautiful home.” And it was; it was lovely.

“Then why would you come here, little one? Are you lonely, do you require companionship?”

No, she did not want companions. “I don’t need a babysitter, Shepherd. I just wanted to take a walk.”

He stopped, his highly polished shoes suddenly silent, and Shepherd looked down at the woman held pressed to his side. She hadn’t been sleeping and it showed in the dark smears under her eyes. “A walk that has left you badly panicked, Claire.”

She was so tempted to bury her nose in his side and let him make her feel better. “I want to be like I was before. I want to feel normal again.”

It was almost cruel the way he said, “You are never going to feel the way you did before. You are never going to be who you were before.”

He could feel the tumult of emotions raging inside her, the fear growing weaker in place of despair, anger, hate, pain, but most of all love. Everything that could be done to fix what hurt her, he was doing. Even her current state he could improve, and did when he pulled off his jacket and set it over her shoulders so she might not feel undressed before his men.

That old challenging look in her green eyes reared its head, even though she pulled the warm fabric he’d offered closer. “Thank you.”

* * *

“Claire has been weaning herself off her medication. Three days ago she stopped taking them all together.”

“Such a thing is dangerous! Why was I not informed of this?” Shepherd slammed a fist on the table between them.

Dr. Osin remained at attention, facing her enraged commanding officer, unflinching. “I monitor her closely. This minor rebellion is good for her. She is trying to regain a modicum of control in her life.”

“Yet now she hardly sleeps, has an aversion to food. Moreover, it is your job to make her know she can come to me and feel no need for subversion. This exacerbates what troubles her.”

The older woman had been with the Followers from five years before Thólos fell. Shepherd’s rage did not shake dedication like hers. “The side-effects will pass. But you disrupted her progress by ushering her away the moment she grew scared. Claire was in no danger and needs to learn the proper time and place for fear without the crutch of sedation. Next time, if she pushes her boundaries and requires comfort, you wait for her to walk to you. Secondly, confronting her about the medication would be unwise. Say nothing. Build trust.”

Shepherd had a great dislike for the old woman these days. “Should you be wrong and she grows unhappy, I will kill you and replace you. It will not be an easy death.”

The threat did not unsettle one grey hair on Dr. Osin’s head.

Maybe there was a silver lining. Angry, yet hopefully, Shepherd asked, “Has she also ceased taking her heat suppressant?”

“No, sir. Those are diligently swallowed morning and night.”

How he hated those little blue pills.

Shepherd left the psychiatrist and entered the enclosure around the home he’d had built for his mate. Claire was in her garden, ripping at plants, painfully unskilled in their keeping. Before he could even address her, she glared over her shoulder and snapped, “I’m not taking all those drugs anymore, all right. I will feel normal again. I want to be able to focus and carry on a conversation without getting confused. When you tell me you love me, I want to be able to feel it!”

Her unsolicited honesty kept him silent. Shepherd took a seat on the nearby bench and nodded. She was so angry with him. It came over her some days and burned Shepherd on his end of the link, but she had never once vocalized her feelings. She didn’t have to. He could read her like a book. Antidepressants, antipsychotics, sedatives kept that feeling blurred under medicinal apathy, but it blazed with no chemicals flowing through her bloodstream. And with her fury was twice as much guilt.

But the guilt was his. “Everything was my fault.”

Her trowel jammed into the earth, Claire oddly comforted that he knew her insides were a mess. She did not speak of Thólos, not with him, not with Dr. Osin. Any reminder set her off. “You were right. I can’t be who I was.”

“You can be something else.”

She was only one thing now. “I suppose I am. I am your wife now.”

The modest band was dirty from her work in her garden, but Shepherd’s eyes found pleasure in seeing it on her finger because the title was one that mattered to her. She’d mentioned many times in the past, her dream of her future husband, so he’d spoken her culture’s vows to please her. “You are, little one: my wife and mate. You are also a sub-par gardener.”

Claire laughed, her eyes glittering as the rage dwindled and amusement seeped in. “Maybe I’d be a better soldier.”

“You would not.”

His teasing made her laugh again. When the sound faded, her mercurial emotions found momentary neutrality. “I’m going to go running on the causeway over the city where we walk.”

“I will accompany you.”

“I don’t want you to. I want to run by myself.”

It was very difficult for Shepherd to remain silent and trust Dr. Osin’s advice. “Do not forget to wear a windbreaker. It can grow very cold near the updrafts.”

An hour later, Claire sprinted down the vacant path until her body shook from exertion, and she’d loved every minute of it. She’d panted heavily and bent over, near vomiting. She did the same the next day, then the next. She ran as fast as she could, darting through shrubbery, jumping over stairs. She ran until it hurt.

That distracting pain was preferable to the ache she couldn’t shake.

Shepherd had her shadowed each time, attempting more than once to do so himself, but Claire was too fast. So when reports came back, weeks later, of how she’d stopped in her run—how she’d sobbed, her hand pressed over her womb—he’d just about strangled Dr. Osin, but released the old woman’s throat before more than bruises would result.

Claire had returned home, oblivious. She’d prepared dinner for them. She’d smiled and been happy. And then she’d reached for his belt buckle and gone to her knees.