Then Ivan had apologized but warned Kendrick at the same time that he could expect more Shifters to fight him. Kendrick had wanted to lie down and weep after he’d sent Ivan to dust but he’d had to get his cubs to safety.

Seamus’s breath came faster, sharing Kendrick’s grief. Seamus flinched, as though a cramp had clenched his body, then he let out a soft sound of distress.

Kendrick went to him, his instinct as leader and Guardian to comfort him. “I gave him what chance I could.”

Seamus twisted away. “No, don’t touch me.”

“I never meant it to go down like that,” Kendrick said. “I was protecting my cubs.”

He placed a hand on Seamus’s arm, and Seamus jerked from him, eyes wide. “Ye don’t understand. I can feel it—all ye did. Your anger, fear, grief—I feel it.” He thumped both hands to his gut. “Ye have to back off, leave me be.”

Seamus didn’t explain his bewildering statements, simply pivoted and strode away. He didn’t go far, stopping to throw his head back and study the stars.

Kendrick’s chest tightened, his hands clenching. He didn’t know what Seamus meant or how the death of Ivan would affect Seamus’s loyalties to him. He couldn’t lose Seamus, not after all they’d been through.

Kendrick felt a hand touch his. Addison had come to stand beside him, her fingertips on his hot fist.

“You didn’t have a choice,” she said quietly.

Kendrick didn’t move, letting her touch ease him. “A leader pledges to protect his Shifters. That means all of them, regardless.”

“You were protecting them,” Addison pointed out. “Why was defending your cubs wrong?”

“If I had an easy answer, my life would be so much better,” Kendrick said with grim humor. “I hurt him. That hurts me.” He gestured at Seamus, who’d drawn into himself.

Addison’s fingers caressed his. “You can’t think that what everyone in the world does is your fault.”

“Not everyone in the world,” Kendrick said. “I’m not that crazy. Just people I pledged to take care of.”

Another caress. “You’ll figure it out,” Addison said softly.

Kendrick stopped. In his dream last night, Addison had stood with him under the sky and said the same thing. You’ll figure it out. Look around you, white tiger. Live.

Had the dream been premonition? Or his brain trying to get him to understand?

Voices floated up the hill from the house, small ones with determination only tigers could have. “They want to stargaze too,” Robbie called as he walked with the younger boys toward them.

Zane stared up at Robbie in outrage. “No, you wanted to,” he said when they reached Kendrick and Addison. “And told us we had to come with you.”

Robbie flushed, but Kendrick didn’t admonish him. Robbie had to give in to Zane’s and Brett’s needs all the time—once in a while they should give in to his. “Is Uncle Seamus all right?” Robbie asked.

Seamus straightened up and came back to them. He had a welcoming look on his face but Kendrick saw the strain.

Robbie seemed to notice the tension as well. He was perceptive, for a cub. He pointed upward. “Look, there’s the Great Bear.”

Addison glanced skyward, following his finger. “Ursa Major,” she agreed. “I never knew it was a bear when I was little. I only knew it as the Big Dipper. And the Little Dipper over there.” She pointed to the north sky.

“That’s not a dipper,” Robbie said, with the incredulous tone of a boy who knows something an adult doesn’t. “The Great Bear is a mother bear Shifter searching for her son. When bear Shifters were first created by the Fae, a mother and her cub escaped out of Faerie into what would become America. One day, the cub went missing and the mother bear searched for him frantically. The native people of the place where she found refuge told her to look in the sky. That night, she looked up, and saw the little bear.”