Cal had been trained to be able to handle angry members of the public professionally. That didn’t mean she was any good at it.

Public face: her worst skill by a mile. At the end of training, her instructor had written that Cal could shoot a speck of dust through a caddy field, could get herself up and down a tree as fast as lightning on track day, and could prevent a brawl from breaking out as effectively as a brick. It was one of the things she liked about recon missions. First in, first out, and no hanging around to explain things to the bewildered and emotive people she supposedly served.

Still, in a crisis, Cal could set up. She was good with people, on the whole. She could divert attention and, if necessary, subdue aggressors by force. Working in the common force had thickened her skin and taught her how to shut down misogyny. It had taught her exactly how to handle people thought an agricultural class girl with no magic had no place in a middle class profession. If it had taught her how to handle an angry teenager who threw everything she hated in her face, then she’d forgotten that lesson.

Her shoulders tensed, the muscles around her mouth and eyes tightening. The way Minnow said you sounded like an accusation. You showed up. Your people took the aja. Cal could feel the blood pumping faster in her ears, blocking out other sounds. She’d staked her career on fighting aja trappers and thieves, and this is where it had got her – away from her family and her planet, listening to the allegations of a fresh quester.

Besides, whatever else the Volcano was – and Cal knew it was not perfect – it was her home. She was Volcanic, born and bred, and proud to be.

“That would be the army,” she answered in a tight voice. “The common force don’t take aja.”

“Cal,” Buddy’s voice held a note of warning. He switched to telepathic communication, speaking directly into her voice. Cal couldn’t repress a shudder; feeling someone else in her head, even her own aja, was still an unpleasant experience. Cal, she’s lost her aja.

The way he said it, softly and with feeling, made a dribble of guilt slide to the pit of her stomach. Cal had been thinking about herself, focusing on the angry charge in Minnow’s words, without considering what had driven that charge. If she’d lost Buddy, she’d be in a worse state than this. She’d be throwing more than poisonous words around.

She took a deep, calming breath.

“Well, as long as you’re here, the castle can be your home,” she said in a gentler tone. “Fairies are softer than ker. More welcoming. I can see if I can get in touch with Allianah, if you want… she might be able to send you back.”

CALDERA