PART 1
THE CRUST
‘Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,
And therefore is winged cupid painted blind.’
-William Shakespeare
Eighteen Years Ago
Zephyr, 10
Zephyr struggled to lay still, alone in the general hospital room. The nice nurse had just made her mama and papa leave her behind. They promised to come back in the morning, but they had to get home to take care of her new sister, Zenith. Zephyr called her Zen. She was five, and really pretty and quiet, but she loved playing with Zephyr, and Zephyr loved her already. She wanted to go home.
She sniffled, wiping her nose with her hand. It was cold, and her sides hurt.
“Why’s a pretty girl like you crying?”
The older woman’s voice from the bed across from hers made Zephyr look up with her red eyes. There hadn’t been any beds in the children’s area of the hospital, the nurse had told her parents. So, she’d put her in with an older lady for the two nights. She looked really thin and sick.
“I want—” Zephyr hiccupped “—to go home.”
“You will, sweetheart,” the lady smiled at her. She looked like she was her mama’s age, maybe a bit older. “Your parents will take you tomorrow.”
Zephyr nodded. Yes, she just had to stay two nights. “Will your parents take you too?”
The woman’s smile turned sad. “No, I’m not going home, although my son wants to take me.”
“Then why don’t you go with him?” Zephyr leaned to the side, her little mind distracted by the nice lady with the tubes in her hands.
The lady laughed but her voice broke. “I don’t have much time in this world, sweetie. I’m just sad I’ll be leaving him behind with no one to care about him.”
That was a concept Zephyr could not understand. Everyone had family, didn’t they? She had so many uncles and aunts and cousins she barely remembered all their names. “He has no one else?”
The woman shook her head sadly.
Her heart broke. Everyone should have a family.
Zephyr jumped down from the bed, her side hurting a bit, and wobbled over to the older woman, extending her pinkie out. “I can be there for him. I promise. What’s his name?”
The woman laughed again, a tear going down her face, and hooked her rough pinkie with Zephyr’s. “You’re a sweet child.”
Zephyr nodded. She liked being sweet. “His name?” she asked stuck on the boy who didn’t have a family.
“Alessandro. Alessandro Villanova. Alpha.”
