“Eve doesn’t like humans. Hybrids either, for thatmatter.”
I crossed my arms. “Eve has nothing againsthybrids.”
“I admire you, Leigh, because you’re the kindest angel I know, but you’re so blinded by that girl. She’s a snake withwings.”
“Celeste!” I chided her just as her face puckered and a purple feather fluttered to theground.
She stared down at it for several heartbeats, then, scrunching up her small nose, she crouched, picked it up, and closed her eyes to relive how she’d earned it. After the downy barbs showed her the memory, they disintegrated into spanglingdust.
“That dude was so freaking stubborn. Drove me up the wall,” she said, her lids pullingup.
Holding my breath, I surveyed her small wings, praying her confession about her obdurate sinner wouldn’t cost her another feather. When none fell, I sighed. “Can you please be a little more careful with yourwings?”
“You mean, stop speaking my mind? My mind’s prettyloud.”
“Well, tell it to bequiet.”
We had ten years from the moment our wing bones appeared to earn our feathers. If we failed, they fell away from our backs, and we turned mortal . . . worse than mortal . . .Nephilim. There was no afterlife in Elysium or Abaddon for Nephilim. No reincarnation either, because Nephilim weresoulless.
Four sparrows swooped over our heads, twittering an aria so languid it seemed inspired by stars and darkness. Whenever they had an audience, the elysian birds filled the vaulted stone Atrium with celestial music, canceling the guilds’ need for live bands and human soundsystems.
Celeste shrugged one knobby shoulder. “Immortality isoverrated.”
“Don’t saythat.”
She wedged her lipstogether.
“Besides, dying is selfish,” I added. “Don’t beselfish.”
“Like anyone would care if I wasgone.”
“Iwould care,Celeste!”
“I would care, too,” came a deep voice that had me whirlingaround.
Celeste’s small chin jutted out as she cranked her neck to look Asher straight on. Her expression told me she didn’t believehim.
He ran his long fingers through his shoulder-length blond hair. “Why are you two discussingdeath?”
“Because, like Leigh, I want to join the Malakim,” Celeste said, “but I’m not aVerity.”
Asher observed my slight friend. “You’re right; it’s unjust that hybrids aren’t allowed to beMalakim.”
“Unjust enough to bring it up to the oh-so-forward-thinking-and-almighty Council?” shetaunted.
“Celeste,” I hissed, arrowing my gaze toward her wings. Like I feared, a featherfell.
She didn’t crouch to pick it up this time, but Asher did. His forehead furrowed as the feather’s memory played out in hismind.
When it dematerialized, he said, “It would be a shame to lose someone with such a proclivity forempathy.”
Her rigid stance slackened. My limbs, too, softened at Asher’s words. It wasn’t that I believed archangels were selfish beings, but I didn’t think they were particularly concerned about usFletchings.
“Leigh”—the way Asher sounded my name made my heart fire—“I failed to mention this earlier, but your wings arestriking.”
I swallowed back my disappointment. The compliment should’ve pleased me, but somehow, I wished he’d commended my personality—not that he was acquainted with it. “Thank you,” I said in a voice so thin the sound of it was absorbed by the gurgle of all sevenfountains.
His brows drew in. Had he expected me to smolder him because he’d praised mywings?
