He curled his lip at that. Protective and pissed was a good look for Ry. “Imriel can kiss my ass—ash,” he amended when the clouds around us vibrated with some weird thunder. Who was listening in on this conversation?
“The Boss of All Bosses doesn’t like us cursing?”
He shrugged. “I won’t let them throw Precious out. Feather will want to see her before—” He broke off when I balled up my fist, and finished, “Before you and Feather go line dancing or whatever.”
I nodded, settled Precious on one hip, and hopped up to go find my best birch. When we got to the right cloudbank, Righteous gestured me inside, following close behind. Mikhail was already there, sitting on the edge of the bed, with his hand wrapped around one of Feather’s.
I flinched when I entered her room. In less than a day—if time even worked that way here—my closest friend in every realm had wasted away. The small space was all blue clouds, much more pronounced colors than the rest of the place. I was glad to see glitter flecks here and there on the cloud walls and squishy furniture. I put Precious and Dado down to decorate the floor with a few more scuff marks and smut-glitter. Anything to make this place look less like a hospice room.
Which was, I knew, precisely correct.
“Birch, you look like hammered dogshit,” I said, mock-frowning. “Don’t these people have medicine? Powers, or some fancy fuckery?” Every time I cursed, the clouds grumbled. I stared at one wall that kept going and snarked, “Well, you want me to talk nice, you fix what’s wrong with my girl here. I’ll have the sweetest mouth. A dildo-damned honey mouth. Made of sugar mouth.” The clouds didn’t answer. “I fucking thought so. So shut up.”
Precious and Dado toddled over to the corner of the room, where Dado lifted his leg and peed golden light onto the lowest cloud, turning it a sickly shade of green.
“Goo Dado,” Precious praised, stroking his floppy ears. “Goo ebil Dado.” She made three marshmallows at once, and fed them into the dog’s slobbery mouth.
Feather started coughing, and I commanded Ry to quickly get her some water, then lifted the silver hair away from her face, glad to see the horns had completely vanished when we’d come through the Limen. “Birch, what the… You’re not coughing!” She was laughing her ass off.
“You practicing lines for your next porno, Sunny?” she finally gasped out. “Talking to the walls? You’ve lost it, birch.”
I stuck my tongue out at her and flopped down on the bed. As Righteous went and fetched us water like a good boy—though he turned a really weird shade of deep gold when I said that in thanks—I caught her up on everything that had been going on with Precious, and the Choir Leader.
For some reason, Mikhail bristled, flexing his giant hands into fists when he heard about Imriel’s reaction. “I’ll just go have a little chat with the man,” he said, pressing a kiss to Feather’s head. He and Righteous exchanged a look, and Ry took up what could only be a defensive stance in front of the doorway. Not that we had any weapons.
“Does Mikhail have his soul knife, or something?”
Ry shook his head. “No weapons allowed in the realm,” he said. “The soul knives are made of a combination of Celestial and Abyssal energy, in any case. They would never let one in. Maybe a Celestial sword… I mean, they make them out of sacrificed wings, so they can’t actually—” His eyes narrowed. Ry was a prodigious swordsman; I could tell he felt naked without a weapon. But this train of thought had to stop.
I growled at him. “What the fuck, Ry? Don’t even think about it. I already saved your pretty, pretty princess wings once.”
He nodded his head at me, more a bow than anything. “I never thanked you for that. And I’m not planning to give up my wings.” I heard a soft thread of thought in my mind.Though I would, and will, if we need them to protect her. Mikhail is a Maker; he has the power to transform them.
Shut up immediately,I thought back.She might hear and she’ll cry. And then I’ll punch you right in the anaconda, got it?From the way she’d flinched, I had a feeling Feather had already heard him.
He backed up a step, covering his genitals with his hands, though he had on loose-fitting light gray sweatpants. I was glad he and Mikhail had located some clothing, as I had, though I’d been forced to use a towel as a sort of bandeau top with my own white sweats.
I didn’t mind being naked, but it felt awkward here. I wasn’t physically perfect like all of the regular inhabitants. Sabriel said we’d get taller and shinier, but for now, we were the runts. Like little kid sisters and brothers.
Feather must have picked up on my thought, since she said, “Now you know what it’s like to be short. I’ve been a runt for my whole life. All of them, in fact.” Her nose crinkled. “But if they treat you like you’re less than them, I’ll show them how much damage this shorty can do.”
“Less than? Even if they don’t act like it, I’m pretty sure they believe it, birch. They don’t mean it to be unkind, but they think of me ascute. One of them called me a little sweetheart.” She inhaled sharply in horror, and I scowled. “Iknow.”
Feather sat up slightly. “Can you both read their thoughts, too?”
I shook my head, while Ry answered, “Not at all. It’s annoying.”
“Wait, too?” I squinted at her. Feather just tapped her nose in ourtell you later, birchsign language. Time to change the subject. “What’s wrong with these sheets?” I asked, feeling the weave as I pondered the unexpected social inequity here. “They’re rough.”
“Like Earth sheets,” Feather agreed. “I’m not going to stay here. Sheets that suck? Idiots who think you’re cute instead of epically hot and dangerous? Ashholes who can’t see how glorious my baby girl is?Ourbaby girl,” she amended, taking my hands. Her grip was frail, her hands trembling. She took a shaky breath, and I could tell I wasn’t going to like what came next. “I have to go back, birch.”
“Nope, not happening.”
She smiled weakly. “So, funny story… You know my birthmark? It’s Gavriel’s.”
“No way.” I blinked, trying to process that. “He hated you.”
She snorted a little. “Wow, just say it, why don’t you? ‘Your soulmate, from like, before you were even created?—’”
