Feather

Chapter 3

"As you all may have heard," Asher's voice resounded over the babbling fountains and chanting sparrows, "my visit to the guilds isn't purely selfless. I've come seeking a consort." His gaze swept over his many admirers, giving them all an equal amount of attention. "You might be wondering why I didn't choose someone who's already ascended. Truthfully, I wanted to give all of you a fair chance, not because I consider myself a superior candidate for your attention, but because I want a spouse who shares the same beliefs that are dear to me, and I have yet to find that person in Elysium."

His lips quirked in a stunningly white smile. I tried to remember if this was a trait of the seraphim, if their teeth somehow radiated angel-fire. The only other archangel I'd met was Eve's mother when she'd visited her daughter for her wing bone ceremony. I didn't remember Seraph Claire's smiles glowing. Then again, I didn't remember her smiling.

I glanced at Eve who was standing beside me, Celeste's insinuations twisting inside my mind. Eve wasn't vicious. We'd been roommates for the past fifteen years. If she'd been ill-intentioned toward me, she would've shed feathers—maliciousness is a sin—and I couldn't recall her losing any. As though she sensed me thinking about her wings, she flexed them, and the yellow, gold-tipped feathers pulsated.

"The Council has given me the customary month to finalize my engagement. I still have ten guilds to visit, so in ten days' time, the countdown will begin. Sadly, this means many of you will not qualify as the ceremony needs to take place in Elysium. However, being ineligible does not take away from the fact that I'd like to become acquainted with all of you." He gestured with a sweep of his arm to the seventy fletchings before him.

Eve fluttered her golden wings again, which had Asher's lagoon-blue gaze zeroing in on them. Two girls, who were feathers away from completing their wings, gravitated closer to Eve. Out of the fletchings with wing bones, only five could tenuously qualify to become Asher's wife, lacking thirty feathers or less. They would still have to hurry, but scaling the fabric between the realms was an achievable prospect.

Asher turned slowly to behold the others—those who had no chance of ascending, those with whom I should've been standing.

"When I was a fletching, I longed for my voice to be heard in Elysium but found no one to listen. Thus, after being sworn in by the seraphim Council, I stated that my intention was to become your voice, the link between this realm and ours."

I tipped my head to the side. Could a man be attractive, powerful, and compassionate? I'd never met one who ticked all the boxes, yet Asher seemed to tick all three, which not only surprised but also intrigued me.

"All of this to say that you will be seeing a lot of me." He tossed another beautiful smile our way. "You must all be tired of hearing me speak"—I doubted anyone could tire of listening to such a beguiling voice—"and desperate to dig into the marvelous offerings the ophanim have provided for my visit, but I will add one last thing. One criteria that is dear to me. This is for my prospective consorts." He looked in Eve's direction again, since all the eligible fletchings had crowded around her. "I want my partner to travel with me. To accompany me. To work alongside me. To join her voice to mine"—his gaze surfed over the assembly again—"and to all of yours."

I suddenly wished my wings were fuller or that Asher's nuptials were a year out instead of a month.

"Are you saying you'll cancel the century-long ban to travel back to Earth?" Celeste's voice rose over the silence.

Asher searched the crowd for my friend. And so did I. She was still standing at the back of the atrium, leaning against the wall, one raised black boot stamping the honeysuckle.

"I meant after the customary century," Asher amended.

The courtyard filled with hushed whispers.

"Is he for real?" I heard Megan—one of the eligible angels—ask Eve. She'd clapped her hand over her heart, her skin as bright as a firefly's.

The three others had their wings displayed for all to see, although I suspected it was mostly to garner Asher's attention.

Asher who was still concentrated on little Celeste.

"I need to find my next sinner," Eve announced. "Want to help me pick who to save, Leigh?"

I turned to her. "I thought you didn't want to come back to Earth?"

Eve lifted her long black hair, tucked her wings in, then let go of the silky rope, which settled like ink over her gilt-tipped feathers. "I want to become an archangel's wife. If I need to go to Earth, then so be it."

An arm threaded through Eve's. "I'll go to the Ranking Room with you," Megan offered.

Eve turned so that Megan's arm fell away from hers. "No offense, Megan, but our interests are no longer aligned. Or rather, they're too much so. Same goes for the three of you." Her gaze narrowed on Phoebe. "I mean, the two of you since Phoebe can't compete."

Even though Phoebe's long blond bangs obscured half her face, I noticed her eyes growing larger. "Why can't I compete? I'm only missing twenty-one feathers."

"Honey, you're a hybrid," Eve said matter-of-factly. "The seraphim Council don't accept hybrids. Neither as archangels nor as consorts."

Phoebe's orange feathers bristled. "Surely, Asher's more modern."

"Seraph Asher." Eve snapped her fingers under Phoebe's chin. "Show him some respect."

A blush mottled Phoebe's cheeks.

"Seraph Asher?" Eve's voice resounded over the hubbub of conversations filling the star-flecked courtyard. "Is the position open to hybrids?"

Asher's brow furrowed. "The position?"

"Of consort," Eve added with the aplomb of someone meant for the highest tier of power.

"Unfortunately, only verities are eligible."

Phoebe's smile wilted from her lips as well as my own. Why must our world be so strict?

Maybe, Celeste was right . . . maybe, I should attempt to qualify. Our eyes met and held over Eve's golden wingtips. I knew hybrids often incurred disdain and denigrations from verities. I'd lost count of the times I'd told someone off for disparaging a hybrid's lackluster plumage or inferior calling.

"Leigh?" Eve's voice carried my attention away from Celeste. "Are you coming?"

I nodded.

Not only was I coming, but I was going to pick out my next sinner, because hybrids deserved the same respect and chances granted to verities, and perhaps, my voice could obtain this for them.