Displaced (Wingless: Book Two)

8. The Mirage

Charlie

It still amazed me, all those moons in the sky at once. I couldn't understand how anyone could spend their nights not staring at them. Seeing so many in the sky that night was enough to put me in awe. I just couldn't wait to witness all nine of the luminous orbs up there. I tried to wrap my arms around my knees, but it pulled at the tender new skin where my wings jutted out. So I had to adjust by sitting up at a total right angle.

"That gets easier," came a voice from behind me. I jerked toward it, hissing out the pain until it faded enough that I could concentrate on Fith's appearance. "Apologies." He plopped down on the ground next to me. His posture was the opposite of mine. His spine curved in a perfect arch; his body naturally adjusted to balance the weight of his wings. After the initial envy of his effortless stance, I returned to my previous activity: Fismuthian moon watching.

"How can you stand this?" I asked.

The fourth moon was filling out nicely. It had a name but I couldn't remember it, and when I looked at Fith, he was already looking back at me.

"I never had to take the pain that you do." His wings stretched out backward as if they'd heard him. "I was born with these. You are just unfavorably unlucky."

Fith was so normal. I'd never thought an actual angel would be so like me. If Tane and Gaius had been anything to go on, then Fismuth should have been corporate New York City with superpowers. But here in Siguth there was warmth and a kinship that seemed to remain undisturbed by the cold hierarchy of Edent. Fith, Marat, and Tolem joked and sang and danced, never once blinking at the looming knowledge that they were at the bottom of the bottom. Besides Feeders, of course. They even looked normal, not like the supermodels over in the towers.

"That's not what I meant—" Before I could ask how he dealt with being treated like a slave, a large mass of blue and red and cream landed delicately in front of us. I jumped back, which only hurt my butt. Fith just grinned.

"Nolatai," he greeted.

"Hey, Nolie," I added a few seconds later.

Prim and friendly as always, she curtsied with a smile and then shook out the dust from her wings.

"What were you doing out so late?" Fith asked her, very nearly gawking. She was pretty—it was hard not to notice when her coloring demanded she stand out—but he was going to ruin his chances if she thought he had a drooling problem.

"Delivering rations to the Dardon Wall," she said. At least, that was what I thought she said. My Prestigious was still awfully pathetic. "What are you two discussing?"

Nolatai's bright red hair was barely cooperating with her that evening. If nothing else she was a hard worker. It looked like she'd pleated it into two braids but as it was: it had frizzed and curled out into loose twists with plenty of stray locks surrounding her face. I had taken an instant liking to her when I'd first met her and my feeling hadn't changed. Even thought there was a bit of a language barrier between us, her curious eyes and warm smile didn't make me feel judged. That alone was a relief from all of the Prestigious and even some workers staring at me like I had an extra eye in the middle of my throat.

"I am not sure yet," Fith answered.

Nolatai fixed her green eyes on me and it felt like she was seeing through me. "You are going to finish the three acts of valor, aren't you?"