No one argues with me, and we return to Celine’s room. I didn’t recognize it when I woke up there earlier because S’lachhad erased all signs of her. The soft lavender bedspread, replaced with a plain white blanket. The drawings from her art phase—terrible, all of them—stripped from the walls. I remember the day she hung them. She couldn’t stop giggling, calling them her reminders to stay humble.
Too colorful. Too alive. He erased her from this room, and now he’s trying to do the same thing to the lower tiers. For S’lach, nothing is more important than control. Every day he drives his boot deeper into the realm’s neck. One day, we’ll all run out of air. One day?—
Celine grabs my hand and squeezes.
My thoughts quiet, and my blood heats. Warmth radiates out from each of her fingers. Banishing my chill, it spreads until I’m almost uncomfortably hot. She’s here, by my side, and I’ve never wanted anything more.
THIRTY-NINE
Unspoken Rule of the Fringes #35:
Never expect to be given what you want; you must be prepared to take it.
CELINE
I should be thinking about tomorrow. Planning what I’ll say and how I’ll react.
But I’m too relieved.
At first, I thought it was some weird reaction to being home, now, I’m pretty sure it’s them. Luca, Alistair, Malach, Ciprian, and Riven. Here with me, preparing to fight by my side. And they’re all safe, at least for now. It settles something inside me that hasn’t been able to rest for a long time. I’ve never been this at peace in my childhood bedroom before, but that doesn’t mean there’s no awkwardness.
We’ve never shared a bed with Riven, and everyone is thinking about it. Ciprian’s lips keep twitching as if he’s holding himself back from making an inappropriate joke. Alistair is eyeing the bed like he’s mapping out anideal arrangement. And Luca keeps glancing at Riven like he expects him to run from the room screaming.
Only Malach doesn’t seem to care, and he’s clearly preoccupied. I plant my feet and roll my shoulders back. The only way to deal with this is head-on. “Riven won’t bite,” I say.
Ciprian chuckles. “He doesn’t look like he spoons either. How will I stay warm?” He winks at me, and I smile as Luca and Alistair jostle him between them.
No one will get cold tonight, not in this bed or any other. The celestial realm is temperature controlled. Everywhere you go, inside or out, the environment has been manufactured to remain ideal. There’s no bitter wind chafing your face, only a gentle breeze, scheduled to blow at random and give the appearance of spontaneity.
It’s supposed to be paradise, but I wonder if that’s the greatest lie of all.
Day in and day out, angels travel between the echelons—the magical pathways programmed to allow entry into pre-approved sections of the realm.
Clearance to thethatshatier is the hardest to come by. If you aren’t a radiant family, you have to work for one, which creates a legacy of sorts for families like Lyklan’s, who have worked for Malach’s family for generations.
As athatsha,I was born with clearance to all the other tiers, but I’ve never been lower than Lyklan’s home on the guardian echelon. Even if I had wanted to go, S’lach wouldn’t have allowed it, and I was more concerned with avoiding his wrath than travel.
The work done on the lower tiers keeps the upper tiers operating. The entire celestial realm is essentially a stacked vivarium of echelons:thatsha, misha, zephra, varek, salum, orik,andeluun.The laborers ineluunhave the largest population, and they’re the only ones who live on the realm’s base. They churn real dirt andpump the underground water system that powers much of the technology for all sevennish.
Legend has it, we built up to make room for everyone. The realm isn’t large, and the population was growing too fast. Instead of imposing restrictions, our ancestors decided to think outside the box. Since we had wings, it made sense to see how high we could go.
One of my tutors once joked that thethatshaonly got the top floor because if we slipped off the edge, we were the most likely to survive the fall due to our bigger wings. My father overheard, and the next day my tutor didn’t show up.
A week later I had a new one, and it was never mentioned again. But I knew. Even at seven years old, I knew why she was gone. Not on a philosophical level, I was just a kid and never the smartest in the room, anyway, but I knew she had displeased Father. That wasn’t allowed, and I understood that perfectly well.
And Mom... Shit, Mom was fading even then.
A silver ribbon, hazy and insubstantial, glides past the foot of the bed.
I stiffen as it takes shape. A female figure, shoulders held high with her chin dipped in submission. She’s wearing a long dressing gown knotted neatly below her breasts.
No. No. Not now.I can’t face her right now; I need to sleep. Clearly, closing the door to the spine wasn’t enough to contain her echoes.
Luca gasps and puts his body between me and her. “What the fuck is that?”
“Umm, that’s my mom.” I cringe, unsure how to explain better.
“Baby, your mom is dead... right?” Luca shudders as the silvery shape comes closer, than darts back to her original spot.
