Page 66 of Stealing Embers
Taking a deep breath and relying on instinct, I stretch the new appendages, experimenting with their mobility. The wings flare to my left and right—they obey my mental commands to expand and fold like any other part of my body. Like any underused limb, they protest. The burn of the movement eventually gives way to a satisfying release.
Curving them around my body, I inspect the feathers with a sense of wonder. The whole plume is colored a shimmering golden hue, but the last couple inches of it—the part that comes to a point—looks like it may actually be made of gold.
I certainly don’t dismiss the thought. They’re heavy enough to be part metal. I can feel them anchored along my spine. It’s a mystery how I didn’t notice the weight before now.
“I sprouted wings?”
“That doesn’t seem to be all.”
Steel’s voice hits me like a slap. I’d momentarily forgotten his presence. The sting of his rejection rises up on the heels of his words. I cast a glare in his direction before taking stock of myself. The wounds the Forsaken inflicted have completely healed. And also . . .
So. Much. Gold.
My body is drenched in it. Instead of a sweater and coat, I’m fastened into a golden breastplate. It wraps around my torso and cinches in the back like a corset. I give it a knock and it clangs like a metal sheath.
Circling my left wrist is a gold bangle. When I fist my hand, spikes protrude from the bracelet. A cuff, also gold, hugs my right bicep. Four gilded bolts are stuck to it, tips facing down.
My legs are encased in some golden leather-like pants. They are pliable, lightweight, and buttery soft.
Fastened around each thigh is another scrolling cuff. A small crossbow is attached to my left leg, and a twelve-inch dagger to my right.
I’m armed and ready for battle—that is, if I’m planning to fight in a LARPing war.
“Why in the world am I dressed like a medieval superhero?”
His brow furrows and he shakes his head, most likely clearing his mind. He winces with the movement, touching his fingers to his head. They come away red. Wiping the blood on his jeans, he refocuses on me once again.
“If I had to guess, I’d say you finally fully phased, and jumped right to the metamorphous stage of your development. I’ve never seen a Nephilim turn into . . . whatever it is you are now. It’s just more evidence that you’re most likely descended from an angel line. Perhaps all your ancestors phased like this?”
Ha! Perhaps my ancestors weren’t so wimpy after all.
Steel presses a hand to the cut again and squeezes his eyes shut. The injury is on the right side of his head, underneath his hairline. Since I can’t see it, I’m not sure how bad it is. It must have been some hit though, since it knocked him out.
Opening his eyes, his stare is part-glazed, part-pained. Tendrils of concern dig their way into my hardened heart.
“We need to get out of here and get back to the academy. Find Sable or another instructor and let them know what happened.”
“Let’s phase back and find the other students.”
“I still don’t know how to phase on command.” It’s physically painful to admit.
Steel’s lips press together in a hard line. He’d forgotten about that. He looks to the sky, studying the waves of deep blues and purples before coming to some conclusion with a jerky nod.
“All right, I’ll shift into an eagle and fly us back. The academy’s sensors will be tripped when we arrive.” Steel rolls his shoulders, preparing for his transformation.
“Wait!” I hold a hand up and rush to his side. The bulk at my back makes the quick movements awkward and the extra weight makes stopping short a problem. I almost barrel into him. He catches me and wraps his fingers around my upper arms, keeping them there while I wobble.
How embarrassing.
I tug out of his grasp the moment I stop teetering.
Looking anywhere but his eyes, I provide an explanation for my sudden action. “You were just knocked unconscious and it looks like you may fall over again at any moment. You can’t shift, let alone fly us up a mountain.”
Several uncomfortably silent moments pass before I allow myself to look directly at Steel. He regards me with a slight tilt of the head. His eyes skip over my face, taking in everything at once.
I don’t like that look. It’s as if he sees something I don’t. It gives me an itchy feeling that makes me want to shake out of my skin.
Clearing my throat, I back away from him. The wings pull on my back, giving me an idea.