Kor would die to see this. He’s always been obsessed with mythical creatures, and when I learned Maker history and Kor’s belief that some of those creatures might be real, I finally understood why.

“You can do it, Simon!” Kaylie cheers. “You’re getting stronger!”

But Simon’s clearly not very good at the flying thing. Red-faced from exertion, he starts to rise higher, higher, until he catches a current, and with a joyous “Whoop!” he’s off, gliding into the treetops.

He waves at Hypatia.

She waves back with a pleased blush, covering her mouth to hide her too-wide smile.

“Not so high, Simon!” Kaylie yells.

And just then his wings falter, and he comes crashing down into a nearby tree.

A very high tree.

One of his wings is twisted at an odd angle, and his face contorts in a grimace.

“Don’t worry. I’m coming to get you!” Kaylie calls up to him. Then to Hypatia she yells, “I can stabilize him, but go get Grey. I’ll need help getting him down.”

Hypatia runs off, her face pinched with concern. More onlookers gather, all calling up encouragement to Simon.

Kaylie strips off her jacket, and I realize she’s much slimmer than I’d thought before. Beneath her jacket, she’s wearing a backless camisole, and I watch in amazement as she unfurls her own wings.

She shakes them, and they flounce into shape.

Kaylie has wings.

I can’t help but stare. Even from a few yards away, I can see that the skin looks tougher than the rest of Kaylie’s skin, and it’s slightly iridescent. The wings are beautiful in their own, bizarre way. Even more beautiful is watching Kaylie as she gracefully leaps up, flaps her wings, and soars into the treetops, her copper hair streaming behind her like dancing flames.

We all watch as Kaylie lands on a branch above Simon.

I immediately think of the angels in Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus. I’ve wondered whether Kaylie was Botticelli’s descendant based on her last name. And she even resembles Venus with her pale complexion and flowing red hair.

“They’re straight out of a painting,” I say to Georgie with wonder.

“Literally,” she responds. “Half the paintings you’ve seen of angels were probably originally of Valkyries, then called angels only after all the living Valkyries were driven into hiding. Some paintings, like Botticelli’s, were even altered to make the wings look more angelic after the fact. We learned all about it in Foundations seminar.”

There’s an Avant transfer—one of Rafe’s posse—standing near us, and he keeps turning to glare at Georgie, because apparently a recruit even breathing the same air as him is an indignity. I give him the finger. Not sure if they know what that means around here, but he seems to get the message and stalks away.