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contortions, but he breathed a sigh of relief
    as they stepped out of the window and onto the flight platform. “By the Veil, look at
    that.” As he gazed out over the roofs of the city crowding together up the steep streets,
    his wings arched behind him, rustling with the desire to be off, to take to the open air.
    An errant breeze ruffled Lise ‟ s hair and she laughed. “Go on,” she said. “After
    you.”
    Dax flashed her a grin that lit up his whole face. Lise blinked. For a moment, she
    expected him to spread his wings and knock her clear off the platform in his
    enthusiasm, but he didn ‟ t. Casually, he leaned forward into space, until he reached the
    tipping point where gravity took control. Wings tightly furled, he fell like a stone.
    Veil-it, he was going to—
    26

    A mere ten or so feet above the street, huge bronze wings snapped out. With a
    triumphant yell, Dax arched up into the air, the end of his tail slapping a shop awning
    on the way past. Dust billowed. The Sereians below froze, their pale faces upturned,
    following him as he rose into the sky, mouths agape.
    Gods, a maneuver like that would snap her spine, and Lise knew she was as fit and
    as strong as she ‟ d ever been. The man ‟ s bones must be made of iron. Sedately, she
    spread her wings and followed, gliding gracefully away from the platform. She wasn ‟ t a
    wild girl any longer, hadn ‟ t been from the moment she ‟ d entered the Pinion Academy
    on a full scholarship. Her lips curved. Gods, her sire had been proud.
    “Which way?” called Dax, looping beneath her and then above.
    She ‟ d been going to cut across the city, straight to Fledge ‟ s school in the slum area
    of the Slopes. Now though, she was burningly curious to see Daxariel the Burnished fly.
    Hadn ‟ t he said flight was one of his talents? After all, Jan and Mirry wanted her to
    determine the man ‟ s usefulness.
    She beckoned him closer until they were wingtip to wingtip. “Come higher and
    we ‟ ll do a circuit of Sere. For orientation.”
    Dax grinned and his tail twitched. “Good idea.”
    Veil-it, she had to take two downbeats to every one of his. Liseriel the Gray was
    accounted an athlete and a warrior among her peers, but Dax made her feel like a
    fledgling. To her chagrin, she couldn ‟ t decide whether she was miffed or fascinated.
    “This way.” She banked toward the south west. Pale terracotta roofs passed
    beneath them, the buildings tall and narrow, climbing up and down the steep, narrow
    streets. “The city ‟ s built on seven hills so the Sereians value elevation. The higher you
    go, the more expensive the property.”
    Dax nodded, peeled away and did an exuberant barrel roll, the sun sparking
    metallic green flashes off his plumage as he spun.
    Lise opened her mouth to scold, but before she could speak, he completed the
    maneuver, returned calmly to her side and asked, “That ‟ s the Palace, then?”
    She followed his pointing finger toward the astonishing edifice crowning the
    highest peak. It was high enough to be a dwelling place for her people, but no Aetherii
    would countenance an eyrie so… Well, so ugly .
    The Palace of Sere had probably started life as a single tower, but over the centuries,
    each ruler had added yet another excrescence, a turret or a garden tucked into some
    odd space or a gargoyle or a flying buttress. The walls were made of a rough bluestone
    quarried in the mountains. Centuries of weathering had turned them a dull gray while
    stubborn skeins of greenish lichen made the older buildings look decidedly leprous.
    Topped off with the slight overhang of the pale terracotta roofs, the towers had the air
    of a forest of fungi striving toward the light.
    What was worse, just looking at the Palace made her remember the Prince ‟ s party
    and Michael ‟ s dark chuckle in her ear.
    27

    What do you want a feather for?
    Use your imagination.
    “This way,” she said, banking. “I want to show you the city gates and