SAMANTHA
They laughed.
All three of them. Darlington's voice was deep like a rumble and Finnian quietly chuckled.
Jayce—the most evil of all, threw his head back and laughed like I had just told the funniest joke in the world.
Then he spread his wings.
The golden feathers caught the light from the halos behind the thrones. They shimmered and shone. They seemed to go on forever. Jayce took one step, then another, then he pushed off the ground and flew straight up toward the ceiling.
I watched him rise.
He moved like water and smoke. He was so seamless. Acting like a male bird performing for the female just to mate. He moved like something that had never known the weight of gravity. His wings beat and then he was at the top of the room.
He reached out one hand and touched the ceiling.
It was such a small gesture. A single fingertip against the stone. But the way he did it—the ease, the grace, the complete lack of effort—made my chest ache.
