Page 44 of The Art of Exiley

I suddenly have some questions about why Hypatia insisted we come here at this specific time of day. Gotta respect that girl’s hustle.

“Seems like a strange place for a workout,” I say. “Why don’t they just go to the gymnasium?” I ask.

“They need the open sky,” Hypatia explains as she weaves a flower into her pale blond braid. “Simon needs to work on his wing strength.”

I do a double take, wondering if I heard her right.

Turns out I did hear her right.

As I watch, Simon spreads his wings. Yes.Wings.

They’re not feathery angel wings or gossamer fairy wings. They’re large and strong enough to hold up a human body. They ripple with muscle and bone, and they’re covered in skin.

Valkyrie.Got it.

As Simon flaps his wings and elevates off the ground, I’m not sure I fully believe my eyes.

Kor woulddieto 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 haswings.

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’sThe 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.

“Don’t even bother,” Georgie grumbles. “Better to just ignore them.”

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