Naya’s wing bone ceremony was two days ago, and already our brilliant thirteen-year-old was off to earn her first feathers. Yes, ours. Mine and Asher’s. There were no formal adoption papers because there was no need for those in our world, but everyone knew Naya as Asher and Celeste’s daughter. It had felt strange at the beginning, but then the strangeness had faded and I could not imagine being anything else to Naya. Especially after she called me by the Angelic name for Mom: Ama. The first time she’d said it, on my second trip back down to the guild, I’d cried so hard that she’d worried her
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