Eva was nine years old the first time she saw a Valdari town.
Her family had been traveling south on a diplomatic visit, one of those once-a-decade gestures of goodwill the Celestial Courts made when they wanted something from the trade routes and didn't feel like fighting over it. Eva's mother, Seraphiel, sat across from her in the carriage with her wings folded tight and her posture so straight it looked like a punishment. Her other mother, Iessael, sat beside her and looked out the window like the landscape was an inconvenience she had not been consulted about.
The town was called Tessara. It sat on a hillside above a slow brown river, terracotta roofs running down toward the water, laundry lines strung between balconies, and the smell of something fried and spiced drifting in through the carriage shutters.
Eva pressed her nose to the glass.
There were Valdari everywhere.
Horns, colored skin, bare shoulders, laughter coming from every direction.
