“It didn’t call to you?”

I shrug. “It was peaceful.”

Florian seems to sense the shut down, because he changes the subject. “How much movement have you got in your wings?”

Oh dear, I brace for his disappointment. “I can flutter them.”

I tense the muscles on my back to demonstrate.

To my surprise, he looks thoughtful rather than derisive as he watches.

“Can you pull them out so they’re perpendicular to your body? Unfurl them?”

I try. I really do. But it just doesn’t work.

For all that my wings are made of the most gossamer light membranes, they seem impossibly… heavy.

Florian glances at the palace below us and sighs. “Will you let me touch them? I wouldn’t ask, but I want to check that your muscles aren’t damaged.”

My cheeks go bright pink, and I nod my head jerkily. He gets to his feet, abandoning his food in favour of checking over my back with light, impersonal touches.

Thankfully, he stays away from the sensitive planes of my wings, and sticks to the muscles of my back. When his fingers touch a knot in the muscle, I flinch away.

“That hurts?”

I bite my lip and hum in agreement.

“You might just need to work your muscles.” He steps back. “You’re tense, but there’s nothing wrong. You’re just unused to using them. Try taking the tips of your wings in your fingers and pulling them open. Just go slow and gentle. Try to get a feel for how they need to move.

I do as he says, taking the topmost set in between my fingers and trying not to blush at the instant bolt of sensation that rockets down my spine. I raise my arms, almost like a child pretending to have wings, and get halfway before a cramp rockets down my spine. I gasp, dropping my wings before I realise what I’ve done.

I glance back at Florian just in time to see his frown.

“That’s not normal, is it?” I ask, fighting to keep the tremor from my voice.

He nods. “It’s not.”

“So I am broken.”

I don’t realise I’ve spoken aloud until he shakes his head. “The muscles are weak. You’ve not been using them, and they’ve atrophied. You need to work on them before you’re prepared to fly anywhere. I can help, or I can get a healer to—”

“Ugh, no healers.” I can’t stand them. Not after a childhood of being poked and prodded by every man and woman who claimed to have any knowledge of medicine, in the hopes that they might discover the cause of my ‘illness.’

Florian doesn’t press me on the subject, instead starting me on a series of lifts designed to help me increase my strength until I can raise my wings properly. It’s hard work, and by the time we’re done, I’m dripping with sweat and shaking.

“We’ll keep practising this every morning until you’re strong enough to hold them out from your back. But… it will take time,” Florian cautions.

I huff my agreement, grabbing a towel to wipe away the sweat that’s running freely down the back of my neck. “How do you even know all of this?”

His face softens for a second. “I spent my first century treating wounded soldiers. It was our mother’s idea; if I wanted to join the army, I had to know what I was risking. A couple of the soldiers had been held prisoner by the Fomorians for years. They were using them to mine a small slice of captured territory in the north of the Winter Court, and they kept their wings bound the entire time.” His expression twists into a dark frown. “When they were freed, they also had to relearn how to fly.”

“They did, though, right?”

He reaches out and lightly bonks my arm with his fist. “Of course. And you will too. Stop doubting yourself. Goddess, you’re just like Bram.”

Oh right, our youngest brother. The one who went missing.

“I bet Bram never accidentally exploded a woman’s head,” I mutter, staring at my feet.