She reached for the sky with both hands.
The harpy surged into the air with a joyous scream so primal it raised the hairs on the back of his neck and damn near pulled his heart out of his chest. She soared, wings hammering down, and he roared back at his mate as he soared with her in spirit.
Distantly, he heard shouts and cheers. Word must have gotten around, because a crowd had gathered on the sidewalk. A quick glance down revealed that all the other sentinels were present, their faces tilted up to watch the harpy’s flight.
Dragos’s expression was alight. Pia wiped her eyes with one sleeve.
Aryal rose, dove and looped up again. Eventually she drifted down to land on one knee in front of Pia, where she
stayed, and Quentin realized she was offering full obeisance.
Pia’s face worked. She looked profoundly moved and immensely uncomfortable, and she started to shake her head.
“I finally figured you out,” said the harpy. She angled her head to look up at Pia with a sly sidelong smile. “You really do poop sparkly rainbows.”
Pia’s eyebrows shot up. She blinked.
Dragos folded his arms. He looked exasperated, as he did so often with Aryal. “What the hell does that mean?”
Aryal stretched out her wings that were all the more beautiful for the scars they bore. She met Quentin’s smiling gaze.
She asked him in an innocent tone, “Was it something I said?”
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