Free Wings of Redemption by Sarah Gilman Page A

I’ll be right back.”
    Dr. Cherie had confirmed what Saffron already knew—she seemed healthy. However, some things could only be found through tests.
    Saffron rubbed her sweating palms on her cotton exam gown. She’d never had to wait for possible bad news before. All trips to the doctor had been routine physicals. Suddenly, the room seemed too small and the air too stuffy. Unable to sit still, she slid off the table, only to pitch into the counter when her knees refused to support her weight.
    She couldn’t wait in here alone, but she had no idea how to get back to the foyer. She’d been in and out of several rooms for the tests. Time to put the psychic talent to work. She whispered, “Kes?”
    She waited a moment, leaning back against the counter, gripping the edge with shaking fingers. The clock on the wall ticked loud enough to hurt her ears. “Kes.”
    A soft knock reached her ears, as did the voice she was hoping for. “Saffron?”
    “Come in.”
    The door opened and Kestrel shouldered his way through, his wings tight to his body. He stood in the small space like an eagle stuffed into a canary cage.
    She wrapped her arms around his neck and collapsed against his chest. “Waiting for test results. I just needed company. Sorry.”
    His warm hands smoothed down her back. “No need to apologize.”
    She found it easy to let go of her sense of dread, focusing instead on the rise and fall of his chest and the scent of post-storm air that clung to his shirt from their flight to the medical center. She let out a heavy exhale and the small, downy feathers that cradled his arm danced in her breath.
    “Doesn’t that tickle?”
    “Huh?”
    “Your feathers. The backs of my arms are so ticklish, I’d never be able to tolerate—”
    He lifted his hands and brushed the tips of his fingers over the spot in question. She should have seen that coming. She yelped and tried to wiggle free, but he locked her against him with his arms around her middle. Then, damn him, he folded his wings forward and swept his feathers up the back of her body.
    She struggled, half laughing, half screaming, as he repeated the torture with his wings several times. He stopped and covered her mouth with his before she could catch her breath. His face was taut from suppressed laughter.
    “Never tell an archangel you’re ticklish,” he said.
    “Noted.”
    “It’s too late for you, my dear.” He kissed her again.
    A knock on the door interrupted. “Is everything okay in there?”
    Saffron stepped back and smoothed her hair. “Yeah, come in.”
    Cherie entered the room with a folder under her arm and one eyebrow arched behind a pair of reading glasses. She looked from Saffron to Kestrel. “Well, don’t you look smug?”
    Kestrel shrugged and pulled Saffron to his side. “Did you find anything, Cherie?”
    “Yes.”
    Saffron tensed and the dread returned in full force.
    Cherie’s expression softened. “It’s treatable.”
    Saffron sagged. Kestrel rubbed her shoulders.
    “You have an aortic aneurysm. The condition is more typical in older humans, but can occur in youth, especially when a defect is present from birth, which I believe to be the case here. For an aneurysm of this size on the largest artery in the body, surgery is essential to prevent rupture, which would cause fatal internal bleeding. With surgery, however, your prognosis is excellent.”
    Kestrel’s arms came around her from behind. She let her head fall back against his shoulder. Prognosis is excellent. However, she couldn’t shake the sinking feeling she’d had since breakfast.
    “You’re certain it’s a good prognosis?” she asked Cherie. “If Kestrel’s hearing my voice in his head…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish.
    “You’ll be fine only if you get the surgery. Your condition will be fatal if untreated. Given that these aneurysms often lack symptoms, Kestrel certainly saved your life.”
    Even though she faced surgery, she managed a smile.