Free The Fiuri Realms (Shioni of Sheba Book 5) by Marc Secchia

cast on Shioni’s arm and checked her over. “Still a spot of Glue-Slap on your wings, little petal.” She scratched it off with her fingernails. “And a huge bruise here, on your side and shoulder. Something hit you hard. Perfect wings, all four of them. Not even vestigial.” She explained, “Sometimes the wings don’t develop properly in the pupa or don’t function properly–we call those vestigial. If we can, we encourage them to grow and work with our Fiuri magic. But your wings look perfect. I’d love to examine you properly, Shionelle.”
    “Now, Mother, just you behave yourself,” said Iri.
    “Pollens’ sakes, Shionelle’s not one of your experiments,” scowled Viri.
    “But she can test my newest invention,” Arandal enthused, holding out a gourd. His wings quivered in a state of high agitation. “I am terribly excited about this completely new, tunnel-shivering concept in nectar, Shionelle. As our honoured guest, I would like you to be the first Fiuri in all of Cave Seventeen–indeed, in all the caverns of the Fiuri Realms–to sample the marvellous, the eye-popping, the antennae-curling wonder of taste sensation that is–”
    Viri whispered, “When he talks like that he could make me eat a luminous yellow Forager Slug.”
    Shioni giggled, accepting the gourd.
    Lifi clutched her husband’s arm. “Is it safe, Arandal?”
    “Safe? Safe? ” His already overlarge chest swelled alarmingly. “No taste-bud is safe around me! I will tease, I will tickle, I will tingle her to her tiny toes as this miracle of nectar sophistication makes her proboscis explode with a thousand delights … what kind of question is that, my beautiful tara-petal? Would I hurt a guest?”
    “Or a potential customer?” Lifi suggested, but she flipped over in the air to give her husband an upside-down kiss on his forehead. “I love it when you get inspired, Arandal.”
    “You inspire me, Lifirielle.”
    Viridelle made a gargling noise in her throat. “Have you ever seen soppier parents?”
    “But ever so romantic,” Chardal sighed behind Shioni.
    “You have to taste the nectar,” said Iri.
    “It’s a family tradition,” Arandal declared. “Now, Shionelle. Take a decent mouthful and swirl the nectar around inside your mouth. Make sure you savour it before you swallow.”
    Suddenly, Shioni found herself surrounded by fluttering wings and eager green eyes. Even Viri and Iri’s brother and little sisters gathered around. Raising the gourd to her lips, Shioni took a cautious sniff. The nectar smelled fabulous, the concentrated aroma of Fiuriel itself, a smell so extraordinary that it ignited pictures and whirlwinds of light and colour in her mind. If this heavenly drink didn’t introduce colour to a Fiuri’s wings, she decided, nothing ever would.
    “Good?” Arandal whispered.
    Lifi jabbed her husband in the ribs with her elbow. “Hush.”
    Shioni tipped up the gourd. A velvety syrup spread over her tongue. Her eyes shuttered in bliss. Astonishing, she thought. Magnificent. She had no words for the taste, so much richer than honey, such a vast palette of flavours and essences and spices that she realised no nectar she had tasted so far was even a pinch on this. She felt dizzy, even a little shocked, by the messages rushing from her mouth to ambush her brain. Her toes curled. Her antennae frazzled. Without warning, the nectar began to fizz and pop in her mouth, thrilling her tongue and tickling her nose with an entirely new array of rich perfumes, so that she swallowed a great gulp and sneezed all at once. Her eyes flew open.
    Iri patted her back. “Dad, what did you–”
    There was so much fizz and sparkle all the way down her throat and in her stomach that Shioni could not help what followed. She sneezed. But it was not just any ticklish sneeze. Shioni bounced backward through the air as she yelped and sneezed alternately. Pink, turquoise and violet bubbles marked her trail to the far wall. They popped lazily,