Free Featherlight by Laura Fields Page B

renaissance-style ceiling.  The last wall was made entirely
of glass. Although obviously entering on the ground floor, a small pond flowed on
the floor below us, visible over the balcony on which we were standing.
The pool rushed and trickled with living water, and
small plants circled its perimeter. Sunlight made the water sparkle and shine
as it gently trickled. The sound was so terribly calming.
    Something not so calming, I briefly and uneasily noticed,
was that the balcony didn’t have
a railing that prevented someone from falling.
    Glancing up, I saw the interminable blue sky and green ground stretch
out endlessly. One sun was visible through the glass, and its light bathed the
room in a yellow summer morning glow. For the first time since my arrival, I
felt home. Looking at what I assumed was the dining hall, I spied the most
amazing thing of all.
    A plate of food sat on a long table, and everything else faded away.
    I didn’t even continue looking around the place; I made a bee line for
the food. Someone may have followed me in there, but I couldn’t be sure. I sat
down, and a beautiful bowl of soup appeared in front of me. I could barely
taste it as I shoveled the wonderful liquid in my mouth. It might not have been
the smartest move, since I didn’t even know where it came from, but I didn’t
care. It was so good.
    I started inhaling a plate full of odd-looking pieces of meat. I
didn’t think twice before shoveling some into my mouth. About half-way through,
I slowed down long enough to breathe. My ears picked up a small conversation on
the edge of the room. Continuing to casually eat, I listened intently, thankful
for my improved hearing. Marshal must have pulled Sam to the side while I was
distracted.
    He was whispering, “You saw what could happen to her! Besides, he has
control.”
    Samantha whispered back, “Just barely! You want him to, and you’re
forcing them together so that he will-”
    “Hush! You will not interfere. That is final.”
    Their conversation apparently over, I looked around the room. A woman
was standing off to the side, staring. Apparently she was the one who had put
the food in front of me.
    My gaze was then drawn to John, who was leaning against the wall in
the corner, watching me with amusement. His golden wings were barely visible
from the front. I could smell him from where I was sitting, oddly enough. He
smelled of woods, dark and deep. He smelled like man.
    Whoa! Why did I think that? I didn’t even really know what a man
smelled like, so how did I know that smell belonged to him? It was just the
food I smelled, right?
    I started to feel embarrassed but mentally slapped myself. Why would I
care what John thought? He may be handsome and scary and strong and- No. I was
not going there. I was not like the love-struck giggling girls at my
school.
    There were more important things I had to think about. Not men. I
resumed eating, to show I was unfazed with him. When I had finished polishing
off the deliciously exotic fruits, John nodded his head towards the doorway
leading to the main entrance. I warily followed, wondering why Sam and Marshal
had been talking. Marshal wanted John to do something, that much was clear, but
what? And what had made me run like that? Why was I so special? Unfortunately,
while my stomach was satisfied, my mind was not.
    John and I climbed the beautiful grand staircase at the end of the
room, but I was too tired to appreciate the architecture. By the time he stopped
on the fourth floor, I was ready to collapse. He led me to the third door on
the right (The hallway continued, containing at least 30 more rooms), and he opened
the carved wooden door.
    I peeked under his arm to get a glimpse, still avoiding eye contact.
The room’s theme was red, which was a relief after all the silver, gray, and
white. Red couches and breathtaking red and golden curtains gave the room a
classy feel. I glimpsed an abundant bed with a deep red bedspread. It was full
of