A Perfect Blood. Ким Харрисон

at his dangling feet, her eyes full and black. “And I can’t go to war in that. The tails are too long.”

      “The tails are appropriate.” Belle shook it out and draped it carefully over her arm. “That is not a suit for going to war. It’s for celebrating. You won’t wear it until I say you can. I can tell you’re not planning on war. The lines are full of holes. I don’t know how you ever survived without me.”

      Jenks spilled a red dust and sputtered, “I just spent all morning tending the lines. There’s nothing wrong with them. Rex, knock it off!”

      But Belle only smiled. “If you like it, I’ll put the final trim on it and hang it in your clos-s-set. Thank you for allowing Jezabel to teach me that stitching for the wings. It’s more complicated than I’m used to, but it gives wonderfully where you need it. Would you take offense if I s-sshow my sister when I s-see her again?”

      “Tink’s titties, I don’t care,” Jenks said sullenly. Belle stood there, waiting, and when I cleared my throat, he added, “Thanks. It’s nice.”

      My mouth dropped open, and even Marshal shifted his feet uncomfortably. “Nic-c-ce?” Belle said, a pale green coming to color her face, a fairy’s version of a flush, perhaps. “You think this is nic-c-ce?” She squinted at him for a moment with her lips closed over her long teeth. “Thank you,” she said stiffly, knocking into him as she walked past the purring cat, her back stiff and her pace slow. With a little trill of sound, Rex got to her feet and padded after her.