Rinaldo embraced her in midair, the first time I’d seen a Parvus exhibit any real enthusiasm. “My Lady Noctua,” Rinaldo said. “Wherever have you been?” She did not seem to be returning his hug. She hovered there, arms by her side, the two of them bobbing up and down with their wing beats. “I was beside the sea,” she said. “I . . . I forgot the time.” The hem of her dress was wet and sandy, totally out of character. “But our trick, the turning of us into china Parvi Pennati . . . this was your idea, ma chère. Without you, all was very nearly lost.” “For this I am sorry. Excuse me, consort. I am fatiguée.” Noctua turned her back on him and flitted off to drink nectar. Rinaldo watched her go, and I wished I could read an expression—any expression—on his pale face. Something was fishy. “Let’s get out of here,” Mom said. “I need a Parvi break.” As we climbed the stairs, I wondered why Lady Noctua chose that exact time to go out to the beach, to return only when Gigi Kramer was gone.
What do You think about Small Persons With Wings (2010)?
