Quig felt the sting of the woman's manicured nails as she slapped him across the face in front of the fourteen wedding guests left. His dove-sized pixie wings fluttered through slits in his black and gold suit.

"It's your fault my niece didn't show. Were you cheating on her?" Quig's runaway bride's aunt slugged him.

"I never cheated, leave...me...alone! She's always late." Quig yelled back.

The planned celebration was about to be canceled, for the bride hadn't shown, and the young groom was left abandoned, to take the blame.

Paparazzi bolted from their seats and snapped dozens of photos, and the light stung his eyes.

The room circled Quig; the art on the walls blurred together in abstract nightmares, while the string quartet still played quietly in the background, like a soundtrack to his descent.

His ex's Aunt Lana struck him again, and he crashed into a mural of the forest, hand-painted to disguise the uneven patching.

Quig's wings fluttered and ached, and he floated a foot off the ground to avoid the woman's wrath. Paint and violet-colored feathers dropped onto the polished hardwood floor.

He lit the wedding incense to calm himself and the others still in attendance.

Spicy lemon-scented smoke lingered in the air, and the golden flames dimmed and vanished. He gasped for air as the aroma of the peppery incense hit his lungs. Puffs of gray essence lifted to the hand-tiled mosaic ceiling and dissipated in an instant, an ominous sign for a home wedding. The ghosts and spirits of his ancestors cursed the wedding, instead of blessing it.

Garlands of pink carnations dripped down from a photography archway, and Quig flew down to avoid them as he entered the massive dining room. He leaned on a hand-carved table. Each of the four legs was artfully carved to resemble a dragon.

Words finally burst through Quig's lips. "Maybe she was in an accident." He bumped into one of the art chairs that surrounded the table.

Lana lunged at him again. "I hope she is bleeding in a ditch. It's bad enough you two decided to hold your wedding at a mutual friend's junky art house. The brownstone is almost as tacky as a shack." Lana stomped after him and shoved a cucumber sandwich into her mouth. Food dribbled out of her overly inflated lips. Her mayonnaise-covered hands raised to strike him again.

Quig's friend, Grew-Ella, shut the sliding door in the dining room to hide rows of empty chairs in the den. She squeezed next to them, and her brass-colored wings fluttered. Her lightly freckled face appeared tired. "Lana, please, calm down. Your niece begged to have her wedding at my parent's brownstone."

"Shut up, Goo-Ella, no one asked you."

"My name is Grew-Ella."

"I'll call you whatever I wish to." Lana cleaned herself and twisted her gold-colored hair behind her elf ears and tight face. She took another cucumber sandwich and tossed it at Grew-Ella.

The sandwich hit a humanoid wolf woman. Dot Curie-Lock shifted into an elf and resembled a more muscular version of Quig.

"You struck my sister," he said.

"Who cares?" Lana grabbed another sandwich and flung it.

Dot cleaned herself off with a napkin and approached them. "There is nothing wrong with Grew-Ella or her parents' home. Stop whining. Guests keep fleeing because of your tantrums."

"Oh, shut up," Lana said.

Dot kept speaking. "Though if anyone is to blame, it's your obnoxious niece."

"You're right; she's an entitled jerk." Lana swung around. "Does anyone know why my niece isn't here? Grew-Ella, is she the one who is cheating?"

"I'm not allowed to tell you that she is cheating with the king because it's unfounded gossip." Grew-Ella leaned against the table.

"How could she humiliate our family? I'll cancel her for this!" Lana yelled.

Quig waved his hands in a desperate attempt to keep the few remaining guests seated. "The gossip isn't true. She'll be here... I hope."

Lana opened her purse, sifted through her golden spark plug collection, and spoke to Dot. "But the king is married. Do you know how hard it was for my niece to find a single grand elite like your brother?"

Dot nodded in agreement. "He has his own money and genuinely seems to love her. I don't understand some women."

"Neither do I," Quig said.

More paparazzi snapped photos of his embarrassment.

Fangs extended in Dot's mouth. "Will you leave my brother alone? I'll answer your questions, and I'll have him get back to you."

Quig rushed into the warm garden room. Pots shook when he slammed the door behind him.

He touched his cheek. A small bruise formed as he attempted to think about his grandmother's butterscotch cookies. He longed to remember the taste of happiness instead of the lingering bitterness of his ex's betrayal. "The gossip can't be true. She'll show."

Lana followed him. "I hope you forgive me for what I did to stop this wedding, and I'm sorry that I hurt you, but Grew-Ella is a much better choice because she won't physically abuse you, or cheat, and you are too good for my niece. She beat her ex, and I am just showing you what married life will be like." She tossed a spark plug at his feet. "Everyone drives electric cars now, so it serves her right."

"You abused me, and she never touched me."

"She will hit you, and you need to protect your daughter. Never marry someone who abuses you. Which is why you should never date me." Lana grinned and walked out of the room.

His cell phone rang, and he answered with a quivering voice. "Are you hurt?" His desperate eyes fixated on the cluttered party table covered with trays of incense, a vase of carnations, and an uneaten wedding cake. "I... um..." he paused.

"Darling, I hate it when you stammer."

He steadied his voice. "Is it because of what happened at our engagement party?"

"Shut up about that!" Quig's ex yelled. "Drop it, I will be there in an hour."

His thoughts never reached his mouth. 'Please, show up and tell me the... truth.' Quig held the phone to his pointed ears as he paced around the room, bumping into a container of roses. Dirt, thorns, and petals crashed to the floor. He spoke again, trying not to stutter. "You could have taken a cab earlier. I'm not going through with this wedding, and while I can forgive the cheating, your aunt Lana gave me a taste of what you did to your ex, and I can't have that around my daughter!"

"Don't shout; people might hear," his ex blurted. "Women can't abuse men, but have I ever actually told you that I love you? I've been dating King Zoreon Kiffed for seven months, but I still plan to marry you."

Quig stopped speaking, and he thought to himself. 'When Zoreon kills me, will you come to my funeral? Would you even miss me?' He spoke. "Never call me again because it's already going around that you cheated. Your batty aunt invited the media, so you are this close to getting canceled along with me."

"What? No! I will be there I promise, and I'm in the cab now. Please, let me make this right."

"I'm not going to lie for you or marry you." The phone dropped, and the cover fell off. He sat on the mismatched tiled floor and leaned against the wall-sized window.

Small Tiger-Ghost moths flew next to the glass. Rare creatures bred for Quig's unfinished celebrity wedding.

Grew-Ella entered the room and swept the wayward dirt into a pile. She snapped his phone together, slipped the silent device into his front pocket, and wiped his dirt-covered hands with a cloth napkin.

Quig gulped the air.

"Do you need a friendly hug?" Grew-Ella asked.

He nodded and gave her a quick embrace. "Protect Betsy if I'm killed," he said.

"As your friend, I have to make sure it doesn't happen." Grew-Ella's brassy wings expanded and wrapped around him as she embraced him.

His hand became tangled in the strands of her brown hair, and a nervous laugh escaped their lips.

"Grew-Ella, it's unfair that my engagement fell through, and you're still engaged to a man who humiliates you and cheats on you with your sister."

"I can't talk about my engagement." She pulled away, sliced the wedding cake, and arranged each piece on a plate. "Do you know what the government might do to you if the media reports you as weak? Were you ever allowed to visit a workhouse?"

"No, I've only heard the official government stories."

Grew-Ella sat with him with the plate in her hand. "Whatever you've been told, it's a hundred times worse. Only the work floors are heated or air-conditioned, so you'll choose to work constantly."

"How do you know that? You haven't been going undercover for the Kindness Rebels, have you? Is that why you vanished?"

She started talking again. "The food lacks any real nutrition, and the cheap lighting makes prisoners' skin appear ashen, and those are the lucky ones, not chained into solitary cells or..." Grew-Ella rocked back and forth and hyperventilated.

"They hold mock beauty contests where squad members kill prisoners who fail their work quota."

"Were you there?" Quig asked.

Her eyes stared at the cheap nuptial bracelet around her wrist. "This isn't about me. Grab a woman off the street and marry her before you lose status."

"Betsy could get hurt if I bring a random woman home." Quig's wings trembled.

She handed him the cake, touching his hand for a moment. "Dot plans to talk to the press, but the prime minister started taxing males with the lowest status levels and is executing wealthy criminals and opposition leaders, which is more likely with King Zoreon involved."

"I'm not a criminal or a known opposition leader," Quig said.

"If you speak out, he'll cancel you, and by cancel; I mean, he'll force you into one of those deranged beauty contests where participants become stabby and murderous."

Grew-Ella rocked herself until she calmed down.

Quig hugged her again. "I doubt I'd make it out alive."

She grasped his hand. "If we handle this right, you won't drop a single level."

*

The Brownstone:

Grew-Ella stood in the den. She gathered the broken pieces of plaster on the floor and threw them away.

Her phone rang. "You didn't keep your promise," the voice on the other side of the phone whispered.

She trembled and rocked herself until she calmed down. "Friends protect each other from marrying scum."

"Are you referring to you and me?" Chase asked.

"I don't know." Grew-Ella stared at Quig.

"Please forgive me. None of this is your fault." Chase's voice softened. "You'll be punished for telling Quig about his ex. He's above your status."

"Why? I'm not going to try to become queen."

"I know it's unfair." Chase sighed over the phone. "Grew-Honey, you don't need to love me, but please behave. These people will kill you, and I'm terrified Quig will find your body."

"Thanks. You're my hero." Grew-Ella didn't hide the sarcasm from her voice because she worked so hard to sound typical.

"I know I'm a loser," Chase whispered.

"Wow, this is so different from the jerk you usually are. What happened?"

"Nightmares," Chase whispered.

"We'll talk later. I need to help clean up." She hung up and located Quig.

He struggled with the last heavy velvet chair. She lifted the other side. Broken sunlight poured down on their beating wings, and they floated to the back of the brownstone.

They passed the garden room and the door to Grew-Ella's bedroom.

Quig placed the chair in the never-used servant's apartment. Fancy wedding furniture was stacked neatly in the storage room, as if nothing had happened.

Most of the wedding decorations were removed and replaced with whimsical and kinetic sculptures, but a few remained, almost mocking him.

Quig tripped over a chair built to resemble a tongue extending from the mouth of a dragon, and he crashed to the floor.

Grew-Ella helped him up and spoke. "Sorry, it's Mom Karen's latest piece. She and her students are hosting an art fair."

"Can we just burn incense?" Quig asked. "I need a friend, and your brother's always busy lately."

"Sure." Grew-Ella walked beside him, and she clung to his arm. Her engagement bracelet sparkled under the half-working fairy lights strung over their heads. Her hands tore at the lights and decaying flower garland, tossing them into a bin shaped like a paint bucket.

The narrow hallway covered abstract splotches and appeared to be an unfinished art project, but the farther they walked, the more finished it appeared. The distorted half-shapes transformed into clouds and sunshine, as if there was a light at the end—an escape.

Grew-Ella opened the hidden door, and they entered the family prayer room. In the corner stood an altar painted blue and covered in cones of colored incense, waiting to be burned.

She opened a closet and set foot-long electric candles around the four corners of the room.

Their faces were illuminated, and a painting of an angelic cherub formed in the center.

"Come on, sit down." Grew-Ella unrolled a large muted green mat that faded in parts where knees pressed into it. She lit an incense cone and kneeled.

He sat down on a mat next to her.

They waited for the smoke to rise, brokenness together. Ghosts danced in the colored smoke, weeping with them.

If they were blessed by God, or sometimes not so blessed, their late loved ones could come back reborn. These new beings were not ghosts or fully human, but something in between, the reflected parts of life.

Behind them, a translucent spirit clutched a knife; and flickered in and out, not being able to reach Grew-Ella to harm her.

The incense finally started to burn. Puffs of teal-colored smoke from the desolated hearts rose upwards, and scents of frankincense and roses filled the room.

Quig said nothing at first. He lit another, trying to cover his feelings with something joyful. He knelt by her side.

The smoke muddled the aromas and an unfamiliar smell lingered.

"Dot took care of everything, and you're not going to lose your status or be lowered into the caste system," she said.

"It's not really a caste system because it's flexible. I was born into wealth, and one small misstep can take it all away."

Grew-Ella nodded. "I made my own mistakes."

"I...believed...you," he stuttered.

"What?" Grew-Ella asked. "Are you talking to God or me?"

"I believed you when you told me she cheated on me. It's sad, but I knew... she was cheating, and I attempted to go through with the wedding, anyway." He clutched his knees and rocked. "I loved her, but I'm not a complete idiot."

"Oh, everyone said I was a liar—"

Quig interrupted. "I never called you a liar."

"Then why try to go through with a marriage to someone who despises you? Unless you didn't have a choice," she said.

"I didn't sign my life away to the government for tainted luxury and beauty products, but my brother-in-law is threatening to revoke Betsy's adoption. Lana is his boss, and he needs her. Are you angry? Please don't be angry at me."

The incense died out.

Grew-Ella sucked in the last of the scented air. "We have to sacrifice because we're adults. Sometimes we don't receive the joyful things, but the shattered, singed, and bruised parts, and everything we care for vanishes in smoke."

"Where were you when you disappeared?" He touched her face. "I kept having nightmares."

Her eyes widened, and she knocked into an electric candle. "Your ex is at least willing to allow you to escape," she said.

"Are you talking about your engagement?" he asked.

"Not exactly. Chase is as tangled as I am, and he protects me, but he doesn't love me."

"If you call that protection," Quig whispered.

"I can't talk anymore about Chase, but if I don't praise him, terrible things happen, and everything I built falls around me like sandcastles."

One of the battery-powered candles turned off, and an upside-down image of a skull flickered for a moment.

Grew-Ella got up and changed the battery. "When you pretend to be someone's hero, maybe they'll turn into one. Sometimes people surprise you, and Chase has been full of the unexpected lately."

"I guess he's more of a hero than my druggie ex-mother, but he's still obnoxious." Quig hyperventilated. "Being Mom Avery's foster son has privilege, but it wasn't as temporary as people think, and she secretly married my father because neither one of them was willing to lose custody." He closed his eyes. "I wish things were less complicated. It would've been easier if Dot, Noel, and I had the same mother and not just the same dad. Their mom is every bit as lovely as Mom Avery, but I wouldn't trade the mother who chose me for any other mother."

"You wouldn't be born if your dad, whoever he is, was still married to Dot's mother."

Quig snorted. "His forced marriage to my ex-mom was a punishment by the government. I hope you never understand what that is like."

"I understand more than you realize, and why you never tell anyone your father's name. We all have secrets, but I wish you didn't have to keep so many from me."

He spoke again. "My mother used her mom as a surrogate and completely disappeared when I was a toddler, but I kind of hoped she'd show up just to give me my genetic history. I would've ended up in a workhouse without Mom Avery. She kept me alive and fought to keep me and Ida in her home."

Grew-Ella breathed deeply and kept a silent prayer inside her beating heart.

"You've been a wonderful friend." Quig lit more incense. "Um, I'm being an idiot, but it's hard to pretend everything is okay."

A rapid knock startled them.

"Don't make me leave!" Grew-Ella yelled out.

"What is wrong?" Quig reached for her. "Is this about your disappearance, or about my sister, Ida's joke, prediction about you becoming queen? I'm sorry."

Grew-Ella didn't reply, and she snuggled next to him.

Both of them sat for a full hour without speaking.