The morning sun filtered through the inn window as I stared at my reflection in the cracked mirror. These hands weren't mine. This face wasn't mine. Even after last night's... adventures... this body still felt like a costume I couldn't take off.
"You're doing it again," the angel said, materializing beside me with a cup of something steaming.
"Doing what?"
"Looking at yourself like you're wearing someone else's skin." They perched on the dresser, wings folded casually. "Which, technically, you are. But that's beside the point."
I turned away from the mirror. "How am I supposed to just... accept this? I asked for this body, but I didn't think about actually living in it."
The angel's expression softened—a rare sight. "You know what self-love actually is?"
"Not hating yourself?"
"Wrong. It's accepting who you are without doubt. No conditions, no 'but I wish,' no 'except for.' Just... acceptance."
I laughed bitterly. "Easy for you to say. You've always been... whatever you are."
"Actually," the angel smirked, "I spent my first century convinced my wings were too small. Kept comparing them to other angels. Michael's wingspan? Absolutely ridiculous. Made me feel like a pigeon."
"You're joking."
"Dead serious. Took me decades to realize nobody else cared about my wing size except me." They spread their wings demonstratively. "Now I think they're perfectly proportioned. Compact. Aerodynamic."
A knock interrupted us. Isola burst in without waiting, arms full of ledgers and maps.
"Perfect timing!" She beamed at the angel, then at me, her gaze lingering. "I've figured out our route. We're going to the Great Forest."
"The what now?"
"Where the beast people live. I have trade contacts there—they'll buy my entire inventory at premium prices." She spread a map across the bed, leaning over it in a way that was definitely intentional. "Three days travel, maybe four."
The angel floated over, examining the route. "Through bandit territory. Interesting choice."
"You're an angel," Isola said reverently. "Bandits will take one look at your divine radiance and flee!"
"That's... not how divinity works," the angel said.
"How does it work then?" Isola's eyes sparkled with curiosity.
"Mostly paperwork and committee meetings. Very disappointing."
I studied the map, trying to ignore how Isola kept finding excuses to brush against me. "Why are the beast people willing to pay premium?"
"Because," Isola grinned, "I'm the only merchant who doesn't try to cheat them. Plus, they're fascinated by human goods. Especially the cat-folk. They go crazy for our fishing rods—apparently it's hilarious to them."
"Fishing rods?"
"Don't ask. Beast people humor is weird."
The angel snorted. "Says the woman who decided to uproot her entire life because of one divine threesome."
Isola's face flushed, but her smile widened. "Best decision I ever made." She looked at me with an intensity that made me step back. "Traveling with Elinalise Dragonroad and a literal angel? Do you know how jealous the other merchants will be?"
"Please don't tell them about the angel thing," I said quickly.
"Why not? Divine endorsement would be great for business!"
The angel and I exchanged glances.
"Because," the angel said carefully, "mysterious angels are intriguing. Documented angels attract religious fanatics, scholars, and people who want to bottle my feathers for 'holy potions.'"
"Oh." Isola looked disappointed. "But I can still worship you privately?"
"Please don't."
"Too late!" She was already pulling out a small notebook. "I'm documenting everything. The divine glow, the wing patterns, the way you smell like cinnamon and starlight—"
"I smell like what now?"
I rubbed my temples. "Isola, maybe tone down the fanaticism a bit?"
She turned that intense gaze on me. "You're one to talk. Do you have any idea what you look like in this morning light? Like a goddess yourself. The way your hair catches the sun, how your—"
"Okay!" I squeaked. "Map! Forest! Let's focus on that!"
The angel chuckled. "Still having trouble with compliments? That's something else you'll need to accept about this body. You're gorgeous now. Deal with it."
"That's different from accepting myself," I protested.
"Is it though?" The angel floated closer. "You wanted this body because you found it attractive. Now you have it, and you're uncomfortable being attractive. That's not the body's problem—that's yours."
Isola nodded enthusiastically. "The angel speaks wisdom! You should embrace your beauty! Celebrate it! Maybe we could celebrate together—"
"Forest!" I said loudly. "Tell us more about the forest!"
Isola laughed but returned to the map. "Fine, fine. Business first. But Elinalise?" She winked. "The journey takes four days. Lots of time to... appreciate each other."
The angel stage-whispered, "She's really not subtle, is she?"
"I heard that, divine one!" Isola said cheerfully. "I'm not trying to be subtle. Life's too short for subtle when you're blessed by heaven itself."
I groaned and flopped onto the bed. This was going to be a very long journey.
"Hey," the angel said gently. "It really will take time. Accepting yourself, I mean. But you've got good company for the journey."
"Overly horny company," I muttered.
"The best kind!" Isola chirped.
Despite everything, I found myself smiling. Maybe they were right. Maybe self-acceptance wasn't about suddenly loving everything about yourself—maybe it was just about taking it one weird, uncomfortable, occasionally hilarious day at a time.
"Alright," I said. "When do we leave?"
"Tomorrow dawn," Isola said, already back to her planning. "I need today to finalize sales and gather supplies. And maybe acquire some angel feathers for—"
"NO," the angel and I said in unison.
Isola pouted. "You two are no fun."