Finding a stable for Svenoldson was easy enough. And I was rather surprised to see it filled with other deer and elk that were apparently domesticated in this world. Only one or two stalls had horses in them. I wanted to ask Juno about that, but it never seemed like the right time to bring up the fact that I was from another world, let alone another gender.

Would she be disappointed the Bunny Goddess she prayed so hard for all those years wasn’t born one from the start?

Well, I guess I was REborn from the start. That is — I was given a fresh start here, I thought. Maybe that counts for something?

I felt a soft poke on my shoulder.

“You look so deep in thought. Watcha thinkin’ about?” Juno asked.

It was only now that I was starting to realize she had a bit of what’d be called a Southern drawl where I came from. Did I still? I guess it wouldn’t be called that here. And they probably didn’t have tape recorders for me to find out.

We’d entered the central business district of Kylson, and the structures around me were much taller than the outskirts of town, several three and four-story buildings made of mixed lumber and brick lined the street before us. We passed restaurants serving everything from salads to salmon.

People ate outside, sitting around small stone tables with cushioned chairs, enjoying the fresh air. Although it was a little blustery in the street, when I came within touching distance of some outdoor tables, I felt a small wave of magic pass over my fingers. In truth, it felt a little like static cling. Only then did I notice glowing blue stones dangling from each table, radiating an aura of warmth and creating a small cozy bubble that seemed to redirect the wind elsewhere.

“Now that’s a nifty little enchantment,” I mumbled. When Juno cocked her head to the side, I remembered she asked me a question.

Clearing my throat, I said, “Just thinking about. . . Fevara, actually. I’m not from this world. So, if I appear to be unfamiliar with the way you do things, I’d just ask for a little more patience and grace, please.”

Juno raised an eyebrow.

“Tilda, the way you speak, it almost sounds like you’re asking for permission just to be. . . well — present, to exist. It’s not how one would expect a goddess to talk, y’know?”

My eyes only leaked a little hearing that. I hadn’t been raised to ask for permission to exist, right? I mean — sure, my family expected me to stick with the straight and narrow path in life. And they lightly chastised me when I dipped a pinky toe in a puddle they didn’t want to understand. But that wasn’t the same thing as me asking for permission to exist, right?

I thought back to my grandfather walking into my room when I was listening to a French musician named Cécile Corbel. I found her music to be soft, pleasant, and just downright peaceful listening. But he just started laughing at the top of his lungs.

“Why are you listening to that?” he asked in between wheezing. “Do you even understand what she’s singing about? Snails? The Eiffel Tower? Don’t you feel silly for listening to something like this? Brandon, tell me you didn’t waste your hard-earned money on a weird French CD.”

After that, I returned the CD to Dan’s Record Shop and swapped it out for a Journey album. I didn’t hate it, but I never wanted to feel like that again, like something I honestly enjoyed was pure ridiculousness.

But again, this wasn’t the same as asking for permission to exist. That was just. . . a grandpa giving his grandchild a hard time. He showed his affection that way. It didn’t seem right to go digging through my memories of my grandfather and start lookin’ for trouble.

“I’m. . . sorry?” I asked, looking at Juno with a puzzled expression.

She frowned a little, not in anger, but in concern.

“You’re apologizing to me for not sounding exactly how I imagined a goddess would?”

I thought about her words for a second. And I couldn’t seem to find out exactly what she wanted me to say, which only brought a flurry of panic in my mind. I was usually pretty good at figuring out what people wanted to hear, what would cause the least amount of trouble, and giving it to them.

“Um, maybe?” I stuttered.

Juno heaved the leather backpack she wore a little higher over her shoulder before turning back to me.

“Tilda, do you expect me to cook you tonight and eat rabbit stew?”

I snickered.

“Exactly. That’d be ridiculous. You’ve got a very large and adorable pair of fuzzy feet, and you’re gonna get exhausted if you try to walk on eggshells all the time with ‘em. Even with divinity in your grasp. So loosen up a bit, darlin’. I’m not disappointed you are the way you are. If anything, I’m a little more worried that the Heavens aren’t all they’re cracked up to be if you came down here lookin’ like the other gods regularly pushed you into the sand and stole your money.”

That visual left me snorting.

I wasn’t pushed into the sand, but I did have to read a lot of snarky letters, I thought. The irony of Opha sending postage to sass me into reincarnation, only to be responsible for answering the prayers of another mailwoman once I got here.

“Sorry about all that,” I mumbled.

With a deeper frown, Juno reached into her backpack and pulled out a letter, gently swatting me on the head with it.

“No more apologies! I hereby place a moratorium on apologies for the next hour,” she growled.

“So—” I started out of instinct before she interrupted me with a light WHAP on the noggin again.

“No!” she snapped. “No more!”

Before long we were both laughing, and June returned the weapon to her bag. Peace reigned once more.

A shriekwing and her wife exited a restaurant in front of us carrying a bag of fresh bread. I fought the urge to float down the path after them smelling their bread as though I were in a cartoon.

Around the street, rainbow-colored pigeons hopped and pecked at crumbs left by strangers, some intentionally, some by accident. My eyes widened at the sight. Fevara was a funny little place. I wasn’t sure of much when it came to the new home I’d been given, but I did understand two things. First, being a girl (even a bunny girl) was an infinite improvement over whatever the fuck I’d been as Brandon June. And second, I didn’t have to figure out this magical place alone. Juno seemed dedicated to helping me learn all about it.

We passed another restaurant, and I stole a peek through one of the front windows to see a set of customers devouring what appeared to be kimbap. My mouth drooled as I watched the rice and fresh veggies wrapped tightly in seaweed. Each table inside was decorated with small wooden carvings of animals, some I recognized (like lions and fish) and others I didn’t (something that walked on ten legs). A hatchling hootwing chewed on a dog carving with their beak at a neighboring table. I giggled at the sight.

Juno and I sidestepped to avoid a man wearing a large green shirt walking by, carrying a load of firewood. Someone held a door open for him as he walked into the restaurant serving kimbap.

We stopped around the corner at an artist’s gallery filled with paintings of portraits and common items found in a house, a wastepaper basket, tissues, silverware, etc. While I looked at the artwork, Juno delivered a small paint set.

The artist, a shorter man with warm brown skin and hazel eyes, wore a smile the size of a paintbrush when he opened the package.

“I didn’t expect this for another week or two at the earliest,” he said, carefully examining every color Juno had brought him.

My companion winked.

“That’s our goal at the Letter Carriers Guild. On-time deliveries will suffice, but early arrivals are quite nice.”

I stared at my companion and slowly blinked. How often did she rehearse that motto? Because none of it sounded forced. Juno was like. . . Biazzaro Newman.

A few minutes later, after Juno got the artist’s signature for confirmation of delivery, we were on our way to the Governance Hall. It was time to request a meeting with Governess Lynn. I turned to Juno and asked, “Hey, is your group the Messenger Guild or the Letter Carriers Guild? Because I’ve heard you call it both now.”

My companion fished around in her bag and pulled out a tin badge painted gold and pinned to a thick-cut leather square. It was about the size of her hand. The badge was shaped like a scroll tied shut with string. At the bottom of the leather square, also painted in gold, were the words “Letter Carriers Guild.”

“The LCG is our official name, but if that’s too long for folks, they’ll just say the ‘Messenger Guild.’ It’s all the same to me. I don’t care what they call us. It’s just my job to deliver their letters.”

I nodded. That made sense.

Where I came from, I worked for the American Postal Service. The APS. But most folks just said they were going to the post office. Nobody fussed about it too much. We were confused for the Federation Express or United Package Service by our customers enough as it was.

“And. . . who pays when you deliver a letter or package? I’m used to those kinds of services being paid for by — taxes,” I said, thinking back to the APS.

Juno circled in front of me and started to walk backward with her arms wrapped behind her head. I waited for her to bump into something, but the messenger kept walking straight without issue.

“Well, normally this information is only available to guild members, but seeing as you’ll be signed up before the end of the night, I guess I can tell you,” she said, winking.

My cheeks flushed. Er — they would have if bunnies could do that.

I flashed her a small smile and waited for Juno to continue.

“We have two kinds of customers at the guild, patrons and dayturns. Patrons give the guild a sizable payment at the start of each year, and their letters are carried all over Fevara as needed. Dayturns are spare customers who come in when they need something, pay a calculated rate based on speed, distance, and availability of messengers, and call it quits immediately afterward.”

An interesting model, to say the least, I thought.

We passed another few members of the Kylson City Guard who were listening to a shopkeeper describe the person who broke their window the night before.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Anyway, I keep a registered log of parcels each month, along with signatures from branch leaders of the cities where I picked up deliveries. At the start of each month, I just swing into the closest LCG branch, submit my log to the coinkeeper, and collect my payment the next day. It’s a good time to join the guild, Tilda! We’re new and scrappy, but we’re growing our reach to most of the cities across the continent.”

Looking above us, I spotted a series of second-story and third-story clotheslines split between upper residences and stretched across the road. I wondered how they worked out which residence got to use the clothesline and when. Seemed a might troublesome to me, but then again, I was used to a big backyard to hang all my clothes in each weekend.

It took another 10 minutes of walking until we arrived at the Governance Hall. The large municipal structure that Juno informed me held the governess’ seat, offices for her five secretaries (speech, guard, trade, faith, and secrets), the city treasury, and an audience chamber for public announcements and meetings.

“You know, she’s the first governess or governor of Kylson to expand the Commoner’s Court and give them a chamber in the Governance Hall,” Juno said, watching a confused look spread across my face. “That’s a. . . civilian authority that watches for corruption among city officials and gathers a variety of reports for the governess. She meets with them once per quarter and hears their concerns and suggestions.”

Juno held a wooden and glass door open for me as we walked into a large tiled room with a statue in the center depicting the governess, long hair flowing down past her shoulders as she stood nobly with a large smile on her face.

A long series of windows made up most of the wall behind us, and a dual set of stone staircases led up to the second floor, where the secretaries’ offices were. A large glass dome at the top of the lobby let in plenty of sunlight, and I even spotted a few sparrows that managed to sneak in and fly around up top. One of them had dared to build a nest in a tiny alcove. Seeing them made me giggle.

My companion followed my gaze and said, “Ah, the birds. They attempted to get rid of them a year ago, but the shriekhawks who protect Governess Lynn are so fond of seeing the tiny creatures day in and day out that they threatened to kill anyone who tried. Since then, nobody has mentioned it again.”

Several portraits of past ruling figures hung in worn frames between the upper stories and the stairs. Suspended by large chains on a wall opposite the portraits was a glowing lantern the size of a carriage. A blue flame blazed within it.

As my eyes stared at the flame in wonder, watching azure sparks flick against the glass now and again, Juno leaned in close and whispered, “They lit that lantern 150 years ago when Kylson was founded, and it’s never gone out since.”

I found myself taking a moment to appreciate the city’s identity. I was flummoxed that a group of people determined to build up a settlement into a town and eventually a city decided art and light were the two most important things to interweave with their future. Art in the form of glasswork and light bleeding forth from their lanterns to guide the way forward.

Now, I didn’t for a moment fool myself into thinking the city or its leaders were perfect. But I could believe enough of the people who worked in this hall throughout the last century-and-a-half were dedicated to goodness for their fellow woman and their city at large.

“Tell me something, Juno.”

“Anything,” she said, placing an elbow on my shoulder.

I froze for a moment while my brain tried not to short-circuit at her touch.

“Governess Lynn, you tell me, expanded this Commoner’s Court. She meets with them. Has she ever implemented any of their ideas?”

Juno nodded.

“Well, keep in mind that I’m no historian, Bunny Goddess. But I’ve heard messengers stationed in Kylson say her biggest changes came in the form of work reform.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Work reform?”

“Yes, indeed. It seems a few years back, the Commoner’s Court brought forth complaints that many workers in the city were overburdened from long shifts. This was true in everything from factory workers to restaurant employees to apprentice artisans. As a result, the city’s economy was growing sluggish. So, looking at a series of recommendations from the court, Governess Lynn worked tirelessly with her trade and speech secretaries to limit work hours. With a few small exceptions, the entire city winds down on the final day of the week to rest.”

I pictured Kylson implementing a sort of Sunday where you couldn’t find hardly anything open, and people spent time with their families.

“And how did that go over?” I asked as a mother and her two sons strode past us talking excitedly about visiting the library next.

Juno hadn’t moved her elbow from my shoulder.

“Well, the city’s still here, ain’t it? I guess nobody burned it down. And judging by how fast our Messenger Guild branch here has expanded, I’d say their economy picked up steam. She’s remained quite the popular figure, even got her likeness engraved on all the new jinnie silver coins.”

At my fifth confused glance of the day, Juno waved a hand.

“Eh, we’ll go over coins later. Each country has four or five different kinds,” she said like it was no big deal.

Can I use luck for myself to get out of memorizing currency? I thought, eyes wandering around the Governance Hall as though a sarcastic letter from Opha would magically float down from the heavens where I’d apparently been pushed into sand and robbed.

My companion led me up the stairs and towards the various secretary offices. It was about an hour after lunch, and the hall seemed a bit emptier than I expected.

We walked about halfway down a carpeted hallway with five thick wooden doors at the end, each bearing a sign showing which secretary worked inside. Small blue fire lanterns hung along the walls, giving the area light.

The offices for the Secretaries of Guard and Secrets were dark and appeared empty. The offices of the Secretaries of Trade and Speech each held men who appeared to be deep in discussion with people sitting behind desks that had papers strewn about.

For now, the hallway belonged to Juno and me. She eyed the Secretary of Speech’s office before stopping us.

“Well, at least there’s no line. Hopefully, the guy in there is just about done with his visit,” she said.

We waited for a few moments. The hallway was quiet despite the ambient noise of the comings and goings of Governance Hall visitors downstairs. And then — with no warning, I heard the soft creaking of leather armor and the light rustling of feathers behind us. In that instance, I knew no human ear would’ve detected the noise. But I wasn’t human anymore.

Both of my tall fluffy ears twitched and turned as I spun to face the woman who’d appeared behind us. I was greeted by a shriekwing about my height, and gold, white, and brown feathers covering her body. She bore yellow eyes hidden behind gold-rimmed glasses with wheat-colored hair to match.

Just above her left elbow, a small chunk of feathers were missing, revealing a gnarly scar. A short sword of some kind hung tight over her left shoulder while a series of throwing knives covered her ribcage, tucked into folds of the armor.

Under her armor, the newcomer wore a faded tank top and black trousers.

Opening her curved gray beak, the shriekwing said, “So it’s not a costume or some disguise. You’re a genuine bunny. No one else would have heard me coming.”

My nose and whiskers twitched as an aura of violence leaked out from the girl in front of me.

“Never heard of a rabbitfolk before. And I’ve traveled all across Fevara hunting people. So tell me, just what are you, exactly?”

Her voice was just a bit more threatening than I tended to like, but a door slamming behind us and an older woman yelling made me jump all the more.

“Gyn, you put that knife away this instant!” a grandmotherly voice scolded. “I will not have you spilling unnecessary blood in the presence of the Reverend Mother. Further still, I won’t allow you to slay the first Bunny Goddess to ever grace Kylson. The gods would smite our city before you could vanish back into shadows or whatever it is you assassins do.”

Assassins?! I thought, my blood turning to ice. My eyes dove down to see a small blade grasped in her feathered fingers.

When had the shriekwing even pulled out that knife? How did it get into her hands without my noticing?

Gyn caught my panic and smiled. It was a grin that simultaneously bore annoyance at being scolded and amusement that I could detect her approach, but not her pulling out a blade.

“Oh, Secretary of Faith Gwendolyn, how you wound me with your continued lack of grace and forgiveness. I WAS an assassin. But NOW I’m a bodyguard for Governess Lynn, sworn to protect her on my life,” Gyn said. “I’ve been pardoned and reformed, Reverend Mother. You oversee the heads of 11 temples in this city, nine of which are dedicated to deities that profess some form of forgiveness. So why can’t you let my past go?”

Turning to look at the Reverend Mother but keeping an ear turned toward Gyn, I watched a woman who appeared to be in her 70s walking down the hall with a cane, a flowing holy robe of some sort trailing behind her. The Secretary of Faith stood strong with a firm grip on her bronze cane. Her skin was about the same color as Juno’s but perhaps a little more pale and worn. Still, she wore her wrinkles and wisdom with pride. I could sense in the way she walked that Gwendolyn feared no one and didn’t bemoan her age. She was damn proud of her hard-earned years.

Her blue eyes bore into Gyn’s, and the assassin-turned-bodyguard deflected her gaze.

“I don’t let your past go because you clearly haven’t. You still skulk about Kylson spilling blood in the night. Only now, you get to do it with government impunity. If you’re so dedicated to protecting Governess Lynn, why aren’t you with her right now?”

Part of me wanted to dart back down the hallway and leave these two to their argument. (Honestly, I was thinking about placing my wager on Gwendolyn.) The other part of me was too scared to move.

Gyn rolled her eyes and said, “Relax, would you, Reverend Mother? Teena is keeping her safe while I hunt down a spy who’s skulking around the Governance Hall today. Do forgive me, Bunny Goddess. I didn’t know we were going to be graced by divinity today.”

The shriekwing gave me a bit of a sassy, yet dramatic bow.

When she rose, and before I could say anything, Gyn turned to Juno.

“Ah, and you’re a messenger from the guild, aren’t you?”

Juno snapped out of her thoughts at once.

“Wow! Either your intelligence is really good, or your ability to memorize faces is,” she said with a smile like we hadn’t just been stalked by an ex-assassin.

Gyn made a show of tossing the knife into the air and catching it behind her back with ease. “Both are true,” she said with a shit-eating grin.

The Reverend Mother shook her head.

“You’re a day earlier than even I expected,” Gyn said with the same level of sass that flavored her bow to me. “Am I to understand you’re carrying a sealed diplomatic dispatch for my governess?”

“Yup!” Juno said with a larger smile.

When she made no move to hand the document over to Gyn, the shriekwing took a breath and sighed.

“Well, can I have it?”

“Nope!” Juno said with an even more chipper voice.

This earned her a scowl from the bodyguard.

“You understand that I’m going to take it right to her, yes? Nobody is closer to the governess than me and Teena. We even share the governess’ bedroom.”

Gwendolyn unleashed a mighty guffaw at these words and put her hands on her hips. Gyn ignored her.

“You’re right. You would take it to her. . . if I was going to give it to you. But I’m not. Letter Carriers Guild policy is that sealed dispatches can only be surrendered to the administrator they’re addressed to. We work hard to manage royal and municipal contracts, so the policy is extremely inflexible. I’ll need to deliver it to Governess Lynn myself.”

Through all of that, Juno didn’t show a lick of aggression. She even rested an elbow on my shoulder again during the explanation.

With a second sigh, Gyn ran a hand down her face, stretching the feathers around her beak as she glared at the messenger.

“Very well. If you insist on this ridiculous policy, you may deliver the letter to Governess Lynn tonight exactly one hour before tea time. If you’re late or don’t show up, I’ll track you down myself and tear the letter from your bag.”

The shriekwing turned to leave and extended her elbow.

“Reverend Mother, I have a spy to continue hunting for, and I do believe you were on your way to a meeting with a representative from the Temple of the Blood God. I’d be happy to escort you.”

Gwendolyn’s eyes widened at this, and she let out a grumpy puff of air from her nose.

“I would sooner let a viper escort me back to her nest, Gyn. And stop going through my calendar!” she snapped.

Gyn merely smiled and made a grand gesture of tucking her arm back at her side.

“Oh, very well. Go ahead and wound a tormented soul again. What’s one more attack on my fragile conscience? Oh, and messenger? Bring the Bunny Goddess. If she’s really the first divinity to physically grace our city in 150 years, my governess should probably meet her. Tootles!” she said before quite literally blurring and vanishing into thin air before our very eyes.

My whiskers twitched all the more as my fur bristled.

I do NOT like that trick, I thought.

Gwendolyn took both of my hands, which startled me in a different way.

“Oh my, dear. Please don’t give her any more of your thoughts than you already have. She enjoys ruffling feathers if you’ll excuse my turn of phrase. I’d love to invite you to tea and ask you about a thousand questions, but I really do have to get to that temple. Perhaps I’ll find you tomorrow, and we can chat?”

Gone was her grumpiness, and back was the friendly grandmother who looked like she was about to ask me to play cards or teach me crochet.

“Uh, maybe,” was all I could muster after the shocking few minutes that’d just unwound before me. Assassins, Reverend Mothers, invitations to meet dignitaries, geez. That was a lot for a girl to process at once!

“I truly hope so. Please take care, dear,” Gwendolyn said before letting my hands go and leaving us in the hallway.

We stood in silence for a few seconds to decompress.

Then, Juno said, “Well, we’d better get going too.”

“Huh?” I asked, turning my head and realizing her elbow was still on me.

“We gotta get you to the tailor. You need a brand new dress if you’re going to have tea with the governess.”

And off we went before butterflies could even start fluttering in my tummy at the prospect of dress shopping for the very first time.