Come on, admit it, Pooky Bear," I said to the sword. "You love your new look. All the other swords will be jealous.

Tell me about Raffe."
Nothing.
"okay. Let's practice fighting," I said in an enthusiastic voice as if I'm talking to a little kid. "I could use more lessons."
Nothing.
"Right. Well, I guess I have nothing better to do now than to decorate the teddy bear with ribbons and bows. What do you think of dusky pink?"
The room wavers, then morphs.

You're naming your collector's-item, kick-ass sword that's made to maim and kill, specifically designed to bring your ginormous enemies to their knees and hear the lamentation of their women-Pooky Bear?"
"Yeah, you like it?

He glares at me as if he already hates it. “What is it?” I consider lying but what’s the point? I clear my throat. “Pooky Bear."
He’s silent for so long I’m beginning to think he didn’t hear me when he finally says, “Pooky. Bear.” “It was just a little joke. I didn’t know.”
“I’ve mentioned that names have power, right? Do you realize that when she fights battles, she’s going to have to announce herself to the opposing sword? She’ll be forced to say something ridiculous like, ‘I am Pooky Bear, from an ancient line of archangel swords.’ Or, ‘Bow down to me, Pooky Bear, who has only two other equals in all the worlds.’ ” He shakes his head. “How is she going to get any respect?

One second, we are surrounded by angels holding their swords. The next second, one of their arms drops and his sword thunks to the grass like a lead weight. The angel stares at his blade uncomprehendingly.

Another sword drops.

Then another.

Then a whole bunch, until all the other unsheathed swords fall, thudding on the grass like subjects bowing down to their queen.

The angels stare at the swords at their feet in utter shock.

Then everyone looks at me. Actually, it’s probably more accurate to say they’re looking at my sword.

“Whoa.” That’s about the most intelligent thing I can say right now. Did Raffe say something about an archangel sword intimidating other angel swords if she could gain their respect?

I swivel my eyes to look at the blade in my hands. Was that you, Pooky Bear?

Show me your memories of the kiss.” I close my eyes. The heat creeps up my cheeks, which is silly because the sword was there when the kiss happened and saw the whole thing. So what if I’m curious about what he felt?

“Oh, come on. Do we have to do this again?”

Nothing.

“That last one was totally awful. I need a little comfort. It’s just a small favor. Please?”

Nothing.

“Extra ribbons and bows for you,” I try to sound like I mean it. “Maybe even sparkly makeup on the teddy bear.”

Still nothing.

“Traitor.” I know that’s a funny statement since the sword is actually being loyal to Raffe but I don’t care.