Chapter 7 #3
“First,” Croesus says, steepling his fingers on the desk in front of him, “let’s establish the ground rules. You will address me as Lord Croesus or simply Croesus. Never ‘sir’ or any other honorific. I’m not human nobility, and I don’t pretend to be.”
“Noted.”
“You will have quarters in the residential wing. Private rooms, your own space. You’re not a prisoner, Raven. You’re a contracted employee.”
“That’s a nice way of saying indentured servant.”
His mouth twitches. “Call it what you like. The point is, you’ll have autonomy within the House. You can move freely through most areas, though some sections are restricted.”
“The hallways all look the same.”
“You’ll learn to navigate. Everyone does eventually.
” He reaches into a drawer, pulls out what looks like a ledger.
Opens it with the same reverence most people reserve for holy texts.
“Your duties will be straightforward. I have a number of contracts I need broken. Rival deals from other Houses, mostly. You’ll absorb the sins, purge them, and release the souls so I can claim them. ”
“Corporate warfare with salvation. How noble.”
“Mock all you like, but this is how the houses have operated for millennia. We compete for souls the way human companies compete for market share. It’s civilized, relatively speaking. Better than the alternative.”
“Which is?”
“War.” He says it simply, without drama. “Actual war between houses. It’s happened before. It will happen again. But for now, we steal souls from each other and pretend we’re being subtle.”
I lean back in the chair, trying to process all of this. “So I’m your corporate spy.”
“You’re my sin eater. A valuable one. The only one currently in my employ.
” He closes the ledger, sets it aside. “In exchange for your service, I will ensure your sister remains safe. No one from the supernatural world will touch her. No one will reveal to her what you are, or what’s happening in the shadows.
She’ll live her normal human life completely undisturbed. ”
“And I get to call her once a week,” I add.
“Every Sunday, you may call her. The call will be monitored, not by me, but by the magic that binds us. If you try to warn her, if you try to tell her the truth, the call will be terminated and the privilege revoked. Understood?”
“Understood.”
“Good.” He stands, moves around the desk with the same predatory grace. “Now. Let’s discuss the other term you attempted to negotiate.”
I tense. “Which one?”
“Your autonomy.” He stops a few feet away from me, close enough that I have to look up to maintain the illusion of eye contact. “You wanted to retain your free will. No compulsion, no magical binding beyond the contract itself.”
“That was the deal.”
“It was. And I agree to it. But I want to make sure you understand what that means.” He leans down, bracing his hands on the arms of my chair, caging me in.
His face only inches from mine. “It means I cannot compel you to obey me. Cannot force you to do anything through magical means. If I want your cooperation, I have to earn it. Negotiate it. Convince you.”
“Sounds fair.”
“It is fair. It’s also incredibly frustrating.
” His voice drops lower, intimate and dangerous.
“Because what I want to do right now, what every instinct I have is screaming at me to do, is to claim you. Mark you. Make it absolutely clear to every other being in this house and beyond that you are mine.”
My breath catches. “But you can’t.” Right?
“No. I can’t.” He pulls back slightly, and I can breathe again. “Not with magic, anyway. But I can do other things. I can make sure you’re comfortable here. I can provide everything you need. I can be generous, accommodating, even kind when the mood strikes me.”
“And in exchange?”
“In exchange, I expect loyalty. Obedience. And...” He pauses, tilts his head in that listening way. “Eventually, I expect you to come to me willingly. Not because you’re compelled. But because you choose to.”
The arrogance of it should make me furious. Should make me want to tell him exactly where he can shove his expectations.
But there’s something in the way he says it, he’s not demanding, not commanding, but almost hopeful? That makes me feel less insulted than I should.
“You’re going to be disappointed,” I tell him.
“We’ll see.” He straightens and steps back, gives me space to breathe again.
“Auric will show you to your quarters. You’ll begin work tomorrow.
For tonight, rest. Recover from the journey through the portal.
Explore the house if you’re brave enough.
The dining hall serves meals at seven, noon, and seven again.
Or you can have food brought to your rooms if you prefer. ”
“Am I dismissed?”
“You’re free to go.” He returns to his desk, settles back into his chair. “Oh, and Raven?”
I pause at the door, looking back.
He’s smiling, and it promises trouble.
“Welcome to the House of Gold. I think we’re going to have a very interesting year together.”
I don’t respond. Just pull open the door and step back into the golden hallway, my heart still racing, my mind spinning, and my body still humming with that unwanted awareness of him.
Auric is waiting, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and an expression that’s far too knowing.
“Went well, I take it?” he asks.
“Fuck off,” I mutter.
He laughs and pushes off the wall. “Come on, little sin eater. Let me show you to your cage.”
“It’s not a cage. Croesus said I have autonomy.” But it sounds like a three-year-old trying to justify not going to bed on time.
“Sure. You can walk around freely, explore the house, go wherever you like.” He starts walking, and I follow because I have no idea where I’m going.
“As long as you don’t try to leave. As long as you do what Croesus tells you.
As long as you fulfill your contract. That’s not autonomy, Raven. That’s just a prettier cage.”
He’s right, and I resent it.
But I follow him anyway for the same reasons I showed up on time, through the maze of golden hallways, toward whatever quarters they’ve prepared for me.Toward my new life. For the next year, this is home.
May the gods help me.