Chapter 16 #2
Then Caspian speaks, and his voice is so quiet I almost miss it. Rough with disuse, barely more than a whisper.
"She'll die if she tries."
Everyone turns to look at him. Even Idris seems surprised that Caspian bothers to contribute.
"Your grandmother was clever," Caspian continues, each word costing him visible effort. "Cleverer than most. And she still died. What makes you think you'll fare any better?"
"I have something she didn't." I meet his empty eyes and refuse to look away. "I have all of you. Bound to me whether you like it or not."
Silence stretches between us.
Then, slowly, Caspian's colorless lips curve into something that might be a smile if it had any warmth behind it.
"Interesting," he murmurs. And closes his eyes, apparently done with the conversation.
He's not wrong, Idris muses. The binding does change things. Seven of us tied to one mortal. If Heaven moves against her, they move against all of us.
"Which is exactly why this is dangerous." Kael crosses his arms. "We should sever the bonds. Cut her loose before she drags us all down with her."
"The bonds can't be severed." Seraph's voice is sharp. "Not without killing her. We tried, remember? After the archangel."
"Then we contain her. Keep her locked away until—"
"No one is locking her away." Croesus moves closer to me, his presence in the binding burning hot with protective rage. "She stays with me."
"She's serving in my house," Seraph growls.
"Then she stays here, under your protection. But she won’t be caged like an animal."
I should probably be more upset about the way they're talking around me. Deciding my fate like I'm not standing right here. But honestly, I'm too tired and too overwhelmed and the binding is still so loud that I can barely think straight.
"I need to learn to shield," I say, cutting through their argument. "That's the first step, isn't it? If I'm broadcasting everything I feel and know through the binding, I'm a liability. Teach me to block you out."
"Block us out?" Lysander sounds almost offended. "Darling, some of us were rather enjoying the show."
"Teach her." Kael, surprisingly, is the one who agrees. "She's right. As long as she's an open channel, she's a risk to all of us. Seraph, you're the one who's been training her. Add this to her lessons."
Seraph's jaw tightens, but he nods. "Fine. We'll start tomorrow."
"We'll start now." I force myself to stand straighter, to look like someone who isn't about to collapse from the pressure of these angels inside her skull. "I can't think with all of you screaming in my head. Teach me to make it quiet."
There’s a flicker in Seraph's eyes. Approval? Or surprise that I'm still standing at all.
"Everyone out," he says. "I need to work with her alone."
"And let you have unsupervised access to our little weapon?" Kael shakes his head. "I don't think so."
"She's not a weapon. She's a person." Dorian sets down his wine glass with a soft clink. Where the hell did that come from? "And she's clearly exhausted. Kael, for once in your existence, show some restraint."
"Restraint." Kael's laugh is bitter. "Rich, coming from the embodiment of gluttony."
"I think," Lysander says, pushing off from the bookshelf, "that we should all take a breath. Raven isn't going anywhere. The binding ensures that. And screaming at each other in Seraph's library isn't going to solve anything."
For once, the whore has a point. Idris's mental voice is dry. We'll be watching, little sin eater. Learning everything you learn. So don't think shielding will keep you safe from us forever.
They turn to leave, one by one. Kael goes first, still radiating heat, the doorframe singeing slightly as he passes through.
Idris follows, their shifting hair catching the light one last time before they disappear.
Lysander winks at me as he goes, purple eyes full of promises I don't want to think about.
Dorian pauses long enough to squeeze my hand, his touch warm but somehow hollow.
"Be careful," he murmurs. "Please."
Then he's gone too.
Caspian doesn't move from his chair.
"Caspian." Seraph's voice carries a warning. "This doesn't require your presence."
"Nothing requires my presence." The Angel of Sloth opens his pale eyes, fixes them on me with that empty stare. "But I find myself curious. It's been a long time since I felt curious about anything."
"Let him stay." I don't know why I say it. His emptiness calls to me. And the way he spoke about my grandmother meant something, like he actually cared whether I lived or died. "Maybe he can help."
Seraph looks like he wants to argue. But Croesus is still standing beside me, his presence in the binding a wall of gold and possessive fury, and I can tell neither of them wants to fight about this right now.
"Fine." Seraph gestures to a chair. "Sit. Both of you. This is going to take a while."
Croesus guides me to the chair, his hand warm on my lower back. I sink into it gratefully, my legs finally giving out now that the immediate crisis has passed.
Seven angels. Seven bonds. Seven ancient beings who have every reason to see me as a threat and very little reason to keep me alive.
But I'm still here. Still breathing. Still fighting. And I have no intention of stopping.