Chapter 11
Tap
“You’re making excellent progress,” I commented as I entered the library. One whole side of the table now had fully visible chairs.
Phin turned around, pleased by the compliment. “You think so? I can’t wait until I can see this whole table. It’s a lovely piece. Did you make it too?”
I shook my head. “No, this set is well beyond my abilities. The dining table and chairs in the kitchen is as far as I got. I learned pretty quickly that my strengths lie in much smaller pieces.”
“Well, it’s got a beautiful grain.” She paused to wipe at her eyes, and my chest tightened.
“Are you well? Is the dust bothering you?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. My eyes are just tired. I just didn’t stop to rest or wash up like I normally do. I did six crates today. I think that’s a personal best.”
“Very likely, that’s quite a lot to be sure. If the dust bothers you—”
“I’m alright, I promise.” She pinned me with that violet stare and a lopsided grin. “But I appreciate the concern.”
“As you say. It’s getting late. Are you hungry?”
She slid out of the chair, pushing a pile of deals out of her way as she rose. “I got in such a good rhythm, I lost all track of time. Yes, I’m starving actually.”
I gestured for her to go ahead of me, breathing in a nose full of her lavender-and-parchment scent as she passed me up in the doorway, close enough her arm brushed mine. Electricity sparked, and a wave of desire washed over me.
I was going to go mad soon.
Every nerve in my body was strung tight every second of the day because of the mate bond. Phin was never close enough, or when she was near, she was smiling too brightly, too innocently, for me to reconcile the fierce need to claim her as mine with who I’d always believed I was.
The bright light of her soul shone through more every day since she’d gotten away from that church and all the rules the priest had imposed under the guise of keeping her safe.
Her voice, still rough and quiet, would crack and my anger would rise.
She’d casually mention some other way she was made to suffer in the name of safety and my veins would boil, my demon aching to get out.
To take revenge. On the priest, her parents, all the circumstances that led to her coming to live here.
But never with her.
None of this was her fault, and I would suffer this pain for eternity if it ensured she was safe and cared for.
The violent emotional swings were exhausting.
I found some peace in the rituals that kept me occupied for tiny bits of time—cooking, tidying, my rounds up and down the rows of doorways in the great hall. Bringing her teas and snacks to be sure she was soothed and never hungry. But it was never enough.
She sat in the chair she favored at the table, making enthusiastic noises over the plate I’d made for her. I couldn’t help but preen at the compliment, and the burn behind my ribs eased a bit.
“This smells wonderful.” Her stomach rumbled, and she blushed as she picked up her fork.
“I should have brought you something more substantial midday.”
“You brought me plenty,” she said over a mouthful of roasted potatoes.
“I lost track of time is all, you’re not responsible for that.
” She chewed and swallowed several times, following her hearty bites with a long drink of water.
I nibbled and watched, anxious that she was so ravenous.
When the food finally began to settle, she slowed down.
“This is delicious as always. Thank you for always cooking. You don’t have to, you know.
I can always put together something for myself. Or for both of us. I wouldn’t mind.”
“It’s my pleasure. But perhaps we’ll work out a rotation.
” I wouldn’t suggest one myself, but if she needed to take charge of a meal or two to feel useful, I’d accept her wishes.
And I’d have to make sure to leave some kind of snacks for her in the library for days like this.
Phin skipping meals altogether would not do.
“What’s the green vegetable?” She’d eaten around that item, pushing it off to the side.
“Seir called it chard. He said it was one of Merry’s favorites and a lot like spinach. Before I cooked it, some of the leaves were partly yellow, and some red as well as green. Very pretty.”
“Mmm.” Her gaze grew distant and she stopped eating, instead just moving her food around the plate, all enthusiasm gone.
“Is something wrong?”
Phin’s eyes snapped up. She took an intentional bite, then another, leaving the greens as they were.
Then she lied to me, though it was out of politeness, so I didn’t hold it against her.
“No, nothing’s wrong.” When she spoke again, her question took me completely by surprise.
“Do all the doorways work all the time?”
“Yes and no. Why do you ask?”
One of her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Just curious. There are so many. Seems like an impossible task to watch them all..”
“Not impossible. Not easy, either, though, I’ll admit.”
“What kinds of things are you looking for when you watch them? I’m not sure I understand quite why they need to be monitored so closely. Aren’t portals fairly complicated to use?”
I considered the simplest way to respond.
“They are. To use them, a person must know where one is, how to activate it, and be able to visualize where they’re going or the person they’re hoping to travel to at the very least. But there are realms and worlds beyond ours, where the knowledge is much more freely shared.
Sometimes, doorway paths get crossed, or a creature gets lucky and ends up somewhere they don’t belong.
Malice isn’t always at play, but it’s best to be cautious, because sometimes, it absolutely is. ”
Phin’s head tilted. “We used portals in and out of Heaven. There were three or four locations my father preferred, all linked to doorways around where we lived. I wonder if they still work.” Her mouth flattened.
“None of the doorways to the celestial plane under my purview have been decommissioned recently. And by recently, I mean in the last say, ten or twenty earth years. Maybe more. I’m happy to check the files, if you can give me relatively close locations.”
“Could I use one then? Would it be that easy?” Her voice went soft, the confidence and volume she’d earned since arriving here faded.
I clutched my fork so tight my knuckles whitened. “I don’t see why not, if you know the entry point and how to activate one. But—”
“Obviously that’s not something I want to do,” she interrupted me.
“Not unless I could be invisible or something. I’d be walking right into the very thing I’ve been hiding from, what my parents were keeping me safe from by leaving me at the church.
” Voice raspy, she sagged in her seat, sipping at her water.
The bond flared irritably behind my ribs.
“Do you think your parents are there?”
Phin met my eye and started to shake her head, then switched to a nod.
When she spoke again, her voice was quieter than before to reduce the irritation.
“I honestly don’t know. If they did, there’s no reason they wouldn’t have come back for me.
” She straightened, panic in her violet gaze.
“If the portals work, and you manage some of the ones that go to Heaven, does that mean they could just come here? That’s a direct path and they know what I look like. ”
I shook my head. “No. While they are active, they also cannot be used without permission, and even then, under a specific set of circumstances only. I could not go there directly either. There’s a permanent agreement in place, one that cannot be broken or changed without the explicit and complicated sign-offs and the undoing of many layers of magical binding from those in charge of both places. ”
Phin relaxed, a gentle smirk lifting one side of her mouth. “Paperwork again.”
“Always.” I reached for her plate. “Are you finished?”
“Yes, thank you. But I can wash. You cooked.”
I relented but tapped my finger against my bouncing leg in an effort to keep myself seated. “Not so thrilled about the greens, then?”
“Sorry, but not really. I … overdid it with fresh greens once. I’ve never really recovered.”
I detected a hint of misdirection in her words, but she was telling the truth. That was a story I desperately wanted to hear, but I resisted asking. She seemed to share things perfectly well if given time, and I could be patient. Most of the time.
Unable to sit any longer, I set to making us a pot of tea.
Phin dried the plates, then stacked them carefully in the cabinet.
As I poured the boiling water into the teapot, I mused over whether I should ask if she’d prefer a different kind of stoneware, or perhaps some delicate china with a pretty pattern instead of my plain, somewhat inconsistently thrown, pottery to use.
“If I told you my father’s name, do you think you’d recognize it?” She leaned against the countertop, drying her hands on the dish towel. Her eyebrows dipped. “Or perhaps there’s a reason you’ve never asked?”
I dropped the kettle onto the stove a bit harder than I intended to, some of the water splashing back out. “I’m curious about most things where you’re concerned, Phin.”
“So is this like the files? It wouldn’t change anything, so why ask?”
I choked on a laugh. “Perhaps. Though, it’s more just me trying to respect your privacy than anything else. Would you prefer I were nosy?”
Phin made a sound, the start of a word that she abandoned. “Maybe. You’re welcome to ask anything you like, Tap. If I don’t want to tell you, I just … won’t.”