Page 84 of A House of Gold
"Not this." He stands, moves to the window. Stares out at the fake sunrise with his back to me. "Your grandmother thought the same thing. She researched. She planned. She died before she found anything."
My heart pounds. "Are you sure? What was she researching?"
He turns, and his eyes are guarded. "Ways to break angelic curses. Old magic. Forbidden rituals. Things that might have gotten her killed." His voice hardens. "Promise me you won't follow that path. Promise me you won't try to?—"
"To what? Help you?" I sit up, ignoring the way my body protests. "I can't promise that."
"Raven." It’s all he says. Just my name. Almost an admonishment.
"You've been suffering for so long. All seven of you. Trapped in curses you didn't choose, feeding on sins just to survive. If I can help, why wouldn’t I. Breaking this puzzle will save so manysouls in the future as well. If I can do that, then I would never have to eat another sin again."
"If trying to break the curse kills you, then it’s not worth it." His voice is hard.
A knock interrupts him. He pulls away, moves to the door, and returns with a cart loaded with food. Fruits and cheeses and bread still warm from ovens. Soup that smells like it was made by someone's grandmother. Coffee that looks like liquid salvation.
"Eat," he says, his voice carefully controlled. "We'll discuss this later."
"Croesus?"
"Eat." It's not a request.
I eat. Because I'm starving, so the order isn’t really necessary.
He watches me eat like he's memorizing every bite. Like he's afraid I'll disappear if he looks away.
"You're staring," I say around a mouthful of bread.
"I'm allowed to stare. You're in my bed, eating my food, talking about sacrificing yourself to save me. I think I've earned the right to stare."
"I'm not talking about sacrifice. I'm talking about possibility."
"They're the same thing." He sits on the edge of the bed again. "Every possibility you're imagining ends with you dead or changed beyond recognition. I won't allow it."
"You don't get to allow or disallow what I do."
"For the next year, I own your service. Your time. Your considerable abilities. That gives me some say in whether you attempt something suicidal."
"After the year, then."
"After the year, you'll walk away from here and never look back. You'll go home to your sister and your life and forgetthis place ever existed." His voice is hard. Final. "That's what's supposed to happen."
"What if I don't want that?"
Silence. Long and heavy and full of things neither of us is saying.
"What do you want?" he asks finally.
I look at him. Really look at him. Gold eyes that hide so much pain. Black hair threaded with actual gold. Hands that can turn anything to treasure but can't feel satisfaction from any of it. A curse that makes him hunger for everything while finding joy in nothing.
And underneath all of that, buried so deep he's forgotten it exists, the angel he used to be. The most beautiful things Heaven ever created. The rebel who chose free will and paid for it with eternity.
"I want you to be free," I say quietly. "I want all of you to be free. I want to break the curse that's been torturing you. I want—" My voice catches. "I want you to feel satisfaction. Just once. To take something and actually enjoy it. To exist as something other than hunger."
He's staring at me like I've grown wings. Like I'm speaking prophecy. Like I'm the most dangerous thing he's ever encountered.
"Why?" The word is barely a whisper.
"Because no one deserves so much suffering. Not even you."
