Page 171 of A House of Gold
"The words," Caspian says. "All together. Mean them."
As one, seven angels speak in Latin, the words rolling through the chamber with power that makes reality itself shiver:
"Sanguine ligamus Voluntate vincimus Iuramento firmamus In aeternum semper Octo unum facti Unum aeternum factum Nulla potentia dividat Quod hic creamus."
I understand enough Latin from years of ritual work to know what they're saying: By blood we bind. By choice we tether. By oath we anchor. Forever and always. Eight made one. One made eternal. Let no power sunder what we forge here.
The magic explodes.
I scream as it tears through me, not pain exactly, but transformation. The divine energy that was burning me out, destroying me, suddenly has somewhere to go. It floods out through the points where the angels touch me, distributed across seven immortal beings who can actually handle it.
But it's not one-directional.
Through the new bonds, permanent, unbreakable bonds, I feel everything.
Croesus's desperate love, his relief so intense it brings tears to his gold eyes. Seraph's reluctant respect mixed with irritation at being tied to so many others. Idris's curiosity and something else, loneliness, deep and aching. Kael's approval, his recognition of a fellow fighter. Lysander's appreciation, his hunger to understand this fascinating woman. Dorian's warmth. Caspian's exhaustion and underneath it, the faintest hint of hope.
And they feel me.
My fear. My determination. My gratitude. My anger at nearly dying. My confusion about all of this. My growing feelings for Croesus that I haven't fully acknowledged. My complicated relationships with each of them.
They feel all of it.
Because we're bound now. Truly, permanently bound.
The divine energy settles, spreading across eight beings instead of one. The burning eases. The pain recedes. My body stops destroying itself from the inside out.
I can breathe.
"It worked," Dorian says, sounding surprised. "It actually worked."
"Of course it worked," Seraph snaps, but there's relief in his voice. Through the new bond, I feel his shock at how much he actually cares whether I lived.
The light fades. The glowing star dims. The seven points overhead return to their gentle gleam.
The angels pull back their hands, but the connection remains. Permanent threads tying me to seven deadly sins. Tying them to each other through me.
"How do you feel?" Croesus asks, still holding my hand.
I take inventory. The burning is gone. The divine energy no longer tears me apart. My body aches, exhausted, but whole. Alive.
"Like I have seven voices in my head," I admit. "Or not voices exactly. Presences. Like I'm aware of all of you all the time."
You'll get used to it. Eventually.Idris says.
"Will she?" Kael asks, genuine curiosity in his ember eyes. "Has anyone ever had seven bonds before?"
"Not that I know of," Caspian says quietly. "She's... unprecedented."
"Great," I mutter. "Add it to the list of ways I'm apparently unique."
Lysander laughs. "I'm starting to understand what Croesus sees in you. You're wonderfully stubborn."
"Stubborn enough to survive," Dorian agrees. He reclaims his wine glass, takes a sip. "Though I have to ask, does anyone else feel...strange?"
"Define strange," Seraph says warily.
"I can feel you. All of you." Dorian gestures around the circle. "Not strongly. Not like I feel her. But there's something there. A connection."
