Page 99 of A House of Gold
"So I'm safe."
"Safer. Not safe. There's a difference." She squeezes my shoulder. "But you bought yourself time. Time to research. Time to figure out what your grandmother was trying to do. Time to decide if you're really going to attempt the impossible."
I look at Croesus. He's standing by the fireplace, staring into the flames, and through the new connection I can feel him. Not his thoughts, just his presence. Steady. Solid. Worried.
"Thank you," I tell Wren.
"Don't thank me yet. You haven't felt the full weight of what you've agreed to." She stands. "But for what it's worth? I think you're brave. Or crazy. Probably both." She moves to the kitchen. "Now, let's eat. You've been through a major magical working. You need food."
We stay for dinner.
Wren cooks, simple food, pasta with vegetables and we sit at her small table eating like normal people. Not an angel and a sin eater and a witch. Just...people sharing a meal.
"So," Wren says, twirling pasta on her fork. "How long have you two been sleeping together?"
I choke on my wine. Croesus goes very still.
"We're not." I start.
"Please." Wren rolls her eyes. "I bound you to him. I felt the connection. There's already intimacy there. Physical and emotional. Don't bother lying to someone who just performed blood magic on you."
I look at Croesus. He's staring at his plate.
"It's complicated," I say finally.
"It always is with angels." She takes a bite. "My advice? Enjoy it while it lasts. Don't overthink it. And for the love of the old gods, use protection. Half-angel babies are a nightmare."
I sputter. Fuck, I’m the descendant of a half angel. Not one of the seven but there are way more just regular angels out therelingering on the edges of human awareness. "We're not..." I try again.
"Yet. But you will be." She grins. "The binding accelerates things. You're tied to him now in ways that will make resisting each other difficult."
Heat floods my face. "That's not why I agreed to the binding."
"I know. But it's still a side effect." She looks at Croesus. "You know this, right? That binding her to your house means she'll feel your emotions, your desires, your hunger? And you'll feel hers?"
"I know," he says quietly.
"And you did it anyway."
"I did it to protect her."
"Sure." Wren's smile is knowing. "Keep telling yourself that."
We finish dinner in awkward silence. But I like her. Despite, or maybe because of, her bluntness. She's real. Honest. Not trying to manipulate or control or play political games. Just a woman who lives in the spaces between and tells the truth.
When we prepare to leave, she hugs me. "Come back anytime. You're always welcome here. And if you need help, real help, not just wards, you let me know."
"Why are you being so nice to me?" I ask.
"Because I liked your grandmother. And because I think you're trying to do something good. Something that needs doing." She pulls back. " I've been alone for two hundred years. It's nice to have a friend."
"I'd like that," I say. "Being friends."
"Good. Now get out of here before the tea wears off and you pass out from magical exhaustion."
The journey back through the spaces between is easier. Or maybe I'm just too tired to be scared.
Croesus keeps hold of my hand, and I can feel him through the binding now. Not just his presence, but emotions. Concern. Relief. Something else I can’t pinpoint.
