6. Uriel

6

URIEL

I guide the zarryn down the winding path to my estate, their silver coats catching the fading light. The mansion looms ahead - three stories of white stone and gleaming metal that reflects the dying sun. Magic thrums through every inch of the grounds, each pulse a reminder of my domain.

Athena's breathing quickens as we approach. The carriage stops at the front of the house, and I jump out, circling around to her side. My hands find her waist as I lift her down, the contact sending sparks of awareness through my skin. Even through the fabric of her still torn and worn dress, her warmth seeps into my palms. I let the touch linger longer than necessary, telling myself it's just to ensure she doesn't bolt.

"Welcome home." With the quirk of my hand, I slice through her bindings, but keep one hand firmly on the small of her back. The cruel smile I've perfected over centuries spreads across my face as I begin weaving the first boundary spell that will keep her here without my supervision.

Golden threads of magic flow from my fingertips, weaving an intricate net around us as we walk. "I won't keep you locked up here-" I trace a complex pattern in the air. "But try to escape again..." The spell snaps into place with an audible crack. Her shoulders tense.

"What happens if I try?" Her voice stays steady, but I catch the slight tremor in her hands.

I guide her past the covered walkway leading to my workshop. More spells pour from my hands, layering protection and containment that's tied to Athena into every stone and beam. "The magic will stop you. Painfully."

Her golden-green eyes darken as she watches another barrier shimmer into place. "You can't keep me prisoner forever."

"I can do whatever I want." My wings shift, casting us both in shadow. "This is my domain. My magic runs through every inch of this estate."

We reach the main entrance. I press my palm against the door, sending a final surge of power through the building. The walls pulse with golden light as the spells take hold. Athena's face falls as she feels the magic settle - an invisible cage closing around her.

"The boundaries will adjust to my will." I lean close, breathing her in. "You'll go only where I allow, when I allow it."

She lifts her chin, defiance blazing in those remarkable eyes. But I feel her slight shiver when my fingers brush her neck, and it sends a thrill of satisfaction through my blood.

"Shall we continue the tour?" I open the door with a cruel smile, knowing each step will only reinforce the extent of her captivity.

I lead her through the grand foyer, my wings brushing against marble columns. "The rules are simple enough for even a human to understand."

Her spine stiffens at the insult. Good. Let her remember what she is.

"You'll have free range of the house and grounds - a generous allowance for someone of your...status." I trace a finger down her arm, savoring how she flinches. "The boundary extends to the tree line, but try to cross it..." Magic crackles between my fingers. "Well, you're smart enough to guess."

We pass the library, its towering shelves visible through open doors. "You'll earn your keep in my workshop. I need steady hands for detail work, and yours look capable enough."

"I'm not your servant." Her voice carries more steel than I expected.

I grab her chin, forcing those golden-green eyes to meet mine. "You're whatever I say you are. Servant. Pet. Slave. The choice of word doesn't change your reality."

Releasing her, I continue down the hall. We reach the kitchen, a sprawling space filled with copper pots and crystalline cooling boxes powered by frost magic. "You'll take your meals here. There's staff on hand to keep everything stocked and prepared. I'll inform them that you'll be here from now on.

"And if I refuse to work?"

I smile, letting cruelty reshape my features. "Then you don't eat. Simple cause and effect, little demon." My hand finds the back of her neck, squeezing just hard enough to make her gasp. "Though there are far worse consequences I could devise."

Her pulse races under my fingers - fear and fury mingling in those expressive eyes. I release her neck but stay close, enjoying how she tries to hide her trembling.

"The workshop requires absolute obedience, though. One mistake could be..." I pause, letting tension build. "Fatal. So you'll follow every instruction without question. Consider it motivation to learn quickly."

She opens her mouth to argue, but I cut her off. "Your first lesson starts now - silence unless spoken to. Nod if you understand."

The war in her eyes is delicious - pride battling survival instinct. Finally, she gives a short nod.

"Good girl." I pat her cheek condescendingly. "You might be trainable after all."

I watch her fingers trail along each doorframe we pass, testing the hinges, the locks, searching for any flaw in the craftsmanship. Her movements are subtle - practiced - like she's done this before. A smile tugs at my lips as she discovers every lock reinforced with magic that burns at her touch.

"Careful." I catch her wrist as she yanks back from another scorched handle. "The wards don't distinguish between accident and intent."

Her golden-green eyes narrow, but she doesn't respond. I can see I have in no way deterred her, though, and that sends a thrill through me.

She moves to the next door, this time keeping her hands visible as she studies the mechanism. Smart girl. Looking without touching.

We reach the grand staircase, and she pauses to examine the ornate windows stretching three stories high. Her gaze traces the metalwork between panes, likely calculating if the decorative swirls could support her weight. I let her look her fill, amused by the quiet determination in her stance.

"The glass is reinforced with binding spells." I run a finger down the nearest pane, making golden runes flash beneath the surface. "Try to break it, and the shards will cage you instead."

She shifts her attention to the heavy curtains, those delicate hands testing the fabric's strength. Every movement is purposeful, methodical. No hysteria, no blind panic - just cool assessment of her prison. In fact, besides the first few moments when I found her, there's never been any begging either.

My wings twitch with growing interest. Breaking her will be far more entertaining than I'd anticipated. It makes me want to taunt her, to push her.

"The more you search for escape routes..." I step closer, letting my shadow fall over her. "The more creative I'll become in containing you."

Her spine straightens, but she keeps examining each potential exit we pass. Even knowing it's futile, she catalogs every door, window, and passage. That sharp mind working behind those eyes, mapping the mansion's layout. Building her mental blueprint of my domain.

My blood heats at her quiet defiance. Such spirit deserves a special kind of breaking - slow, thorough, until that stubborn pride crumbles to ash in her mouth.

"The workshop is this way." I guide her to the connected walkway that leads to the little building behind my massive home.

I push open the heavy workshop doors, the familiar scent of metal and magic washing over me. Weapons line the walls - blades catching the light from enchanted lanterns, their edges hungry for blood. This is my sanctuary, where I craft death into art.

Athena steps inside, those remarkable eyes widening as she takes in the arsenal surrounding us. Her fingers twitch at her sides, and I catch a spark of something beyond fear in her expression. Interest.

"We'll start here in the morning, so I hope you remember your way." I give her a grin that I know makes her angrier. "We'll start with the basics and see-"

"I won't be your slave." Her voice cuts through the air like a blade. "I'm not some pet you can collar and command."

I turn slowly, letting my wings spread to their full span. I've had plenty of xaphan soldiers defer to me when I do this. She lifts her chin instead.

"You're whatever I say you are." My words drip with centuries of superiority. "You belong to me now."

"I belong to myself." She steps closer, golden-green eyes blazing. "You can't just take someone and think that gives you the right to own me."

"Rights?" I bark out a laugh. "You're human. You have no rights here."

"And you're a bully hiding behind magic and muscle." Her words strike with surprising precision. "Strip away your wings and power, what's left? Just another tyrant desperate to feel strong."

My hand shoots out, catching her throat. But she doesn't flinch, doesn't struggle. Those eyes bore into mine, challenging, fierce.

"I could break you." My fingers tighten slightly. "Shatter that spirit into pieces so small you'd never find them all." My wings tuck in. "Take away my wings and magic and I am still a lethal warrior you don't want to face."

"You could try." Her pulse races under my palm, but her voice stays steady. "But you won't break me, Uriel. I've survived worse than you."

Something in her tone makes me pause. There's old pain there, hidden beneath the defiance. Scars that run deeper than skin. I wonder what that could be coming from such a cushy lifestyle.

I release her throat. "You have fire, little demon." I trace a finger along her jaw. "But fire can be controlled, contained, made to serve a greater purpose."

"Or it can burn everything to ash." She catches my wrist, her touch sending unexpected heat through my skin. "Remember that before you push me too far."