Chapter 6

" Y ou still want to bond with me?" I ask.

Nariel rolls his eyes. "Yes, but I can see you're having an uncharacteristic crisis of confidence. When you want to bond with me, you will let me know. Until then you should assume the offer is open unless I explicitly revoke it. But to be perfectly clear—" He leans forward until his forehead touches mine, and practically growls, "I will not be revoking it."

My breath catches.

"Wow," I finally say. "I ‘will' let you know, huh. You're right, it's definitely not you with the confidence issue."

He snorts, standing up again. "Says the woman who just turned down an offer I've never made to another being in my entire life. You also apparently don't believe me, so I will fix that too."

I eye him. "How, exactly?"

Nariel smirks. "I think I'll be changing our game."

"Ominous. "

"Yes, you'll hate it." He sounds smug. "But, as I said, first things first. You don't want to be dependent on me? Let's teach you how to make yourself a weapon to rival the angels."

N ariel is a devious motherfucker.

We are not only in the mountains for the view.

We're here because I can, apparently, fire pretty much whatever spell I want at the mountains without damaging them.

It's actually extremely cool. Like, I shoot a blast of magic at the mountain, and depending on how I shape it, sometimes it bounces off, and sometimes the mountain itself moves around it.

This is, apparently, how those spires were made, millennia ago. Literally shaped out of the landscape.

Also, since no one can see me but Nariel, who's already seen me at my worst, a part of me unwinds.

No one is judging me, so I don't have to be perfect.

I still expect myself to, of course. Evram fanned that part of me to a blaze.

But if I don't, what's the worst that happens? Nariel can decide I'm not good enough for him after all and revoke his offer to bond, but I think he should do that anyway. So it would be disappointing, because emotions don't actually follow logic, but also a relief.

But no one is going to take my magic away, or punish people I care about or am trying to protect.

It's just me and Nariel on a rock.

After playing long enough to believe him about not being able to damage the mountains, we get down to business.

"The first thing you'll need is a source of power for the weapon," Nariel says. We're sitting cross-legged next to each other, our knees not quiiite touching, facing the unbreakable, calming black mountains, our backs to the spires of Makora. "Since as a human you don't typically hold as much as an angel—"

"Location anchor." I nod. "My grove will work. If it doesn't have enough power now, I can adjust that when I go back. I built it up slowly over the years, so it has a strong foundation to hold more."

"And you can access that power from here? Even without a bead?"

"Yeah, I have a more permanent spell there. You totally could have transported me somewhere with a bathroom."

Nariel smirks, leaning back on his hands. "It may come as a surprise to you that as we don't need to use them ourselves, bathrooms are not generally where spirits portal to."

I can feel his shadows unfurling around him, tickling against my side, a feather-soft tease. I can't tell if he's stroking me on purpose or getting ready .

Probably both.

"Where do you appear so humans don't notice?" I ask.

"Curves, mostly. Easiest to slip in where humans don't have full visibility."

A shadow strokes up the curve of my waist, and I jump, bouncing on my butt in startlement.

"Ticklish?"

Definitely on purpose. "Leave my waist and the bottoms of my feet alone, or I'll electrocute you with prejudice."

Nariel nods easily, smiling. "Understood, thank you. You didn't leave a bead at your grove?"

I eye him, not sure what he's up to—I mean, this is clearly him changing the game, but I'm not sure what my part in it is supposed to be.

He continues to smile disingenuously.

"No," I finally say. "The beads I'm setting up so any wizard with the key can use them. Letty's teaching them when she gives them wands, in exchange for promising to call if any High Earth mages show up. They'll sense the magic drain."

"But you don't ask them to fight, because they can't."

"Correct."

"But you still give them wands for free."

"I mean—"

"They're effectively reporting to you when their own access to magic is threatened. That's a customer service ticket, not a responsibility. "

He's not wrong, but the idea of Nariel on the phone with customer service makes me snicker. "I don't want people to feel like magic comes with strings attached," I explain.

His shadows wrap around me, squeezing for a moment like the strangest hug, and then lightly dance up the length of my arm, not quite touching.

I try to ignore it. "I know I need more power. But I don't want to fall into the same habits as the angels and the mages—or, let's be real, a whole lot of corporations and governments in Low Earth. If I take and hoard power like they do from people who have fewer means, because I need it—and I obviously do, but I'm sure they think that too—then I'm no better, and I'll never break the cycle.

"I believe people should have free access to magic, full stop. That's the basic principle all my decisions are based on."

The shadows press in, just a touch, but enough that Nariel is now stroking my arm. Goosebumps follow in the shadows' wake, and I suppress a shiver, looking at him again.

"So you've taught Letty how to make wands and anchor them?" he asks as if nothing strange is going on.

"Not really. I do all the complicated spellwork, so she doesn't have to understand them, just activate them. But she's the touchpoint people actually know and trust, unlike me. And she knows how to talk to people and organize them."

Now Nariel looks at me. "Do you think she should be in charge? "

"Of leading an organization of humans? In the abstract, absolutely. In the case of we're in deep shit with two other magical worlds, no, because I don't think she's willing to take big enough risks to get us out of it. But once I have—"

Nariel takes my hand.

My breath catches.

It's like his shadows have been sensitizing my whole body, and at an actual physical touch, my entire body burns with awareness of him, of the point we're connected, of the feeling of his flesh against mine.

"Then let Ms. Jones handle the day-to-day management of humans," Nariel says. "But do you think she will ever be able to dream big enough to stand toe-to-toe with an angel without you behind her?"

Focus is hard. "No, but if I can't manage other wizards without her , and she's the one who started organizing us at all—"

He squeeze my hand. "She is not the one committed to giving magic away for free and challenging the universe to change. She has her skills, but there is no substitute for what you can offer your wizards, and people in every world, Sierra."

That's terrifying.

The idea that Letty could take over and I could get a break isn't something I've thought explicitly before now, but it was in the back of my mind, a way for me to step back .

And maybe Nariel is wrong. If I can dream big enough to change the dynamics of the universe, maybe I can dream up a way to not have to keep being in charge—

Nariel makes a sound almost like a soft growl and leans forward, his breath hot against my ear, cutting off my train of thought in an instant.

Wait.

Wait a damn minute—

I lean back, frowning at him. "Is this the game now? You try to distract me and see if I can still think? I don't need you to overload my brain any more than it already is, Nariel!"

Nariel smirks slowly. "No," he says. "The game is I try to seduce you, and we see how long it takes for you to believe I mean it. That before any other consideration, I want to bond with you to be bonded with you ."

Oh shit.

I'm boned.

...Metaphorically.

God damn it.

But Nariel actively trying to seduce me, even if he doesn't mean it—how am I supposed to cope with that?

He apparently sees some of the panic in my eyes because his own narrow and he leans back, returning to our original side-by-side position.

Still holding my hand, though.

And my heart is still trying to beat its way out of my chest .

"You really truly do not have to try to seduce me," I manage faintly.

Lord does he ever not need to seduce me.

Nariel raises his eyebrows at me. "I want to seduce you. You seem to think I don't want you, but while there are many things that are yours to decide, Sierra, my feelings are not one of them. But if I have to convince you that I do in fact know what I want, I am happy to do so."

Oh boy.

"You, uh. Don't sound happy."

"Do I sound frustrated, Sierra?"

Despite everything, that makes me smile.

And suddenly I do know how to play this game.

I reach over to pat our connected hands. "There, there. I won't hold it against you if you give up. I am notoriously hard-headed, you know."

He flashes me that grin that makes me want to do things that aren't magic. "At least three worlds know that, Sierra. Shall we make it a fourth?"

He still isn't letting go of my hand.

So I squeeze his back. "Let's do it."

T he theory, in terms of logic, makes sense .

Angelic weapons are effectively a concentrated extension of themselves: that's why they can hold so much magic. Whatever function the weapon fills—shooting fire, cutting through diamond—is a concentration of the maker's abilities.

So for an angel, the problem isn't manifesting a weapon; it's making it stable, something that can exist outside of them without constant maintenance. Very popular, for angels, if you can manage it!

For me, it's the opposite. A stable spellform? No problem.

Manifesting raw magic—but not really raw, it's actually personal—into a physical form... The magical theory is twisting my brain into knots.

Because magic is part of the very being of an angel or spirit, they can use their magic without the need for spells to shape it.

I can't.

Nariel is still holding my hand, but the only seduction he's trying now is just rubbing circles on my hand with his thumb.

It's... nice?

Not distracting, exactly; more anchoring. Like he knows I need my brainpower for something other than seduction right now and would only be annoyed by the interruption, so he's just patiently staying with me to support my fruitless experiments instead.

And he's way more patient than I am .

I zap the mountain with lightning, again, and scowl.

Nothing wrong with my aim, but I've done that so many times I'm carving a damn tunnel in front of us as the rock reacts to my magic.

"If you could imagine a weapon for yourself," Nariel asks, "what would it be?"

"Have you ever watched anime?" I ask. "There's an old one called Dragon Ball Z, where the characters basically shoot energy beams out of their hands."

Nariel snorts. "This explains a lot about your combat style."

I shrug. "I left Low Earth when I was seven. I'd only been exposed to so much media by then. What can I say, it was formative."

"Unless you want to manifest more hands," Nariel says in amusement, "consider alternatives."

"How many hands could your shadows hold? Shall we find out?"

He arches a brow. "As many as you can make. Did you watch other anime as a child that used weapons?"

"Oh, yeah. Cardcaptor Sakura was another formative one. She uses cards that have different powers, but a lot of them are elemental, so it was a more useful framework for magic. I don't want to throw cards though, that's actually less efficient than I already am. I need something concentrated, right?"

"Yes, but I think since we have to approach this differently, it might make more sense for you to come up with the shape first and then power it, rather than expecting your magic to naturally form in some way it doesn't naturally."

I narrow my eyes. "I didn't have to explain anime to you, but you didn't answer my question."

Nariel smiles. "I've watched anime."

What . Game changer. "Which ones?"

"Maybe if you manifest a weapon I'll tell you."

I make a face at him, and he throws his head back and laughs, the most carefree and delighted sound I've heard from him.

I stare, mesmerized, at this centuries-old, impossibly beautiful spirit, practically glowing against the dark landscape behind him, holding my hand.

I don't think he's even trying to seduce me right now, but for a moment I'm still almost breathless with wonder that somehow it is my life that he would even try .

"Any anime characters that use a bolt like Zeus?" Nariel asks.

I blink, not letting him see how utterly elsewhere my brain was for a moment there. "Zeus is an asshole. I can't remember what form Indra's takes, do you know?"

Nariel smiles in a way that makes me wonder what secrets he's keeping. "Yes, the Vajra. It's a type of club—the ribs on its head may separate from a sphere into sharp points you can stab with."

"Hmm, that has possibilities. "

"Possibilities you could get used to, or that seem self-evident?"

I sigh. "The former. Maybe I shouldn't use other weapons as models."

"As inspiration," Nariel corrects. "Don't try to recreate them."

Natural, but personal. Inspired by but not copied. Oy.

I change my spellform, imagining a club—the idea of just bludgeoning with magic sounds very me, honestly, so I figure it's worth a try—and trying to will my magic into that shape.

It works, sort of, but it's just a club. It's not an extension of anything.

"I could anchor this to my grove," I say doubtfully.

"No," Nariel agrees, "it's not right yet. When it is, it will already be connected."

I sigh, frustrated. Magic is supposed to be the thing I'm good at. I know this is not the kind of magic I do, but while Nariel might have endless patience, mine is dissolving rapidly. "I don't know how to do that."

One moment he's sitting, the next Nariel dissolves into shadows and reforms standing next to me, pulling me to my feet.

I stare. "That is the laziest way anyone has ever stood up."

He grins. "But you kept holding my hand."

I scowl. His hand became shadows with texture in a way I can't describe, which was unutterably cool and yeah, I absolutely did not let go of him. Didn't even think to.

"I think it might help you to get out of your head, come at the problem again once you've had a break," Nariel says. "Continuing to beat your head against the rock isn't an efficient use of your time."

Not even satisfying. I sigh. He's probably right.

"Where are you staying right now?" he asks.

"Oh, I'm not."

Nariel frowns at me.

I shrug. "Checked out of my last place before trying to find you in demon world."

"You still don't have your own space?"

"Nothing has changed since the last time you asked me that."

"That," Nariel says, "is extremely untrue."

"Okay, yes, there's magic in Low Earth now, but setting up a, like, wizard business building—"

"Guild, surely, Sierra."

I snort. "Fine, a wizards' guild—it would just be painting a target on it. Same with a house. It's a future problem."

"I see," he says softly. "Then my spire is your spire."

I freeze. "What?"

He squeezes my hand, stepping closer to me, his eyes burning. "Your grove is my grove. My spire is your spire. Come home with me."

My skin goes all warm and tingly again. It is absolutely unreasonable for him to affect me this easily .

And if I'm not trying to manifest a hammer, that means Operation Seduce Sierra is back on, which is not going to be restful.

"Thank you for the offer," I start.

"I can protect you while you sleep without you needing to waste time making other arrangements or spending any magic. If you don't have your own base set up, it is illogical for you to refuse to take advantage of mine."

I narrow my eyes at him.

He narrows his right back.

Damn. Literally from the first time I met him, he has known exactly how to make an offer I can't refuse.

I sigh, deflating, and withdraw my hand. "Okay."

"That isn't—" Nariel swears.

Or at least I assume it's a swear; it's not a language I speak, but it has that tone.

Great, now neither of us is happy. I'm ace at this.

Nariel grabs my hand back. "Please. Pick up some precooked food in Low Earth, and then gate back to me? I'll make my space presentable."

Because nothing I can eat grows here, but he still wants me to feel welcome.

He's going to clean his room for me. The thought makes me smile again, though Nariel's obvious relief at seeing it threatens to make it vanish again.

My own self-doubt is bad enough. I don't want him to share it .

So I deliberately squeeze his hand one more time to let him know I'm not mad at him.

And then I vanish.