Chapter 8

I wake slowly, a kind of bone-deep weight lulling me into comfort. It's been a long time since I slept that hard, uninterrupted.

As awareness returns of where I am and why I slept that well, I'm not so foolish the reason isn't terribly obvious to me. Nariel isn't holding me now, though.

But before disappointment sets in, I notice the tips of his wings brushing gently against me. Even though he's not wrapped around me, he's still with me.

I really, really don't want to move.

On the other hand—if he can touch me with his wings, surely I can touch him?

Only the opportunity for combat or Nariel could make me move.

I reach out and gently run my finger along the edge of one of his wings.

His reaction is immediate, his whole body going taut as he snaps them away from me and turns to glare.

...Maybe that's not a glare .

I retract my hand quickly. "Really? They can't be that sensitive. What if you brush a tree or something while flying?"

"In that context," Nariel bites out, "I would not be in bed with a woman I want to bond with."

Ah.

Trying to change the subject before I get myself in over my head here, I ask, "Does this really count as a bed?"

Nariel slowly raises one eyebrow in an arch expression, his mouth curving into a smirk.

Wow, okay, extremely poor choice to effect a topic change. Take 2. "You were carrying me in Costa Rica, though, and flying through a pretty dense forest."

"Believe me," Nariel says, holding my gaze, "I was and am extremely aware of that."

Wait, does that mean he wanted to bond with me even then?

Not asking that. Regardless, I missed that undercurrent entirely, which is perhaps par for the course on my general social interaction obliviousness. Though I had been, admittedly, pretty preoccupied with Brook's kidnapping.

Aaand on that note, time to get back to business.

I lever myself off the pouf—this is harder than it sounds, I've sunk in so deep I actually use a tiny bit of magic to give me a boost up—and grab a protein bar from my pack. In between bites I say, "So far I have failed to manifest a hammer and then lost more time sleeping. What's today' s agenda?"

Nariel rolls his eyes. "You have not lost time, you have taken the time to restore yourself between battles so you will be better able to meet the next challenge. Next you eat a real meal, and then I'll introduce you to Makora's seneschal, so he knows you are free to come and go here even if I'm elsewhere."

I stare at him while chewing.

He really is serious about his spire also being my spire, isn't he?

My chest aches. When was the last time I had a home? What does it even mean to have a home, anyway?

I've barely even explored this physical space, but looking at Nariel, I have an inkling I already know.

"After that," Nariel says, "it's your call."

Right. I'm in charge.

I ponder while I eat, absently infusing more beads as I go. Nariel comments on it, but I do this all the time now; it's practically second nature.

Some people knit while thinking. I work magic.

After some thought I decide I'm not feeling more inspired about the weapon manifestation, so if that's not promising to be an imminent success it will have to wait.

Now that I'm not collapsing in exhaustion—and Nariel has short-circuited my corresponding emotional breakdown—my most urgent need is weapons for other wizards, so that's what we'll do.

I portal out to my bathroom to get dressed, reflecting that next I need to reserve a shower at a beach or something so I can take care of all my hygiene needs without a place to stay.

Or , my mind whispers in Nariel's voice, you could make a real home for yourself.

But I don't even know how to start with that, so that is very much a future problem.

Stealing a shower is easier.

Stealing angel weapons, too.

Nariel introduces me to his seneschal, who goes by Amir. Like the spirits at the market, he takes a human form to interact with me.

I give him a pile of beads to distribute—some for spirits here, and others to take back to Low Earth for the stealing-High Earth's-anchor-spells project. Any wizard can activate the magic in them.

"Make sure our people know who these beads are from, and that they are freely given," Nariel tells Amir.

Amir's gaze flicks to mine. "They won't believe that."

Nariel smiles at me. "Not yet, perhaps."

I smile back. If I keep giving away power without expecting anything in return, eventually, maybe they will.

"Why do you not wish to distribute these yourself?" Amir asks me.

"We have plans today." I look at Nariel for help, because I don't actually know where we're going or what is reasonable to tell his seneschal .

"We're headed to the border," Nariel tells Amir. "Sierra needs to see the sword's situation."

Amir's eyebrows shoot up. "Is that... wise, my prince?"

I narrow my eyes at Nariel. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Nariel shrugs. "We may end up involved in a skirmish."

Amir coughs something under his breath.

"Oh. Well, I could use some real-time pressure to practice manifesting my own weapon."

Nariel smiles. "My very thought. Perhaps we will be... lucky."

His tone at the end is odd, and Amir smiles, a look of real satisfaction on his face at this pronouncement from his demon prince.

I wonder how many centuries it has been since Nariel believed in luck.

"You think I'm lucky?" I ask incredulously.

To my surprise, it's Amir who answers. "You've made food available to our world for the first time in centuries and personally freed my prince from an angelic spell, so we are experiencing only upsides to your involvement in universe affairs. Would you call that unlucky, my lady?"

This sounds like a very reductive take on what my presence is likely to cause to happen in this world, but I guess he's not wrong that for the moment this is true.

Nariel takes my hand and squeezes it, and my heart with it. "Shall we?"

N ariel goes first so I can jump to his anchor.

He's still wearing the clip, and I can't help feeling like he's using it to make a statement, like an engagement ring, announcing that he's mine.

It's almost all I can see at first through the intense mist wherever we've landed until he surrounds me with his shadows.

"Fine, show off that you look better in it than me," I grump at him.

Nariel raises his eyebrows at me. "It is a very clear symbol to anyone who sees that I am wearing something by choice that would better suit you. No one can mistake the meaning."

Ohmygod, he is wearing it like an engagement ring.

"Should I be wearing something too?" I blurt before realizing that since I haven't agreed to bond with him yet, the answer should be no, but I'm not comfortable with that.

Before I can examine that a little more closely, Nariel says, "As it happens, since it's cold here, I brought something for you."

And he pulls a hat from his pocket.

I let out a breath of laughter. This is my comeuppance for the caps in Low Earth .

But when I go to put on the beanie, I notice it has a tiny paw on it, like the shirt I was wearing when we first met, and my heart squeezes.

He's gotten this for me since we met.

I clear my throat. "Unless you're planning to wear one too, no one will know that I'm wearing this for you."

Which is good, maybe, given where we're at?

"No," Nariel says, "but you will know that I'm wearing matching socks."

I erupt with laughter as Nariel smirks, and finally I begin to see through the mist.

But like, barely. Sight lines are absolute shit.

"So this is the easy weapon we're starting with?" I clarify.

"The others are all in one place," Nariel tells me. "In Casimir's stronghold."

"Aha. So this is the easiest to get to."

"I could in theory teleport to the weapons he holds at a time of my choosing," Nariel says. "But then he would know I could do that at any time."

"So we'll need to put some more thought into our approach before crossing into enemy territory, is what you're saying," I say dryly.

Cool, very cool, the things I have to look forward to.

Okay, fine, I'm a little bit excited.

"As opposed to here," I continue, "where—"

I peer through the mists and finally make out a sword embedded into the obsidian rock below .

I look at Nariel flatly. "A sword in a stone?"

"More in common with Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi, actually."

The Grass-Cutting Sword.

"Is that related to this wind?"

Because although within Nariel's shadows I can see the sword now, it's not just mist that surrounds us. It's more like a miasma with a weight to it, and the closer you get to the sword, the more powerful the winds grow.

Nariel nods. "It's a curse left by the angel who discarded it here. They were too injured to reach the sword, but not to work magic at all. The winds are more powerful than they look."

"They look like they could blow me away."

"They could shred you into bits first."

I nod. "Okay, that is worse. That's why the sword is sitting in your territory?"

"The sword precisely marks the edge of my territory," Nariel corrects.

I roll my eyes skyward. "The other side being Casimir's, I take it."

"Naturally."

"But neither of you has managed to retrieve it? What's the catch here? It's not just the wind."

"It is the wind," Nariel says, "but it's how the wind changes. Specifically, when anyone approaches, the wind cuts them more strongly in accordance with their own personal power. "

"So it's hardest for you both to get to it. Wow, that's clever. And from what you've said I guess Casimir wouldn't send anyone super weak, because then they'd have the weapon and not him?"

Nariel shakes his head. "No, one of my spirits took it upon herself to try that. She was weak enough to get close, but her capacity for magic was too low and she wasn't able to draw it. The power of the weapon requires someone who can handle that power."

And on the border of his enemy's territory, Nariel can't risk leaving himself that open. And anyone strong enough, and willing to weaken themselves that much, is either strong enough to be a rival, or would have to completely trust Nariel to defend them, knowing how Nariel came to power.

I bet there are some in Makora who would, but I would also bet Nariel doesn't believe it.

I whistle. "Should have brought me here first thing yesterday before I'd powered up."

Nariel looks at me. "I wanted you to have all your faculties to figure out a way in."

I frown up at him. "The way in is obvious. This doesn't need to be complicated."

Except as soon as I say that, the direction of the miasma shifts. The wind had been blowing in one direction like a cyclone, but now it whips in multiple directions, lashing at us .

Nariel's power around us solidifies into a sphere, a dark layer between us and the world. But through it I can see the shadows of figures through the mist—one that is almost denser?—before the details themselves resolve.

That's all the warning I get before it all goes to shit.

I spring out of Nariel's barrier, casting a shield first and then a spell on my own vision as I go, so I can see the magic around me.

Given the winds whipping around, I almost blind myself, but I was expecting that—I just needed a quick glimpse to modify the spell to tone that part down. The sparkle of the winds—which is, this being spirit world, made of magic—turns to a cool blue, while the spirits are shapes of crimson like bright spots of infrared.

Something like a dozen of them close around me, red spots growing around the surface of my shield like they're melting holes into it before it dissolves around me.

No sooner does it fall than I have fired a bolt of sizzling white magic into each of them.

The bolts knock them back rather than piercing, and they quickly begin to close again.

I fire a more rapid barrage of bolts.

Then a wave of ominous black rolls over all of us, and all four figures shoot away.

I inwardly roll my eyes. Even my magic vision thinks Nariel's cool .

"Why did you separate?" Nariel asks me, as his magic curls around me, letting me see the world once again as he does.

His tone isn't accusing, either. Look at that, we're learning.

I tap my eyes. "Needed to get out from behind your shadows to adjust my senses. How many are we up against?"

"Twenty. And Casimir."

I follow his line of sight as the denser—magically, I realize—figure resolves in the air, almost directly above the sword.

There's no mistaking him for anything but a demon prince. I can feel the sheer weight of his magic the way I could feel Koshiel's, and that's bad news, because I am definitely not prepared to fight that level of power head-on. It almost has its own gravitational pull, drawing your attention magnetically, making you still as though if the force doesn't notice you it might roll past you without sucking you into its orbit.

I dig my nails into my palms to snap myself out of it.

Casimir is big. There's no way around that. He's a broad guy, and every line of him tells you he is strong and powerful and can overwhelm you. Like a Fist of the North Star torso on this dude, what an incredible form to choose for himself.

"Nariel," Casimir says in a voice that echoes through the winds. And then: "Are you sure you're up to this after your convalescence?"

Gotta tell you, I am super done with being ignored by people who think they're the shit. Like, no matter how powerful you are, what does basic courtesy cost?

I know it's a power move. But you know what's really a power move? Not engaging in such stupid posturing, because it's beneath you.

I, however, am not that good a person.

I whistle. "You've been really scared about that, haven't you? Nariel's on your border for like two minutes and you're already trying to get up his ass. Where I'm from we call that obsession."

Casimir looks down at me like I'm a bug.

Nariel smiles faintly. "Prince Casimir of Keratha, may I introduce you to the Wizard Master of Low Earth, Sierra Walker. Sierra, your new neighbor."

"Charmed," I drawl.

"And the prince of Keratha is not here for me, but for you," Nariel adds, his grin sharpening. "He knows I can't get to the sword any more than he can, but do you know, I think your reputation may be beginning to precede you. Though not well enough."

I look at him quizzically.

Nariel flashes that grin that gets me every time. "He should have brought more spirits."

I burst out laughing, even as enemies close around us, Casimir answering our sass with brute force which, honestly, valid.

Nariel's eyes sparkle at me like black diamonds, and my breath catches.

Then Casimir himself slams against Nariel's shield, dispersing the shadows in one go.

Wow. All those extra abs aren't just compensating after all.

Tempting, but now is not the time for a serious duel.

I'm here for a magic sword.

So I launch myself away, pulsing a spell out of my wand like a shockwave of a punch to knock the closest spirits away and get me some space. "Nariel, would you do me a favor?" I call.

He and Casimir are already trading blows that are sending waves of power crashing through the already volatile mix of magics here, altering the winds.

And causing them to intensify.

"It would be my pleasure," Nariel's voice comes to me on one of those winds, and I shiver.

That's seduction and a political declaration rolled into one.

"Keep the prince of Keratha busy for a few minutes?"

Nariel appears beside me in an instant. "You want all the rest to yourself?"

Then Casimir is there as well. "But Nariel is right, young human—I'm here to know you ."

I grin, stepping once more outside the sphere of his protection. "Next time, neighbor. I have a theory to test."

And then I turn my back on them both and run toward the sword.

Because I can trust Nariel to handle another demon.

The Kerathai spirits surround me, but they don't close yet, keeping their distance as the winds pick up with each of my steps; they'll be ready as soon as I retreat. The sword's magical defenses lash at me, not breaking my skin yet, but almost bludgeoning.

And I can see them doing it.

And it makes me wonder, like a lock clicking in my brain, if I can actually physically—magically—hit a wind.

My wand is in one hand.

My other is empty.

But I begin to fill it with magic.

Beaten on all sides, I pour the magic out of me into my hand like I'm gathering magic for a lightning bolt.

But I hold that lightning in the palm of my hand, the currents of power, and I bend them.

Like a glass shaper, I point my wand to pinch here and flatten there, never stopping my advance, the pressure of the magical winds now tearing at me in earnest, a physical force battering my bones. I can't even go back now, because I'm caught by the winds on all side as they beat me.

But I have hurt before, and I don't lose focus.

Once I have the shape in my hand, though, I pour all my magic into it.

And I do mean all of it.

I hear Casimir's roar in the background, ordering his spirits to attack me no matter how violent the winds are, because I suppose anyone who's managed to survive so long as Nariel's enemy couldn't be stupid. He realizes what I'm doing.

The shape in my hand almost blinds me with golden light before the spell on my vision drains away with all the rest of the magic I can pull from my grove in one go.

The winds ebb, and as I breathe heavily, I feel the magical weight of the large hammer in my hand.

As all twenty spirits rapidly descend on me from all sides.

I grin, a baring of teeth.

And then I swing that motherfucker for the first time.

My weapon.

Spinning around in a circle, a shock of lightning flashes out from my hammer, an arc of magic slicing through all the spirits that have gotten close, blowing them away with the force of a single blow.

The winds are calmer now, too—not calm, but more like they were when Casimir and Nariel started fighting, not when I started approaching the sword.

So with another sweep of my arm—yeah, not a normal hammer move, but who's going to tell me how I'm allowed to use my own weapon? Don't answer that, I can think of so many people who will have an opinion—I knock the wind away from me.

And it works.

I smile.

I can hit a wind. Even if I can't see it .

I use my hammer to part the winds, and they don't come back at me.

Because now, of course, my body contains no power of my own.

Nariel was right. My brain does work better rested, and the loophole was obvious.

Casimir roars again, diving for me, but Nariel intercepts him, holding position between the two of us as Casimir continues bearing down on him.

Getting closer and closer to me.

While the winds lash Nariel the strongest, because he's closer than Casimir.

Fuck fuck fuck.

I sprint toward the sword, swinging my hammer wildly, against the wind, against the spirits, against my own goddamn inability to not be a liability to the people who matter to me, and practically crash into the sword.

I shove my wand into my hair, nearly stabbing my eye in the process, and grip the sword and yank with all my might.

It slips easily out of the stone like it weighs nothing and wasn't even stuck, just resting.

Predictably, I fall back on my ass, overbalanced.

But the slicing motion as it comes up and out of the ground sends a sharp rip through the obsidian ground as far as I can see in that direction.

"Nariel, drop!" I yell, as still on the ground I swing the sword toward him and Casimir .

They both drop, which I should have suspected.

If I bonded with Nariel, could I say things like that in his head?

The sword slices through empty air, but in the distance crashes into an obsidian mountain and takes the damn top off.

So uh. This one does still have some magic in it, I guess.

Then Casimir appears in front of me, falling from above to add more momentum to his enormous arm crashing down into mine to break my wrist, break my hold on the sword.

I start to move it, and swing my hammer with my other hand, but I'm not going to be fast enough—

Then a rainbow shoots past me, spearing Casimir and blowing him back.

I scrabble to get my feet back under me, my hammer raised now and ready, before Nariel coalesces beside me.

Holding a bow shaped from shadows.

Nariel nocks another arrow that even without my magical vision dialed up looks like the full spectrum of light, and Casimir vanishes.

The world around us is suddenly silent.

I blink. "Did you kill him?"

Nariel snorts. "No. But that bolt is no joke. He's retreating to recuperate."

"I didn't know you had your own magic weapon." In retrospect this seems obvious, since he obviously knew enough to explain the concept to me .

"Neither did Casimir," Nariel says smugly as he pulls at the tattered remains of his shirt.

"Why are you happy about that?" I've just forced him to give up one of his strategic secrets. At least Casimir still doesn't know how easily Nariel can breach his territory.

Nariel smiles. "Because I kept it secret long enough to hit him when it counted. What?"

My heart has stopped.

I am staring in horror at his chest, which looks more blood than flesh. "Nariel, oh my god—"

"I'm fine—"

"In what way are you fine?!"

Nariel waves a hand and shadows cloak around him, then vanish like they've absorbed the blood away from him.

"Oh yes, hide it from me, that will make it better—"

Nariel steps closer to me and catches my head in his hands. "Are you worried about me?"

"I may punch you—"

He puts my fist—the one holding the hammer—against his chest, and I breathe hard.

It feels like skin. Not blood, or an open wound. Just Nariel, the muscles under my hand rippling as I stroke up.

Nariel lowers his head, directly in front of my face. His eyes are dark.

And then he waits.

Giving me time to make a choice. To move.

I'm not going anywhere .

Not breaking eye contact, his mouth lowers toward mine, and no—I am going somewhere.

To him.

I close the distance between us and kiss him.

Nariel's eyes go full black, but it's not even an instant before his arms are wrapped around me, lips moving over mine fiercely, inexorably, and I sway in his arms, clenching my hands on both goddamn weapons to keep from dropping them when all I want to do is melt into him.

It feels like the whole world holds still.

But only seconds pass before I feel the flare of alarm from Low Earth.