“He is kind of handsome, yes?”
“Handsome? Eri. There is handsome, and then there is fiiinne.” She draws it out, fanning herself. “And that man is fiiinnneee with a capital F. Plus a dose of—” She flutters her hand dramatically. “Oh my dear lord.”
I laugh. “Please don’t tell him that. He’s already an actual angel who believes himself to be ordained by God as humanity’s judge and executioner. We really don’t need his head getting any bigger.”
I move toward the door, but she catches my fingers, stopping me.
“Just… just remember that one life can change the world.”
I tilt my head, studying her.
“One immortal can change the world.” She gestures to me. “Now imagine what two immortals could do.” The corner of her mouth lifts. “Just sayin’.”
Her words stay with me as I bathe and dress, weaving through my thoughts as I make my way to the cellar to release Orán.
Apprehension sits side by side with my curiosity as I head toward Orán’s cell. I twist the key in the lock, which is stiff from disuse, then pull the door open wide as the man responsible for those feelings pushes off the bed and rises quickly.
Shoulders relaxed, but hands bound loose enough to rest at his sides, he approaches, still wearing the divine rope and working with the confines of the foot and a half of freedom I gave him.
There’s no greeting. Only a stare—assessing, wary—that stretches between us.
“Come on.” I motion for him to step out and walk ahead of me.
His reluctance is evident as he stops just short of the threshold. “Have you made your decision, then?”
Brow arched, I ask, “Regarding?”
“My death or my freedom.”
“Still to be determined.” My tone stays even. “I thought you might like to come inside. Have some breakfast. Clean yourself up a bit.” I pause. “But do keep in mind that death and dismemberment remain an option if you attack me, Lila, or harm anything here I value.”
A slight smirk touches his mouth. “Threat delivered. Loud and clear.”
“Good.”
I pad softly behind him as we pass down the hallway and through the doorway into my workroom. He stops again, taking it in, but I only give him a moment to do so before I gesture toward the stairs and the sunlight spilling down from above.
He seems cautious about stepping into it, taking the last of the steps more slowly than the others.
“Lila’s cooking and should have it ready shortly.”
“I just need a moment, if that’s okay.” His eyes are closed when I look up. The tension in his shoulders has also eased.
I step next to him and wait.
“Take all the time you need.”
He turns his hands over, palms up. His chest visibly rises and falls with each inhale.
A breeze stirs.
It slips through the trees, soft at first, then gathers. Leaves lift from the ground, spinning in a slow, messy cyclone. The branches sway, whispering as the wind threads through them. Overhead, the few scattered clouds begin to part, drawn away from the sun until the light breaks through, brighter, warmer.
The change is subtle—but it builds.
Birds startle from the branches, their calls sharp as they take to the sky, circling above us in uneven loops that slowly find rhythm.
I watch it all until understanding dawns. “Are you doing this?”
