She nods. Doesn't try to talk me out of hating it. Just accepts it and waits.
"I can kill him but I can't make you stay. That's—" My voice cracks, and I have to stop and start again. "That's bullshit, Seris. That's complete bullshit."
Her eyes go wet, but she blinks it back. "Yeah. It is."
"You're going to walk back into that house and I'm going to be here, and if something happens to you—"
"Then you'll know. I'll make sure you know. I'll send word every week, every day if you want. But Io—" She reaches across the space between us and takes my hand, her fingers tracing over my knuckles, over the marks, without comment or question. Just holding on. "You can't protect me forever. You killed him, and I'm grateful—I'm so grateful—but that doesn't mean you get to lock me up somewhere safe and pretend that's the same as living."
"I wasn't going to lock you up."
"Yes you were. You're already planning how to convince me. I can see you doing the math, figuring out what argument might work, what angle you haven't tried yet." A small smile, sad and knowing. "I know you, Io. And I love you for wanting to protect me. But I have to do this."
The denial dies in my throat because she's right. I was calculating.
"I just want—" The words stick. You to be okay. You to be safe. You to not need to be this brave. "I don't know what I want anymore."
"That's new." Almost a smile, warmer this time. "Usually you're very sure."
"Usually I haven't just committed murder and discovered I'm cosmically bonded to a god. It's been a weird week."
Seris goes still. The almost-smile drops off her face.
"I'm sorry. You what?"
"Which part?"
"The—" She stops. Stares at me. "Cosmically bonded. To a god. You said that like it…it was the same level of unusual as the murder."
"I mean. They happened around the same time. It's been a lot."
"Io." Her voice pitches up. "What does that mean?"
I hold up my hands. The marks catch the light—fine threads woven across my knuckles, down toward my wrists. Permanent. Visible. Cosmic tattoos I'm still not used to looking at.
Seris's eyes go wide.
"Those weren't there before."
"No."
"Those are—" She reaches out, stops just short of touching. "Are those soulmarks?"
"Apparently."
"Soulmarks are myths. Children's stories. They don't—" She pulls her hand back, presses it to her mouth. "You're bonded. To the God of Discord. The mad one. The one who—" She gestures vaguely at everything. "Him."
"Yeah."
"Forever?"
"Seems like it."
She stares at me for a long moment. Then she laughs—high and cracked and slightly hysterical.
"You killed our father and got cosmically married in the same night."
"I wouldn't call it married—"
