“Obviously that’snotsomething I want to do,” she interrupted me. “Not unless I could be invisible or something. I’d be walking right into the very thing I’ve been hiding from, what my parents were keeping me safe from by leaving me at the church.” Voice raspy, she sagged in her seat, sipping at her water. The bond flared irritably behind my ribs.
“Do you think your parents are there?”
Phin met my eye and started to shake her head, then switched to a nod. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter than before to reduce the irritation. “I honestly don’t know. If they did, there’s no reason they wouldn’t have come back for me.” She straightened, panic in her violet gaze. “If the portals work, and you manage some of the ones that go to Heaven, does that mean they could just come here? That’s a direct path and they know what I look like.”
I shook my head. “No. While they are active, they also cannot be used without permission, and even then, under a specific set of circumstances only. I could not go there directly either. There’s a permanent agreement in place, one that cannot be broken or changed without the explicit and complicated sign-offs and the undoing of many layers of magical binding from those in charge of both places.”
Phin relaxed, a gentle smirk lifting one side of her mouth. “Paperwork again.”
“Always.” I reached for her plate. “Are you finished?”
“Yes, thank you. But I can wash. You cooked.”
I relented but tapped my finger against my bouncing leg in an effort to keep myself seated. “Not so thrilled about the greens, then?”
“Sorry, but not really. I… overdid it with fresh greens once. I’ve never really recovered.”
I detected a hint of misdirection in her words, but she was telling the truth. That was a story I desperately wanted to hear,but I resisted asking. She seemed to share things perfectly well if given time, and I could be patient. Most of the time.
Unable to sit any longer, I set to making us a pot of tea.
Phin dried the plates, then stacked them carefully in the cabinet. As I poured the boiling water into the teapot, I mused over whether I should ask if she’d prefer a different kind of stoneware, or perhaps some delicate china with a pretty pattern instead of my plain, somewhat inconsistently thrown, pottery to use.
“If I told you my father’s name, do you think you’d recognize it?” She leaned against the countertop, drying her hands on the dish towel. Her eyebrows dipped. “Or perhaps there’s a reason you’ve never asked?”
I dropped the kettle onto the stove a bit harder than I intended to, some of the water splashing back out. “I’m curious about most things where you’re concerned, Phin.”
“So is this like the files? It wouldn’t change anything, so why ask?”
I choked on a laugh. “Perhaps. Though, it’s more just me trying to respect your privacy than anything else. Would you prefer I were nosy?”
Phin made a sound, the start of a word that she abandoned. “Maybe. You’re welcome to ask anything you like, Tap. If I don’t want to tell you, I just… won’t.”
“Fair enough.” I got down two cups and poured our tea, adding a small spoonful of honey for hers, as she’d started making it that way for herself after Seir brought us a jar. They were keeping bees in the glade now, on top of everything else. It was downright domestic, and I wasn’t sure I wasn’t a little jealous about it. “Was your father of the old guard then? If you think I’d recognize his name?”
Phin’s head bobbed as she took the cup from me, and I had no choice but to follow her out of the kitchen into the living area.She curled her legs under her as she settled into the corner seat of the sofa, and I took my place in the recliner.
“He was. Would that be strange? If you knew him?”
“Perhaps.” It was an interesting prospect to be sure. “But having met him once or twice and knowing him are two very different things.” I waited for her to continue, the changes in her facial expression telling me that this was not a simple topic for her. Nor should it have been—angelic and demonic names could be used for harm in the wrong mouths.
“My father’s name is Radueriel.”
“Ah.” I curled my fingers around the steamy teacup, giving her my undivided attention. As far as names went, that was one I was sure everyone knew. “Then you come by your love of scribe work, libraries, and organization honestly.”
Her eyes lit up. “Yes. I believe so too. You know him then?”
“Of him. I may have met him once or twice during my time in Heaven, but we were not well acquainted. I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize.”
“He has a bit of a reputation. Are the rumors true?”
She smiled, and it was like someone had brought the sun into the room with us. “Which rumors would that be?”
“Top of mind is that he was quite high ranking.”
“I suppose he was. I remember someone asking him once what it was like to be above even Metatron. My father said some things back to them that I worried would get us kicked out. Nobody ever asked that again.”
