Take Back Worlds (Diamond Universe: Sierra Walker #3)

Chapter 5

W ith the spirits off and working, we have a window where there’s not anything obviously useful we can do to make forward movement until they’ve found something. A government official—one of Destien’s people, or Evram’s? Or neither? Fuck if I know, so I keep a tight shield up—is waiting on the ground—descending the tower the normal way is not an emotional gauntlet I can handle right now—to take us to a guest room. So we don’t get another chance to talk with Destien privately, which honestly is kind of a relief.

We’d all had one last—discussion? argument?—when I asked Evram to distribute the angel-detection spell to the other grand magi. He of course wanted to hoard the power, and Destien managed to convince him that this way he’d look like the grand magi’s savior after the pupil he trained caused them to have less magic. He could save face this way.

Which means I got what I wanted, but in a way that leaves a bad taste in my mouth, and I’m simultaneously both exhausted and primed for more bullshit. It’s maybe actually the only thing I’m ready for at this point.

So I already have a shield up before we enter the room, because you never know what’s going to be waiting in a “guest” room, but as the official closes the door behind me and Nariel, I realize we’ve actually been given a room reserved for a visiting grand magus.

This was not the flavor of bullshit I was expecting.

I add several more shields before taking another step, and Nariel huffs a laugh.

“You saw them,” I grumble. “They are the pettiest . Oh look, there’s a surveillance trigger right there.“ I zap a spot on the wall with lightning, and the stone appears to ripple as the spell vanishes.

“I wasn’t arguing,” Nariel comments. “I’m endlessly delighted to have bonded with a such a sensibly paranoid person.”

This time it’s my turn to snort.

“I can cloak us while we’re in here,” Nariel tells me. “It’ll let Evram think he has the upper hand, and it might discourage the grand magi from trying anything else.”

Because they’re more afraid of Nariel than they are of me.

I pause and take in the enormous, luxurious room.

It’s like we’re in the Disney version of a castle suite.

I’ve rented studio apartments smaller than this sitting room. It’s decked out with a mini bar and multiple couches and a center table for hosting—gatherings? Probably not their own entourage, they’d have their own smaller rooms. And probably none of this shit gets used anyway.

In fact I think I remember that there’s actually a whole spellcrafting team that redecorates the room after each use—and lays in new spells—as a demonstration of the breadth of Sarenac’s power and creativity.

Was this Destien’s idea, to treat me as an equal? Or Evram’s, because the most devious spells are laid against grand magi?

“I appreciate the offer, but no.” I sigh. “Probably that’s smarter, but I’m too angry to let them have even that. Give me a minute to exercise my own level of pettiness?”

“With pleasure.”

Gods, I love him.

So I take a second to stop my petty rampage through the carefully wrought spells in the room to turn and kiss him.

I meant it to be a casual like ‘thank you for understanding me and having my back’ kiss, ‘I’ll get right back on with what I was doing, don’t mind me’, you know, but Nariel has other ideas.

His hands slide up my sides as he deepens the kiss, and heat immediately pools inside me. I’d have sworn I didn’t have enough energy for that, but I guess the bond has other ideas.

Before I can get too distracted—I don’t particularly want to give Evram a show—I tear myself away, breathing hard.

Nariel smiles wickedly.

Then says, with just as much success at casualness as what I just tried, “Not letting them have more than you can stand isn’t unintelligent. It’s drawing a line in the sand. You’re being forced to develop your political strategy on the fly, but that doesn’t mean your choices are bad ones.”

I open my mouth to—I don’t know, scoff that he’s giving me too much credit? That I appreciate the support, but I don’t need him to sugarcoat things for me?—he hands me a note.

At the same time shadows pool around us briefly—which will make anyone surveilling think that we’re having another kissing moment.

I blink. “What’s this?”

Nariel shrugs. “From Destien. The other grand magi watch me more closely than they watch you. But not Evram. And all of them dramatically underestimate Destien.”

I’m not sure how to take that. Evram, probably despite himself, recognizing me as the biggest threat in the room.

But I take the note, finding no spells on it whatsoever—and open it to read, “No one but his fanatics is going to believe this was his idea.”

I blink. He must have written that back in Evram’s tower, and not spelled it because Evram would know. But he knows me well enough—and I’m not sure how I feel about that—to know that this would matter for me to hear.

And it does. Maybe I should just care if I can help people, but I do also want the credit.

After years of Evram taking all the credit of my work for himself, maybe I can be forgiven for that.

I pass the note back to Nariel, who reads it, smiles again, and nods, before somehow evaporating it into shadow. I can feel his magic working, but I can’t tell what he’s doing with it.

The shadows around us dissipate. I go back to dismantling spells around the room. There’s not much direct sound surveillance, so I go ahead and ask, “Could you make me do things and forget them? Like obviously I know you wouldn’t, but would our bond allow you to?”

Nariel doesn’t answer, and I turn back to see him watching me intently.

“What? The bond is making me a sex maniac, it seems like it could do other things too.”

Nariel blinks, and his lips twitch. “Is it the bond, though?” he murmurs in a voice that makes me shiver.

I roll my eyes and turn back to what I was doing. “Yes yes, you’re the sexiest man alive, and you were before I was bonded with you, too. It’s not like I’ve forgotten.”

Nariel laughs. “You say that like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.”

“I mean. It is.”

The pause that time I know means he’s thinking about his wings, so I don’t fill it.

After a moment, Nariel says, “No, the bond can’t do that. It actually protects you from being used by me like we believe the angels have used these people—my magic can’t act against itself. The bond remains voluntary, even once joined. We can pull magic from each other, yes, but it’s not like... eating.”

Well that’s unexpectedly egalitarian. “My magic can sustain you, though,” I point out. “Isn’t that like eating?”

“Mm. Still no.”

He thinks through how to explain that as he follows me into the bedroom now that I’ve cleared the sitting room.

The bed is humongous, an enormous, canopied four-poster that makes me tense in anticipation of all the traps that could be engineered for it. I pass through to the washroom first to get that out of the way.

Nariel finally says, “There are many things that sustain humans, are there not? Not just food. Sleep. Exercise. Social interactions.”

“Speak for yourself,” I mutter. There’s only one spell on the bathroom, just a more complicated one, but I recognize the pattern quickly and move back to the damn canopy, passing by Nariel’s quick grin that makes me want to smile with him.

Maybe I can do some social interactions. Selectively.

“With spirits,” Nariel continues, “magic does all these things for us. Your magic can sustain me, but it isn’t like eating you. More like drawing my will to live from the knowledge that you’re with me.”

I stop what I’m doing. “Wow, okay, way to take a silly question and make me have feelings about it.”

Nariel steps into my space, gently turning my face to meet his gaze. “It wasn’t a silly question. And while I’m glad you say it’s ‘obvious’ that I would never, I don’t want you to have any cause for doubt.”

I cover his hand with my own. “I really don’t, Nariel. Seriously.”

He doesn’t relax, or smile. “I appreciate your trust, but we were just talking about angels doing this—“

“And maybe you have in the past. I’ve summoned spirits in the past into shitty contracts. Who you are now , Nariel, is not a person who would do that. That was never my question. I really was just curious. You know what a magic theory nerd I am.”

He searches my gaze for a moment before finally shaking his head in rueful disbelief. “Your supposed innocent curiosity is very dangerous.”

That makes me tense again, and I turn away. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

The bed actually has zero spells on it, and I don’t trust it.

In fact there aren’t actually any spells in here, and the bathroom one was obvious, like a token effort. Like there’s some unstated rule that private areas are respected.

I was not in any way prepared to not be treated like an afterthought. I’d expected to be thrown into whatever tiny space might be available while plague-stricken people no doubt filled the floors below us.

I glare at the bed one last time and then cast a final, familiar spell to make the room secure from future spells—powered up from the boost of Nariel’s magic.

“The lack of attack here really offends you, doesn’t it?” Nariel asks with some amusement as he sits on the edge of the bed.

It’s a beautiful bed, if a suspicious one. Gingerly I join him.

I don’t deserve to even sit with him after what I almost did.

“I don’t like that there are apparently special rules for special people. I’m much more comfortable with the understanding that everywhere is insecure and it’s up to me to be vigilant about it.”

Nariel’s amusement fades.

On further reflection, I can see why that doesn’t sound as funny out loud.

And I can see him noticing the fact that I didn’t immediately start taking my shoes off to get comfortable like he did.

“So this is why you don’t know what home feels like,” he says softly.

Oof. Hasn’t the day been long enough without him going for the jugular like that?

But I’m tired enough and the memory fresh enough that I don’t actually hesitate before answering, “No, the problem is that home for me feels like working magic with the grand magus.”

And the poisonous reminder of what that felt like, and what it feels like now with an added level of bitterness and nostalgia—

“And you could never have that with anyone in your own world.”

I close my eyes. “I think what’s actually worse is that maybe I could have.”

I feel Nariel go still beside me—some level of awareness of his magic, I think, even without sight.

Or maybe I’m just that aware of him , like he is of me, because he recognizes that statement for what it is.

I don’t want him to think less of me. But after today, it’s what I deserve, and maybe explaining this will make him start to develop a goddamn sense of self-preservation where I’m concerned, since I don’t seem to be able to convince him otherwise.

I make myself start taking my shoes off, my combat-ready armor off, as I explain. “There was another girl from Low Earth, a few years younger than me. She just absolutely couldn’t learn the one thing she needed to in order to go home. Finally Evram told me to tutor her, and it took me like three rounds of watching her calm, wide-eyed innocent expression as she nodded along to my explanations and then made a different mistake every time before I realized that she was faking it.”

Nariel laughs in appreciation.

“I know, right? The normal teachers were fully prepared to assume that of course a Low Earther was just stupid. Meanwhile I was so eager to demonstrate how quickly I learned everything that I could not understand why she wouldn’t do the same, because she absolutely understood everything, so well that she could make a different mistake every time. When I pointed that out to her as a kind of, you know, ‘aha, I’ve caught you!’ she just calmly nods and says, ‘thank you for the tip’.”

“And you lost it,” Nariel surmises.

I huff. “Yeah. She had free run of the library when her teachers got frustrated with her—she was just forbidden from practicing without supervision. But I was like, think how much more you could be learning if you actually let them teach you!” I take a breath. “And she looked me dead in the eyes and said, ‘Do you really think they’d make space for two of us?’”

Nariel sucks in a breath.

“Yeah.” I swallow. “It was like the proverbial dowsing me with ice water. Other Low Earth kids had told me over the years that I was just sucking up or whatever, but I didn’t take them seriously, you know? Like, obviously they were jealous, and they should have been. But that time...”

“You didn’t know if she was right,” Nariel says softly, “and you weren’t willing to risk it. This is why you won’t settle for magic just for you.”

“Oh, I’m not even done,” I say grimly. “So, for our tutoring sessions, I started just answering her questions. She was so insightful, but she had a way of going around a problem sideways where I just kind of bash it straight on. I was learning from her, too. It was amazing. She’s the reason I know as much about spirit summoning as I do, because as soon as she learned about it she was fixated on it, but I didn’t understand why until it was too late.”

Nariel takes my hand. “What happened to her?”

I bark out a bitter laugh. “Oh, it’s not that kind of story. She was working on a spell that would prevent spirits from being summoned to High Earth completely.”

He goes stiff beside me. “That would have completely destabilized Dark Earth’s economy. We already had so little access to magic—“

“She definitely did not realize that. I was like, ten at this point, and she was eight years old. She just thought it was wrong for spirits to be used like that. But her spell—“

“It’s what you used for Casimir’s keep,” Nariel realizes.

“Modified, but yeah. And again: she was eight . Just as quick at spellwork as me, but she... she wasn’t a fighter like I am. And she didn’t trust me not to tattle on her because I would have known the grand magus wouldn’t like it.”

And to this day I don’t know if I would have. I think Nariel must realize that, because he squeezes my hand harder.

I take a breath and finish. “Anyway, she tried to do it herself and got caught. Her spell didn’t work—I know now that it was missing a couple of critical pieces—but the fact that she tried was enough. They shot her back to Low Earth—I convinced myself at the time that they realized she must understand what she needed to not die, but in retrospect I don’t think they gave a shit—and confiscated every high-level book about summoning. Evram punished me by refusing to teach me any summoning, which honestly I didn’t mind because I was pretty much in agreement with Emmie but hadn’t thought to do anything about it—“

“You have thought, and done, plenty since,” Nariel interrupts. “And you don’t expect me to believe that was the extent of Evram’s punishment.”

I pause. This isn’t the point. “No. It did mean I was never allowed to work with other Low Earth kids again, which I looked at optimistically because then I wasn’t wasting my time with menial teaching, but looking back, obviously that separated me. Us. From developing solidarity and learning from each other. But what I assume you mean is that yes, Evram assigned me a super dangerous mission that I nearly died from and was the first time I killed another person. I think he meant to scare me into giving him an excuse to feel like he could let me go, because even though I really hadn’t known what Emmie was doing, Evram was suspicious of me anyway, and Emmie never could have gotten as close as she did without my help.”

“He was trying to scare you into loyalty, Sierra,” Nariel says quietly. “But you came back more fired up and wanting to learn so that could never happen to you again, didn’t you? And he used that to weaponize you further.”

I look at him quietly for a second, and then nod.

“Sierra,” Nariel says, “you were a child .”

“And now I’m an adult, and Emmie still doesn’t want anything to do with me. After Letty found me, one of the first things I did was ask her to reach out to Emmie on my behalf, even though Emmie apparently wasn’t connected with any of the other wizards, even peripherally. And after a bit of hemming and hawing I finally got Letty to admit that Emmie had responded by saying in no uncertain terms that she never wanted to hear from me ever again. And I’ve respected that.”

“That was a decade ago,” Nariel says. “You were both still teenagers, correct? Maybe things have changed, now that there’s magic available to her again.”

“Have they, though? Why would she want any more to do with me now than she did then? I can’t emphasize this enough Nariel, Emmie is nice . She wasn’t a fighter, she just wanted to learn, and I could have helped her and didn’t. Yes, I was a child, but what kind of world am I setting up for people like her now?”

“Ahh,” Nariel says, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me to lie down with him. “That’s what we’re talking about. Sierra, I don’t think you need to take this past month as indicative of what your life, and the lives of all the wizards of Low Earth, will be like forever. You set off a time of upheaval, yes, but it’s a transition. It won’t be like this forever.”

The bond means I’ll be able to kill you forever.

The thought rips out of me, and I clench my eyes shut.

But I already know he’s not worried about that even though he really demonstrably should be, so I keep it to myself.

“Are you sure?” I ask. “No, listen. If I wait until after the dust is settled to try and build the kind of world we want, it’ll be too late, right? I’m already building a reflection of my life, of endless battles, of everyone at odds. Destien calmed the crowd at the waystation down while I just threatened them. We go to a Council meeting, and instead of making allies, I throw down a goddamn gauntlet. Destien even takes me aside to point out that with Evram could I really pretty please try to not do that again and I blow up. I can’t make friends with these people. But does that mean I’m going to make everything worse?”

“Please take it from me,” Nariel says, “that being polite to people who are trying to kill you won’t stop them. It would only hamstring yourself and make their job harder, and it should be harder. Destien has a different game to play than you, even if you’re on the same side. I don’t disagree with any of the decisions you’ve made today, and if I thought you were ruining our chances, please believe I would stop you. Remember that if we fail that I am the one who was planning to ask countless spirits to give up their lives, my own included.”

Oh, gods. Somehow I hadn’t realized he’d planned to sacrifice himself too.

I stare at him, stricken.

He kisses me on the forehead.

No wonder he seized the chance I presented.

No wonder he recognized when I was planning to sacrifice myself.

He knows .

And if I fail, I might lose him .

There’s another way I can kill him.

The panic settles in me, no longer theoretical, but a cold, tight block of ice weighing down my chest.

Can I really not play nice with these assholes, if the alternative is losing Nariel —and maybe he shouldn’t matter more than anyone and everyone, but—

A shadow flicks me between the eyes, and I blink.

“Excuse me?” I ask indignantly.

“I’m sorry,” Nariel says, “I didn’t realize you hadn’t realized. My point , Sierra, is that you’re the right person for this job precisely because you will not just erect boundaries but will force the likes of Casimir and Evram and Koshiel to respect them. You’ve been absolutely unflinching in that from the beginning of this, and that’s good . People who can’t respect boundaries can never be good allies. You’re training them. And you’re taking this on yourself so no one else has to.”

I think that over. It seems too easy—that following my own desire to punch Evram in the face is actually noble.

I wince suddenly as I remember a Type 8 Enneagram meme that Brook once sent me that read “‘be the bigger person’ sounds too much like ‘accept the disrespect’ for me.”

“But if I just erect walls around us,” I ask, “am I not recreating the same divisions that got us all to this point?”

Nariel shrugs, the motion shifting us on the bed and I land a little further melted into him. “So build doors too.”

“...what does that even mean?”

Okay, I guess technically I did do that under that mountain in Dark Earth, in a literal sort of way, but—

Actually, wait. Maybe I can train myself, too—just because Nariel’s magic is there, if I wall myself off from it by default, except when I choose to draw on it, maybe I can not kill him by accident. So when I’m desperate, I just don’t reach for it. If I’m fighting an angel, I do a deliberate spell, like I normally would.

I take a deep breath.

Okay. Okay, maybe I can make that work.

Oblivious to this part of my thoughts, Nariel says, “If he can’t use you, Evram won’t help you without being forced into it. But what about Destien? You had to persuade Seamus to give magic a chance, but what about Ayaka? You can work with other people.”

“So I should test everyone first, or give them a chance to fuck up and then pick up the pieces after?”

“Sierra. You’re deliberately misunderstanding me. If I had a simple solution for you, I’d tell you. But that can’t exist, because we’re all people. If it were easy, someone else would have fixed it by now.”

“Cool. So we’re back to my judgment again.”

Another shadow flick. “ And mine . Or have you forgotten that I’m with you?”

He’s watching me closely, like he thinks I don’t trust him, when the opposite is true. I have definitely not forgotten that. I’m trying to figure out how to keep him with me, since he won’t.

I roll over on top of him, so he’ll have to at least look me in the eye when he shadow-flicks me.

Though that phrasing reminds me of the way he shadow- fucked me—

“So what would you do?” I ask quickly.

Nariel’s arms come around me, his hands settling on my butt.

My heart rate kicks up, just a little.

But his expression is deadly serious as he says, “Stand at your side.”

I huff. “No, I know that, but— oh .”

Visibly standing at the side of someone who could be an enemy. Modeling. Working together. Not letting anyone break us apart.

“Oh,” I say again.

Nariel’s lips curve. “ Oh , indeed.”

“Are you really not worried we’ll fuck it up?” I ask, and Nariel actually smiles.

And I realize it’s because I’ve finally said we , as if I don’t expect this to all be my individual responsibility.

“Most things in ruling aren’t all or nothing,” Nariel says. “Very rarely will a strategy go off without a hitch. We manage regardless.”

I sigh. “No wonder this is such an adjustment. I’m too used to my life—and battles—being all or nothing.”

Maybe that’s why I unconsciously grabbed for all of his power, rather than some of it.

Nariel squeezes my butt, and I swat him on the shoulder, but he accomplished his goal because I’m looking at him again. “Are they? Someone breaks through one of your defenses, and you use their momentum against them. I’ve seen you. You can turn seeming failures into victories. I’m confident in both or our abilities to adapt, because that’s what matters, ultimately. Are you going to stop trying?”

I huff. “Obviously not. I don’t even know how.”

“ That is why I’m not worried,“ Nariel says, running his hands up and down my back. “Though we really do need to teach you how to relax.”

I swallow. Maybe I finally can, now that I’ve figured out a plan of action. “I really think I’m too tired for sex, no matter what my libido thinks right now.”

Nariel’s lips curve, and his hands massage my shoulders. “I’d be happy to test that theory, but I did have something else in mind.”

I can’t decide if I’m relieved or disappointed by that.

But what I do decide is to let him.

Even when he somehow vanishes the clothes from between us—is this going to be a Thing now that we’re in a world with more magic?—though my wand he leaves alone, as it falls within reach next to me.

His look is challenging as I blink at him. “You can make those come back, right? I didn’t pack for this trip.” Except the spell beads, which I’ve already used up.

Though tomorrow I should put some of our power back into them as a backup measure. That saved Nariel’s life today.

I tense, but Nariel’s hands continue massaging circles into my back as he smiles. “Yes.”

I nod and then rest my head against his now-bare shoulder. “Okay. Good.”

There’s so much I don’t know about him, this spirit I’ve bonded my magic and soul to.

But I trust all of him.

And the thought of losing him—

My muscles clench again, and Nariel presses a kiss to my head.

I think that was meant to make me relax.

But I am who I am, and what it actually does is make me want to know all of him, as thoroughly as he knows me.

Our first time together was amazing—okay, maybe a little stressful with all the lightning erupting out of me, but we made up for it—but it’s all been so fast . Everything between us has been fast—we’ve bonded our immortal lives together after an acquaintance of weeks . And yes, they’ve been very full weeks, but—

I want to take my time with him.

I want to have the chance to explore him.

To not have to rush.

And since I will not lose him, I decide that starts now.

He continues massaging knots out of my back, warming me, and I bring my hands down to his sides, drawing them up and down like he did to me earlier.

Nariel’s movement hitches for a moment before he continues.

I smile.

Draped as I am over him, I can’t reach all of him. But I reach for whatever I can.

It’s who I am, after all.

And all of him is glorious, and I want it all.

That’s also who I am.

Even though my body is melting more and more against him, my core is waking up.

And so is his.

I lift myself up enough to look him in the eyes, and see that his gaze is dark, waiting for me, ready if I am.

And for better or worse, that’s also who I am: always ready.

Maybe I’m not too tired for sex after all.

Maybe, now that we’re bonded, there are other ways to sustain me, too.

Holding his gaze, I shift and slide myself onto his length.

His eyes turn full black.

This angle is different, as I try to keep as much of me pressed against him as possible, as if we can truly melt into each other.

Despite that, the weird position and the suspicious bed he’d managed to distract me from and all my worries and exhaustion and guilt, it doesn’t take me long. I feel it roll through me slowly in gentle waves and just hold onto Nariel tighter, feeling him inside me everywhere, desperate to keep him there.

I don’t deserve him, but I’m keeping him. Whatever it takes.

But he holds onto me, too, and his climax flows into mine.

I’m not done exploring him. Not by a long shot.

But for now, I just hold onto this moment, and him.

No matter where that takes me.

“Hey, Nariel,” I say sleepily.

I feel him smile against me. “Any more questions for me, Sierra?” he murmurs in my ear.

Always.

I’ll never have enough of him.

Just before I drift off, I manage, “Do you think we could go to space?”

He kisses me softly. “Let’s find out.”