Selene said, a fraction calmer now, “I have set a spell on you that will prevent you from . . . wandering too far away from the House. I’d advise you not to tinker with it, or you’ll regret it.”
He looked as though he might laugh, then; and then shook his head, casting a glance in the Fallen’s direction. “Security and a bed; and a golden cage. I guess it will have to do, for the moment.”
She was no fool. Of course he would not submit, and would attempt to escape the moment her back was turned. But it was the best she could do. Her spell had taken long to set in: as with the binding to the House, it was as if something within him was resisting the very notion of magic. But with luck, she’d hold him long enough.
“Wait outside, will you?” she asked; and watched him leave, casual and at ease. One certainly wouldn’t think he was the prisoner here, and she the jailer.
She turned to the young Fallen, who stood, watching her warily, and said, in a much kinder voice, “None of this applies to you.”
“Then why am I here?” The young Fallen was quite recovered now, the unearthly light of her first hours gone. She appeared almost human, almost whole, except for the two fingers missing on her left hand. Her face in repose would never be called beautiful, but an innocence hung about her, a guilelessness that made Selene’s heart ache. She had been like this once, but such things never lasted for long; not in Paris.
“Because you’re one of us,” Selene said; and before the Fallen could voice a question, she added, “What do you remember?”
The Fallen’s face shifted then, became for a moment wreathed with soft light. “The City,” she whispered, and looked up into Selene’s eyes. “You remember, too.”
It was not a question. “Not as much as I once did,” Selene said. All she had were grainy, fuzzy images like old photographs; faces and voices that all seemed to merge together. “You have to be young to remember.”
Young, and innocent, and brimming with raw power. She envied that child, in that moment; who did not yet know bitterness, or how much the abandonment of God lay heavy on one’s shoulders.
What had her sin been, the one that had cast her out of the City? She’d wondered over the years—at what could be so grave that a God of forgiveness and love would condemn them all to this slow, agonizing path on Earth, with the wound of His absence lancing like salted knives—and known, in the darkness of her own room, that there would never be any answer.
“I Fell,” the girl said. And, bringing both hands up to stare at them: “I don’t remember why.”
“We never do,” Selene said, which wasn’t quite true. Morningstar had remembered; but Morningstar had been the first to Fall, the ringleader of the revolt in Heaven. “You’ll find out much of what you need to know over the coming months. We all do. You’ll—” She took a deep breath. “You’ll have to work out your own answers to what it means, to be Fallen. We have a priest here, Father Javier, if you think religion would help. And a library where you can find histories and books.” Emmanuelle would be glad to take her in hand, to show her everything that she needed to see. “As for me . . . there are three things I can give you, if you will have them. The first is help to come into your powers. The second is the protection of this House. Paris, as you will have gathered, is a dangerous place to be.”
The girl swallowed. “Madeleine told me . . . that I didn’t have that protection.”
“Not all of it,” Selene said, mildly. If the binding had taken, any attempt to put her in danger would have sent alarms rippling through the House; would have been as loud as a clarion call to anyone bound to Silverspires; but it hadn’t happened. Which meant they would need to keep an eye on her. “Be careful, will you? And we’ll find out why.” At least, she dearly hoped so, because she’d lose patience with Philippe very soon; and she doubted anyone in the House, save perhaps Aragon, had the forbearance to deal with him.
“You said three things,” the girl said, her large eyes on Selene’s face. “What’s the third one?”
The House of Shattered Wings
Aliette de Bodard's books
- The Bourbon Kings
- The English Girl: A Novel
- The Harder They Come
- The Light of the World: A Memoir
- The Sympathizer
- The Wonder Garden
- The Wright Brothers
- The Shepherd's Crown
- The Drafter
- The Dead Girls of Hysteria Hall
- The Nature of the Beast: A Chief Inspector Gamache Novel
- The Secrets of Lake Road
- The Dead House
- The Appearance of Annie van Sinderen
- The Blackthorn Key
- The Girl from the Well
- Dishing the Dirt
- Down the Rabbit Hole
- The Last September: A Novel
- Where the Memories Lie
- Dance of the Bones
- The Hidden
- The Darling Dahlias and the Eleven O'Clock Lady
- The Marsh Madness
- The Night Sister
- Tonight the Streets Are Ours
- The House of the Stone
- Murder House
- A Spool of Blue Thread
- It's What I Do: A Photographer's Life of Love and War
- Between You & Me: Confessions of a Comma Queen
- Lair of Dreams
- Trouble is a Friend of Mine