Page 46 of Claimed By Midnight

I bite my lip, remembering how he'd grumbled through the whole process but followed my suggestions exactly.

"Stop thinking about what you should do. And honestly, stop listening to Uriel. He can be an idiot, especially when it comes to talking about his feelings." Raven's voice softens. "What do you want to do?"

The answer comes before I can stop it. "I want to be here. With all of you."

The words sink in, settling deep in my chest where something unfamiliar stirs. My fingers drift to the marks on my neck, remembering how Uriel's touch had made me feel - not fragile or delicate, but desired. Powerful.

"Back home, everyone treated me like I'd break." I trace patterns in the dirt with my boot. "Even Astrid. Especially Astrid. But here..."

"Here you're thriving." Raven's violet eyes catch mine. "I've watched you in the workshop. Training with me. Putting up with Uriel. You fit in well."

"I used to think strength meant magic or fighting skills." My hand finds the inventory ledger tucked in my belt, its pages worn from constant use. "But in that workshop, I know exactly who I am. What I'm capable of."

Maybe here, I do. Even if I don't fully understand where I stand with Uriel.

Raven snorts. "You organized his chaos. Trust me, that takes more strength than wielding any weapon."

"It's not just the workshop." Heat creeps up my neck as memories of last night surface. "When I'm with him, he makes me feel..." I search for the right words. "Like I could burn down the world if I wanted to. And he'd just watch with that infuriating smirk."

"And would you?" Raven's wing brushes mine, a gentle encouragement. "Burn it all down?"

"No." The answer comes swift and sure. "I'd build something better. Something that's mine." I think of the workshop, of the careful system I've created, of the respect I've earned from suppliers who once dismissed me. "I already am."

"There she is." Raven's smile turns sharp. "The little demon who tamed the most feared weapons maker in New Solas."

"I haven't tamed him." But my protest lacks conviction.

"No." She stands, offering me her hand. "You've done something far more dangerous. You've matched him."

And maybe she's right. I act like I hate Uriel when deep down I know I don't. Maybe…he's doing the same. Like he wants me just like I want him and neither of us would say it.

Talking to Raven was definitely the right choice.

A shadow falls across the courtyard, and I look up to see Koros's massive frame blocking the sun. His mismatched eyes - one black as pitch, one molten gold - find mine as he approaches. Despite his intimidating size, there's a gentleness in the way he moves, like a predator consciously making itself less threatening.

"Thought I'd find you here." His deep voice rumbles as he settles onto the ground near our bench, his nearly-black wings folding against his back.

"We're not practicing today," I tell him, cutting a look at Raven.

He shrugs, his dark red hair falling across his scarred face. "Didn't come to practice. Had to check on my favorite human, didn't I? Make sure Uriel hasn't worked you to death yet."

Raven snorts. "Oh, he's working her alright."

"Raven!" Heat floods my cheeks.

Koros's laugh echoes across the courtyard, rich and genuine. "How are you holding up, Athena? Really?"

The concern in his voice catches me off guard. I think of Astrid, how she'd hover and protect but never really ask how I felt. How different it is here, where these fierce, deadly beings teach me to fight - but also really seem to care about me.

"I'm good." My fingers find the inventory ledger again, its familiar weight grounding me. "Better than good, actually. I know it's strange, but I feel..." I search for the right words. "I feel like I belong here."

"Nothing strange about it." Koros pulls something from his pocket - a small wrapped package that smells of sweetbread. "You've made that chaos pit of a workshop actually functional. Even got Uriel organizing his tools properly."

"He still grumbles about it." But I can't help smiling as I accept the bread.

"He grumbles about everything." Raven stretches her wings. "It's his love language."

I think about Astrid, about how happy she became with the demon who stole her away. And I miss her.

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