Page 49

“I need space to think,” I said.

They backed away, letting me wander outside the woods that bordered the house.

With everything happening so fast, my mind felt like a tangled ball of yarn with seven cats playing with it simultaneously. The manor's vast gardens called to me with their promise of quiet and dirty fingernails.

Back with Xavier’s pack, cooking had been my escape.

Now, I found myself adding gardening to the list. After all, I could cook and do alchemy with what I planted, couldn’t I?

Something about sinking my hands into soil and coaxing reluctant plants into flourishing called to me right now, more so than alchemy.

The morning sun had burned away the last of the dew as I followed a winding stone path deeper away from the grounds.

Here, away from the main house, carefully tended beds gave way to something wilder—still beautiful but less constrained.

I immediately felt more at ease among the greenery, mentally cataloging plants I recognized and others I'd never seen before.

I discovered a small clearing with a stone bench positioned beneath an ancient oak tree. The filtered sunlight danced across the ground in shifting patterns, and nearby, a small fountain trickled soothingly. Perfect.

Or it would have been, if the bench hadn't already been occupied.

Gluttony sat cross-legged on the stone surface, eyes closed and hands resting palms-up on his knees. His posture was rigid.

I hesitated, not wanting to disturb him. As I began to back away, his voice stopped me, though he didn't open his eyes.

"Your footsteps change when you're uncertain," he said, his voice less drawn than usual. "Heavier on the ball of the foot, like you're ready to run."

"I didn't mean to interrupt your nap," I said.

His lips quirked upward. "Not napping. Meditating. There's a difference."

I didn’t have a chance to answer before he stood and was gone.

I cursed. Stupid vampyric speed. “Fucking cunt–”

“He ran away again, didn’t he?” I turned as Sloth strolled up, quickly taking Gluttony’s vacated seat.

"Looked like he was napping, then he bolted.”

Sloth laughed. “We’re a lot alike, and yet so different, him and I.”

I snorted. “Both involve a lot of not moving and closed eyes."

A glint of amusement in his eyes. "Meditation is about being fully present. Napping is about checking out. And right now, you're looking for the former, not the latter."

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you psychic now too?"

"Just observant." He patted the space beside him. "When someone's going through as much as you are, they usually need to center themselves. Trust me on this one."

Heat crept up my neck. "Am I that obvious?"

"Only to someone who's seen that particular deer-in-headlights before." He shifted to make room for me. "Sit. Breathe. The garden helps."

I accepted his invitation, settling beside him on the cool stone. "I didn't know you gardened."

"I don't. That's Envy's thing. I just reap the benefits in the kitchen." He stretched his legs out in front of him. "You though, you've got the hands for it."

I glanced down at my hands, callused and not particularly elegant. "How can you tell?"

"There's dirt under your nails even though you haven't been digging. Means it's ground in. Permanent." He said it without judgment. "You miss it, don't you? Growing things?"

That surprised me. "Yeah, I do. How did you?—"

"The way you cataloged every plant on your way here. The little twitch in your fingers when you passed the herb beds." He shrugged. "Like I said. Observant."

I studied him with new interest.

"Why are you really out here?" I asked.

He considered me for a moment. "Same as you. Finding balance. I am not used to so many people in my house. Yet change is coming, whether we want it or not."

I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. "And here I thought you were the one Sin who wasn't big on change."

"I'm not big on pointless action," he corrected. "Different thing entirely."

I felt his sincerity—and beneath it, a depth I hadn't anticipated.

"So you were meditating," I said.

He nodded. "Helps me think, witchy poo.” He glanced at me. "Might help you too, given what you're diving into later."

"I've never been good at sitting still," I admitted.

"Meditation isn't about emptying your mind. It's about finding the quiet beneath the noise."

I thought about that.

"Like finding the seedling under the weeds?"

"Exactly like that." He seemed pleased by the comparison. "Want to give it a shot?"

"Why not? My other option is pacing anxiously until sunset."

"That's the spirit," he said dryly. "Close your eyes. Focus on your breath."

I followed his instructions, expecting my mind to immediately start its usual circus act. Instead, the garden sounds washed over me—birds calling, leaves rustling, water trickling. My breathing slowed naturally, matching the rhythm of the fountain.

"You're a natural," Sloth said softly after several minutes. "Most people take a lot longer to settle."

"Must be all that quality time with temperamental tomato plants," I murmured, keeping my eyes closed.

"There's wisdom in growing things," he agreed. "Patience. Acceptance of what you can and can't control."

"I've been so busy being angry, I forgot I'm allowed to feel other things too."

"Anger's just the loudest emotion. Doesn't mean it's the only one."

We sat in comfortable silence for a while. Gradually, I became aware of the bond between us. A calm, steady presence unlike my more volatile connection with Lust or the structured precision of Pride's bond.

"I can feel it," I said. "Our connection. It's..."

"Blue," he supplied. "Like still water on a clear day."

I opened my eyes, surprised. "You see it that way too?"

"We all experience the bonds slightly differently, but the essence is the same." He stretched lazily. "Mine tends toward the calmer end of the spectrum. Lust's is all passion and fire. Pride's is structure and precision."

"And what happens when all seven are active at once?" The question that had been nagging at me.

He considered this. "Honestly? No one knows. This kind of network hasn't existed before, not with our particular...configuration."

"You mean the deadly sins and their long-lost member?"

"Something like that." His lips quirked. "Though 'long-lost' implies you were missing. Maybe we were the ones who didn't know we were incomplete."

The sentiment caught me off guard. "That's...strangely poetic coming from you."

"I contain multitudes," he said with exaggerated mysteriousness, then grinned. "Actually, I read a lot of poetry. One of the benefits of appearing to nap constantly. People leave you alone with books."

I laughed, genuinely delighted by this revelation. "So Sloth has hidden depths. What other secrets are you all keeping from me?"

"Fishing for information about all of us?" he teased. "Planning your approach?"

"Just trying to understand who I'm connecting with," I said, though heat rose to my cheeks. "You're all more than your sin aspects, obviously."

"Obviously," he echoed with a lazy smile. "Though some of us hide it better than others."

I nudged his shoulder. "Hence why I'm asking. I'll need to strengthen all seven bonds pretty quickly. Might as well know what I'm working with."

"All of us, huh?" He raised an eyebrow. "Ambitious."

"Not like that!" The blush deepened even though the thought of it sent a thrill in my core. “Tell me more about the others.”

"Sure, sure." His eyes danced with mischief. "Well, since you're curious...We all have our unexpected sides. Pride has read every book in the library—twice.”

I found myself genuinely intrigued.

"And Greed?" I found myself genuinely curious about these glimpses behind the sin facades.

"Travels constantly. Has been everywhere—Antarctica, the Amazon, the deep ocean trenches.

Collects experiences as much as things. Envy goes with him a lot, then settles down for years at a time, then repeats the cycle.

" Sloth's voice held unexpected warmth. "Greed also has samples of extinct plants, recordings of languages no one speaks anymore.

It's not just about having more than others.

It's about preserving what would otherwise be lost."

I thought of Greed's gleaming eyes, his acquisitive nature, and saw it in a new light—not just taking, but saving.

"What about Lust?" I tried to sound casual, but Sloth's knowing smirk told me I'd failed.

"You sure you want me to spoil the surprise?” He asked.

"Just trying to be prepared," I said primly.

"Alright then. Prepare for this—he collects teddy bears."

I stared at him. "You're kidding."

"Cross my heart. Hidden in his chambers, meticulously arranged on shelves.

Some centuries old, others won at carnivals.

He values them equally." Sloth's grin widened.

"And don't get me started on his romantic streak.

All those Valentine's traditions? Heart-shaped boxes, red roses, sappy cards? His fault, essentially."

"Lust is responsible for Valentine's Day?" I couldn't reconcile this with the smooth, seemingly cynical man I'd come to know.

"Not officially. But he nudged culture in that direction over centuries. He'd deny it completely, of course."

I laughed, utterly charmed by this revelation. "And Gluttony? What's his secret hobby?"

Something in Sloth's expression softened. "G is complicated. The oldest of us. The most changed by time." He nodded toward a patch of simple white daisies growing near the fountain. "He plants those every spring. They remind him of someone he lost, long ago."

I followed his gaze, wondering about the story behind that statement. "Clio?"

Sloth's eyes snapped to mine. "Who told you that name?"

"Diana mentioned it briefly. Just that he had been hurt in the past."

He nodded slowly. "It's not my story to tell. But yes, daisies were her favorite."