After the Golden Age (Golden Age 1)

“Don’t worry about the city. It’ll come out right. It always does. There’s nothing you can do just now.”

“I’ve got all these puzzle pieces,” she said, her voice tight, on the verge of tears. It was just stress—she wasn’t weak, she wasn’t breaking down. “I should be able to figure it out. I should be able to pin something on Paulson by now.”

Arthur guided her to the sofa, made her sit, then sat with her and eased her back until she was cradled on his lap.

She sat up abruptly. “You’re not going to make me sleep, are you?”

“That wouldn’t help you get rid of the headache, would it? No, Celia. Not like that anyway. Please rest, though. I’ll watch over you.”

He didn’t crawl inside her mind to shut it down, not like he did when he commanded sleep. He just held her, stroked her hair. When he said he’d keep her safe, she believed him. She slept.

TWENTY-SEVEN

“WHAT the hell is this?”

“Warren, keep your voice down. This is the first she’s slept all day.”

That was Arthur speaking. His chest rumbled under her cheek with the words.

“Then she didn’t spend the day in bed? What was she doing?” That was Suzanne, sounding as irate as Warren, or at least sounding as irate as she ever sounded.

Arthur sighed. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“Am I to understand that you’ve … been spending time together. Or something?” her mother asked.

Celia imagined her mother’s arms were crossed. Suzanne’s voice made it sound like she’d crossed her arms. She supposed she ought to open her eyes and look. She shouldn’t leave Arthur to deal with this by himself.

“That isn’t any of your business,” Arthur said matter-of-factly.

Warren exploded. Not literally, though close to it. “You took advantage of her. She looked to you for protection and you—”

“Dad.” Celia emitted a dramatic-sounding groan as she sat up. “Stop it.”

“Celia, what the hell are you thinking!” He was on the verge of smashing something. Maybe he’d show a little more restraint in his own house.

The room was awash with a faint, chill light of early morning. She was still half sprawled on Arthur’s lap. Her parents must have walked in on them—embarrassing at any age. Arthur hadn’t woken her. He’d let her sleep. Or he didn’t care anymore if her parents knew. She met his gaze. He smiled thinly. Again, and always, she felt warm and safe.

Suzanne was, in fact, crossing her arms. Her gaze was worried, her brow furrowed and confused. “This … this isn’t so bad, maybe. You remember some of the boys she brought home in high school? This’ll take some getting used to, but at least we can trust Arthur—”

“Would someone we trust seduce our daughter, a girl he vowed to protect—”

Celia sat up straighter. “Actually, I think it was me.”

“What?” Warren said.

“I think it was me who seduced him.” Arthur’s hand rested on her back. She hoped he kept it there.

Warren sputtered a moment, then said, “Then he shouldn’t have let himself get seduced!”

“Warren, please stop shouting,” Arthur said. Celia couldn’t tell if he’d wrapped any power in the command. Mostly, he sounded tired.

“I’m not shouting! Mentis, this is … outrageous! She’s my daughter.”

This was him finding her in the Destructor’s lair all over again. Small comfort that he wasn’t actually yelling at her. She wondered: had he not been as upset at the thought of her joining his enemy as he had been at the thought of her sleeping with his enemy?

“Warren—,” Suzanne said tiredly, rubbing her forehead like she had a headache.

Arthur said, “She’s also an adult, or hadn’t you noticed? I certainly have.”