Amelia’s breath trembled. “I don’t know what will happen.”
“Then we’ll stand with you while it happens.”
“You can’t fix this.”
“I know.”
That stopped her. Mayhap because it was true. Mayhap because for once, he was not promising what no man could. He could not stop a storm, threaten an enchanted sapphire, or command a door not to open.
But he could stand between her and fear.
The sword flashed brighter. Thunder cracked so hard dust sifted from the rafters.
Huck crossed himself, then began to pray beneath his breath, low and steady.
Hob moved to the door and set his back against it, axe in hand, as if he could keep the whole of heaven and hell out of the solar by sheer stubbornness alone.
Thomas held out his hand. After a moment, Amelia put her fingers in his. Together, they faced the sword.
The sapphire burned blue now, no longer pretending to be gemstone or light. It filled the solar with a glow that turned parchment ghost-white and made the shadows tremble along the walls. The blade hummed, deep enough that Thomas felt it in his teeth, his bones, the old scar along his jaw.
Amelia’s fingers tightened around his.
“Thomas,” she whispered.
“Aye.”
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
She looked up at him, and the truth was there balanced on the edge of the world.
The blue light reflected in her eyes. She looked half entranced, half terrified, and Thomas realized the sword was not waiting for permission. It was calling.
“Amelia.”
“I’m not doing it,” she said, though her voice had gone thin. “I’m not.”
Her hand slipped from his.
Not because she pulled away, but because the whole room seemed to draw one long breath, and in that breath Amelia moved, reaching for the hilt.
Thomas lunged, but Huck caught his arm with surprising strength.
“Wait.”
“I will not?—”
“Wait,” Huck said, and now there was no honey in his voice, no jest, no soft round edge. Only command. “Look at her hand.”
Amelia’s fingers brushed the sapphire as the stone flared white-blue.
She gasped. A tiny sound. A fresh line opened across her knuckle, small and wicked as if the sapphire itself had cut her. Blood welled, bright red against her pale skin.
“No,” she breathed. “No, no, no.”
The first drop fell, striking the blade.
Hob crossed himself so fast he nearly clipped his own chin. “Holy Mother of God.”