Constance rolled her eyes.“Do get over it, Stuffy.Lady pirates have been wearing these for centuries.”
“You’re not a pirate,” Neil reasonably pointed out.
“Notyet,” Constance corrected him.“Oh!I have something for you.”
She pushed a thin leather bundle into his hands.
“It’s a scabbard,” she explained as Neil examined the object with surprise.“The style is a bit unusual, as it’s meant to be worn on one’s back instead of around the hips, but I thought you might be more comfortable with that.It’s not like you’re planning to go into battle with that old thing.”
Theold thingin question was Dyrnwyn, wrapped up in the bedroll that hung from the side of the mule carrying his luggage.
He hadn’t wanted to bring the blasted sword with him, but he could hardly risk leaving it in his room.What if one of Parvati and Balaram’s children had decided to go snooping?They were as well-born as it got, so of course, the stupid arcanum would light up for them.They might burn down the entire bloody palace.
The leather straps of the scabbard were worn but supple.More leather wrapped the wooden core of the sheath.To Neil’s admittedly inexpert eye, the size looked like a decent match for Dyrnwyn’s length.
There was only one way for him to be sure of that.Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Neil wrapped it around his palm and drew the sword from the bedroll with a grimace.
He tried the sheath.The blade slid home as though made for it.
Ellie perked up.“Is that a Mughal design?”
“I didn’t bother reading the label,” Constance replied dismissively.
Ellie frowned with disapproval.“Does that mean you stole this from one of the cases in the armory?”
“Theoldarmory,” Adam helpfully elaborated with a hint of mischief.
“No one was using it,” Constance easily dismissed.“Now—the strap goes over your shoulder, like this.”
She swung the leather over Neil’s shooting jacket, the unexpected contact shocking him into compliance.
Constance yanked tight a buckle—and then reached around Neil’s waist.
He froze.His nose was in her hair.It smelled lovely.
They were standing far closer together than they ought to be.
Except that we’re technically engaged now,his brain unhelpfully reminded him.
“And this buckles around your waist,” Constance finished.
Neil was agonizingly aware of the tickling brush of her fingers against his waistcoat as she fiddled with the fastener.
“If I can just… get it to… There we are,” Constance declared with a final tug.
She stepped back to admire her handiwork.
Adam studied Neil thoughtfully.The dog appeared to do the same, sitting by Adam’s boots.
“It fits well enough,” Ellie commented.
“I think it suits him.”Constance set her hands on her more-visible-than-they-ought-to-be hips.“You know, Uncle Vijay told me that in the Hindu stories, flaming swords represent the triumph of knowledge over ignorance.The final incarnation of Vishnu is supposed to wield one when he comes to end the Kaliyuga.”
A weapon of knowledge.Neil found the notion oddly comforting.
Not that he loved the idea of wearing the sword at all.He would certainly have tried to get out of it, if Constance had given him any warning.Still, the weight of it on his back and the worn leather hugging his waist felt oddly… right.
“Thank you,” he said, surprised to find that he meant it.
