She looks at me sharply, searching for evasion. She finds none, because this time there is none to find.
Her shoulders lower by a fraction. “Fine. That one passes.”
I step closer and take her hand.
Her fingers tense in mine, but she does not pull away.
The tether stabilizes immediately.
The effect is stronger than proximity alone, cleaner than line of sight, and more controlled than emotional resonance. Physical contact locks the bond into alignment, smoothing the distortion still clinging to my manifested form from the abduction sigil’s radius. My outline sharpens. The pressure in my core settles. Even the ward lattice responds, its glow evening along the threshold.
Sable looks down at our linked fingers. “That helps.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Significantly.”
She exhales through her nose. “Of course it does.”
I hold her hand more securely. “I will not leave your side.”
Her gaze lifts to mine. “That bad?”
“Yes.”
Corin’s hammering continues outside, hard and furious.
I look toward the road, toward the hidden boundary markers, toward the places Maltherion’s agents have already touched.
“Abduction is imminent,” I say.
Sable’s fingers tighten around mine.
This time, her pulse does not break rhythm.
It steadies.
13
SABLE
The decision is simple, which is not the same thing as wise.
The kitchen smells of iron filings, resin smoke, damp wool, and the sharp bitterness of tea left too long on the stove. Morning light presses against the windows in pale strips, catching on the ward sigils until they shine like red scratches beneath the glass. Corin stands near the hearth with a hammer still in one hand, soot streaked along his jaw, while Rhazek remains beside me with his fingers linked through mine as though he intends to make that the new architecture of the world.
I look at the map spread across the table, at the marks where hidden abduction sigils might be waiting under cobblestones, and at the crude line I have drawn through the district boundary. Then I set the quill down.
“I’m walking alone.”
Corin turns so fast the hammer nearly clips the mantel. “No.”
Rhazek’s hand tightens around mine. “Absolutely not.”
I look at him. “That sounded almost human.”
“It was not.”
