With a shaky indrawn breath, she repeats what she read inthe library. “What was done must be undone. Unmade as it was made.” Her hand stops moving on my jaw. “To break the curse, break the blade.”
My arms tighten around her as she finishes the message she only partially spoke aloud earlier. “Break theblade?”
She raises her eyes to mine again. “Unmade as it was made.”
Rapidly, I think this through. “To break it, we need to bring together the same elements that made it.”
“Everything pictured in the illustration.” She nods. “That’s my interpretation of the message, too. We need the hammer, the dragonstone anvil, whatever kind of coal produced that fire…” She worries her lip. “Possibly even the fae, or a descendant of the fae, who forged it.”
“What was done must be undone,” I say, repeating her words with a certainty that fills my very bones.
The curse must be broken.
Her fingertips brush across my jaw, bringing my focus back to her. “How do we make this happen?”
“We gather the pieces,” I say, as if it will be simple.
Starting with the hammer.That, at least, could be straightforward.
“But… where are these pieces?” she asks. “And what if they’ve been destroyed?”
I shake my head with a certainty that could prove false. “Powerful objects like the dragonstone anvil would be very difficult to destroy. We’ll find them.” Once more, I stroke her back, urging her to my chest. “Together.”
Her body grows heavy against mine. It’s clear she can hardly keep her eyes open, and I’m not about to stop her from sleeping. Even if I experience a twinge of unwanted guilt at my eagerness for her to fall asleep.
“Rest now, Thyra.” I kiss her forehead. “You’ll need your strength for training with my sister in the morning.”
I’ve barely finished speaking, and her breathing has already evened out, becoming deep within moments.
To ease my guilt at leaving her, I murmur, “If you wake to find me gone, remember that you’re safe. Nobody can get to you here.”
She mumbles against my chest, an incoherent response that tells me she probably didn’t register what I said.
Even so, I wait another ten minutes to be certain she’s deeply asleep before I extricate myself from her arms, pulling one of the pillows into the empty space I leave behind.
Back on my feet beside the bed, I loom over her, my focus drawn to her upturned right arm and the blade embedded in it.
To break the curse, break the blade.
She spoke without a hint of fear, but I wonder how long it will take her to realize that breaking the curse could mean breaking her first.
The blade is embedded in her body, and even when she was desperate to get it out, she couldn’t.
With a savage punch, I thump my heart, needing the pain.
We’ll find a way.
I won’t hurt her.
I thought I’d be willing to do anything to stop the curse, but I was wrong.
Fucking wrong.
I rub the heel of my palm against my heart, pushing against the leather, but no amount of pressure can ease the hollow that grows at the thought of hurting Thyra.
There has to be another way.
Quickly now, I pull the pieces of my armor back onto my body, caging myself and my feral impulses, weighingmyself down in metal. I reach back for my axe, a reflexive motion checking its weight against my back.
