Chapter 4: What the Stone Does

I didn't know how to stop it, so I did the only thing I could think of.

I dropped to my knees beside her and held the stone as far from my chest as my arm would reach.

"Tell me how," I said.

"Pull your hand away from your body," she said through her teeth.

"It's stuck."

"Then think of nothing!"

I tried.

I thought of the stable at dawn, the steam off the horses, the dull smell of oats.

The hum in the glass sank slowly down to a purr.

The stone let go of my palm and dropped onto the floor with a small clunk.

Ilsabet drew a long shaky breath.

The blood on her arm slowed.

I stared at her, then at the black glass, then at my own empty hand.

There was a pale mark in my skin.

"What was that?" I said.

"Nothing you need to know."

"Your arm is bleeding. It's something."

"Untie me."

"No."

"Rowan."

She held my eyes with hers, grey as a winter pond.

"Untie me, or in a quarter hour you'll be dead, and so will I."

I was about to ask why when I heard the hoofbeats.

They came down the hill from the north road, a dozen horses, shod hard.

A voice rang across the frozen pond.

"Inside the mill! In the Duke's name, come out with the stone!"

Ilsabet had gone very still.

"Those aren't hunters," she said. "Those are Leofric's household guard."

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