Chapter 19: Judith's Hand

"Mom, let go," I said. "Please."

"I am telling the truth."

The smoke thickened.

Then a small figure pushed out of the Strathmore benches and ran down the aisle in a borrowed coat.

"Daphne," I said.

She didn't look at me.

She went straight to the Hearth Stone.

She slapped her bare palm down on the rock beside our mother's burning hand.

She had no blood on it. She had no knife.

The stone did nothing to her at all.

"Mom," Daphne said.

My mother turned her head with an effort.

"Baby, get away from that. It's hot."

"I know it's hot. You're burning."

"I'm fine."

"You're lying." Daphne's voice shook. "Look at your hand. Look what it's doing to you."

"I'm not lying."

"You want to know what I think?" My sister was crying openly, and she did not stop talking.

"I think you wanted me to be gold so badly that you'd stand here and burn for it."

She wiped her face on her sleeve.

"I'm not even gold. It was never mine."

"It was," my mother said. "It was yours. I made it yours."

"You took it from her."

My mother's face crumpled.

For a moment it was just a face, tired and forty-six, with no mask and no smile on it.

"Thea," she said, in a cracked small voice.

"I'm here."

"Say it again. What you asked."

"Did you do it for the gold?"

"Yes."

The stone went still.

The white glare dropped out of it, and my mother's hand came free of the rock.

She cradled it against her chest.

She was shaking so hard her teeth knocked.

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