“So do it,” he said. “I don’t want to touch it.” “If it was that easy to trigger, your ancestors would have figured out what it was.” “You pick it up,” she said, frowning. He just gave her a look. She bent down, willing her mind blank while she lifted the amulet off the table. Rowan stiffened as if bracing himself, despite his reassurance. The key was a millstone in her hand, but that initial sense of wrongness, of an abyss of power … It was quiet. Slumbering.
