His gaze fell to my hand, and he stilled. “Where did you get that?” I stared down at the sword Stuart had brought me. I’d been so distracted, I hadn’t even looked at it until now. The broadsword bore a gilded, finely carved handle and a glittering onyx blade as wide as my thigh that had been inlaid with golden scrollwork. It was a true piece of art—and it wasn’t the first time I’d seen it. “By the Flames,” I breathed, “it’s the sword from our vision. The one I was holding on the battlefield.”
