“You only need to look at the damned thing and it cuts,” I whispered. The words Lorreth had said, right after he’d run his fingers along the sword and cut himself on it. He had been the first to bleed on the newly forged weapon. The sword had judged his blood. Lorreth’s face went ash white. “I didn’t mean to,” he said. “I’m happy with my daggers, I swear. I did not mean to claim Danya’s sword.” Not Danya’s sword, the quicksilver hissed. We are reforged. New unto this place. You do not claim us, Lorreth of the Broken Spires. We claim you. “This is going to be hilarious,” Fisher said. But he
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