I picked up my butter knife. “I am armed, Islington.” “Someday I’ll fence with you, Emma, but not at the Reed and Rite.” I brightened. “Will you really?” “Certainly.” Islington made eye contact. “We have plenty of foils at Stonecrop.” “Well, wonderful!” I then smiled at Pierce. “Did you hear that? Islington is going to give me a sword.” “I didn’t say that.” Pierce took a sip of his tea. “Implied, I’m afraid.”
