“Hmm.” Averet tipped that head at him, unconvinced. Energetic waves of hair bounced. “Should I look at it more closely? If you want I could—”
“I brought you this!” Morgen shoved a hand into a pocket. Thrust the coin Averet’s direction. One more touch might kill him. One more touch, one closer touch, when he couldn’t have anything more—
The antique penny-piece had been heavy and thick and silver, engraved and ominous as a thundercloud. He’d bundled it into a piece of cloak; it’d been well wrapped when he’d found it slowly poisoning the field it’d sunk into. He’d figured the precautions must’ve been for a reason, and hadn’t touched it with bare skin.
He shoved the packet of cloak and coin toward his startled enchanter. Their hands fumbled—Morgen’s fault, too abrupt and clumsy and large—an
