Page 96 of Break Her Heart
“Would you like to see the armory, Winnie?”
I didn’t have to fake a smile when he said that.
We left the archives behind, the door groaning shut behind us as August led me down a corridor I hadn’t been throughbefore. The deeper we went, the quieter the castle became. This hall felt abandoned with its torches barely flickering.
He stopped at a heavy wooden door and pushed it open. The scent of oiled leather and cold steel filled my lungs as I stepped through and froze.
Weapons lined the walls. Blades of every shape and size, some polished to a mirror shine, others ancient and tarnished with age. Swords, axes, daggers, even staves and spears, all arranged in neat rows like an army waiting to be summoned. The collection stretched down the length of the room, enough to outfit the entire Legion.
And when I focused, I could hear the hum of magic inside some of them—soft and steady like a heartbeat, others sharp and erratic like a whispering scream.
“Gods,” I whispered. “It’s like a graveyard of wars.” I turned to August and put my hands on my hips. “Why haven’t you shown me this already? It’s like a dream come true.”
“I was too mad at you before.”
I shoved him, not that he budged an inch.
“Benedict’s been trying to match the blades we marked, but it’s harder than expected. A lot of them look similar to the sketches we’ve got. I figured maybe you could sort through what’s here—see which ones are humming with magic—and we’ll narrow it down from there.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
I moved to the nearest wall, my fingers gliding over the hilts and blades, the metal cool beneath my skin. I paused at each one, feeling for the magic. Most were silent, but one made me stop. The magic curled around it like smoke, faint but undeniable.
I pulled it from the wall, surprised by the weight and how natural it felt in my grip. My pulse kicked up as I turned it in myhand. The blade glimmered faintly in the low light, etched with symbols I didn’t recognize.
This one had a lot of power.
I turned around and pointed it at August. “This one.”
In a blur, he was behind me, his chest pressing lightly to my back as he reached around to lower my hand with a firm grip.
“Let’s not point magical blades at me when we don’t know what they do,” he said, his voice low near my ear. “Unless you’re trying to get rid of me early.”
I turned and smiled at him, letting it linger just long enough to make him narrow his eyes suspiciously before I walked away. I carried the blade over to the entrance and set it down carefully near the door.
Then I returned to the wall, ready to start again, fingers trailing over the next row of weapons. By the time I made it to the end of the first row—which must have held close to a hundred blades—I had found three more humming with magic. Some of the magic felt familiar. But others were foreign and strange, buzzing against my skin like static, pulling at the edges of my awareness in ways that made me uneasy.
We kept those separate from the others.
I started down the second row, slower now, the weight of the task settling into my bones. Then a sword caught my attention. The blade was long and elegant, forged of dark steel that reflected almost no light. Its hilt was wrapped in soft black leather, worn just enough to hint at use, and a single crimson jewel sat in the center of the crossguard. It looked regal, dangerous, and beautiful.
I reached for it and felt no magic. Just cold metal and perfect balance.
Still, I didn’t put it back.
I stepped back from the wall and shifted the sword between my hands, letting the familiar motion of testing its weightground me. I moved like I was preparing to spar, wrists rotating, feeling the way it moved through the air.
“Do you feel something in that one?”
“No,” I said, still turning the sword slowly in my hands. “It’s just… beautiful. The balance, the way it moves.”
I glanced up and froze.
August had crossed the room without me noticing, grabbing a sword from the first row—one I had already deemed empty of magic. He turned it in his hands once, testing its weight with a flick of his wrist, before sliding into a fighting stance.
Then he tilted his chin and gave me that infuriating little smirk.
I just stood there, blinking at him. Shocked.
