The tip of the arrow wavered as Miss Morrissey, too, considered her options. Robin was grateful that she’d had the sense not to release it when startled. Billy was shorter than Edwin; he’d be able to keep Edwin entirely between himself and the weapon, and Robin could only assume that a similar sort of constraint held for spells. Anything Mrs. Kaur cast, even if she could do it quickly enough, would affect Edwin as well.
“Put it down, Adelaide,” said Billy.
She hissed her breath through her teeth, but let the string slacken. She bent and placed both bow and arrow at her feet.
Edwin held Robin’s gaze again. He dropped his eyes to his own hands—which he’d moved to clasp in front of him—and back up. Robin’s heart gave a pound.
“Kitty?” Robin inquired, turning to Mrs. Kaur as though he hadn’t already heard the outline of their relationship on the way here. “Do you two know one another, then?”
Mrs. Kaur took up the thread immediately, tilting her elegant brown neck and touching the base of it, as if uncertain. Her eyes were liquid pools. Anyone who’d ever loved her would find it hard to look away from her at this moment.
At the edge of Robin’s vision, Edwin’s hands were pale flickers.
“We used to be close, yes,” said Mrs. Kaur. “This isn’t like you, Billy. You’re a good man. Put the knife down and let’s talk, shall we?”
Billy’s lips pressed together. Edwin’s breath hitched and Robin saw the tip of the knife move.
“A good man,” said Billy. “I’d like to think so. But that wasn’t enough for you. For your family.”
“My parents and grandfather asked me for my cooperation,” said Mrs. Kaur softly. “I made my choice. I’m happy with it.”
“Happy? Marrying a man you were barely friends with at the time?” This argument had the weakly bitter note of leaves twice-steeped. “If you loved me enough, you’d have told them to go hang.”
“Yes,” she said.
The syllable hung there, simply.
Something shifted in Billy’s posture that spoke to Robin’s instincts from years of boxing. The man had moved past an inhibition of some kind. He was considering his move, and was close to making it.
Edwin’s eyes were downcast. Edwin’s fingers moved slowly, slowly, bare of string.
“What do you want us to do?” asked Robin. “You’re the one with the knife. Make your demands, Byatt.”
“I do wish you’d kept your noses out of this,” Billy said, still addressing Mrs. Kaur. “You can’t be allowed to remember. And you can’t run back to your life and play pretend,” spitting this at Robin, whose instincts were shouting even more loudly. “Even if I let you all walk out of here now, we’ll find you tomorrow. Or the next day.”
Edwin’s cuff brushed against Billy’s arm as he began to raise his hands.
“Stop. What are you doing?” Billy demanded.
“I’m reaching into my pocket,” said Edwin. He was. Gold sparks danced between his fingers as they vanished. “You know there’s nothing dangerous in there. You checked them yourself. Here.”
And he moved: one hand closing over Billy’s where it was pressed against his chest, a mockery of tenderness. The other—Robin couldn’t see, was he holding something, passing it from his own hand to— Thunder expanded in the room with a deafening crack. A flash of white light sent Robin flinching with a hand over his eyes. There were more sounds: a human choke, a ragged grunt of exhalation, a thud in two parts. All very fast. And then nothing.
When Robin blinked his vision back again, Edwin was bent over, leaning on the arm of a chair for support. On the floor was a small pile of prickly splinters and ash, as though a half-burned conker casing had somehow rolled out of the fire. The empty tea set had been knocked to the ground as well, the cup split into three wet shards.
Sprawled next to this minor pile of wreckage was Billy Byatt. There was a pattern like lightning, like the veins of a leaf, charred in black in the centre of his palm, over the mound of his wrist, and disappearing beneath his cuff.
Billy stared at the ceiling. He looked mildly startled.
He did not move, no matter how long Robin gazed at him.
Mrs. Kaur made a harsh sound of surprise and knelt down. Her fingers hovered, then sought a pulse beneath the chin. “Billy?”
“Oh hell,” said Edwin, and his knees buckled.
One moment Robin was standing near the window; the next moment, without any time or distance seeming to register in between, he was at Edwin’s side, supporting him, Edwin clinging to him for balance.