The Unmourned
Chapter 3: The Sickle-Sword
“Jump,” he says, hooking his cane on his arm, and when she gives a half-hearted hop, he closes his fists in a complicated pattern and pushes up, and her head stops only a foot shy of the ceiling. She can’t help the delighted laugh that bubbles out of her as she floats there in midair, and when she looks down, he’s very nearly smiling as he looks up at her.

















