The sunbrands were tidy lines of golden light laid against the gray stone, warm without being hot. They didn't fight the miasma. They simply traced the edges where the Archduke's vows wanted to sit, the way a pencil circle makes a spill of invisible ink visible under glass. For the first time since this fight started, I could see the shape of the cheating.
That didn't fix the problem. But it made my feet honest.
