I licked my lips. "I have the Dušan. If I fled to the gray fields—"
"If the Raziq attack en masse, even the Dušan will not be enough."
If the Raziq attacked en masse and both he and Lucian were killed, I seriously doubted if even a demon sword would make a difference.
"Do not doubt her capabilities," he said softly. "Swords forged in demon fire are stronger—and more dangerous—than you could ever imagine."
And it would only work if I plunged it into my flesh. I rubbed my arms and said, "How can you know for certain that Amaya will accept me?"
"As I said, I am attuned to you enough to sense her willingness. All you have to do is make the sacrifice."
"But won’t burying a sword in my flesh kill me?"
"She will heal you as a gift for your sacrifice. From that point, she will be yours until your life’s end."
Oh great, I was going to have a fire-dripping sword constantly strapped to my back. And wouldn’t that please the customers?
A small smile broke the seriousness of his expression, and it felt like sunshine breaking through a storm—warm and welcome. "Amaya belongs to the shadows. You can see her, and I can see her because of our connection, but no one else will. Nor will anyone feel her—not unless you bury her in their flesh. And you do not have to wear her all the time. She can be put aside when you sleep." He hesitated, then added, "Or when you have sex."
"I’m sure my partners will appreciate that," I muttered. I ran a somewhat shaky hand through my hair. I could do this. I had to do this. "Okay, so what do I need to do?"
He raised the sword, offering it to me hilt first. "Take her."
I wrapped my hands around the night-dark hilt. Fire flared along the blade’s edge, thick and dangerous. The hilt itself felt warm against my palm, and something within it pulsed, as if it had a life and a heart of its own.
And given it was forged during a demon’s death, maybe it did.
I licked my lips, then raised my gaze to Azriel’s. "Now what?"