The sound of flesh against bone resounds with a crack. Magnus withdraws with a reddened palm, his face a portrait of fear and fury. Bilquis stands tall, mouth open and eyes wide, brimming with shocked tears. (But the tears don’t fall, as if she wills them away.) She allows herself a moment to touch the tender skin, burnt from her lover’s hand, and then she smiles. It’s the sort of smile women wear as armor. Hermione recognizes it immediately.