Courage is not a moment. It's a muscle used every day, and with or without her memory, Guinevere Lunaris had that goddamn muscle.
But unfortunately, this was one of those times where courage didn't get a prize or credit. Context and timing are the difference between hero and villain, and ten seconds was the exact margin that fucked her over.
In a blur, Guinevere closed the distance and knocked the blade out of Maria's hand.
The blade hit the stone with a sharp clang that bounced off every obsidian wall. Guinevere didn't wait, scooping it off the ground before Maria could reach for it, backpedaling three steps with the dagger gripped in her fist because it looked like Maria was aiming that blade at herself and that was not happening on Guinevere's watch.
The steel was warm. The blood on it was warmer. But it wasn't just Maria's blood.
She stared at Guinevere, chest heaving.
