““Do you suppose that’s it? That’s all there is to it?” Scarlett whispers, collapsing backward onto the couch. “Even if it isn’t, how many seventh sons of seventh sons can there be in this city?” Silas says. He takes my hand, and even though Scarlett is watching, I can’t bring myself to pull it away. “We . . . we have it. We just need to find him.” We don’t speak. I squeeze Silas’s hand and he smiles at me as Scarlett stands and beings pacing, deep in thought. “Good job, love,” Silas whispers to me. When Scarlett’s back is turned, he pulls me toward him and kisses my forehead adoringly.””
