The delicate architecture of Amelia's meridians resolved under his attention with the quiet clarity of a well-maintained building.
She had been reaching. He saw it almost immediately. She had been reaching with the specific, aggressive effort of a woman who had built her entire career out of seizing things with her sheer will. And the current was slipping through her fingers in the exact way Qi always slipped through the fingers of a practitioner who treated it like a hostile takeover.
He held his hand against her chest for a long moment, not pushing his own Qi into her, but simply letting her feel the slow, heavy, unhurried rhythm of his circulation moving beneath his palm.
"Amelia."
"Yes."
"Stop trying."
He felt the immediate, physical bristling under his hand. A tiny, defensive tightening around her eyes. "I am not trying."
