Her own surprise is enough to break through some of the remaining sense of guilt and sorrow; she's not exactly one for healing magic, and it feels nothing like when she'd healed Ambrose.

Magic, yes, but the kind of magic she knows she'd been trying to find in the words of Edward Spellman.

She wraps that hand in her bloody fingers, and raises it to kiss the back. "Whatever comes, whenever it comes, you're with me. Because I love you, and you love me. Promitto."