His eyes dart up to mine. I inhale sharply.
“You…” he whispers, “are our destiny.”
* * *
It’s beendays and we’ve hardly spoken a word to each other since our—I don’t even know what to call it. Argument? Disagreement? Intense conversation? Debate?
I drop my hammer with a heavy clang that’s in perfect harmony to the frustration simmering within me. He hasn’t even drunk from me during this time. I can see the hollows of his cheeks growing deeper. Shadows cling to them. I shake my head. I still can’t believe that Iwanthim to drink from me. But he needs his strength.
How did I get here?
The question lingers in the back of my mind. Persistent. Clear. But the answers are hazier than the dreams that try to flee from me with each dawn.
Of course I know how I gothere, in that I know the events that led me to this particular place and time. I remember every step that was taken. Every decision that was made. But there’s a disconnect in my mind somewhere between those choices and where I’ve ended up. How…howa forge maiden could end up in the vampir castle. How couldIend up working by moonlight and sleeping by sunlight?
The only time I can escape the questions is when I’m in the smithy. Here things are still consistent. I know how metal reacts to heat. I know the sound of the hammer. My hands move on their own without the necessity of thought. I can shut off my restless mind and simply focus on creating whatever it is I please. And I’m mostly left alone… Mostly.
I turn from my work at the sound of footsteps.
Callos enters the smithy. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“You’re not, but it’s fine.” I pull the metal from the forge and begin hammering. Callos and Winny have been visiting me more since the museum. They seem to take turns.
“Are you still working on the sickle for Ventos?” he asks over the clang of my hammer.
I nod and keep my focus. There’s only about thirty to forty strikes I can get in before the metal is too cool to work with. Callos waits to speak again until I have returned it to the forge.
“I saw the new needle daggers you made for Winny. She was quite delighted to have replaced what was lost in the old castle.” His tone betrays nothing of his thoughts on my showing her some favoritism.
“Delighted is putting it mildly. She cracked my back in several places with her embrace.” I don’t think I’ve ever been hugged so hard. Vampir strength makes them good huggers.
“I could use a good back crack.” Callos stretches.
“Then Winny is your girl.” I turn back to my metal. I hadn’t intended for anyone else to know I’d made her something, lest they all come calling. I’d been too restless one night to sleep. So I got to work. Having a forge perpetually at my disposal—one where Mother isn’t overseeing the management of resources and timing—is turning out to be delightful. At least there’s something delightful here, right now.
“That she is,” Callos says softly, so soft I almost miss it. The tender note to his voice makes my heart ache in a way I pointedly ignore. But before I can, he asks, “Do you want to tell me what happened yet?”
At first I wasn’t keen about his presence, but we’ve found a peaceful rapport. We’re cordial, but notoverlyfriendly. The interactions have the same air of professionalism about them as when the tanner would come to speak with Mother about new designs for the hunter’s leather armor. Though, now he’s pushing his luck.
“I’ve told you that nothing happened.”
“And I do not believe that in the slightest.” Callos is too smart for his own good. The way he’s able to read so quickly and synthesize information is its own form of magic. He’s possibly the smartest person I’ve ever met. But I find I much prefer when he’s directing that focus toward topics other than me. “You and Ruvan are completely different around each other this past week.”
“We are not.” I pick up my hammer again.
“You indeed are.” Callos settles into his usual chair, notes and records sprawled around him. “You hardly occupy the same space for very long. You avoid looking each other in the eye. And you barely manage a word to each other.”
“And all that makes sense, because we’re sworn enemies.”
Callos snorts. I brandish my hammer. He rolls his eyes. “None of us have been sworn enemies since your first night here.”
I huff and begin smithing again, trying to hammer out my thoughts. “Shouldn’t you be focusing on the mysteries of the blood silver?”
He’s been determined to learn more of its history. I suspect it’s a temporary diversion from searching for the curse anchor. Given the recent failure, I can’t blame him.
“Lucky for you, I’m exceptional at multitasking.”
“Solucky.” I shake my head and use the banging of my hammer to discourage any further conversation. He shouldn’t care what’s happening between Ruvan and me. None of them should. And, in fact, our distance should make them happier.
