His brown eyes flick to the floor, scattered with silver, and then back up to meet mine. “Is that so?” he says.
“Yes.” I nod like a fool—then shake my head when I realize what I’m agreeing to. “I mean—no. They’re not the best. You startled us. We were just tallying the day’s take.”
“Clouds above!” crows Nora. “Look at all that silver! We made that much today? I thought we only sold a few loaves this morning.”
“Some was left from yesterday.” I drop to a knee to gather the coins. My cheeks feel like they’re on fire. I need to calm down. “I’m not too sure how much.”
Several coins have fallen near Lord Tycho’s boots, and he stoops to pick them up. I hold my breath as he glances at the silver, as if he could possibly know where they came from. But he straightens, then extends a hand.
For an instant, I don’t move, as if I could absolve us both of guilt by refusing to touch them.
“Here,” he says. “They’re yours.”
I quickly swipe them from his palm. “Ah … thank you.” I slip the coins into a pocket of my apron.
Then I’m not sure what to say.
I need todosomething. Offer him something. Ask him something. My mouth is as dry as a sack of flour. Of all the people who could walk into the bakery just now, he’s the most terrifying. Lord Alek might have threatened Jax, but Lord Tycho could send us straight to the gallows.
He glances between me and Jax, who’s leaning heavily against my work table, his injured hand clutched against his belly. His eyes narrow slightly. “I feel as though I’ve interrupted again.”
Jax tries to straighten. “No, my lord.” His tone is low and uncertain, undercut by pain. “We’re surprised to see you.”
“I’ve been sent back to Emberfall,” he says. “I stopped here in Briarlock to see if Lord Alek had remained.”
At least this I can answer honestly. My heart keeps pounding. “I haven’t seen him, my lord. Not since the day you both came looking for a blacksmith.”
Jax is silent for a moment, but he adds, “We don’t often see the nobility here.”
Lord Tycho gives him a longer look. “What happened to your arm?”
Jax clutches his hand more tightly against his body, but it must hurt, because a tiny gasp escapes his lips. “A burn from the forge.” He draws a breath through his teeth and glances at me. “Cal was about to tend it for me.”
“Yes!” I say, picking up the thread that Jax has offered. “Perhaps Nora could wrap up anything from the bakery for you, my lord. I can take Jax into the storeroom—”
“A bad burn?” Lord Tycho takes a step closer. “May I see?”
“It’sdisgusting,” says Nora, and I pinch her on the arm.
“Itis!” she cries.
Lord Tycho glances at her. “I can handle disgusting.” He looks back at Jax. “A burned hand won’t be the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”
Jax stares back at him, and there’s a defiance in his gaze that usually means he’s going to get himself in trouble. A lock of hair has come loose from the knot at the back of his neck to fall across his face, and his eyes seem to have darkened a shade. But he swallows, then extends his hand.
It’s clean now, from the water, and it looks even worse. There’s no soot, but the burn stretches across his palm, all the way down into the muscle. The skin smells sickly sweet, and his fingertips are blistered. Two of his fingers are faintly purple now.
I don’t know how he’s not sitting here sobbing over it. I want to sob and I’m onlylookingat it.
“Who did this to you?” Lord Tycho says, and his voice has gone very quiet.
“It was an accident.” Jax hesitates. “I grabbed hold of the forge.”
The lord’s eyes flick up. “I’ve never known a blacksmith to grab hold of a forge.”
There’s something alarming in the way he says that. Like he knows there’s more that we’re not saying. My eyes flick to his weapons again, to the royal insignia over his heart.
I glance at Jax. I can’t help it. I don’t know if Alek reallyisbehindthis, or if his father was just as cruel as he always is, but I know Jax isn’t going to say a word about either.
