CHAPTER 11
JAX
I’ve hardly seen Callyn in days. The forge, as usual, has been busy, and I’ve been glad to keep my head down and work. My father has been spending more time in the workshop with me, but I’ve got nothing to say to him. He clearly has nothing to say to me either, and I can’t tell if he’s feeling guilty about what happened, or if he’s still mad about the silver I was “hiding.” Either way, our conversation is limited to noncommittal grunts and occasional requests to pass a tool. Any flares of hope have been fully extinguished after what he did. Not even an ember is left.
For the first few days, I kept my hand wrapped, because I didn’t know what to say about Lord Tycho and what he did. I’m still not entirely sure how Ifeelabout it, so I’m definitely not ready to introduce my father’s opinions to the matter. But after the healing magic, the skin left behind was fresh and new, and working in the forge pulled open calluses across my palm anyway. Nowhere near as painful as a burn, but the blistered red skin must look pretty similar, because myfather hasn’t said anything about it. If he’s surprised I’m able to work, it doesn’t show.
Good as new. Hardly.
While my father’s presence has improved the speed of what we’re able to get done, it has the disadvantage of him collecting any coins when we’re due payment. Coins I don’t see again. I’d grown used to his frequent absences, but now I’m worried he’ll be here when Lady Karyl returns for this note, and he’ll be the one to collect those coins, too.
It’s now the third day, and worry has begun to eat up my insides.
I’m finishing the final blade on the thresher when my father coughs and says, “That girl should have enlisted years ago.” He spits at the ground. “What’s she still doing here?”
I look up and see Callyn wandering down the lane, a basket over one arm. “Taking care of her sister,” I say.
“Her father was a good man.” Da pulls a piece of steel out of the forge and slaps it against his anvil.
Her father was part of an attack on the palace. But I don’t say that. It reminds me again that my father was doingsomethingfor the Truthbringers. Something I’ve taken over. So I’m not one to criticize.
“He wouldn’t like her staying here,” he continues. “A military pension would do her sister a lot more good. I suppose you wouldn’t know anything about that.”
I’m so used to his digs that I don’t waste emotion on irritation. “I suppose not.”
Cal steps into the yard. All of the snow has melted, but there’s still a chill in the air, and she’s got a cloak drawn around her shoulders. Her hair is usually tied up in a braid that she twists at the back of her head, but today it’s long and unbound, light brown curls tumbling down her back. I remember the way she seized a knife and a skillet to defend me.She’s strong and capable enough to be a soldier, but she always seems most at peace when she’s in the bakery, wrist-deep in dough.
Or maybe that’s just what I think because Cal is my only friend, and the thought of her leaving Briarlock is too much to bear.
She steps into the workshop, so I set my iron aside and grab hold of a rope to pull myself upright. “Hey, Cal.”
She waves me back. “Don’t stop working. I can’t stay long. Nora ‘accidentally’ doubled this batch of sweetcakes, so I figured I would bring some down here.” She casts a glance at my father and sets the basket on the table. Her voice cools. “Master Ellis.”
If he notices, he ignores her tone. “Callyn.” He finishes the piece he was working on, then tosses it onto the table. “Jax is working,” he says.
As if I’m the one who spends half my waking hours at the alehouse andhe’sthe one who’s been keeping the forge running.
“I can see that,” she says. “I justtoldhim to keep—”
“Cal.” The last thing I need is her picking a fight with Da. I give her a look and put a new piece of steel into the forge.
She sighs tightly.
I’m sorry, I mouth to her, and shrug.
My father unties his leather apron anyway. “I’ve got business in town.”
“I’ll bet you do,” I mutter. I jerk the steel out of the forge and slap it against the anvil.
“What did you just say to me, boy?”
I slam my hammer against the metal and don’t look up. “I said you’d better get to it,” I call over the clanging.
He grunts and turns for the door.
I keep hammering. Cal keeps standing.
After a moment, I realize that she’s not saying anything andI’mnot saying anything, and I wonder if our few days of not seeing each other is less about being busy and more about … everything else.
