I finally glance up from my work. “Thank you for the sweetcakes.”
“I should have brought some stew. You’ve been busy.”
I jerk my head toward the doorway where my father disappeared. “He’s been here every day.”
She frowns. “How’s your hand?”
“It’s fine.” I think of the moment Lord Tycho let me go. The memory of the healing—of the sudden, shocking pain, followed by honey-sweet warmth and relief—should be bitter, but it’s not. I should be afraid of the magic. I know Callyn was. I know a lot of people are. Iknowabout all the damage magic has caused.
But I keep thinking of the light in his brown eyes. His voice, soothing and low.Steady.I won’t hurt you. The way his fingers curled around my wrist, more gentle than I expected.
The way he didn’t back down from my anger. The way he didn’t retaliate, when he surely could have.
I need tostopthinking about it. I thrust the steel back into the forge.
Callyn is quiet for a moment. “Are you upset about the magic?”
I’m not. I probably should be, but I’mnot. He was right. I wouldn’t have been able to work for months. Just the memory of the pain is enough to make me break into a cold sweat. Despite everything I said to him, I’m grateful.
But admitting that feels like a betrayal to my best friend.
I keep my eyes on the iron of my anvil. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
I consider what Alek said about the queen, how the king’s magic coerced her into marriage. I consider all the rumors I’ve heard. I consider what happened to Callyn’s father.
Her father was a good man, Da said. Was he? Does Da regret not being a part of the Uprising?
For a flicker of time, I realign everything I know of my father: the drinking, the despondency. The irritation in his tone every time he addresses me. For the first time, I wonder if it’s about more than just a disappointment for a son and a monotonous future forging tools. I wonder if he wishes he’d been a part of what happened.
I flex my hand. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen magic with my own eyes. I’ve heard Callyn’s descriptions of the fire that went blazing through the halls of the Crystal Palace to stop the attack. I know about what happened to her mother on the battlefields of Emberfall.
Those stories are hard to reconcile with a young man who’d see my injury and take it upon himself to heal it.
Callyn speaks into my silence. “Did you know anyone other than the king could do something like that?”
“Well—no.”
“Why would we not know? Who else can do that?” She pauses. “Doesn’t that worry you?”
In truth, I think it’s pretty spectacular. It’s part of the reason I feel so conflicted about what I said to him. Lord Tycho didn’t have to help me at all.
Cal shifts closer. “I keep thinking about my mother. About Da. That kind of magic killed them both.” She’s absolutely silent for a moment. “Now … anyone could have it. Who else do you think the king has loaned his magic to?”
“I have no idea,” I say.
“He could havekilledyou, Jax. He could have burned down the bakery. He could have—”
“He healed me.” I finally look up at her. “That’s all, Cal. He healed me.” I hold up my hand. “I’m fine. You’re fine. Nora is fine.” I pause, then grit my teeth. “If you want to panic about anything, you should worry about all that silver. We’re lucky he didn’t demand answers.”
She swallows. Her cheeks are flushed.
I sigh. “We should both have enough silver by tonight anyway,” I say roughly. “Lady Karyl is due back. We can pay part of what we owe.”
“Have you given any more thought to forging a new seal?” she says. “So we can see what’s on these letters?”
I swallow and cast my eyes at the door. “I’ve thought about it.”
I’ve sketched it out, too, in a small scrap of parchment I’ve kept folded into a tiny ball under my mattress. Forging the silver stars will be the hardest part. They’re very tiny, very detailed. I can’t work on something like that while my father is here. Such intricate work would likely take me a few tries.
