I go very still.
“No!” Tycho says sharply. “I’m not sitting here saying I pity you. Silver hell, Jax.” He makes a disgusted noise. “I should likely leave you in peace.”
“Youweregoing to leave me in peace. I offered a lesson.”
That makes him smile, but only for a moment. His eyes are on the forge, and his expression is serious, firelight bouncing off his cheeks. “I wasn’t born to privilege,” he says slowly. “My father was a drunk who lost everything over a game of cards. My family suffered. Grey—Grey has been like a brother to me. A mentor. A friend. He taught me how to defend myself when …” He hesitates. “When I needed to know how.And I love Lia Mara like a sister. My friends in the palace are the only family I know, but—” He swears and breaks off. “Forget it. I’m not even sure what I’m hoping to say.”
I take my tongs and shove at the coals in the forge, then hold them his way. “Here,” I say quietly. “Take one of those ingots of iron and bury it in the fire.”
He does as I say, but I grab his wrist before he pulls the tongs out, leaving the bar there. “Don’t let it go. We need to watch the color.”
His wrist goes tense under my hand, which takes me by surprise. But he keeps hold of the tongs, and after a moment, he relaxes. I should probably let go of him.
But I don’t. I chance a glance up.
Instead of looking at the forge, he’s looking at me. This isn’t just militaristic camaraderie.
Ah, this memory isdefinitelygoing to hurt.
“I do have duties,” he says. “Responsibilities. Reasons for being here. But I’ve spent so much time as a soldier, so much time at court. I’ve done … so many things.” He hesitates, flexing his hand, making the firelight glint dully on his rings. “I have a bit of magic, and people fear it. I have a bit of silver, and people think I’m a spoiled noble. That day I healed your hand … I thought you and Callyn were up to something. I didn’t … I didn’t realize that I’d grown so far from who I once was. That I would be seen as the type of person who’d drag a blacksmith into the woods to beat him senseless over a few honestly spoken words.” He looks at me. “I didn’t realize that I almost forgot what it was like to just be … Tycho.”
My breath catches. I’m not sure what to say. I’m not sure what Iwantto say.
Either way, I don’t get the chance, because Lord Alek chooses that exact moment to ride up the lane.
CHAPTER 17
TYCHO
I’m on my feet so quickly that I distantly register Jax’s tongs rattling to the floor. My hand finds my sword, but I don’t draw. Not yet.
Knowing Alek, it’ll come to that, especially since he’s not alone. Two guards ride behind, every bit as armed as I am.
IknewI sensed someone in the woods. I knew it, and I ignored it. All I carry is a letter from Rhen to Grey about the Royal Challenge, but for Alek, that would be enough. He’ll steal what I have, just for a chance to prove that I shouldn’t have this role. Just for a chance to take an easy shot at the royal family.
My eyes skip to Mercy. I could be on her back and galloping away in seconds, but they’d give chase. She’s fast, but we’ve been riding hard forweeks, and they look fresh and alert. They’d probably take her down.
If I stand and fight, they’ll probably takemedown. I finished yesterday in a bloody battle with a scraver, and I never slept last night. My armor is damaged, held together by a few scraps of leather. And Alek has many allies among the Royal Houses, while I have few. If I hurt him, the political ramifications could be immense.
I remember Grey’s voice in the barn.He’d be a fool to ambush you.
I guess we’ll see in a moment.
“Tycho!” Alek says brightly, though his blue eyes spark with hostility. “You’ve found a role better suited for one of your station. What luck.”
“What are you doing here?” I demand.
“We’ve already done this once.” He dismounts from his horse. “I do not answer to you.” Alek steps closer to me, and his eyes flick across my form, identifying every weakness, I’m sure. I just sat here telling Jax that I long to remember what it was like to just be Tycho, but now I need every ounce of authority my role can carry. I don’t have the respect of every Royal House, but Alek is the only one to treat me as lesser soopenly. It’s jarring, and somehow it steals a shred of my confidence every single time.
Maybe Alek can sense that, because he steps even closer. “Why is the King’s Courier lingering in a mud pit near the border?”
I set my jaw. “Why areyou?”
“My business takes me all over Syhl Shallow. Yours, however, does not.” He reaches out a hand as if to touch the breastplate of my armor. “Does the king know about your little diversions from duty?”
I smack his hand away. “You have no business here, Alek.”
“Run along, Tycho, before you get hurt. Curl up in the palace with your master.” His voice lowers, and he takes a step closer. “I’m sure he’s missing his whipping boy.”
