Wherever Da is, he’s lucky. If he were here right now, I’d knock him into the forge.
The thought feels hollow. I can’t knock him anywhere. That’s why I’ve got a bruise on my jaw and an ache in my belly from where he kicked me. I might be a lot of things, butfastdoesn’t make the list. It’s too easy to get me off my feet.
Off myfoot.
The worst part is that I had put aside a little bit of silver for Callyn. She’s too proud to ask for it, but I know how much she’s struggled since she discovered her father was giving away their silver to help fund the attack on the king. I knew the tax collectors would be around eventually. It’s only ten silvers that I stashed beneath my mattress, but it would have helped her a little. Cal would’ve taken it if it meant keeping Nora safe.
Now the tiny pouch of coins is going to have to help me save the forge—and it’s nowhere near enough.
She always brings me bread and sweetcakes when the bakery has them left over—which is often. Surely I can spare five.
I don’t know why I think that’ll make a difference for either of us. We’re both going to be on the streets in a matter of weeks.
My chest tightens, and then my throat. I’m used to my eyes burning from the heat of the forge, but this is different. I slam the hammer and shake off the emotion.
When I was a boy, Da used to talk about how I’d be able to turn around our misfortune when I became a soldier in the Queen’s Army.He was teaching me to hammer shields and swords as soon as I was old enough to pull steel from the fire. “An armory always needs a talented metalsmith,” he’d say, beaming with pride at my evolving skill. “Mounted soldiers always need a farrier.”
Then a wagon fell on my leg, crushing my ankle and foot. My entire future, burned out of existence. The village physician said I was lucky to survive.
Ah, yes. I feel so verylucky.
“Boy!” A woman clears her throat from behind me, her tone impatient. “I’m looking for Ellis the blacksmith.”
My father. I grit my teeth and hope this isn’t someone else we owe money to. “He’s not here.”
“And when will he return?”
The spade I’m fashioning has cooled, so I pull it off the anvil and thrust it back into the forge, then drag a sleeve across my forehead and turn. The middle-aged woman standing under the archway is unfamiliar, most notably because she’s wearing belted silk robes in red and purple, and the hem is wet from the slush—meaning she’s not from Briarlock. Anyone here would have the sense to wear trousers and boots, or to tie up their skirts.
But judging by the jeweled rings on her fingers and the wide chain of gold hanging from her neck, she’s also clearly wealthy. I bite back the sour tone in my voice. “I don’t know. But I can make you anything you need from the forge.” I pause. “My lady.”
She gives me a disdainful up-and-down glance, and I realize she has two different-colored eyes: one blue and one brown. I see the moment her gaze stops at the bottom of my leg. I have a small padded stool that I use to keep my balance when I need to stand, and it serves my purposes well—until people stare at it.
We need silver, so I can’t let my temper get the best of me. I tightly add, “Does your carriage need mending? Or did your horse slip a—”
“I don’t need any metalwork. I’m looking for Ellis. The blacksmith.”
“Oh.” I jerk the glowing steel back out of the fire with my tongs and hold it against the anvil. “Then you’re welcome to wait.” I swing my hammer hard, and I have the privilege of seeing her flinch.
“Boy. Boy!” She’s shouting now.
I don’t stop swinging. “What?” I yell over the clanging.
“I need to know when he will return!”
Hopefully never. “You can ask at the tavern.” I glance past her without missing a swing. The morning sun shines through the trees, but I feel as though I’ve been awake for a week.
“I asked at the tavern,” she says. “He hasn’t been seen.”
If anything would make my hammer go still, that does it. I turn and look at her. “Then I truly have no idea where he could be. You could try the gaming tables. Or the brothel.”
“So you don’t know when he’s expected back?”
“No.” I thrust the spade back into the forge. “I’m not my father’s keeper.” Her lips purse, so again I add, “My lady.”
She studies me for a moment. “Do you know who I am?”
Something in the way she asks makes me hesitate. I look at her more carefully. She’s not much older than Da, likely in her forties, with gray-threaded braids piled in an intricate pattern on top of her head. She’s easily as tall as I am, and willowy, with intense eyes and a stern mouth that looks like it’s never smiled.
