I’ve barely slept in days, but we’re probably going to be dead in a matter of hours, so I imagine I can put it off a little longer. Callyn is finally sound asleep, so I brush a kiss along her temple and slip out of the dusty bakery. The rain has eased off a bit, turning to a drizzle from a gray sky. It’s turned the lane into a pit of mud stretching all the way back to the forge. Jax has been hammering for an hour, and maybe that’s why I can’t sleep. I honestly have no idea what could be taking all this time. That bolt wasn’tthatbig.
Clouds block the sun, but they don’t block the heat, making for a miserable day. If the Truthbringers come, they’ll practically be able to take us unawares. My eyes scan the landscape, looking for Tycho, but I only see those two Emberish soldiers sitting sentry at the end of the lane. Now that it’s summer, the trees are lush and green, so I can’t see much beyond them, and I definitely can’t see very far into the forest. My lip curls, because they should be walking a patrol instead of just sitting there, and I’m ready to walk out and give them a piece of my mind. Justas I’m about to step away from the bakery, one of them salutes the other, then heads into the trees himself.
Good.
No. Not good. I don’t know who I’m fooling. He’s one man. I myself used to travel with two guards. I know what kind of skilled warriors will be among the Truthbringers. Tycho’s soldiers could be the best in the whole army and it won’t matter. They can’t hold off dozens of armed men backed by scravers and magic.
I hate everything about this.
On the other side of the mountain, they’d likely say I deserve this ending, that fate brought this outcome to my doorstep for plotting against the king.
Luckily I don’t believe in fate.
I sigh and make my way up the lane to the forge.
I’m forty feet away when Jax notices me. He doesn’t look up, but he goes completely still for one spare second, and then his hammer resumes the rhythmic motion. Even at this distance, tension crackles between us. Earlier, in the barn, I could tell he wanted to take a swing at me.
Good. He can try. We’ll see how he feels about my sword.
He’s ignoring me now, so I don’t break my stride. When I’m ten feet away, he makes absolutely no acknowledgment of my presence, but it’s clear he knows I’m here.
“Where is the queen?” I call over the clanging of his hammer. “I need to speak with her.”
He completely ignores me.
I don’t have time for this. I stride forward, stopping when I’m on the other side of his anvil. He stops hammering, but he still doesn’t look at me, instead turning to thrust the small piece of metal back into the flames. He pulls at the bellows, and sparks fly, smoke billowing intothe air. It’s so hot in here, I don’t know how he can stand it. Sweat blooms on my forehead immediately.
“I asked you a question,” I snap. “Where is thequeen?”
He yanks the iron out of the fire, then turns for the anvil. His movement is faster than I’m ready for, the glowing steel held out in front of him as he swings it wide.
I jerk back without meaning to, and he smirks, making me wonder if that was deliberate. But he just smacks the metal against his anvil and starts hammering again.
I don’t care if we’re outnumbered. I’m going to stab him.
No. I can’t. At least not until the weapons are done.
I inhale sharply through my teeth, but he glances up. “She’ssleeping,” he says, as if I’m an idiot for not figuring that out myself. He looks back at his task and starts swinging again.Plink- plink- plink.“So shut up.”
Ire swells to fill my chest, and I can’t imagine why Lady Karyl ever agreed to leave a note with this man. If fate exists, maybe it’s been foretold that I should shove him into the forge.
“If the queen is sleeping,” I grind out, “then where is Tycho?”
“I’m right here.”
He speaks from right behind me, and I jump a little. They’re both so different from what I remember, and it’s putting me off balance. Tycho and I have never liked each other, but in my eyes, he’s always been like a kitten swiping with its claws from the shadows beside a lion. Powerless on his own, but an adversary couldn’t strike back without risking the wrath of the bigger predator.
But now it’s like he’s grown his own set of fangs. His eyes shift past me to Jax. “Did he touch you?”
I remember what he said in the barn about breaking every bone, and I immediately bristle, ready for a fight I don’t want. But I glance atthe weeping wound on his shoulder, and my eyes narrow. Tycho is pale, his eyes shadowed with a combination of exhaustion and bruising.
“And what would you do if I did?” I say.
His expression darkens further, but Jax looks up without a break from his hammering. “He didn’t touch me,” he says flatly. “I told you before, no one wants to mess with hot iron.”
With that, he turns away from the anvil to thrust the small piece of metal into a waiting bucket of water. A bit of steam rises, and then he tosses the tiny steel onto the table.
It’s only then that I realize he’s fashioned a narrow arrowhead. Several of them are already lying on the table, waiting to be strung into arrows.
