“And regular arrows will still work,” Tycho says. “But it’ll be a lot harder to kill a scraver.”
“Fine,” I say. “Regular arrows or not— how many do we have atall?”
He looks right back at me, and the expression in his eyes tells me it’s not going to be enough. “Fewer than forty. We lost a lot in the fight last night, and I wasn’t sending Leo off without a full quiver.”
This timeIswear.
Jax ignores me and thrusts the bolt back into the fire. While it’s heating, he looks toward the lane, then does a double take. “Cal,” he says.
I turn in surprise. She’s trudging up the lane, her hair pinned in twin braids like when I first met her.
I stand automatically. “Callyn,” I say softly.
“You left,” she says, and I can’t readanythingfrom her voice, whether it’s dismay or anger or uncertainty.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I say, and I realize I sound regretful. “I didn’t want to disturb you.” I’mveryaware of Tycho and Jax at my back, and I hate that they’re hearing this conversation and very likely judging it. But I also don’t want to ruin this course of honesty that’s opened between us. I hesitate, uncertain, then say, “You told me it would be aphenomenal ideato help make weapons, so . . .”
Her eyes flick past me, to the table. “So you were,” she says softly.
“And he was only an ass for the first five minutes,” Tycho offers.
I whip around. “You are in the presence of alady—”
“A lady who’s used the word before,” Callyn says dryly. “Tell me what you’re doing. I can help.”
“Sharpening arrowheads,” says Tycho. He nods toward the table. “We have a few shafts. Alek can show you how to string the ones that are done.”
She steps close to me, and I’m gratified when her hand brushes mine, and she automatically threads her fingers between my own without saying a word. She surveys the table. “Is this all we can make?”
Jax nods. “I need the rest of the steel for the blades.” He pulls the shortened bar out of the fire, then hammers another piece off the end, then drops it in a stone bowl that he sets back in the fire.
As Callyn watches him, she puts her hand over her heart.
No, not her heart. Her pendant.
Hermother’spendant. The one made of Iishellasan steel.
I don’t know if the others notice, but I do. Callyn’s eyes meet mine, and she swallows.
She expects me to tell her to give it up— I can tell. A day ago, maybe I would have. I don’t know.
Just now, I put a hand over hers, pressing the pendant into her skin. Then I lean down and brush a kiss against her lips before letting go. “Come on,” I say, scooping up a handful of the sharpened arrowheads. “I’ll show you how to string the arrows.”
Her breath trembles a bit, and her hand doesn’t move from the pendant, but then she shakes herself and follows me.
“It’s been a while since the war,” Tycho says, “but Grey once said something about how it doesn’t take an army to defeat an army.” He pauses, reaching for one of the last arrowheads. “And the Truthbringers don’thavea whole army. Not really. The magic is going to call themhere, but it doesn’t have to be like last time. We don’t have to be waiting out in the open. Weshouldn’tbe waiting out in the open— because it’ll be too easy for the scravers to take us out from above.”
“So we should just hide in the bakery?” asks Callyn.
Tycho’s hands go still. “Yes.” He looks at Jax. “And the forge.”
“So we lie in wait,” I say. “And kill them as they come through.”
Beside me, Callyn’s breath catches, just a little, and I remember what we said aboutbattle.
Then she says, “If we’re going to lure them into the houses, where are we going to hide Sinna?” she says.
“The queen is going to send her away,” says Tycho. When Callyn’s eyes flare wide, he adds, “With Nora.”
