He does it now. “To the bakery, then,” he says sharply. “We’ll make a plan.”
“No,” I say, and even my voice is exhausted. “The barn.”
His eyebrows go up, and I add, “Nakiis.”
CHAPTER 36
JAX
An hour ago, Tycho had so much energy radiating from his form it was like standing beside a bolt of lightning. Now, he seems so drained that it’s like walking beside the dying embers of a campfire. I know he’s exhausted and hungry— we all are— but I wonder if it’s more. I can tell he’s worried about Nakiis, and I am, too. None of us have heard a word from Nakiis or Igaa since the battle began.
But as we walk down the lane from the forge, the king’s soldiers are following orders, pulling arrows and throwing knives from the fallen scravers. I don’t want an empty quiver, so I pause to pull a few for myself. We have so few with Iishellasan steel; they might as well be forged in silver.
“I’ll catch up,” I call to Tycho.
I’m startled when the king glances back and takes note of what I’m doing. “Ward,” he calls to one of the men. “Hand over the arrows you’ve gathered.”
I inhale to say it’s fine, that I don’t want to interfere, but I alwaysforget that soldiers are used to following orders, and the man offers a handful of arrows before I can say a word.
I take them and thrust them into my quiver. “Ah . . . thanks,” I say.
He gives me a sharp nod. “Yes, my lord.”
“No, I’m not—”
But Ward has already moved away, onto his next task, dragging a body into the trees.
A flush crawls up my neck before I can stop it. Bemused, I stride down the lane to follow Tycho and the others. In the absence of the scraver’s magic, the heat has swelled in the air again, bringing humidity back with it. All the snow already melted, leaving the lane a bit of a muddy mess, too. I’m glad for the thick tread on these boots, because I don’t slip at all.
And with that, I’m struck by the fact that a year ago, I would’ve been slowly hitching my way down this same lane, praying my crutches didn’t go skidding out from underneath me. I would’ve been avoiding my father’s wrath and probably hiding in Callyn’s bakery, wishing for my life to be different— all the while thinking nothing would ever change, and I’d spend my life here, bitter and alone.
Instead, everything changed, from the moment Lady Karyl showed up with that note. Or maybe it was the moment Lord Tycho walked into the bakery.
Was that fate, as they believe on the other side of the mountain? Or was it me?
Or was it a little bit of both?
The others have reached the barn, only pushing the doors open enough to slip through. A cool breeze snakes through the trees, making the leaves rustle, and I snatch two arrows from my quiver without thinking about it.
Lord Alek was the last one to head into the barn, and my sudden motion must catch his attention, because he stops and looks back, then scans the sky overhead, his eyes searching the trees just like mine.
But there’s no screech in the air, no winged creatures. No wind anymore either.
He looks back at me, and I wait for him to make a snide remark about wasting time. But he doesn’t. He just waits by the door.
Is he waiting for me? I shove the arrows back in my quiver and close the distance between us.
Like the rest of us, he took some damage during the fight with the scravers. One sleeve is torn, his arm dark with blood all the way down to his wrist, though he doesn’t seem to be favoring it. Another wound at his waist darkens the tunic under his armor, though his trousers are dark, so I can’t tell how much it bled. He’s upright and glaring, so it can’t be too bad.
When I reach the barn, I completely ignore him, moving to push past him without saying a word.
Alek reaches out to grab my arm. “Jax.”
I whirl and shove him. He stumbles back, his eyes flaring wide in surprise.
Months ago, I wouldn’t have dared. I probably shouldn’t dare right now. He’s the head of one of the Royal Houses. Despite everything I’ve done and everywhere I’ve gone, I’m still just a blacksmith.
But for the first time, I don’t care.
