Wandering to the side wall, Rodric assessed the displayed knives. Picking up one at random, he turned it, inspecting the construction. It was balanced—a smooth, sharp edge. Impressive quality from a village smith. Returning it to its place, he moved to the back wall’s more unusual offerings. A particular hilt caught his eye, made of black stone. Lifting it, he found that the light seemed to disappear into the depth of black, as if swallowed into a moonless night. Something about it was familiar, but his memory refused to elaborate. Instinctively, he angled it toward the brightest area of the room, producing a barely discernible purple gleam to the stone.
“I didn’t know amorite stone could be shaped into a blade handle,” Rodric said.
“Must be a Zamyran secret. I’ve never seen one, just heard stories.” Celina ran a finger over the hilt in a caress.
It pleased him greatly that she wasn’t wary of weapons and had an eye for quality.
“You select the highest quality weapon in the shop, I approve,” the smith said as he appeared next to them. “Amorite doesn’t bond with just any metal. The blade is crafted out of specially mined Rokan ore and balanced to the weight of the hilt. The price isn’t what one would consider practical, but it’s rumored never to break. Designed by a Zamyran friend a few towns across the border.”
“It’s an ancient weapon, no longer in favor with the common warriors or hunters because of the extra care needed to maintain it. Most have forgotten, but it was once the stone of the original royal house, and very prevalent among nobles and warriors.” Celina tested the tip of the blade on her finger before glancing at Rodric, a markedly coy look in her eye as she met his gaze. “Some myths and legends are worth the extra work to keep them alive, though. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Soul-bonds are rare, Rodric.Her statement from this morning echoed in his mind.
A booming laugh came from the smith. “I like her, she’s a keeper. You should take the blade too.”
Shaking his head, Rodric tilted Celina’s head back and gave her a proprietary kiss, the aggressive hunter inside him still awake and alert from their earlier chase. When he pulled back, the smith was eyeing them with a knowing smile. Flipping the blade, Rodric offered it to him hilt first. “I agree with the lady.”
“A wise man.” Nodding, the smith took it and moved across the room to his record book, laughing lightly.
“You know, it matches my dagger.” Celina’s fingers brushed the royal hilt at her side.
“Mmm. Does it now?” He kissed her again, a sensuous dance of lips and tongue that heated his blood to match the blasting fire of the nearby furnace. “I guess I’ll be keeping you both then.”
“You better.” Smiling impishly, she winked and walked toward the front of the shop, leaving him to complete his purchase.
The smith smiled at him as he approached. “She’s a fiery one. My Josephina was the same. Always raring to fight, sometimes me if no one else was available. Bless her soul.”
Loving and losing someone was bad enough. Losing Celina? He couldn’t fathom the pain that would bring. “Sorry for your loss.”
The man nodded, tapping his chest. “Leaves a hole, when part of your soul dies. Most don’t know the truth of that, but I think you two just might.” He raised an eyebrow slightly, making Rodric still at the veiled reference.
Bonds between mates were not magic precisely, but soul-bonds fell into the category that most people avoided discussing except in hushed whispers or in mythic stories. The smith eyed him with an unsettlingly direct, blunt gaze.
“I noticed you don’t have joining bracelets.”
Rodric shifted uncomfortably at the intensity of the man’s penetrating remarks. “Not yet, no.”
Pulling out a beautifully etched box from a locked cabinet, the man set it on the counter and gestured for Rodric to open it. Inside, wrapped in soft cloth, were two meticulously crafted bracelets. They were heirloom quality, stones shining as if they were kept polished. The braids were distinct, not frayed from age or poor care. These were different from the common variety, which were generally made of cheaper bindings that needed to be replaced over time, and nice but not precious stones or gems.
In contrast, these were made with the finest edge of amorite, providing the shape of the bracelet, instead of gold, silver, or pewter. The smaller bracelet had an amethyst stone in the center, with pale honey threads braided as tying bands. Hints of amorite glinted beneath the braids. It wasn’t as delicate as the bracelets typically worn by highborn nobles, having a thicker, heavier feel in his hand. The honey braid sparked something deep inside him, pulling his mind inward to view the hint of Celina’s golden magic curled protectively around the icy mist at his core.
“Why would you offer me these?”
The smith’s eyes had turned a sorrowful hue, their serious depths focused on the gold and amethyst bracelet in Rodric’s hand. They were obviously a family treasure, and if he had to guess, the man’s own bracelets with his Josephina.
“It was her wish. That they be passed on, not left to gather dust or sold uncaringly. She made me promise and swore I would know who they belonged with.” He laid a finger on the stone, caressing it with a ritual sincerity. “I think they belong with the two of you.” Breaking out of his reverie, the man’s eyes flicked to Celina, before meeting Rodric’s again.
Picking up the larger bracelet, he offered it for Rodric’s inspection. The slightly thicker amorite band supported deep violet braids, a subtle complement to its mate. A finely beveled piece of amorite sat center, gleaming an even more noticeable purple than the hilt of the dagger due to the colored braids on either side.
“These are Zamyran. Your Josephina…” Rodric took a leap, relying on the man’s forthright nature. “You had a soul-bond with her.” It was a statement, and yet, a question. The two opposing concepts refused to mesh in his mind—Zamyra was one of the most violent and oppressive realms.
The man’s left eye twitched in what might have been a wink. “Zamyra wasn’t always the way it is now. Ask your lady sometime, I believe she probably knows the legends and appreciates the complexity of the realm’s history.”
Meeting the smith’s gaze, Rodric nodded. “We’d be honored to give them new life.”
With an almost relieved sigh, the man re-wrapped the bracelets in the soft cloth and closed the box, setting it next to the Zamyran blade. “Now I can meet my Josephina again, having completed her last request. Thank you.”
“Rodric and Celina. You should at least know the names of the couple you’re entrusting this precious box to.”
