I was still the blade. And the blade yet had work to do.
I sat a while longer, watching the fire bleed its light across the stone, letting the decision settle deeper into my bones. There was no ceremony to it or sudden sense of absolution. Just a breath, and the steady thrum of a doubtless heart beneath it. Just the certainty that this was the path I would walk, not because it had been forced upon me, but because at last, I could see the way of it – and knew the path would not unfold unless I made it so.
Whatever kindness I’d found here in Mathias – in his words in this broken temple, in his acts of service and trust, in his arms in the water – it could not change the hunger gathering just beyond the marshes and the hills, or the shadow moving beneath my mother’s banner. They would come, and when they did, it would not be mercy that marched with them. It would be fire. And if I did nothing, then the blood they would spill would stain my hands as well. So I could not and would not stay idle. Not even for a town that would rather see me hang than accept my help.
Let them spit at my name. Let them count their dead and trace the blood back to my hands – they would not be wrong. But they would still be breathing when the ash settled.
I shifted, drawing the cloak tighter around my shoulders, though it had little to do with the cold. “I’m going back,” I said, not lifting my eyes from the fire.
Maeve’s head lifted, and her usually so busy hands stilled at her sides. Across from me, Mathias leaned forward just slightly, one forearm resting on his knee, the firelight catching along the ridge of his cheek.
“I’m going back to Irongate.”
Mathias leaned forward, the motion slow, deliberate, as though weighing my words. His hands clasped loosely between his knees, but there was tension in his shoulders, as if he was weighing his own words, too, before he let them fall from his lips.
“To do what?” he finally asked.
With a certainty that grew with every word I spoke, I looked up at him, resolved. “To end this.”
Maeve’s spoon slowed, then stilled, her fingers tightening around the handle before she set it aside with a care that felt more deliberate than gentle. She turned her head toward me, eyes narrowing slightly, as if she were bracing for the answer she already suspected was coming.
“And how do you plan to do that?”
I took a deep breath, and though I did not say what I meant outright, I knew the meaning was not lost on her. “However I have to.”
Running his hand over his face, Mathias let out a long sigh, as if something in him had settled – like a line he’d been tracing had finally come to a head. “You mean to kill her.”
“If I must.” I said calmly, and I didn’t allow the pretence of a different intent into my voice. I knew he didn’t expect me to, but I heard Maeve take a sharp breath through her teeth when I let thewords fall off my tongue.
Perhaps she had forgotten who I was in the long days we had spent together – when she nursed my wounds, tended my bruises, and later unfolded my life by giving me the gift, or the curse, of the truth that ran in my blood. Perhaps she had hoped that the blood she washed from my forehead might cleanse a lifetime of violence from me. And it could be that the quiet hours in this damp, wind-worn temple had softened my heart enough to dull its craving for outright revenge – but I was the Unbroken Blade, and blades always thirsted for blood.
I went to reach for her hand, as if to offer some comfort, but instead squeezed my fingers into a tight fist and placed them back on my knee. I closed my eyes for a moment, my thoughts still running wild and haphazard. When I opened them, they were bent firmly to my purpose.
“I believe there is still time,” I said then. Yes, there was time, but I didn’t know how long. All I knew for certain was that it was growing thin. “The army camped at Harbour’s Bane hasn’t yet begun to march.”
Maeve’s head angled slightly, a flicker of thought passing behind her eyes, though whatever conclusion she reached, she held it close. She looked over at Mathias, and something passed between them, though whatever it was, it was lost to me. But it was not lost to Mathias, who huffed gently and reached out to touch his aunt’s shoulder, briefly, but long enough to settle whatever it was that stirred in her.
“You’re sure?” he asked, returning his eyes to mine. His head tilted slightly—the way it did when he listened intently—a gesture I suddenly realised had become so familiar to me that I found myself expecting it. I brushed a stray fleck of ash from my cloak and cleared my throat with two quick coughs.
“If they’d begun to march, we’d know.” I gestured vaguely towards the town and beyond, where the Twin Cities lay. “There are always signs when that many boots start to move. Villages that empty without reason. Inns packed before sundown, but no one touching their cups.Traders changing their routes. Crossings watched by strangers with too much coin and too many questions. Fields plundered with none of the crops going to the farmers. Even this far north, the ground shifts well before the march even begins. No, if the order had gone out, we would’ve heard it in the rumblings of preparations.”
“There’s only so much you can do to hide a horde that size, and it’s harder still without a clear chain of command. I assume my Captain will have taken over by now, but it appears he hasn’t sent them marching yet.” I glanced at Mathias, but the mention of my old friend gave him no pause. I held it gently on my heart a moment, and then, lightly, released it. “That, I believe, gives us an advantage, of sorts. Benni and I have served together since we were children. Long before rank or banners. We’ve led campaigns side by side for a decade; we’ve been bitten by the same steel and bled on the same ground. I know him. I know his ways.”
I hesitated for a moment and dragged a breath into my lungs through sheer force of will. “And I know that if it were him who was missing, I wouldn’t move until I knew for certain where he was. I’d search every town, every village, beat up every drunk in a tavern for information and pull every breath out of every travelling merchant before I gave the order to march.” My fingers curled into the fabric at my knees. “That’s what I’d do. I know he’d do the same for me.”
“Your armies might not be marching yet,” Maeve finally said, and I could hear the dread tremble underneath her forced composure. “But what of the Queen?”
“She always sends the birds first,” I said, flexing my fingers. “Fast things – they cover leagues in a day. They don’t drift like other birds; they move with purpose, like they already know where you are.” I looked up through the broken arch, where the sky cut narrow and high. “But I haven’t seen a single one. Not once.”
Across the fire, Mathias reached for another branch and laid it intothe coals, the bark catching with a soft crack. I knew he remembered those early days when I’d asked to be taken to the cliffs and the sea, or for him to clear the half-collapsed roof so I could see the stars. He had known what I had really wanted – that it wasn’t about the stars at all, but about what flew beneath them, what might had been watching from above. And as he looked up, through the sparks from the newly stoked fire, I could almost see a wry smile pulling at the sides of his otherwise tight lips.
“Not once.” I repeated and gave a stern look to Mathias, who, despite the gravity of our situation, still managed to find humour in my previous, fruitless search for escape, for allies, for signs. But as I considered how far removed I now was from hoping for such signs, I too felt a tug at the corners of my mouth. I had to run my hand over them to force them down.
“What I’m saying is that she would have sent someone.” I brushed a strand of damp hair back from my face. “Not just birds – riders, spies, fire at our backs. There’s been nothing. Which means she either doesn’t know I am missing or doesn’t think I matter enough to find.” I looked across at Mathias. “Either way, it buys us time.”
Mathias gave a slight nod, jaw tightening as he followed the thought. “And if the Captain hasn’t moved the troops, he’s still looking.” He paused a moment, calculating. “He’ll drag every tavern and crossroad from Harbour’s Bane to the Last Sea before he marches blind.”
“Exactly.” I shifted forward, resting my forearms on my knees. “He’s stalling. She’s unaware or indifferent. That’s the gap. It’ll close soon, but for now, it’s there.”
