Along the way, two more women join us. One carries a bucket of what I assume is purified water and the other brings a pile of cloths, on top of which are folded garments that I hope are clean clothes.
Finally, we reach a doorway carved out of rock with a wooden door and a humbly furnished room beyond it. It contains a bed, three chairs, and a little table beside the bed, along with another small table near the wall. There appears to be an adjoining room on the far side that could be a bathroom, but I won’t know for sure until I have the energy to explore it.
My senses may be dull, but I recognize how enclosed we are now, with no way out except the long hallway behind us, which I’m certain will be guarded by warrior fae.
A small group of five men is busy within the room, making the bed with clean-looking sheets, wiping down the surfaces, and placing food and water onto the table—what appears to be a few bread rolls and some fruit.
When the women enter, the men quickly finish up, each of them bowing to Gliss before they disappear down the hallway.
The fae carrying the stretcher place it on the floor at the base of the bed while those bringing the bucket and cloths leave them on the bedside table.
Gliss raises her voice at all of them. “Two of you will guard the hall at the far end. Everyone else will leave.”
The women don’t dawdle and within seconds, they’ve closed the door behind them.
I place my toolbox on the bed beside me before I slide onto it, mumbling about getting blood on the sheets.
“The men will bring clean sheets,” she replies, filling a glass of water and handing it to me to drink. “This is sugar water. Our warriors drink it before and after battle. It hydrates your body and boosts your energy.”
“Your men clean up after you?” I squint up at her as I take the glass. In human society, women tend to do the household tasks.
“Fae men are born with little to no power. In our culture, fae women rule over men.”
She takes the glass from me once I’ve swiftly drunk its contents.Sugar wateris an apt description. Its sweetness lingers on my tongue.
“In Blacksmith culture, men marry into their wives’ families,” I say, slumping back onto the bed. “My mother was Silverspun. My father was Copperbound. He took her name and joined her family.”
I’m rambling now and I have no idea why I told Gliss any of that. My head is increasingly woozy.
She worries at her lip. “Asha, I need you to focus. You have to remove your armor on your own. I’ll be able to heal you from a distance, but I can’t risk touching you in the meantime.”
My movements are labored as I reach for the plates across my chest and begin unstrapping them.
When I get to my tunic’s lapel at my left shoulder, I pause, my hands hovering.
Gliss leans forward. “What is that?”
I peer down at the mangled silver pin that was concealed behind the material until now.
“It was my grandmother’s,” I whisper.
The human woman called Mother Solas gave this pin to me. She and her granddaughter, Rachel, are the last of the human royal line in the city I left behind.
Rachel called me ‘Lady Silverspun’ and treated me with rare kindness. Mother Solas, too, viewed me without hatred. She told me that the pin was the last object my grandmother ever forged. She said my grandmother poured all of her goodness and heart into this trinket.
Apparently, she hoped that the next generation of Blacksmiths would rise up against Malak and that her pin would contain enough power to help them.
It wasn’t to be. Her own daughter killed her. Such was my mother’s loyalty to Malak.
The pin had been shaped into a crescent moon, which was the emblem associated with the Silverspuns. Now it’s misshapen and partially melted, the crescent turned in on itself in places and spread outward in others so that it resembles nothing more than a rope of twisted metal the length of my thumb.
Whatever light was contained in this pin, it clearly couldn’t compete with the immense darkness in the medallions that surged during the forge-fire.
My voice slurs with fatigue as I continue. “This pin is harmless.”
I remove it with trembling hands and place it on the bedside table, slipping it between the bucket and the pile of cloths.
Finally, I finish removing all of my armor, along with the ripped tunic underneath. I tug on the sheet and pull it over my nakedness where the injuries don’t extend.
