With that, he slips away into the night.
If Malak ever asks, Kalith will deny any knowledge of what happened.
“Gladly,” the ruby-haired Blacksmith says as his rope cuts across my throat.
Chapter 29
My eyes are watering so badly that I can’t see properly.
The ruby-haired Blacksmith stands right where I can’t punch him without turning in such a way that I’ll cause the rope to slice through my neck.
Just as the first drop of blood slides down my throat, Braddock shouts. “That human is Lord Ironmeld’s property!”
I blink hard, trying to clear my vision.
Braddock now stands near Petra and Thoren, his hand raised toward me.
“Malak’s property,” he repeats, pointing at me.
“Fuck.” The ruby-haired Blacksmith gives an unhappy snarl before his metal rope whips away from my neck.
The other Blacksmith glowers nearby. “They could be lying.”
“Can’t risk it,” the first one mutters.
Both men seem to make a decision at the same time, backing away toward the doorway while the ruby-haired man continues to mutter beneath his breath, “Fucking Kalith nearly got us killed.”
I rise back to my feet as they disappear into the darkness beyond the infirmary doors.
As relieved as I am, I’m a little stunned. And worried about why they backed off so quickly.
I turn to Braddock, who stumbles back to the edge of his bed.
“You look surprised, Boy,” he says gruffly.
“I am,” I say into the silence while the healers and patients all stare at me, even the ones who look like they can barely lift their heads off their beds. “I’m surprised you put yourself in harm’s way to help us. Even more surprised that they abandoned the kill so quickly.”
“Don’t you know?” Braddock scoffs, ramming a finger against the largest scar across his chest. “Only Malak gets to damage his property.”
I guess this explains why Braddock was scrutinizing us so closely, since his words imply that he, too, belongs to House Ironmeld.
He saved us from a hard fight. I’m grateful for that. But we’ll have to be careful what we say around him.
If Malak wants Thoren and me to spy on Blacksmiths, who knows what Malak might force other humans to do?
Petra is nestled into Thoren’s side, but one of her arms is clutched around her ribs. I didn’t hear her bones break when Kalith shoved her, but I’m sure she’s badly bruised. Not as badly, though, as she would have been if Kalith had kicked her.
Sybil peels herself off the wall and steps forward, softly clapping her hands. “Back to work.”
At her command, the tension breaks.
I return to my brother, the healers get back to work, and the sounds resume around us.
Petra’s eyes are wide when I reach her. “Nobody fights Blacksmiths.”
“We do,” Thoren says.
It’s a dangerous statement to make, but I can’t exactly refute it after what we did.
