“Petra?” The furrow in Thoren’s brow clears.
“She won’t forgive me if you die on my watch.”
Cohen is turning back in our direction.
I softly clear my throat, at which Nero bellows into Thoren’s face. “Hurry up, you useless scum!”
We head back to our positions and Thoren slows down after that.
Halfway through the day, Nero stops us to bring in water and we’re allowed to use the bathroom at the back of the room.
Then we’re back to work.
By the time the first bell of the evening rings, my arms are aching.
Thoren and I have worked long days before, spent hours chopping wood or forging metal in the little forge beside our cabin, so our exhaustion isn’t as bad as it would have been otherwise.
Thoren and I trudge back to the castle, veer around it to the orchard, and wait for the guards to allow us inside.
Jadiel scowls at us before he presses the stone that opens the door.
Once inside, we drink our fill from the fountain and devour several apples.
When we reach the clearing, Malak is standing behind his anvil. A bowl of crimson coal glows beside him. He’s gently tapping away at a tiny piece of black metal with a much smaller chisel than the ones we used all day.
Skirra isn’t muzzled, but he’s chained to the side of the anvil. He looks well-rested and unharmed and I hope he was allowed to roam around the orchard while we were away, only chained up now that we’ve returned.
The hairs on the back of my neck rise as we approach Malak’s anvil. It’s hard to tell from this distance, but it looks like he’s carving the shape of a wolf’s snout.
He doesn’t look up. “Report.”
I speak before Thoren can, recounting everything that happened between leaving the orchard last night and returninghere now. I describe what happened at the infirmary and even our conversation with Maybelle and Nero’s warning to Thoren at the coal house.
I only skip two details: Thoren revealing his true name at the infirmary and his offer to bring Petra apples. They feel like small omissions that can’t cause any harm, and they’re easy to move past since I focus instead on Thoren’s offer to give Petra his coat.
It takes a long time to tell Malak everything, and when I finally fall silent, he doesn’t look up.
“Good,” he says as he peers more closely at his creation.
I wait for him to say more.
He merely smiles, but I’m not sure if he’s pleased with his work or with my report. “You didn’t lie to me.”
Thoren steps forward, his brow furrowed. “How would you know?”
Malak looks up, his expression suddenly sharp, his smile vanishing. “Because you’re not my only eyes and ears.” He tilts his head, as if once more he is dissecting us—my brother this time. “You would do well to remember that,Thoren.”
My brother stiffens and so do I.
The only time Thoren spoke his real name was at the infirmary last night. He didn’t even use his name at the coal house.
There were a lot of listening ears last night. Of course, Petra might have mentioned it to her father, who might have used it today at some point. Completely innocent. Even if Malak is trying to make us feel unsettled by it.
Malak casts his steely-eyed gaze at me. “An omission I’m sure you were about to correct, Vandawolf. Since your report was otherwise so thorough.”
I have no choice but to nod.
“Very well,” Malak says. “You will work at the coal house again tomorrow and for the next four days after that. That is all.”
