He freezes. “I had no choice.”
“Didn’t you?”
He’s silent opposite me, his focus on the ground.
I let him go and he races away.
My gaze passes across the weapons on the wall. Before he died, Malak told me many things, including that these weapons were forged by Blacksmiths who would not bend to his will.
My gaze stops on two silver daggers. They belonged to Asha’s grandmother. She was one of the Blacksmiths who attempted to defy Malak and stop him from rising to power.
They aren’t hunting knives, but they’ll do.
Emerging into the courtyard once more, I make my way to the only other human presence I now detect within the castle walls.
I find Maybelle crouched in the corner of the kitchen, her arms wrapped around her knees.
She startles at my approach and I quickly put the daggers down onto the floor before I crouch to her. “Maybelle? It’s me. The Vandawolf.”
She peers at me with tear-filled eyes. “You’re alive?”
All I can do is nod.
She wipes her eyes, but I don’t miss the way she, too, doesn’t quite look at me, her focus slightly wide of my face.
“How did you survive what Malak did to you?” she asks. “Nobody could have?—”
“He made me strong,” I reply, avoiding answering her question as I reach for her hand and help her stand. “Maybelle, there’s something I need you to do for me.”
“What is it?”
My second deal.
“I need you to find Kedric and make sure that Asha Silverspun and her brother and sister remain safe. In return, I promise you, you will both have your freedom today. Can you do that for me?”
Her eyes are wide. “I’m not sure how I can make that happen.”
It’s an honest response.How can a powerless human protect Asha and her siblings?
“Malak told me that when there was a human uprising once before, he called his favored Blacksmiths to the throne room and promised they would be safe there.”
Maybelle nods. “That’s right. It was the uprising when his sister was killed.”
Supposedly killed, but I don’t say that.
“Can you get that message to Kedric so he can spread it through the Silverspun household?” I ask.
“But—”
“Soon, there will be chaos, Maybelle,” I say. “Nobody will know for sure if Malak is alive or dead. The Blacksmiths will be fearful for the first time in many years. They will cling to any promise of safety. If you can make sure the high-ranking Blacksmiths believe they’re supposed to come here, I will deal with them at this end. That is, once the rest of the city is purged.”
Her voice is a strangled whisper. “‘Purged’?”
My lips set into a line. “The bells won’t ring tonight. By the end of this day, there won’t be a Blacksmith alive who will ring them.”
I rise to my feet. There’s a silver tray on the counter Maybelle was huddled beside and I catch sight of my reflection in it.
I freeze at what I see.
