He knocks his right fist against the side of his neck and his metal extends up over his face to form a helmet. He’s now covered in full body armor that doesn’t seem to impede his movements.
A copper sword forms in each of his hands as he charges at me, driving me back into the clear end of the corridor.
The door to the throne room is only a few steps away.
Kalith slashes with his swords, one after the other, cuts I have no hope of defending with my much shorter daggers. So I duck and dart once more, narrowly evading his lightning-fast attacks, waiting for the moment to strike back.
And then, there it is.
I let him force me into a crouch, his left arm rising to gain the speed he needs to slice off my head. Instead of throwing myself backward, I launch myself up and forward.
With all my strength, I strike with my dagger at the location of his heart.
I remember the way that my father’s blades crashed and slid off Kalith’s armor when they fought in the mountains.
But now, my strength takes the blade right through.
It’s a seamless strike, rending apart Kalith’s metal and descending into his chest.
I hear his breath catch, feel the thump of the beating organ through my blade. And then I twist the blade and wrench the metal out.
Before he can fall, I take hold of the back of Kalith’s head.
“For my father,” I growl, ramming the dagger through the metal at his throat and tearing his neck apart.
I stand over his body, my chest heaving, my own heart torn apart, listening for the echoes of my father’s voice, as if my vengeance could somehow bring him back.
There is only silence.
A roar tears out of me, all of my pain rising to the surface, tears flooding my eyes. And still I roar until I have no air left in my chest and I’m forced to stop.
I want to believe my fight is over now, but it isn’t.
My greatest battle will be the quiet one I have with Asha.
Chapter 42
The door into the throne room is only a few steps away, but I can’t go through it yet.
I don’t want Asha and her siblings to see all of this death when they come out, so I quickly cut down Ayla’s metal, using my silver daggers like spindles to wrap the thread around before I ram the daggers safely into the wall.
Then I drag the bodies from the corridor and the courtyard, four at a time, and pile them outside the wall next to the gate.
I already put Skirra’s body away safely in the orchard before I left the courtyard this morning, and I returned Malak’s tools to his table—his hammer and three medallions—knowing no other Blacksmith would go near them. I also broke apart the metal spikes he created and piled them in one of the secret rooms he told me about.
When this is over, I will have all Blacksmith metal brought to me and destroyed, except the metal I still need.
A heavy exhale rests on my lips as I consider the courtyard now. There isn’t much I can do about the blood all over the ground.
I head once more to the other side and along the corridor to the door beyond which three heartbeats continue to sound.
There I stop, my shoulders hunched, my palms pressed to the wood, my chest heaving.
Asha will know that I’ve slaughtered her people.
She will believe I’ve come to kill her too.
From inside the room, a little boy’s whisper reaches me through the wood. “I’ll fight beside you, Asha.”
