This is what Blacksmith magic was meant to do.
This is what our people once did.
But I can’t reconcile what I know about him with what I’m now seeing. “How is this possible?”
His lips press together into a grim line. “You mean, how could Malak’s son help anyone?”
I grimace.
I, too, was judged by the actions of my parents.
But it hasn’t been his parentage that bothered me so much as what he’s been accused of doing—and the fact that he masqueraded as a human.
“You lied to me, Thaden,” I say. “Convincingly. For all I know, you could have imprisoned these people, experimented on them, and then brought them out here into the sunlight to make it look as if you’re helping them. None of this could be true.”
Even as I speak my fears, they don’t really hold up. These people are tan. Their eyes are bright. None of them appears to be wasting away from malnutrition or mistreatment. My gaze lands on a group of teenagers who are tending to the plants in the farthest row back from us. It looks like they’re spending more time chatting than anything else. One of them nudges another, who scoffs, while a third rolls their eyes at whatever was said.
They look normal. Happy. Comfortable. Far more comfortable, in fact, than the humans back in the city.
“In almost any place, I could pull off such a deception,” Thaden says, drawing my attention back to him. “But not here. Here, lies can’t flourish. We fight for our existence with every breath we take. Every hour is another hour of life not to be wasted. All you have to do is look up to be reminded of how close to death we are.”
I consider the wispy clouds in the sky, the way they’re blackening at the edges.
The sun continues to shine, but I’m suddenly unsettled.
There’s a scent in the air, something dank andwrong, and I’m not sure what to make of it.
“Asha.” My sister’s voice is quieter now. “I need to ask you to leave your hammer behind. It’s important that you don’t stay in contact with your power. Nobody will mess with your hammer. Or with you. I promise you.”
Like Thaden, Tamra isn’t carrying her tools.
But putting away my hammer will leave me vulnerable.
It requires trust I don’t feel.
“If you don’t trust me, then trust your instincts,” Tamra says. “You can sense it, can’t you? That feeling of foreboding. A scent like death in the air. That wasteland out there is filled with uncontrolled energy. It’s only because of this mountain of rock that the darkness hasn’t spread to this village, but your power jeopardizes that.”
Carefully, I allow my hammer’s handle to slide through my hand until it rests on the ground, testing her claim.
The moment I unclasp my fingers from around my hammer, the dread lifts from my stomach.
“You can leave it right there,” Thaden says. “Nobody who lives here touches anyone else’s metal.”
“Because that would be extremely rude,” Tamra says with a smile.
The nearest humans snort but continue with their work.
I give my hammer another glance.
My reluctance is only because of trust—or the absence of it.
Taking my hands off my hammer feels like leaving Erik behind. When I blanked out in the wasteland—right as Thaden brought me here—I felt the disconnect like a blade through my heart.
It isn’t quite as sharp this time, but it worries me.
With great difficulty, I step away from my hammer.
Thaden gestures to the path running around the side of the clearing. “Will you walk with me? I’ll tell you everything. No lies.No stories. Some of it will make me look good. Most of it won’t. You can make up your own mind.”
