Fuck. This isn't going well. Thrane is going to be monumentally pissed off when we come out with our tails tucked and nothing to show for it. The louder Ronan and Olav get, the more my nerves are on edge.
My fingers twitch against the dagger holstered to my hip. The slight movement draws the Dwarf King's gaze and then his eyes widen.
"Your dagger. It's Dwarven made." His statement silences the feuding princes. By the hilt alone he identified his people's craftsmanship. I swallow hard, hoping he doesn't think I stole it.
I slide the weapon from its holster and lay it flat across my palm for him to examine. At first, he just stares at it, as if he's seen a ghost. Then he tentatively reaches for it. I don't move, despite Ronan's shoulders tensing. The king reverently picks the knife up.
"Where did you get this?" The question is asked in more wonder than accusation.
I shift in my seat. "It.. it was a gift."
His bushy eyebrows pinch together in a frown. "A gift from who?"
I inhale deeply and admit, "Bastian. It was an engagement present. I plan to get a new one but – "
"Do you know whose dagger this is?" There's a nostalgia in his face that makes me pause. Does he recognize the blade? But that's impossible. How would someone be able to recall every blade that was forged in Durne?
"No," I shake my head. His eyes cloud. "Should I?"
He smiles, his moustache twisting with the upcurve of his lips. "It was made for your father."
"That's – " My breath hitches and I stare at the dagger. Really stare at it. "Are you sure?"
"Am I sure?" The king huffs, glancing at his son, slightly offended. "She asks me if I'm sure. As if I would forget a blade such as this!"
"I'm sorry," I stammer, hoping I haven't made the situation worse.
"I could tell you the history of many blades, my dear," he says gruffly. "This one especially." He twists the dagger, wiping the tip of the hilt with his sleeve. Once satisfied, he turns it for me to see. "His symbol is right there." Sure enough, the Celestial marking is etched. It's small. Small enough I never noticed it before. But then again, I wasn't looking for signs of the dagger's former master. I hated it the second Bastian gifted it to me. I didn't even think to polish the golden handle.
But this is too insane to be true.
"You've been carrying your father's dagger this entire time," the Dwarf King passes me the blade and sinks in the leather chair.
"How is that possible?" I stare at the knife cradled in my hands. "If it's my father's weapon, shouldn't he have it with him in Orabelle?"
He strokes his chubby fingers through his beard, twirling one of the golden beads. "Your father was given twin blades. One, to my understanding, was lost during the Great War. The other, was still with him when he crossed through the portal and destroyed it."
"So, if Bastian found this then he didn't find it in Durne."
"My guess would be he found this out in the Midorian Desert where your father last had it."
"Where they might be reconstructing the portal to Malvolio?" I flick my eyes up to meet his gaze and after a moment to contemplate my question he nods.
"That would make the most sense."
My mind is spinning. Still not sure this is real. But then a thought crosses my mind. "Wouldn't Bastian or Vesper realize it belonged to my father when they found it?"
"Why would they?" He shrugs his broad shoulders. "Bastian didn't fight in the Great War and Soul Eaters wouldn't be able to identify daggers like the Dwarves who forged them. You're the only one who can sense Enver Sol. Maybe you sensed him as strongly as you did when it first came into your possession because he wanted you to."
I internally question why my mother never said anything about the blade but then realize, she's never seen this. I've kept it on my person during training, but I've never wielded it. Never paraded it on a platter for anyone to see. I've kept it hidden and I've only used it when I've had to because I've been ashamed of this weapon. Ashamed because of the person who gave it to me. In my mind, keeping it was permitting a piece of Bastian to remain with me.
I've wanted so badly to replace it with a new blade. Something entirely mine with no trace of Bastian and his demons. But now. Knowing this was my father's – that he has its twin – makes me pause.
It could be tossed up as coincidence this knife came to be in my possession. Or it could be fate. Destiny. I've heard legend blades forged by the Dwarves bond with their wielders. I highly doubt the validity of such fairytales, but a small hopeful part of me believes maybe the dagger found me. It sensed who I was before I knew.
What a silly, girlish thought.
Bastian found it in the desert and gave it to me for protection, knowing one day someone would come to harm me on account of him.
