I didn’t have the luxury of relying on my rank now. So, I took the risk that my new friends would decide I had my eye on Alan. I could live with that. Despite Kayla’s dismissal, he was plenty attractive. A crush after seeing him from afar would be easy to believe. A crush after seeing him up close, his forearms corded with muscle, a delicate gold chain resting in his calloused hands...
I pushed the memory away. “But won’t Alan take over from his stepfather soon? He’ll have a fair amount of authority in the village as the master smith.”
“A real blacksmith might, but not Alan. He’ll probably become the village idiot.”
So much for an explanation. Kayla didn’t mince words when critiquing people’s character or appearance, but while harsh, she tended to base her judgments on kernels of truth.
Nothing I had seen or heard in my meetings with Alan matched this assertion that he lacked intelligence. I grabbed my drop spindle, stopping it before it changed directions and undid all my work, and looked at the others.
Hannah nodded in time to Kayla’s words, not even looking at the wool she carded over her lap. She didn’t offer any further commentary. Not that I expected Hannah to have much to add.
I turned my attention to the quietest member of the group.
Gemma garnered as much attention as Kayla among the young men of Skorsa, for the opposite reasons. Gemma and Mistress Kiels, her mother, had the distinction of being the only people in Skorsa with skin paler than my own. And where my own hair was silvery blond, Gemma's shone like gold. She was the exotic beauty with her willowy frame and almond eyes.
Kayla drew men through a vivacious personality and an earthy attractiveness. Gemma charmed them with her generous nature, serenity, and ethereal grace. Gemma was quite possibly the kindest person I had ever met. She saw the best in everyone.
I raised an eyebrow when Gemma glanced at me, silently asking for her input.
“Alan isn’t a simpleton,” she sighed, “but Kayla is right. He won’t have any influence. The village council won’t let him inherit the smithy. He can’t do the work.”
I bent my head over my spindle to hide my shock. I gave it a flick to set it spinning in the correct direction. Either the people in Skorsa were conspiring together to refuse Alan any credit for his work—and I couldn’t imagine Gemma ever going along with such a ploy—or he behaved vastly differently around them than me.
I admitted that I had hardly interacted enough with him to know his true character, although I couldn’t be so far off. Then again, I had only spoken to him while his stepfather was out of town.
My hands continued to feed wool into the spindle. If I had paid attention, I might have amazed myself with the smooth length of thread I produced when I stopped overthinking the movements. But I didn’t pay attention. I was too busy trying to find an excuse to go back to the forge.
Five
Alan
???
Gerald Powell mighthave once been an active, albeit not particularly skilled, blacksmith. He had the muscles for it, though a layer of fat now obscured them. Since he had come to Skorsa, however, I had rarely seen him lift a hammer. Before he turned the villagers against me, he had spent most of his limited time in the forge working on the goblets, rings, and candelabra that he couldn’t convince anyone to buy. Since then, he only sweated in front of the fire if someone insisted on viewing his progress on their piece, which was exceedingly rare.
He spent his days in the shop attached to the forge—after he dragged himself out of bed and before he spent the money I earned him at the tavern every evening. By mutual unspoken agreement, we hardly interacted.
Nevertheless, I made sure to hide the piece I was working on long before he might return home. With Mina’s insistence that I keep the leftover gold from the necklace, I had the funds needed to travel far from Skorsa and start a new life. But no guarantee that the curse that plagued me here wouldn’t come with me. While I considered the merits of taking the risk and leaving, I had decided that Mina had made a valid point that shaping the gold increased its value. Iwanted to turn some of the remaining metal into more jewelry, things that I could either sell or use to prove my abilities.
If I left.
“Alan!”
I cursed as the unexpected shout distracted me mid swing. Thank Ward, I had a bit of unassuming iron on the anvil in front of me. I was right to have been cautious. Powell always paid a little more attention to me after his visits to the city.
I didn’t stop working. The heat was already leaching out of the metal fast; he could wait until I returned it to the fire for an answer.
When I set the metal down and turned so I could look at him as I worked to get the heat up to what I needed, I found Powell standing in the open doors at the back of the smithy. He had his arms crossed. “Anything happen while I was gone?”
“The Brynsons ordered more nails, hinges, and latches for their new barn.”
“Anything else?”
I shrugged. “You know everyone prefers to wait when you are gone.”
His eyes narrowed. For a moment, I feared Powell would recognize the lie, that he’d somehow realize I had spoken to Mina. That she had recognized my talents.
“What did you tell the Brynsons?”
