Page 13

Elowen was right—I’m hopeless.

By the time I arrive at Lucan’s forge, the sun has begun sinking behind the mountains.

The familiar clang of metal echoes through the open workshop, each strike of Lucan’s hammer sending a vibration through the floor beneath my boots. Heat rolls from the furnace, warming the otherwise chilly evening air.

I find him bent over his workbench, his long hair tied back with a leather cord. A smudge of soot streaks across one cheek, and the sleeves of his dark shirt are pushed up past his forearms.

He looks up when he hears me approach. “Evening, Doc.”

“Hi.”

My gaze drops to the cluttered workbench. Sketches, strips of leather, tools, and pieces of metal are scattered across the surface. In the center lies the unfinished frame of Maple’s prosthetic wings.

I pull out the folder tucked beneath my arm. “I brought something that might help.”

Lucan raises an eyebrow.

I slide the X-ray from the folder and carry it over to the window. Holding the film up against the glass, I let the fading daylight illuminate the image.

Maple’s tiny wing fills the frame.

I swallow. “This is her left wing.” I point toward the skeletal structure with one finger. “You can see where the bones are shortened here.” My fingertip traces the image carefully. “And this one is missing entirely.”

Lucan steps closer, his shoulder brushing mine.

He studies the X-ray in silence, his brow furrowing as he examines the tiny bones. “She still has some structure here,” he says eventually.

“Yeah.” I point toward the shortened bones. “Not much, but enough that I think she should be able to move the base of the wing.”

Lucan reaches past me, his finger hovering over the X-ray without touching it. “What if we anchor the frame here?” He points to the place where the remaining bone structure meets the joint. “If we build the frame around this section, she could use the movement she already has to control it.”

I study the X-ray again.

Lucan continues, thinking aloud.

“We’d need to keep the connection light. Nothing that puts too much pressure on the bone. But if the frame moves with what she has left…” He gestures toward the unfinished prosthetic on the workbench. “Then she might be able to learn to move the wing herself.”

My eyes widen. “That’s really smart.”

Lucan chuckles and lowers his gaze. “Says the actual doctor.”

I shake my head. “No. I know medicine. Not… this.” I gesture toward the forge. “Metal. Mechanics. I could never do what you do.”

A crooked smile pulls at his lips. “Never?”

“Absolutely not.”

He looks amused. “Want to try?”

My eyebrows shoot up. “What?”

Lucan nods toward the furnace. “Come on.”

I laugh nervously. “No—“

Before I can protest, he takes one of my hands. His fingers completely engulf mine, making my pulse stutter. He slides one of the thick forgery gloves over my hand.

It nearly swallows it.