Blade of Secrets (Bladesmith #1)(10)

I’ve a wide grin on my face as she leaves the room just as casually as she entered it.

I wonder how much longer I can hide up here.

I give it a few more minutes before forcing myself back down the stairs to the main room. I assure myself that I’m only imagining everyone’s stares. No one is looking at me. No one knows about the embarrassing situation with Asel. No one cares that my dress is brown. Someone laughs nearby, and I have to tell myself it’s not at my expense.

I can survive the rest of the night. I’ll be cool and collected like Warlord Kymora. Exuding power and unaffected by anyone else’s opinions. I can’t wait for her to visit the shop. I start thinking of all the intricate metalwork I could do on the hilt of a broadsword.

Temra finds me, and I link my arm through hers before realizing the look of panic on her face.

“We need to go,” she says. “Now.”

That’s usually what I say. “Are you all right? Did something happen?”

“Ziva, just trust me.”

“Okay,” I say, letting her lead me toward the exit—secretly delighted that I’m getting out of the party early.

Then bodies block our path.

Asel is at the front of them with his fathers, his arms crossed in front of his body in an imitation of the threatening posture I just displayed to him upstairs.

“Ziva,” the governor says. “It’s come to my attention that you’ve insulted my son after we’ve welcomed you into our home.”

“Erinar,” Reniver says, gently tapping his husband on the arm. “Perhaps this isn’t the best place.”

“I want this settled now. What do you have to say for yourself, blacksmith?”

“Um…” The whole receiving hall is watching. A hundred bodies stop their conversations to stare at the scene before them, and I seem to have forgotten every word I’ve ever learned.

“Did you or did you not strike my son?”

That brings me up short. “Why should I have reason to do that?”

“Asel says you were furious at the mace’s placement on the mantel. You then became enraged and attacked him.”

“I did what?”

“Governor,” Temra says, “my sister doesn’t have a violent bone in her body. I’m sure Asel is mistaken.”

“I am not,” Asel says.

“You appear perfectly fine,” Temra points out. “I see no marks. No tears in your clothing. Where exactly is my sister supposed to have struck you?”

He huffs proudly. “I don’t need to explain myself.”

“I think you do, son,” Reniver says.

“How can you doubt him?” Erinar says.

“You know how he can be. I’m worried we don’t have the full story.”

“What kind of parents would we be if we don’t believe our child? And if the blacksmith were innocent, perhaps she’d have more words to disclose.”

My face heats, and I feel wetness at the corners of my eyes as fury and fear take hold within me. Words. Find my words.

“Asel—he—” Breathe. “He made unwanted advances toward me. I may not have said the kindest things in response, but I didn’t lay a finger on him.”

Reniver nods, as though he feared that’s what happened.

“Is that true, Asel?” the governor asks.

“No, Father. I swear it happened as I said.”

Both the governor and his husband look between Asel and me. I watch as they check my knuckles. Reniver nods to himself, as though unsurprised to find unbroken skin there. The governor seems to notice for the first time the large scene he’s caused and the people all looking on.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” the governor says to his guests. “It appears my husband and I need to have an important chat with our son about honesty.”

A vein stands out on Asel’s face, and the young man looks positively mortified. I become embarrassed for him instead of myself.

Reniver begins making apologies and ushering guests out. The governor takes a step toward me. More quietly, he says, “I apologize for the night being ruined and for the actions of my son. You can expect a formal apology from him in the future.”

“That’s not necessary,” I hurry to say. The last thing I need is to see Asel again, this time in my home.

But the governor doesn’t hear my response. He’s begun assisting his husband with apologizing to the other guests as they leave through the doors.

Asel stomps toward us. “This isn’t over. You’re going to regret this.”

“Go run to your fathers. Sounds like you’re about to get a scolding,” Temra says smugly.

I grab her arm so we can depart.



* * *



Our horse, Reya, is waiting for us in the stables. I breathe in the smell of her cool hide, forcing my thoughts to the here and now. To safety. Temra bought our mare a few years ago so she could ride into the city more quickly for her lessons, though I’ve seen her saddle the horse a few times at night to sneak off to meet boys, which resulted in me revoking her horse-riding privileges from time to time.

Wordlessly we saddle Reya. Temra tells the eager stable hand to leave us be as she tightens the girth. Meanwhile I strap on her bridle.