Blade of Secrets (Bladesmith #1)(16)

When I can think of no more to say, I thrust the blade into a bucket of water. The liquid instantly evaporates, and I have to jump back from the onslaught of steam or be burned by it. The bucket cracks in two, and the sword drops from my grip.

The glaring white glow is so intense for a moment, I have to shield my eyes. When that subsides, I can do no more than stare at the sword, watching it hum from the dirt floor.

I do not fear it exactly, but something about this weapon feels different than the others I’ve made. Perhaps because I put more of myself into it? It’s heavier than it was when it only consisted of steel, the weight of my secrets adding to the bulk of it.

Cradling the weapon to my side, I leave the forge once the sword cools, taking it to our small backyard. It’s usually filled with straw dummies and wooden planks for my customers to test their new blades. I haven’t replaced the last batch yet, so I settle for the single tree that provides some shade.

When I come to a stop in front of the large cedar, I hold the broadsword in both hands, cock back the weapon, and swing toward the trunk.

Many things happen simultaneously. I lose my grip on the sword. A powerful force knocks me onto my back in the tall grass, and a cracking sound shatters my ears, followed by wind whistling through leaves, and a loud crash.

When I rise to my feet, I find the tree on the ground, severed all the way through right where I’d struck the trunk, which had been at least four feet wide. Thank goodness it missed the house! The surrounding grass lies flat, as though a fierce wind bent everything ninety degrees.

And the sword is humming from where it fell to the ground, as though it’s alive and incapable of remaining silent.

But the most truly remarkable thing is that the sword cut the tree in half before it even came into contact with the trunk.

It has long-range abilities.

As I look at the destruction all around me, I can’t help but feel a little giddy.

I think I’ve just made my most powerful weapon yet.





CHAPTER

FIVE



“What is going on with you?” Temra asks the next day. I told her all about the sword when she returned home from school. She, of course, demanded I let her have a go with it. I stepped far back as I explained the sword had two abilities that I knew of. It could cut through anything, and it cut things before even coming into contact with them.

Now I sit with the sword in my lap, carefully polishing the metal, holding the blade steady so there’s no hint of a swing in the motion. Otherwise it might demolish the counter in front of me. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re humming.”

“I sometimes hum when I work.”

“No, you don’t. You never hum. And you’ve had a ridiculous grin on your face all day. Care to share the good news?”

I can feel the blush on my cheeks. “Obviously I’m excited about the sword.” Though that wasn’t what I’d been thinking about at all.

Temra stops sweeping and leans the broom against a display case. “Spill, Ziva.”

I’m obviously not a very good liar. “I saw someone, if you really must know.”

“Why should seeing someone put you in a good mood?”

“Temra, let it go. It was no big deal. This guy just walked by the forge, and—”

“A guy! Your cheeks are brighter than tomatoes.”

“He was … attractive.”

“You don’t think anyone is attractive.”

“I’m aware of that, Temra! Can we stop talking about it now?”

She slides into the chair next to me and tries to wrest the cloth from my grip, but I snatch it out of reach.

“No, you’re going to give me details,” she demands.

“There’s nothing to tell. He was tall. Golden-red hair. Carries a sword.”

“Did he wear a uniform?”

“No.”

“Too bad. Men in uniforms are extra handsome. I wonder if he’s a local or if he’s just passing through? We should check all the inns on this side of the city. Just in case.”

“Absolutely not!”

“But this is a huge thing for you!”

“Don’t make a big deal out of this. I feel weird enough as it is.”

“But you should talk to him. Maybe do other things with him.” Her wicked grin is out in full force.

Is it possible to singe my own brows off? Because I think my face might be reaching extreme temperatures.

“I don’t want to do any of that.”

“But—”

“I’m not you. That’s not how I work.” I don’t bother to try to explain how it’s not worth the discomfort and anxiety. My panic is so overwhelming at times, I simply couldn’t bear to be near him. And if he ever looked at me—

I can’t even imagine how I would react.

“You pushing the matter is just going to make me run in the other direction,” I finish.

Temra lets out a frustrated growl, but after what appears to be a mental argument with herself, she sighs. “Fine. Do what you will. But your handsome stranger might not be in town long. Just think about that. Now, I’m going to be late for class.”

She leaves me alone with my thoughts, and I pick back up the tune I’d started. It’s a love song, I think. Something Mother would sing to me when I was little. I don’t remember any of the words. Just the tune.