Blade of Secrets (Bladesmith #1)(17)

The doors open, and I look up, expecting Temra. “Did you forget something or are you back to make fun o—”

I drop the sword, but it isn’t followed by a clatter so much as a shink!

Instinctively, I look down—the broadsword landed point first, and it went right through the floor, stopping with the hilt protruding out of the ground.

My gaze flits madly between where the sword lies imbedded in the ground behind the front desk and the man who entered the shop.

My man.

No, not my man.

But the man.

The golden-red-haired stranger with a longsword on his back.

“Sorry, should I have knocked? This is a shop, right? Not a private residence?”

His voice is like the deep cadence of water running over rock.

How is even the sound of his voice attractive? One shouldn’t be attracted to a voice, right? Maybe there is more wrong with me than I realized.

Or maybe there’s just something wrong with him. He shouldn’t exist. It isn’t right to look that perfect. To sound that perfect.

I make the mistake of meeting his gaze. Never before have I looked away so quickly. I think my whole body has gone red, and I know he can see that. Which only makes me more embarrassed and awkward and I want to be anywhere else.

After a silence that progresses too long, he says, “I’m here to see the blacksmith. Is Ziva in? I was hoping to commission a longsword.”

Why didn’t I put the sign out that says the shop is closed? I do that when Temra leaves for school, but I was too busy …

Thinking about him. Humming ridiculous love songs!

“Maybe I could leave a message for her? Or come back later?”

“No!” I say at last.

And then I want to impale myself on the sword. Except that it’s stuck in the ground.

“No to the message or to coming back later?”

“Both.”

“Am I in the wrong place?” He does a sweep of the shop, taking in all the weapons on the walls.

“No.”

“Is Ziva closed to commissions right now? Because I’m certain I can make it worth her while. I came a very long way just to see her.”

My heart skips a beat at those words. He came a long way to see me?

Of course he did. You make magical weapons. He wants a weapon. A million customers have said this to me before, but this one … makes my heart do strange things.

I’m torn between trying to come up with something—anything—to say to this man and deciding whether or not to attempt to retrieve the sword. This likely results in me looking awkwardly hunched from what the stranger can see of me on the other side of the counter.

“Are you … all right?” he asks.

“Fine. I’m fine.”

He grins, showing the tips of his teeth, and to my utter horror, he comes closer, leans himself against the counter, and asks, “What’s your name?”

And I swear by the sacred names of the Sister Goddesses that I don’t know the answer to that question. I cannot remember it or anything else when he looks at me like that.

So I look back down at the sword wedged into the ground. Kymora will be here in less than two weeks’ time …

“Come back in three weeks and the smithy will see you,” I say. By then, Temra and I will be long gone, and I won’t have to endure this again.

“What about you? Will you be in?”

For the love, will he just leave?

“I really should get back to work.”

“Of course.” He steps back from the counter, and I can finally breathe again. “Do tell Ziva I look forward to doing business with her.”

That’s the third time he’s said my name. I don’t know why I kept track—only that I loved hearing the word on his lips.

What is wrong with me?

The stranger says something else on his way out the door, but I don’t catch it.

I’m too busy finally getting the sword out of the ground.



* * *



After my mortifying encounter with the handsome man, I throw myself into my work, making all the little details on the sword pristine. I’ve shaped the hilt after Kymora’s sigil. While the guard forms the wings of a great falcon, the grip serves as the body and tail. The fuller is pristine and even, the edges sharp, the point deadly.

I’m proud of it.

But is it good enough for a warlord?

It will serve her well in battle. Enemies will have a tricky time getting close enough to kill her, but I don’t know that it’s powerful enough to bring nations to their knees.

Still, it will have to do.

Temra comes rushing in to the forge. She closes the doors behind her carefully.

“The warlord is on her way.”

“What?”

“I just saw her and her men coming up the road. They’ll be here in seconds!”

“She’s early!”

“I know!”

We both scramble for the storefront. I lay the weapon on the desk and shut the doors leading back to the forge. Meanwhile, Temra shoves her schoolwork behind the counter, hiding the mess.

I fidget uncomfortably during the ten seconds it takes Kymora to arrive at our doors.

As before, her guards enter first, surveying the area for threats. I try not to flinch when one of them enters the forge. I’ve left a mess in there. At least it can’t possibly be worse than the state they saw it in last time.