Blade of Secrets (Bladesmith #1)(19)

“Incredible.” Kymora removes a purse from her side and sets the heavy pouch on the nearest worktable. “For your efforts. Now go and pack your things.”

I look up from the heavy bag of coins. “What?”

“You passed with flying colors, Ziva. The position is yours. Let’s get you far away from the governor’s brat and his influence, hmm? We leave first thing in the morning.”

So I can make weapons for her private army. Which she intends to use to conquer all of Ghadra.

I’m speechless for so long the warlord’s face grows impatient.

“Well, say something.”

“I’m so honored you love the weapon, but it won’t be ready by tomorrow morning.”

Her eyes narrow. “It’s done already.”

“I’m afraid not,” I say. “You arrived a week early. I need to give it a special, final polish in order for the magic to set in permanently. Then there’s the matter of the scabbard.”

“I have a scabbard.”

“I wish to magic one to prevent any accidental cuttings of your own person. Please, Warlord, you did arrive early. Let me finish my work.”

“And how long will that take?”

“Three days,” I say. I would have liked to say weeks, but I know she won’t go for that.

Kymora stares at me. Though her face is clear, her suspicion is evident. “You have until tomorrow morning. I will return then for my sword and you.”

Unable to manage anything else, I nod. Kymora grabs her money before leaving.





CHAPTER

SIX



I wait until Kymora and her men are long out of sight before turning to Temra.

“What’s wrong?” she asks. “Why did you lie to the warlord? I’ve never once seen you polish something for the magic to set in.”

I raise the sword once more. With slow deliberateness, I bring my free hand closer to the blade, until a light sting erupts on my middle finger. A small line of blood wells.

“Hold this,” I say to Temra.

Though baffled, she obeys and takes the sword.

Only a moment passes before her eyes widen and she startles backward.

“What did you hear?” I ask.

“You weren’t talking, but I heard you. You said you wished you were brave like me. Ziva, that’s ridiculous. You have your own kind of bravery. Why—” She cuts off as something else comes to her. “You were really underselling how much that handsome stranger affected you. Goddesses.” Another pause. “You steal sweets out of the larder after I go to bed!”

Before anything else can happen, I snatch the sword away. “I was afraid of this.”

“As well you should be,” Temra says. “We’re going to have a long talk about the taffies.”

“No, Temra. It’s the warlord! When she cut herself and handed me the blade, I heard her secrets. Remember when I told you how I made the weapon? By whispering my secrets to it? This sword not only has long-range abilities, it reveals the secrets of those it cuts. Kymora—she intends to enslave all of Ghadra and rule over everyone. She’s going to take me with her tomorrow whether I wish it or not to make weapons for all her soldiers. Everyone is in danger.”

Neither of us speaks as the weight of the words settle.

I wait for Temra to say something. Perhaps to ask if I’m overreacting. If there’s any chance I misunderstood. Or if maybe we’ve got the sword’s abilities wrong.

She says, “What do we do?”

I was so prepared for some kind of argument that I forget immediate action is required.

I have to save us.

There’s really only two choices. I go with Kymora and build weapons for her army. Or … we run. We leave everything behind. My forge. My family’s home. Temra’s school. Everything we’ve ever known. Everything that’s ever felt safe.

We give it all up to try to save Ghadra.

I’m ashamed that it takes me a moment to make the right decision.

“Pack a bag,” I say. “Necessities only. Fit as much food as you possibly can. We have to leave.”

“Where will we go?”

I pace back and forth and fiddle with my fingers. “We need a plan and quickly.” Who would take us in? Is there anyone who would hide us? Certainly not in Lirasu. Not anymore.

I pause in place. “Do you remember that old painting we found in the back of Father’s closet when we were going through our parents’ things?”

Temra nods. “You want to track down Father’s family?”

I remember the day we found that painting. On the front was a couple I didn’t recognize standing before a beautiful waterfall, but on the back was written: Sotherans. Thersa Falls.

I thought to simply throw out the picture. After all, it was stashed at the back of the closet, but then I realized the similarities between the two in the painting and my father.

They’re his parents. My grandparents. I knew my father took my mother’s surname, but at the age of five, I’d never thought to ask what his original family name was.

It was all there on the painting. My father’s family are the Sotherans, and they live in Thersa. We had no reason or care to seek them out before. But now—

Now I cling to that information like a lifeline.