Blade of Secrets (Bladesmith #1)(31)

Because my sister was blackmailing me.

“Do you want me to answer your questions or don’t you?” I ask, a hint of irritation creeping into my tone.

“Yes, please.”

“In the weapons bundle, there’s a shortsword named Midnight. It turns black when those who mean you harm are nearby.” I’ve looked at it no less than two hundred times since Petrik and Kellyn joined our party. It has remained the natural gray of steel, so that gives me some comfort.

“Can I ask about its origin? How did you make it?” He scribbles something into his notebook. “I’m looking to understand how your magic works.”

I do not like this line of questioning, but I realize this may be just the conversation I need to carefully enlist Petrik’s help in destroying the blade. “It was the first thing I made after Temra and I bought back our parents’ home. Mother and Father were killed in that house, the culprit never found. We were alone, just the two of us, and I wanted to feel safe. It was a shortsword, because I wanted something that Temra could lift, should she need to. She was only ten. Anyway, the sword picked up on what I was feeling, and it gave me a way to know I was safe so long as the blade remained gray.”

“The magic is tied strongly to your feelings,” he notes.

“Yes.”

“What other weapons did you bring?”

“The Sanguine Spear. It seeks blood when thrown. It will always hit the nearest fleshy mark, even if it’s thrown way off course.”

“How fascinatingly morbid. And how did this one originate?”

“That one was actually an accident. I cut myself, and a few drops fell on the spearpoint.”

“Wow, the weapon actually contains a part of you. Your own blood. That is very likely why it’s so much more powerful than the aforementioned shortsword. This is wonderful.” He licks the tip of the quill before scribbling madly some more. “What else? I think I saw another sword in there.”

“Yes, a broadsword.” I drop my gaze down to my interlocked fingers. I release the pressure, my fingers having gone red from the death grip.

“Secret Eater,” Temra says, coming up beside the two of us, taking the attention off me. “It reveals the secrets of those it cuts.”

She’s so clever, as always. Putting the focus on one of the sword’s abilities while completely ignoring its invulnerability and incredible range.

“And how did you make that one?” The question comes from behind us, and I flinch at the unexpected sound.

The mercenary joins us by the fire. He’s worked up a light sweat, likely having just finished an exercise with his sword.

He waits expectantly for my answer.

He doesn’t know. How could he know? And yet he’s the one who asked the question.

“I whispered my secrets to it while making the blade.”

“What kind of secrets?” Petrik and Kellyn ask at the same time.

Petrik wants to know for his book. Kellyn wants to know because he’s nosy, and I just ignore the both of them.

“Like stealing taffies from the larder,” Temra says, crossing her arms.

“Ah,” Kellyn says. “Such secrets you keep.” He grins in my direction.

My face heats impossibly at the real truth. How I wanted to touch Kellyn, who stood so far away, and the sword gained long-range abilities.

“Can I try it?” Kellyn wants to know.

“What?” I ask.

“The sword. Secret Eater. Can I try it out?”

“And just who do you plan to cut with it?”

Kellyn immediately looks at the scholar.

“No,” Petrik says. “I’m no good with blood, and I refuse to be party to your ill-conceived ideas.”

“Fine,” Kellyn says, put out. He turns to me instead. “You use it. On me.”

“You want me to cut you? Why?”

“Curiosity. I want to know what it would tell you. I want to know if it really works.”

“No,” I say at the same time Temra says, “Okay.”

“Of course it works,” I say, ignoring Temra, “but I’m not about to slice you open.”

“I’ll slice him open,” Petrik says.

“You said you didn’t like blood,” Kellyn says.

“I’ll close my eyes.”

“Absolutely not,” I say.

Temra leans into me. “This could be good,” she whispers. “You wanted to know whether or not he could be trusted.”

“He’ll notice the sword doesn’t actually touch him when it cuts him,” I whisper in response.

“So we’ll make him look away.”

“And Petrik?”

“You heard him. He hates blood.”

“Fine!” I snap, probably louder than necessary. I stomp over to Reya, who swishes her tail at me.

I return to the fire with Secret Eater. Temra sits next to Petrik. Kellyn has rolled up his sleeve. He looks at me expectantly.

“Look away,” I order him.

“I’m not scared of being cut.”

“I don’t care. I can’t do it with you watching. So if you want me to cut you, you better look away.”

He rolls his eyes but turns away.

I throw a quick glance Petrik’s way; he has his eyes squeezed shut and two fingers pinching his nose, as though he’s afraid he’ll smell the blood from there.