Blade of Secrets (Bladesmith #1)(80)

I watch as the warlord’s horse comes to a stop about thirty feet away, her men halting just behind her. How many of them even are there? Far too many to count. Kymora dismounts, takes a few steps toward Kellyn.

She says nothing. Her face shows nothing. And somehow, the nothing is more terrifying than if she were screaming and raging. She’s unpredictable, and unpredictable people are the most dangerous.

Her eyes find the sword that bears her sigil at the hilt, the falcon wings at the guard.

“What have you done with my weapon?” she asks.

And though this is a confrontation of the worst kind, I find my voice. Because I did something right. The consequence has caught up with me, but what I did was right. “I’ve protected it from you. Only someone worthy can pull the sword out of its iron casing.”

She eyes my creation, her face growing thoughtful. Then, “Could you explain to me why I’ve had to chase you through half of Ghadra? I offered you protection and freedom. Why in the hells would you run and do that”—she points—“to my weapon?”

“Because you were going to use it to enslave all of Ghadra. You would have forced me to make weapons for your soldiers so you could take over the world.”

Kymora bites the inside of her cheek as she thinks. “Someone told you this?”

“The sword did. When you cut yourself on it. I heard your thoughts. It revealed your secrets to me.”

Her brow rises a fraction of an inch. “You really do have a gift. Unfortunately, you seem just as resistant to helping me as your mother.”

Temra steps up beside me, her hand finding mine. I realize I don’t hear the smithy breathing anymore. He must be gone.

And somehow, that pales in comparison to what Kymora has just told me.

Red tinges the edges of my vision. I’m squeezing Temra’s hand hard enough to hurt. She’s shaking beside me. With fear or fury, I can’t be certain.

“Leave, Kymora.” This comes from Kellyn. “I have great respect for what you have done for our kingdom, but your weapon is gone. Trouble us no more. There’s no reason for this to get ugly.”

Kymora turns her gaze to the mercenary. “If you hadn’t aided these two, I might have offered you a position among my ranks. I’ve heard you can do remarkable things with that sword. But you’ve irritated me, and I don’t do well with irritations.”

Kellyn tries again. “There’s no need to fight.”

“You’re right. There will be no fighting. Ziva will come with me willingly. She may have rendered my original sword useless, but if she built it once, she can do it again.” She looks right at me as she says, “When your mother denied me, I didn’t know there were two little girls sleeping upstairs. Threatening your father didn’t work to make her see reason, but I bet using you would have. I won’t make that mistake again. So believe me when I say, Come with me now, Ziva Tellion, or I will start carving up your sister in front of you.”

I take just a moment to steady my pounding heart and accelerated breathing before stepping forward. Temra yanks me back.

“Don’t you dare,” she whispers. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Kymora seems amused by the exchange, but then, as though just remembering something, she looks around at our small company.

“Where is my son?” she asks.

Her son?

My eyes do a sweep of the area. All the villagers have returned to their homes, likely running at the first sign of trouble. There’s no one in sight save me, Temra, Kellyn, and Pe—

Wait, where is Petrik? How long has he been missing? I don’t actually recall seeing him after the warlord appeared.

Did he abandon us?

“I don’t like repeating myself,” Kymora says.

“We don’t know your son,” Kellyn says. “We have no idea who you’re talking about.”

The moment seems to grow more tense as we wait to see what Kymora will do. I need to go to her. I have to protect my sister. I have to protect Kellyn. But I still seem stuck on the fact that Petrik is nowhere in sight and my parents’ murderer is right before me.

“I’m here, Mother.”

Something’s not right, because the voice doesn’t belong to a newcomer. No, Petrik comes out of the dead smithy’s forge, his hands clasped behind his back as he steps in front of us.

If it were possible for her to look more displeased, the warlord somehow manages it.

“What happened to you?” Kymora asks. Each word comes out so slowly, it feels like its own sentence.

Petrik looks over his shoulder to say, “Go wait in the smithy. I need to speak with her.”

Temra’s mouth unhinges, falling to the floor. “No. She’s mistaken. You can’t be—”

“Her son? I’ve wished it weren’t true many times myself. Not the most loving person, is she?”

Kymora snorts at his words.

“Go inside. Now.” Petrik’s voice changes, and as I stare at him, I realize the similarities between the two of them. They hold themselves the same way. Petrik’s skin may be dark while hers is fair, but they have some of the same features.

Kellyn recovers the quickest, grabbing Temra and me by the arms. Leading us to the smithy.

“Go round the back,” Kymora says to half her men. “Make sure they don’t get any ideas about leaving.” She steps toward her son so her men can’t overhear the conversation.