Master of Iron (Bladesmith #2)(61)

I set down my tray of creamy tomato soup and sourdough bread and sit across from the two of them.

“What’s wrong?” Kellyn asks.

“Temra.”

“What about her?” Petrik asks.

“She’s joined Skiro’s personal guard, and she’s determined to stay for Ravis’s arrival. She’s going to get herself killed!”

“She joined the guard?” Petrik says, becoming just as grumpy as I am. He looks over my shoulder, glaring at something behind me. I turn to see Temra take a seat among a bunch of men and women dressed as guards. Her new friends, likely. She was always so good at having people flock to her.

“How do I convince her to leave?” I ask.

“Wait, leave?” Kellyn asks. “Why would you leave?”

“So Ravis doesn’t capture me again!” Does nobody remember what happened the last time? “Weapons I made are heading toward us right now!”

“Ravis didn’t want to recapture you in the end,” Kellyn says. “He wanted you dead. Not that that’s better.”

“He can change his mind! I’m too dangerous to stick around. Isn’t it better if I go?”

“No!” both boys shout simultaneously.

“I don’t believe you, but it doesn’t matter,” I say with a sigh. “I would never leave Temra behind.”

Kellyn looks relieved. “Good. We can’t abandon these people.”

And yet I feel like I’m the one that’s putting them in more danger. Both boys are staring at me, as though trying to read my thoughts.

Though too much time has passed since Kellyn’s comment, I ask in jest, “Since when do you care about other people?” Anything to get the attention off me.

Kellyn doesn’t miss a beat. “Why does everyone talk about me as though I’m some monster?”

“You’re not a monster. You’re just often self-serving,” Petrik says.

“I am self-serving right now! If we don’t stop Ravis here, he’ll be unchecked as he ravages through Ghadra, which is where I happen to live.”

“Ziva,” Petrik says, as though an idea has just come to him, “do you think you could—”

Any traces of humor leave me as I cut him off. “If you ask me to make weapons, I will hit you again.”

Petrik slams his mouth shut.

“I’m not going to be anyone’s pawn ever again. I’m not making weapons for anyone ever again. I won’t be trapped or forced against my will.”

The table goes quiet, and any nearby folks wisely scoot away.

“No one is forcing you to make anything,” Kellyn says. “I won’t let them.”

I spoon up some soup, feeling no better about the situation. I hoped Petrik might have some words of wisdom or that Kellyn would see things my way.

No such luck.

The boys start up a new conversation, but I stay out of it. I’m too consumed with worry over what I will do if Ravis captures me again. He won’t let me get away with using a magical weapon against him again. He won’t make the mistake of keeping the person I care about near enough for me to free them again. I can picture him ordering Temra locked up in a tower, his men observing my work in the forges with a spyglass, ready to slit my sister’s throat if I make one wrong move.

My thoughts only turn darker and darker from there, and I look up from my food, desperate for an escape.

I find Petrik staring longingly over my shoulder, and I reach for the distraction.

“Give her some time,” I say to the scholar. “You know how stubborn she can be. She’ll probably forgive you eventually.”

“I messed up,” he says. “I shouldn’t have lied to her.”

“Yes, you should have. You did everything right.”

“I took away her choices. That wasn’t fair.”

“But you saved her.”

“I kept her from what’s most important to her. You,” he adds at my confused look. “I don’t think that’s something she can forgive.”

Shyly, I look up at Kellyn. “You’d be surprised.”



* * *



The next morning, I wander the halls, unsure of what I’m searching for. Answers maybe? A solution to a problem that can’t be fixed?

Eventually I find myself back at the kitchens, since it’s one of the few places in the castle I know the location of. Paulia and Serutha are in there together. Serutha mixes a bowl filled with some sort of dough, while Paulia checks on something in the ovens.

“Hello,” I say feebly.

Both girls immediately halt what they’re doing and usher me forward. Paulia shoves food under my face, while Serutha leans forward on one arm, asking me how things are with Kellyn now that he’s healed. I guess they’re both romantics.

“He’s great. We’re great, but—don’t you both know what’s coming our way?”

“The army,” Serutha says.

I sigh. “Am I the only one afraid? The only one who wants to run?”

“Not at all,” Paulia says. “I’m terrified, but I’m going to do what I can. I’m making food for all those who will soon be within the palace gates. We should go through all the perishables before resorting to hardtack and dried meats. Serutha is helping me bake up a storm.”