Master of Iron (Bladesmith #2)(88)

Petrik has an inquisitive mind that leads itself naturally to politics. I watch him navigate the meeting room like a royal adviser who has been doing so for years. Though they run him ragged, Petrik seems to come more alive day after day, as though finding a purpose for himself. A use for all his knowledge as a scholar.

I’m sure being back in my sister’s good graces is also part of the reason for his better mood.

I try not to think about that too much.

Several weeks go by—though it feels only like days.

Ashper finishes the portraits.

He and Serutha appear in the forge, Ashper covered in paint, Serutha smelling of healing herbs.

“It’s done!” he proclaims, ignoring Abelyn and Zovid (and the snores of the sleeping smithy, who hasn’t move from his spot in all the time I’m in the forge. I suspect he drinks himself into a stupor night after night, wasting himself away).

“Prince Skiro and Princess Marossa are through the first portal,” Serutha explains. “There’s nothing for us to do now but wait. We thought we’d see if we could help here.”

“No talking!” Abelyn shouts when she notices the other magic users. “You’re distracting us from our work!”

“They’re here to help,” I say.

Her mouth curls up as though to suggest she’s in physical pain.

I roll my eyes, then give Serutha and Ashper their own pair of tongs to hold. It doesn’t take much time at all to instruct them on selecting a piece of armor, putting it in the kiln for a few seconds, and then hoisting it out for me to magic.

After we finish one set of armor (Abelyn still grunting all the way), Ashper asks, “Why don’t you magic all the heated armor at the same time?”

I cock my head to the side. “Because I can’t. I have to focus on one thing at a time.”

Ashper and Serutha share a look, before the latter asks, “Have you ever tried to magic more than one piece of metal at a time?”

“… No,” I say. “But it’s hard enough to magic one thing! I couldn’t possibly do more!”

“At the risk of sounding arrogant,” Ashper says, “I do it all the time. When I finish painting the portals, I magic them all at once, since I want each painting to do the same thing.”

“Me too,” Serutha says. “I’d cost many of my patients their lives if I took the time to heal each wound individually instead of coaxing many large injuries to heal at once.”

I cross my arms, stare at the floor. “I’ve said before that what you can both do is more impressive than what I can do.”

“Hogwash,” Abelyn says. “You just said you never tried. So, try!”

“And waste time—”

“You’re the one wasting time if we could be getting through all of this faster! Think, if you can pull this off, girl, then we can move on to the horses’ armor!”

I growl. “Fine!”

They all try to hide their smiles. Only Abelyn succeeds.

In the next few seconds, a vambrace, gauntlet, and helmet are all thrust in my direction, heat drifting up into the cool fall air.

My eyes flick back and forth. “I don’t know where to look. If I focus on just one piece, then I’ll only magic that one!”

“It’s not about where you’re looking,” Serutha says. “It’s about where your focus is. I like to use magic with my eyes closed.”

“I can magic something behind my back,” Ashper says, flicking his long ponytail over his shoulder.

They’re both so great at making me feel better about this.

“Don’t be stupid,” Abelyn says to Ashper. “Say something helpful or don’t say anything at all.”

His fair skin twists in a comical way. “Feel the iron. Feel the magic. Put the two together.”

As though it were so simple.

I close my eyes, feel the heat coming off the steel, even though it wasn’t in the kiln that long. Zovid is keeping it raging over 2,500 degrees.

I pull my hands into fists as I’d been doing while magicking everything else up to this point, muscles tensing, my mind thinking the word strong. Unbreakable. Impenetrable. Untouchable. Every synonym I can imagine going through my head.

But instead of focusing the thoughts dead ahead, to one item, I expand, imagine my magic filling the room.

And the magic—it catches on every heated iron item in the forge.

I’m grinning so wide it hurts my cheeks.

“It worked!” I say.

“Good,” Serutha says. “Now enough of this nonsense.”

She and Ashper go to the piles of armor just outside the forge. They bring back inside armloads, chucking individual sheets into the opening in the kiln. Breastplates, greaves, helmets, gauntlets, faulds, pauldrons, and more.

Serutha points to the opening. “Now do it again.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR


It’s only the addition of the word emergency to Petrik’s call of a meeting that convinces me to join him.

I was enjoying an afternoon off. With my new ability to magic several things at once discovered, it really only took another day to get through all the armor presented to me.

I sigh at the thought of what I’m losing. An entire afternoon to myself.

But I follow the scholar down the halls.