Master of Iron (Bladesmith #2)(94)

I wince. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. Things could have turned out far worse if they didn’t play out the way they did.”

How true that is.

“So,” Skiro says, “we’re to convince these mercenaries not to hack each other apart for a large monetary prize—instead we’re going to ask them to take a meager wage in exchange for a vastly outnumbered battle in which we’ll all likely die. There’s more work ahead of us than I thought.”



* * *



Kellyn and Temra pair off in the evenings, practicing harder than ever with their weapons. The prince’s guards run drills, if they’re not assigned to keep watch for threats. It’s a huge comfort to have them nearby at all times.

I like to find gaps in the trees or shrubs, places I can sequester myself to give my brain the illusion of privacy. Time to think and replenish myself.

Petrik hasn’t changed at all. He still spends his free time scribbling away in yet another notebook.

“Working on another book?” I ask him.

“I’m trying to recall everything I’ve ever read about Lirasu.”

“For what purpose?”

“If it’s to be our battleground, we need a strategy. We’ll need to know as much about the lay of the land as possible. The local governor—is he likely to aid us in our efforts?”

After some thought, I nod. “He’s a kind and fair man. He will hear us out, though I’ve no idea what actions he’ll be prepared to take.”

“That’s good.” Petrik writes another line. “We have some advantages with the landscape. The city borders the mountains. We can take the high ground. Your forge and tools are all there, in case we need anything else made before Kymora reaches us. There’s a local mine, right?”

“Yes,” I answer. “It’s where I get all my ore from. The entire mountain to the south is full of rich veins of it.”

“The entire mountain?” Petrik asks.

“That’s what I’ve heard. Why?”

“I’m not sure. It’s just something to note. You use coal in your kiln when forging?”

“Yes.”

“Where do you get it?”

“There’s a vendor in the city. He always has tons of the stuff. I think he has it brought in from Orena. There are natural deposits of it in the north of the territory. It’s not even terribly expensive.”

“Hmm,” Petrik says.

Though it’s upside down for me, I read what he writes next.

Coal, cheap

Mountain filled with iron ore

Accelerant?

“What are you planning?” I ask.

“I’m just jotting down my thoughts. It’s nothing yet.”

Still, what does he need an accelerant for?



* * *



When Petrik and Temra aren’t together, I steal moments alone with my sister. We’ll walk ahead of the group out of hearing range or snuggle by the fire together in the evenings when we make camp. I feel stretched thin, wanting to spend time alone with her, alone with Kellyn—cramming in as many new memories as possible before the fight ahead. Before my whole world can come to an end.

“I’ve never spent much time thinking about the future,” Temra says one evening, while we’re off collecting firewood together. “I normally like making the most of the present, but I’m so excited for after the fight, when I get to return to Skiro’s Capital and begin my training as a royal guard in earnest.”

I wish I could say I’m just as enthusiastic about her future. “Does Petrik approve of your intended profession?” I ask.

“He doesn’t love it, but he loves me, so he’s willing to support me no matter what.”

“I suppose that’s good.”

“Don’t sound so gloomy. I’ll be fine. Besides, you’ll be too busy enjoying your life with Kellyn to worry about me as a guard.”

I don’t answer her right away, so she says, “You will be with Kellyn, won’t you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Whyever not?”

“We don’t want the same things. He wants to travel. I want to stay put. I don’t think it will work out.”

“Did you talk to him about it?”

“… No.”

“Then how do you know it won’t work out?”

“Because I know him, and I know myself.”

“But you have to at least have the conversation!”

“Why bother?” I ask. “It’ll only be painful for the both of us, and it’ll end whatever good times we’re having right now.”

“You are dreadful at communication,” Temra says, as though I don’t already know this. “Ziva, talk to the man and see what happens. Have you told him how you feel? Have you asked him to stay with you?”

I duck around a tree, bend over to pick up another log, not answering.

“You haven’t!” she accuses.

“I would never ask him to do something that would make him miserable.” And I’m not about to share my feelings only to have them rejected. Kellyn may have said he loves me, but that doesn’t mean he means to stay with me.