Forging Silver into Stars

I’ve hardly seen Callyn in days. The forge, as usual, has been busy, and I’ve been glad to keep my head down and work. My father has been spending more time in the workshop with me, but I’ve got nothing to say to him. He clearly has nothing to say to me either, and I can’t tell if he’s feeling guilty about what happened, or if he’s still mad about the silver I was “hiding.” Either way, our conversation is limited to noncommittal grunts and occasional requests to pass a tool. Any flares of hope have been fully extinguished after what he did. Not even an ember is left.

For the first few days, I kept my hand wrapped, because I didn’t know what to say about Lord Tycho and what he did. I’m still not entirely sure how I feel about it, so I’m definitely not ready to introduce my father’s opinions to the matter. But after the healing magic, the skin left behind was fresh and new, and working in the forge pulled open calluses across my palm anyway. Nowhere near as painful as a burn, but the blistered red skin must look pretty similar, because my father hasn’t said anything about it. If he’s surprised I’m able to work, it doesn’t show.

Good as new. Hardly.

While my father’s presence has improved the speed of what we’re able to get done, it has the disadvantage of him collecting any coins when we’re due payment. Coins I don’t see again. I’d grown used to his frequent absences, but now I’m worried he’ll be here when Lady Karyl returns for this note, and he’ll be the one to collect those coins, too.

It’s now the third day, and worry has begun to eat up my insides.

I’m finishing the final blade on the thresher when my father coughs and says, “That girl should have enlisted years ago.” He spits at the ground. “What’s she still doing here?”

I look up and see Callyn wandering down the lane, a basket over one arm. “Taking care of her sister,” I say.

“Her father was a good man.” Da pulls a piece of steel out of the forge and slaps it against his anvil.

Her father was part of an attack on the palace. But I don’t say that. It reminds me again that my father was doing something for the Truthbringers. Something I’ve taken over. So I’m not one to criticize.

“He wouldn’t like her staying here,” he continues. “A military pension would do her sister a lot more good. I suppose you wouldn’t know anything about that.”

I’m so used to his digs that I don’t waste emotion on irritation. “I suppose not.”

Cal steps into the yard. All of the snow has melted, but there’s still a chill in the air, and she’s got a cloak drawn around her shoulders. Her hair is usually tied up in a braid that she twists at the back of her head, but today it’s long and unbound, light brown curls tumbling down her back. I remember the way she seized a knife and a skillet to defend me. She’s strong and capable enough to be a soldier, but she always seems most at peace when she’s in the bakery, wrist-deep in dough.

Or maybe that’s just what I think because Cal is my only friend, and the thought of her leaving Briarlock is too much to bear.

She steps into the workshop, so I set my iron aside and grab hold of a rope to pull myself upright. “Hey, Cal.”

She waves me back. “Don’t stop working. I can’t stay long. Nora ‘accidentally’ doubled this batch of sweetcakes, so I figured I would bring some down here.” She casts a glance at my father and sets the basket on the table. Her voice cools. “Master Ellis.”

If he notices, he ignores her tone. “Callyn.” He finishes the piece he was working on, then tosses it onto the table. “Jax is working,” he says.

As if I’m the one who spends half my waking hours at the alehouse and he’s the one who’s been keeping the forge running.

“I can see that,” she says. “I just told him to keep—”

“Cal.” The last thing I need is her picking a fight with Da. I give her a look and put a new piece of steel into the forge.

She sighs tightly.

I’m sorry, I mouth to her, and shrug.

My father unties his leather apron anyway. “I’ve got business in town.”

“I’ll bet you do,” I mutter. I jerk the steel out of the forge and slap it against the anvil.

“What did you just say to me, boy?”

I slam my hammer against the metal and don’t look up. “I said you’d better get to it,” I call over the clanging.

He grunts and turns for the door.

I keep hammering. Cal keeps standing.

After a moment, I realize that she’s not saying anything and I’m not saying anything, and I wonder if our few days of not seeing each other is less about being busy and more about … everything else.

I finally glance up from my work. “Thank you for the sweetcakes.”

“I should have brought some stew. You’ve been busy.”

I jerk my head toward the doorway where my father disappeared. “He’s been here every day.”

She frowns. “How’s your hand?”

“It’s fine.” I think of the moment Lord Tycho let me go. The memory of the healing—of the sudden, shocking pain, followed by honey-sweet warmth and relief—should be bitter, but it’s not. I should be afraid of the magic. I know Callyn was. I know a lot of people are. I know about all the damage magic has caused.

But I keep thinking of the light in his brown eyes. His voice, soothing and low. Steady. I won’t hurt you. The way his fingers curled around my wrist, more gentle than I expected.

The way he didn’t back down from my anger. The way he didn’t retaliate, when he surely could have.

I need to stop thinking about it. I thrust the steel back into the forge.

Callyn is quiet for a moment. “Are you upset about the magic?”

I’m not. I probably should be, but I’m not. He was right. I wouldn’t have been able to work for months. Just the memory of the pain is enough to make me break into a cold sweat. Despite everything I said to him, I’m grateful.

But admitting that feels like a betrayal to my best friend.

I keep my eyes on the iron of my anvil. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

I consider what Alek said about the queen, how the king’s magic coerced her into marriage. I consider all the rumors I’ve heard. I consider what happened to Callyn’s father.

Her father was a good man, Da said. Was he? Does Da regret not being a part of the Uprising?

For a flicker of time, I realign everything I know of my father: the drinking, the despondency. The irritation in his tone every time he addresses me. For the first time, I wonder if it’s about more than just a disappointment for a son and a monotonous future forging tools. I wonder if he wishes he’d been a part of what happened.

I flex my hand. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen magic with my own eyes. I’ve heard Callyn’s descriptions of the fire that went blazing through the halls of the Crystal Palace to stop the attack. I know about what happened to her mother on the battlefields of Emberfall.

Those stories are hard to reconcile with a young man who’d see my injury and take it upon himself to heal it.

Callyn speaks into my silence. “Did you know anyone other than the king could do something like that?”

“Well—no.”

“Why would we not know? Who else can do that?” She pauses. “Doesn’t that worry you?”

In truth, I think it’s pretty spectacular. It’s part of the reason I feel so conflicted about what I said to him. Lord Tycho didn’t have to help me at all.

Cal shifts closer. “I keep thinking about my mother. About Da. That kind of magic killed them both.” She’s absolutely silent for a moment. “Now … anyone could have it. Who else do you think the king has loaned his magic to?”

“I have no idea,” I say.

“He could have killed you, Jax. He could have burned down the bakery. He could have—”

“He healed me.” I finally look up at her. “That’s all, Cal. He healed me.” I hold up my hand. “I’m fine. You’re fine. Nora is fine.” I pause, then grit my teeth. “If you want to panic about anything, you should worry about all that silver. We’re lucky he didn’t demand answers.”

She swallows. Her cheeks are flushed.

I sigh. “We should both have enough silver by tonight anyway,” I say roughly. “Lady Karyl is due back. We can pay part of what we owe.”

“Have you given any more thought to forging a new seal?” she says. “So we can see what’s on these letters?”

I swallow and cast my eyes at the door. “I’ve thought about it.”

I’ve sketched it out, too, in a small scrap of parchment I’ve kept folded into a tiny ball under my mattress. Forging the silver stars will be the hardest part. They’re very tiny, very detailed. I can’t work on something like that while my father is here. Such intricate work would likely take me a few tries.

And then there’s the matter of reading these notes. It’s one thing to pass them unknowingly. Entirely different to be aware that they’re words of treason.

I don’t know who I think I’m fooling, because it’s certainly not myself.

The iron is beginning to glow yellow, so I seize my tongs and pull it out of the forge. “If we read these letters,” I say, “there’s no coming back from that, Cal.”

She stares back at me. “I know.”

I begin to hammer, and she waits.

“I thought you couldn’t be gone long,” I call over the noise.

She catches my arm, and I stop midswing.

“Don’t you want to know what we’re doing?” she says.

She’s so fearless. I remember the moment she came flying into the barn, her ax swinging. The way she pulled a kitchen knife to defend me from Lord Tycho, who was carrying an armory’s worth of weapons.

“And what will we do?” I say. “What will we do if they’re letters of treason? What will we do if they call for revolution?” I jerk free and slam my hammer against the steel again. “Turn them all in, and then you can lose the bakery and I can lose the forge?” Every strike rings through the workshop. “Or maybe we’ll all be hanging from a rope anyway.”

“Jax.”

She held me too long, and the metal cooled too quickly, so I have to shove it back into the forge. “What?”

“If we’re committing treason, we should know.”

I look down at my hand, the one Tycho healed. I was hurt, and he healed it … and he asked nothing in return. The magic was powerful and terrifying and wondrous all at once. I shoved him in the chest and yelled at him, and he could have taken my head off right there. He didn’t.

I would offer you mercy.

And we’re sitting here talking about treason.

I pull the metal free and look at Callyn. “You’re right,” I say finally. “We should know.”

Lady Karyl doesn’t appear until sundown. This time she has two people with her, a man and a woman, both heavily armed. I don’t know if they’re guards or soldiers, but they don’t look friendly. They hover in the shadows by the edge of the workshop while she draws closer. Her hair is still coiled against her head, her robes damp at the hem as she steps across the mud-slick ground. Her blue eye is bright, even in the dim light of my workshop.

I grab my crutches and stand, casting a glance between her and the people in the shadows. I’ve been expecting her all day, so her “note” is in my pocket, but she’s not alone. I’m not sure if I should just hand it to her or wait for her to ask for it. After the way Lord Alek treated me, her showing up with an armed entourage doesn’t seem better.

“My lady,” I say carefully.

“I saw Ellis in the tavern,” she says, and I go still. If she gives this business back to my father, I have nothing. No recourse.

“He asked why he hasn’t seen me,” she says.

I’m not sure what response she’s looking for, so I say nothing. I glance at the people in the shadows again. Light glints on their weapons.

“You haven’t told him,” she adds.

“No,” I say.

Her eyebrows lift a hair. “Have you told anyone?”

Callyn. I barely hesitate, but her eyebrows lift farther. “I understand you’re close with the girl down the lane. Shall I send my guards to ask the baker what she knows?”

Cal wouldn’t breathe a word. I know she wouldn’t. They could put a blade right to her throat and she wouldn’t break.

But I think of little Nora. Clouds above, look at all that silver! She’s still afraid of the dark, so I can just imagine how she’d act if someone pulled a sword on her sister.

I swallow. “Callyn won’t say anything,” I say roughly. “I swear it.”

“And the King’s Courier has been through Briarlock twice,” Lady Karyl says. “I find that an interesting turn of events.”

“He was looking for Lord Alek,” I say. “We told him he hasn’t been here.”

She frowns. “Has he asked about anyone else?”

“No.”

“And you’ve never mentioned me?”

“No,” I say again. “My lady.”

She’s quiet. I’m quiet. I’m thrown by her mention of my father and the implied threats to Callyn. I cast another glance at the shadows.

Lady Karyl notices. “If you’re being truthful, you have nothing to fear from my guards.”

“I’m being truthful,” I say.

“I find it interesting that you’ve said nothing of my visit to your father.”

“Well, he never mentioned you to me. Do you find that interesting, too?”

She frowns. “Your mouth is going to get you in trouble.”

She still hasn’t brought up the message, and I’m not sure what to say to that, so I fall silent again.

“I like that you’ve kept my secret,” she finally says. “And your girl from the bakery must be a loyal friend, too, because many days have passed, and neither Lord Alek nor I have been implicated in anything.” She pauses. “The queen is planning some kind of competition, that she would like to resurrect the Queen’s Challenge.” Her lip curls. “She plans to invite competitors from Emberfall.”

“That won’t affect Briarlock,” I say. “We’re a long way from the Crystal City.”

“Yes, you may be, but if these plans for a competition continue, it will mean more people crossing the border. More business for you, and more business for your baker friend.” She pauses. “More opportunities to carry messages of great importance.”

“More opportunities for you to spend a bit of silver,” I say.

Her gaze darkens, but she smiles a bit. “I’ve learned you are easily motivated.”

I bristle at that, as if I only crave silver to line my pockets and live in luxury. Maybe that’s what she would do with it, but she has no clue what life is like for us here. “Yes,” I say tightly. “I am.”

She dips her hand into the purse tied at her waist and withdraws a handful of silver. She counts it fastidiously, then holds it out. “The payment you requested.” She pauses. “I will take my letter now.”

I withdraw it from my pocket. There are smudged fingerprints all over it from my time in the forge, but I take the offered silver and watch as she inspects the carefully placed seal.

“Good,” she says. She drops the letter in her purse and withdraws another, the parchment perfectly clean, each fold crisp. Then she withdraws another twenty-five silvers.

She keeps them both close to her body. “I’ve told your father that I’ve found a new messenger,” she says.

I nod, but my heart kicks to see that much more silver in her hand.

“You’ve proven yourself trustworthy,” she says. “Lord Alek will return in a week. Don’t disappoint me.”

I take the parchment. The coins rattle into my hand. My heart is beating as hard as it did when I grabbed hold of the forge and wanted to die from the pain. I wish I could run to Callyn right this very moment.

It’s enough, I want to shout. It’s enough to save the bakery right now.

“I won’t, my lady,” I say, and my voice nearly trembles.

She turns away, but just before she reaches her guards, she stops. “Blacksmith?” she says.

“Yeah.”

“I heard you worried this was treason,” she says. “There’s nothing treasonous about protecting Syhl Shallow. I’d think someone like you would be grateful for nothing more than the opportunity.”

I might be used to ignoring my father’s comments, but hearing it from her stings.

“I’ve heard stories,” I say hollowly.

“Good.” She nods. “We’re counting on you to help us protect the queen.”

Then she’s gone, and I’m left alone with the flickering light from the forge.

I pull the parchment from my pocket and look at the seal, at the tight, crisp folds of the paper.

We’re counting on you to help us protect the queen.

I scowl at the forge. At my missing foot. At the stools scattered all over my workshop. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I should be grateful.

I brush my fingertips over the intricate seal. Then I pull out a fresh piece of parchment and a stick of kohl to try to sketch the design so I can later re-create it in steel.

Maybe this is treason, maybe it’s not.

Like I said to Callyn, we should know for sure.