Forging Silver into Stars

Preparations for the first competition have been well underway, and the transformation of the fields surrounding Ironrose Castle is impressive. Markers and targets have been set out for archery, both for long range and accuracy. Small sand arenas sit ready for close combat, either sword fights or hand-to-hand. Longer tracks have been arranged for mounted or foot races. Flagpoles stand at each end, banners with both the green and black of Syhl Shallow and the gold and red of Emberfall snapping in the wind.

Along the far side of the competition fields, nearly a hundred tents have been built, and even though the matches aren’t due to start for at least another ten days, many are already occupied. Pennants and banners in an array of colors already hang from the tent eaves, blues and yellows and greens representing cities and towns and families. Anyone with status has been invited to stay in the castle, but I learn from the Royal Guard that the array of tents is already proving to be a site of revelry and music late into the night.

The prince and princess are away when I arrive, which is both a relief and a disappointment. I’ve been jittery since I left the forge, as if Grey might have sent scouts to make sure I got where I was supposed to be. He didn’t—at least, not as far as I can tell. But I’m sure he and the queen made mention of the goings-on at court in their letters. If I’m going to hear an earful from Rhen, too, I’d rather get it over with.

I try to make the best of my evening alone, turning Mercy loose in a pasture for a few hours of liberty, then sinking into a hot bath for myself. There’s no formal dinner since the prince and princess aren’t in residence, but the castle kitchens always lay out a late meal after sundown, which I prefer anyway. A few stars have begun to twinkle in the twilit darkness outside the windows, and I can hear faint music coming from the distant competition yard. I smile and fill a cloth napkin with slices of bread and cheese and salted meats, then turn for the door to go explore. If I’ve been granted a short reprieve from anyone’s disappointment, I may as well enjoy it.

But I walk through the door and find myself face-to-face with Alek.

I’m so shocked by his presence that I nearly drop my food. He looks like he’s only just arrived, still trussed up in armor and weapons, his red hair a bit windblown, his face unshaven. His own guards are at his back—and though castle guards are on duty down the corridor, right now I’m alone.

My heart pounds, my thoughts replaying that moment in Jax’s workshop when I faced Alek months ago. My free hand is automatically reaching for a sword that’s not there. I’m not even wearing a dagger. I’ve never had need for weapons in the halls of Ironrose.

That will change if Alek is here.

He must see the quick burst of alarm in my expression, because his smile is predatory. “Tycho. I’m glad to see you arrived in a timely manner. I know the king had concerns.”

Concerns. The word is barbed, every point aimed at me. I had no idea Alek was attending the competition. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.

I grit my teeth and tighten my grip on the food. “If you’ll excuse me.”

He moves to block my path. “Something happened to the queen before you left the palace. What was it?”

I think of the queen’s sorrow, the king’s tense worry, both of which are wrapped up in a tragedy that might have been caused by an action I took. I won’t give Alek any of that.

“You’ll have to address your questions to the queen.” I glare at him, thinking of how much doubt he cast on me in the throne room. “You remember how to do that, I’m sure. Now move.”

He doesn’t. “You’re hiding something,” he says, his voice low. “The king is hiding something.”

“Hiding something from a man rumored to work with the Truthbringers?” I say. “What a surprise.”

“Are you referring to yourself? I believe those rumors now point at you.”

I want to throw a punch. My hand has already formed a fist.

Alek leans in and says, his voice low, “I know where you went, and I know what you did.”

My chest constricts, and I suck in a breath—but I hold my temper and try to shove past him.

I should know better. Alek isn’t one to let a physical altercation pass him by. He grabs hold of my arm, and I whirl, letting my fist fly. Maybe he didn’t expect me to retaliate so quickly, because I get him in the jaw an instant before he ducks to drive an arm into my abdomen. I regroup to hit him again, ready to seize one of his blades, but an arm grabs me from behind.

I struggle, thinking it’s his guards, but Alek has been grabbed as well. It’s Emberfall’s Royal Guard. Commander Zo is standing between us, Princess Harper at her side.

To my surprise, they let me go, but they keep hold of Alek.

“You will unhand me,” he snaps in Emberish. “Do you know who I am?”

“I know you assaulted a member of this court,” Harper snaps back. “Do you know who I am?”

Alek inhales like he’s going to spew venom. He probably does know who Harper is, but he bears nothing but disdain for Emberfall.

Prince Rhen speaks from the end of the hallway. “Watch your words, Lord Alek. I know who you are. I will remind you that you are in the heart of Emberfall, not your home country.” His tone could slice through steel. “My brother may need to pander to you, but I do not.”

Alek grits his teeth—but we’re surrounded by guards now. He looks at Harper. “Forgive me, my lady,” he says, and if I didn’t hate him so much, I’d be impressed at how quickly he can strip any disrespect from his tone. One of Rhen’s guards still has his arm pinned, but you’d never know it. “It’s been a long ride. I shouldn’t have let Tycho provoke me. I let my temper get the best of me.”

These words slice into me, and my gut tightens. Just like in Syhl Shallow, he’ll be forgiven. Another arrow of doubt will pierce my reputation.

But Harper says, “If Tycho provoked you, he probably had a good reason.” She looks at the guard pinning his arm. “Let him go.”

The guard does. Alek tugs his armor straight.

Prince Rhen has crossed the short distance to stand at her side. “If your travels have been so wearying, I suggest you spend the remainder of your evening in your quarters. I’d be happy to have the Royal Guard escort you.”

A threat hides in his words, and a shred of Alek’s arrogance lights up his eyes, but it doesn’t make it into his voice. “Of course, Your Highness,” he says craftily. “I trust your servants can deliver a full meal for me and my guards?”

I’m hoping Rhen will tell him to eat the food I’ve dropped on the floor, but the prince simply says, “Certainly,” and his voice is just as smooth as Alek’s was.

Alek bows to them both, then turns away. Rhen looks at Zo and speaks quietly. “Make sure he doesn’t find any further provocation.”

She smiles. “Yes, my lord.”

Once they’re gone, the tension in the hallway evaporates, leaving me with more shame and embarrassment than any latent anger.

I know where you went, and I know what you did.

I have no idea if he spoke true. But even if he’s doing nothing more than fishing for information, my reaction likely said enough. I’m sure he’ll deliver that news to Grey in as compromising a way as he possibly can. He’ll probably wait to announce it in front of a crowd.

Rhen looks at me and lifts an eyebrow. “Politically tricky, you say?”

That almost makes me smile. I’m grateful for their intercession—but mostly regretful that it happened at all, especially in front of them. “Forgive me. He took me by surprise.”

“You’ll tell me if he harasses you again,” says Rhen.

The words light me with a little glow. I’d begun to forget what it felt like for someone to speak out on my behalf. But I grimace. “Please don’t take action at your expense.”

“At my expense? I am the brother to the king. Acting regent in Grey’s stead. If Lord Alek chooses to attack a member of this court, then the expense will be his own.”

I’m staring at him, half in shock, half in wonder.

Harper smiles, then laughs a little wickedly. “Grey might be good with a sword, and he might have the magic, but when it comes to words and strategy, no one beats Rhen.” She rises on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

He smiles, then traces a finger under her chin. “Certainly not that one. He’s playing a game I perfected ages ago.”

My cheeks warm at their casual affection. I take a step back, intending to excuse myself, to leave them to their own meal, their privacy, their time together.

But Harper hooks an arm through mine and kisses me on the cheek as well. “Come on, Tycho. I wanted to get back in time to hear the music. Some of Zo’s old musician friends have taken up a tent. We can fill a basket and make a picnic. Walk with us?”

That little glow that lit in my chest builds more fully. I haven’t fractured all my relationships. “Yes, my lady. As you say.”

The night air is cool, and widely spaced torches light the paths between the tents. A large open area sits at the center, and a bonfire burns, sparks flaring into the night. The area isn’t crowded, but enough people have gathered to listen to the music that I’m glad I fetched some light weaponry before leaving the castle. The Royal Guard will follow wherever we go, but if I’m walking with the prince and princess, I don’t want to be another liability.

Drums and stringed instruments create a percussive rhythm I can feel through every fiber of my body. I’m not the only one—many people are already dancing, creating long, lively shadows. We find seats on logs that have been arranged around the fire, and I could almost forget the mess I left in Syhl Shallow. But firelight flickers along dozens of unfamiliar faces, and a tiny part of my brain warily seeks the shadows for Alek.

The fire warms my skin as I watch the dancers, though, and a bigger part of my brain wishes I could seek the shadows for Jax. I can close my eyes and hear his voice, a little rough, but never uncertain.

Do you need me to choose, Lord Tycho?

A cool wind slides through the camp, causing the bonfire to flicker and throw sparks. Some of the dancers yip and laugh as they scatter away from the burning embers. The musicians play on.

The morning I left, he held on to me so tightly.

I should have hired him a carriage right there on the spot.

“What are you smiling about?” Princess Harper bumps me with her shoulder.

“Ah … nothing.” I flush and take a sugared pastry from the basket. I’m glad for the cloaking darkness. I wish I knew what Grey had said in his letters. Both she and Rhen are being so kind that guilt keeps pricking at my thoughts.

“Hmm,” she says knowingly, and I smile.

She shifts closer to me, slipping a slice of apple onto a piece of flatbread smeared with goat cheese. “I’ll let you keep your secrets.”

Secrets. The word is a barb, but I know it’s not intended, so I nod. “Much appreciated.”

“Will you tell me their name, at least?”

I look at her in surprise, and she shrugs.

“I’ve been smitten before,” she says, as if that explains everything. “I know the signs.”

For a moment, I can’t say his name. Right this instant, it feels like a secret, shared only between us. If I speak his name, I make it more. I make it bigger. I make it real.

“Jax,” I say, and it’s like the wind pulls the name from my lips. Like he’ll hear me say it on the other side of the mountain.

The sentimentality of that makes me blush again, and I try to scowl it away.

I fail. The music plays on.

“Good name,” Harper says.

“Yes,” I agree.

I say nothing else. She doesn’t pry. The wind settles, and the dancers move closer to the flames. Prince Rhen has moved away to speak with a man across the clearing, his guards shifting almost invisibly to track his movements.

Harper takes another slice of apple from the basket. “Rhen said you offered to spar with him the last time you were here. That was very kind.”

“I didn’t mean it as a kindness.”

“I know you didn’t. I think that’s why it meant so much.”

I glance over.

She shrugs a little. “He hasn’t picked up a sword since he lost his eye. But … well, since you and Jake left, I’ve caught him in the courtyard a few times. Going through the footwork. Early in the morning. You know.”

I study her. She takes another apple slice, pressing it into the cheese.

“I don’t think he’d ask you,” she says carefully, her voice very low. “But if you offered again, I don’t think he’d turn it down.”

I nod. “I will.”

Then Rhen is back, and we sit and listen to the music for a while. Harper’s lady-in-waiting, a kind woman named Freya, joins us, her daughters twirling to the music. Her son, a boy who must be eight or nine by now, is lingering close to some of the fighters, probably hoping to be drawn into their midst. Soon, Harper and Freya are spinning with the girls, leaving me on the log with Rhen.

I’ve been waiting for him to confront me about whatever Grey’s letters said, but the prince hasn’t said a word. Tension has been building in my gut as guilt and worry grow to fill the space. The music and lighthearted atmosphere should be soothing, but it’s not.

Especially when Rhen says, “Do you care to walk?”

It’s not an order, but it might as well be, so I rise from the log. “As you like.”

He heads away from the bonfire until we’ve walked beyond the light, and the shadows grow long between us. I wait for him to talk, but he says nothing, and the music fades as we meander among the rows of carefully built tents.

Finally, I can’t take his silence any longer. “Forgive me,” I say. “But aren’t you going to say anything about Grey’s report?”

He glances at me. “I was waiting for you to tell me. He simply wrote ‘Tycho will tell you all you need to know.’ ”

Grey could have fired an arrow over the mountains to strike the ground at my feet and I’d be less shocked. I turn these words over and over in my head, and that pool of anxious tension moves north to grip my chest.

He didn’t write anything.

No wonder Rhen and Harper have been so casually amiable. No wonder they defended me from Lord Alek.

I think of the way I carefully wrapped up any papers to keep them safe—and there was nothing truly confidential to protect. “So he didn’t trust me to deliver the message securely.”

Rhen peers at me in the darkness. “Or he trusted that you’d do exactly as he said.”

That tightness in my chest doesn’t ease. I’m glad we’ve moved away from the flickering torches, because I have no idea what expression is on my face. I feel like I’m breathing through quicksand. “I don’t think so.”

“Prove him wrong then.”

Rhen says these words so simply that I blink and look at him. “What?”

He lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “If you think he wrote nothing because you’d betray him somehow, prove him wrong. Tell me all I should know.”

Is this a test? This feels like a test.

I inhale to answer—but there’s so much. Too much.

Rhen catches my arm lightly and stops walking. “At the very least, tell me something.” He pauses. “Grey’s message did not give me the impression that there was trouble. Is there?”

I feel like I’m about to ruin the last scraps of any trust I have with the royal family.

But because I am loyal, and I am trustworthy, I square my shoulders and tell him everything.