Forging Silver into Stars

I wake in a dim, unfamiliar room, lying on a narrow bed. A fire crackles somewhere nearby. I remember Alek and my hand flies to my waist, but my weapons are gone. My armor is gone. With a gasp, I shove myself upright.

“Slow down,” Noah’s voice calls from behind me, and then I realize where I am.

The infirmary. The Crystal Palace.

I … have no idea how I got here. Weak sunlight filters down from the windows, but I don’t know if that means it’s dawn or dusk. I remember arguing with Alek. Jax. The dagger. The pain.

I remember Jax saving my life. My blood was on his cheek. His eyes were shining in the light of the forge.

I remember climbing onto Mercy. I don’t remember much after that.

But I remember before. Walking in the woods with Jax, watching the bitterness in his eyes soften into something like eagerness when the first arrow shot off the string. Sitting beside the forge when I should have been riding home. Feeling his hand close on my wrist. Sharing thoughts I haven’t revealed to … anyone.

I almost forgot what it was like to just be … Tycho.

My cat is sleeping at my feet, but Noah appears in front of me with two steaming mugs, so Salam slithers off the cot to sneak beneath it.

Noah ignores the cat. “Here,” he says, holding out a mug as he drops to sit on the cot beside me. I inhale the scent of oranges and cinnamon. “How’s your head?”

I frown and lift a hand to my head, but nothing hurts. I’m in a simple linen tunic and loose trousers that I don’t remember wearing. My frown deepens. “I don’t remember getting here.”

“Well.” He takes a sip of the tea. “When you rode up to the guard station last night, you were unconscious.”

I stare at him. “Really.”

He nods. “Collapsed over your horse’s neck,” he says. “Covered in snow. Blood everywhere. They thought you might be dead.”

I fight for memories, but after cantering out of Briarlock, none come. Oh, sweet Mercy. She brought me home. I’ll need to bring her an entire bushel of apples.

I rub a hand over my face and take a sip of tea.

“Grey has been here every few hours,” he says. “He’s been waiting for you to wake up. But he said you’d healed anything critical on your own.” He pauses. “He fixed the rest of it.”

I remember crawling in the dirt in front of Jax’s forge, wondering if I’d stay awake long enough to keep the magic working. Grey’s magic will flare and protect him even if he’s not consciously aware of it, but I don’t have that luxury.

“I saw your armor,” Noah says more slowly. “Who came after you?”

I look up—and hesitate.

“Should the answer to that wait for royal ears?” he says dryly. He rises from the cot. “Grey asked me to send word when you woke. I’ll call for breakfast, too. You’ve got to be starving.”

Breakfast. So it must be morning.

The king arrives before the food does, which takes me by surprise. His expression is tight and severe, and he’s fully armed, which means they called him in from the training fields. Just as I’m about to tell him that I’m fine, that he didn’t need to rush away from his soldiers, I realize that he’s trailed by others. Jake, whose expression is unusually fierce instead of jovial. General Solt, one of the most formidable commanding officers when I was a recruit, who’s no less intimidating now. Nolla Verin, sister and adviser to the queen, and also one of the most brutally powerful women I’ve ever met.

They’re so imposing that I shove myself to my feet and stand at attention before remembering that I’m not a soldier anymore.

Did Alek make accusations against me? Do I need to explain myself? A ribbon of fear tugs at my spine. Training and protocol are so drilled into me that I nearly salute. “Your Majesty,” I say to Grey.

“Who did this?” he demands. “You were still carrying silver, so it wasn’t common thieves. I only found the one letter from Rhen. Were there more?”

“What?” I don’t understand all the intensity, and it takes my thoughts a moment to catch up. “No. I wasn’t attacked for what I carry. I wasn’t—”

“Just tell us how many there were,” says Nolla Verin. She cracks her knuckles.

“And which direction we have to go to find them,” Jake adds darkly.

“It wasn’t one fight.” I stifle a grimace, because I’m responsible for both confrontations. “It was two, and the latter—”

“Two,” growls General Solt. “Tycho, where?”

They’re completely getting the wrong idea here. They look like they’re ready to call up the whole army, and I just want to lie down and pretend nothing happened. “The latter was Lord Alek,” I say evenly. “So—”

“Alek!” Grey snaps.

“You don’t need to go after him,” I say.

“Oh, I don’t?” he says sharply. “Nolla Verin. Go. Deliver a summons. Bring him back.”

“Gladly.” She’s out of the doorway so quickly that I half expect her to drag Lord Alek back here in less than an hour—and that will lead nowhere good.

I stare at Grey. “Please do not rattle the Royal Houses on my behalf. I’m fine.”

“You’re lucky you made it to the gates. I saw you when they brought you in.”

“It was a misunderstanding,” I say. “We had—we had an altercation—”

“You found him in Briarlock again? Why did he attack you?”

“No—Grey, he didn’t—it wasn’t an attack.” I grit my teeth, remembering. As usual, Alek pushed, but I responded. “Not really.”

“You were soaked in blood,” says Jake. He leans against the doorjamb. “Seems super friendly.”

“And your armor,” says Solt. “I haven’t seen damage to armor like that since we left that scraver in Emberfall.”

I scowl and inhale to protest, but there’s just too much. I’m not sure how to explain things like this, with all of them in my face. I know their intentions are good, but I wasn’t prepared to wake up and admit my failings to the most powerful people in the city.

“He just woke up,” Noah calls gently from where he’s sitting near his work bench. “Maybe you all could take it easy with the interrogation. He should probably sit down.”

That doesn’t help. “I’m fine,” I say.

Grey studies me for the longest moment. After a while, he turns to Jake, and his voice is lower. “Go with Nolla Verin.”

Jake nods and turns away from the doorway. “I’ve got your back, T,” he yells over his shoulder to me.

“I’m counting on you to curb her temper,” Grey calls. “Not to provoke it.”

But Jake is already gone. Grey glances at Solt. “Return to the fields. I’ll join you shortly.”

The general departs—followed almost immediately by Noah, who says he needs to fetch some fresh turmeric from the kitchens. It leaves me facing the king alone. That should be better. In a way, it is.

In a way, it’s not.

Grey puts out a hand, indicating the cot. “Sit.”

I don’t need to sit. I don’t want to sit. But I feel like I’ve earned a reprimand, and there’s no give in his tone, so I obey.

Once I’m seated, Grey unbuckles his cloak at his shoulder and drops it unceremoniously on the cot across from me. Then he drops himself right next to it and runs a hand across his jaw.

“When the guard station sent their first report,” he says, his voice low, “they told me your horse brought back a body.”

I go still.

“You were covered in snow,” he continues. “Barely breathing. Blood everywhere, Tycho.”

“I’m fine!” I hold up a hand. “Truly, Grey. I’m fine. The ring worked. I was exhausted, but Mercy got me—”

“You were half frozen to death,” he says. “Your lips were blue. Another hour and you might have lost your fingers to frostbite.”

I flex my hands. “Noah didn’t mention the frostbite.”

Grey gives me a look. “So you’ll forgive me for sending Nolla Verin to fetch Lord Alek.”

What did Alek say? I think the queen would be interested in hearing that her trusted messenger is having secret meetings. Lia Mara wouldn’t believe him—but he wouldn’t tell her in a private conversation. He’d say it in whatever way cast the greatest doubt on the royal family.

But if they haven’t heard from Alek, then that means he hasn’t been here to spread rumors about me.

“Tycho,” says Grey. “Talk.”

“I got to Briarlock earlier than I expected.” I twist the mug in my hands, but I don’t take a sip. “I’ve become friendly with a few people in town since Mercy threw a shoe, and I wanted to see if Alek had returned. He took me by surprise,” I say. “But … I misread the moment. I thought he was there to hassle me. He was merely asking for a message that had been left for him.”

Grey waits, studying me. When I say nothing more, he says, “And?”

“He provoked me,” I admit. “And I … may have provoked him back.”

“It must have been one hell of a provocation.”

I wince, thinking of all the things Alek said. Since the moment I first met him, he’s always known the right words to say. Every verbal taunt feels like it’s a breath away from drawing blood. I can defend myself with blades and arrows, but when Alek whispers things like whipping boy, it always seems to crawl under my skin and turn me into a sniveling child again.

I don’t want to share any of that with Grey. “We fought,” I say. “He had guards with him.”

He had his hands around my throat.

Grey knows my history, what happened to me when I was a child, but I don’t want to share this detail either. I have to shake off the memory. “I threatened him with magic,” I say. “I used it against him. He retaliated.”

Grey thinks about that for a moment, studying me.

“Please,” I say. “There is already enough tension over magic here. Don’t go to war with the Royal Houses because of one incident.”

I wish I could read his expression, but much like his brother, he’s very good at schooling his face to hide everything that matters. “I will speak with Lia Mara. But I still expect Alek to explain his actions.”

I nod. “As you say.”

He’s quiet, so I’m quiet, and I stare into my tea. The mug is warm against my fingers, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve disappointed him, and I don’t like it.

I’m sure you have duties, Jax said.

I shouldn’t have strayed from them.

“You said two,” Grey says eventually.

“What?”

“You said there were two battles. That Alek wasn’t responsible for the state of your armor.”

“Oh. Yes.” I hesitate, wondering how this is going to go over. “I found Nakiis at a tourney in Gaulter. Kept in a cage, the way Iisak was.” I pause. “They forced him to fight. Do you remember Journ?”

His eyebrows go up. “Of course.”

I nod. “He was running the tourney there.” I frown. “He told me they’ve kept Nakiis there for years.”

“I will send soldiers. Have him liberated. I’m surprised you didn’t send word immediately—”

“You don’t need to. I broke in and freed him.”

Grey goes still. “Tycho.”

I can’t tell if he’s shocked or outraged, so I rush on. “He was earning them too much silver! They weren’t going to let him go. You remember how Worwick was with Iisak. So I paid the entry fee and faced him in the arena. At first, I don’t think he knew who I was. But he did by the end. He had his claws over my throat, and he could’ve killed me, but he didn’t. So I snuck back into the tourney that night, and I broke the lock. I offered to bring him back here, but he’s—he’s—” Grey’s expression has darkened, so I falter for words. “He’s afraid. Afraid of being trapped by another magesmith. He’s worried you’ll demand a debt for healing him years ago. I told him he would find friends here, but as soon as I broke the lock, he slammed through the door and disappeared.”

He draws a long breath. “So the King’s Courier entered a tourney,” he says, “risking his life—”

“Again, I’m fine.”

He gives me a narrow look, and I clamp my mouth shut and scowl.

“And you broke in!” Grey says. “What if you’d been caught? Can you imagine the scandal? We already have enough pressure from the Royal Houses.”

“You would’ve done the same.”

“No,” he says fiercely. “I wouldn’t.”

“Because you’re the king,” I say, “and you wouldn’t need to. Would you rather I had left him there?”

“For the two days it would’ve taken you to get here? Yes. I would have.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say tightly. “I freed him, and he’s gone.”

“You freed a scraver who bears resentment for magesmiths.”

I’m not sure what to say to that.

Grey’s voice is very careful. “He was not Iisak, Tycho. He was not your friend.”

I have to look away.

He sits there, regarding me, and again, I feel as though I’ve earned a reprimand. Maybe I deserve one—or maybe I owe him an apology. But I don’t feel remorse. Not about freeing Nakiis, and not about what happened with Alek.

Not about the time I spent with Jax.

Maybe Grey can sense my reticence, because he draws back a bit. “Did anyone see you?”

I inhale to say no, but then I stop. Bailey.

“A stable boy,” I admit. “But he won’t tell.”

“You’d better hope he doesn’t tell.”

I scowl. “Who would believe him?”

“It takes little effort for a bit of rumor to cause a lot of grief,” Grey says. “Especially after what happened with Alek. I don’t need anyone thinking you’re using magic for malicious reasons. And I don’t need anyone casting doubt on your loyalty.”

That makes me flush, and I glance away.

“Look at me,” he says, and because his voice leaves no room for disobedience, I look at him.

“Your loyalty is not in question with me. But there are threats throughout both kingdoms.” His voice is so low that there’s no danger of him being overheard. “Like in Emberfall, we’ve discovered secret messages among shipments here in the Crystal City. We are trying to determine the source, but it’s too widespread, too unfocused. There are no threats, simply declarations of movements and thoughts. There have been references to a game of chess, which we now think stands for the Royal Challenge that Lia Mara wishes to host.” He pauses. “There have been mentions of pawns taking the king.”

I stare at him. “I didn’t know.”

“There are few who do.” He frowns, and for the first time, a flicker of worry crosses his face. “The queen is far sicker with this baby than she was with Sinna, but we cannot reveal any sign of weakness while unrest grows in the streets. It is important that now, more than ever, Syhl Shallow remains aligned with Emberfall. You alone carry missives between royals. Alek and others like him may imply you are unsuitable because of your birth, or because of your association with me, but that is because they do not want to call it what it is: a position of power and access.”

I nod, but his eyes are intent on mine, his voice very serious. “Do not ever think your role is insignificant, or that the choices you make do not have far-reaching ramifications.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I say.

My voice is as serious as his, but it’s rare that I call him that, and now I’ve done it twice in five minutes. He studies me, and I wonder if he thinks I’m being flippant. “Lia Mara suggested that perhaps you should travel with guards.”

I scowl. She doesn’t mean that as a punishment—but it would feel like one.

The corner of Grey’s mouth turns up, almost a smile. “I thought that would be your reaction. I want you to stay here until we speak with Alek. But I told her I didn’t think assigning guards was necessary yet.”

“Yet.”

He loses the smile, but he reaches out to ruffle my hair, ending it with a friendly shove. It makes me feel like a child, which is never reassuring. I bristle.

He notices this look, too. “If you don’t like people worrying about you, don’t show up at the gates half-dead.” He stands, tossing his cloak over one arm. “I need to return to the fields. I’ll let you know once the others return with Alek.”

I can’t wait.

He’s nearly through the door when I call him back. “Grey. Would you really have left Nakiis there?”

He turns. “Yes.”

“Even before you were the king?” I press.

He hesitates. “I was a guardsman before I was the king,” he says. “I would’ve followed orders, Tycho. Whatever that meant.”

He’s said that to me before. It feels more pointed now. I nod.

Once he’s gone, Salam crawls out from under the cot and leaps up to sprawl beside me, erupting in purrs when I rub behind his ears. I don’t understand how I felt so free yesterday, and now I’m one misstep away from being under guard when I leave the castle. I never mentioned Jax to Grey—or even the reason I lingered in Briarlock at all. I wasn’t deliberately keeping any of that a secret, but it feels like one all the same.

Right this moment, I don’t think I mind.