Forging Silver into Stars

The bruise Da left on my jaw hasn’t faded. The ache in my gut promises to linger a bit longer, too. I think there’s a chance he bruised a rib.

None of that matters, because the resentment in my heart doesn’t fade at all.

“I’ve cleaned up your mess,” he said to me on the second day.

I didn’t answer him. I just gritted my teeth and kept working.

He smacked me on the back of the head. “You should be grateful. I’ve figured out what you were doing. Who you were helping. I turned it around for us, boy. You’re lucky you didn’t get us both thrown in the stone prison.”

“So lucky,” I muttered.

My weapons are gone. I’m not sure what he did with the dagger, but Da broke Tycho’s bow into pieces and fed them to the forge while I watched. Then the arrows, one by one. He may as well have been feeding me to the fire.

He’s threatened to. More than once. “You try anything, and you’ll wish it was just your hand in the forge.”

I have no weapons. No silver.

No options.

I’ve thought about escaping. Sometimes late at night I imagine it. Easing through the house, making my way through the woods in the darkness. But I’m not fast, and I’m not silent. If he caught me … I don’t like to think about the repercussions.

Every time he and I are in the forge together, I think about clocking him in the face with one of my tools. I just haven’t yet found the courage to do it.

What are you afraid of?

Right now, a whole lot.

So every day, I keep my head down and work. I don’t know why I thought for even a second that I could escape my misfortune. If the Truthbringers really did intend to kill the king, I have no way to warn anyone. I have no proof. And if they succeed … well, I was a part of that. In a small way.

If they don’t, it’ll still be weeks before Tycho will pass through Briarlock again.

This morning, I’m in the workshop before sunrise while Da boils some eggs. I spare a moment to hope that he’ll choke. The sky glows pink over the mountains, but it’s still dark down here, so I light a lantern before I set a spark to the forge. A cool breeze winds around me, tugging a tendril of hair free, and I blow on my palms to warm them. But a sudden stillness seems to overtake the morning. A hesitation. A waiting. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

I grab my crutches and rise, peering out into the shadows, then turn to look back at the door to the house. I can hear Da banging around in there, so it’s not him.

When I turn back around, there are two men striding through the shadows beyond the forge, and I jump. No one ever shows up at this hour—at least not for any good reason. My heart is pounding, and I glance back at the door, wondering if I should call for Da. I inhale sharply.

Before I can say a word, a hand slaps over my mouth. Familiar brown eyes fill my vision. “Jax,” Tycho whispers. “Be at ease. It’s just me.”

Despite his words, my heart won’t settle. He wouldn’t appear at this hour if all was well. He wouldn’t be whispering. I glance from him to the other man in the shadows. I can’t make out his features in the dim light, but it doesn’t look like Lord Jacob. He’s taller than I am, with black armor buckled to his frame. His eyes catch a gleam of light from the lantern.

So do his weapons.

I think of the letter that Callyn and I intercepted, and I swallow. My fingers tighten on my crutches.

“Look at me,” says Tycho, and his voice is just as quiet, potent with urgency. “Jax. Look at me.”

I bring my gaze to his. A loud cough sounds from inside the house, and my father swears.

The man at Tycho’s back draws a sword. “Tycho. He’s not alone.”

Tycho’s eyes haven’t left mine. “Who else is here?”

“Just my father. The magistrate released him.” I glance between him and the other man. “Who—what—what are you doing here?”

“There are soldiers in the woods surrounding Callyn’s bakery,” Tycho says.

My eyes flick to the road, but I can’t see anything but darkness and trees. “Soldiers? The Queen’s Army? Or from Emberfall?”

“The Queen’s Army.” The other man steps forward. His eyes are so dark they’re almost black, and there’s absolutely no give to his expression. “At least three dozen. Maybe more. Is that where they’re holding the queen?”

I frown. “I don’t know anything about the queen.” I only know about a possible plot to kill the king. I hesitate. I’m unsure how forthright to be.

Inside the house, the floor creaks. My father is moving around again. I can’t decide if it would be a good thing or a bad thing for him to walk outside right this instant.

“Talk,” says the man, and nothing about his voice is calming. “If you’ve done nothing wrong, you have nothing to fear.”

He’s more intimidating than Tycho and Alek combined. I can all but taste my heartbeat.

I must hesitate too long, because he steps closer. “Answer me. Where is the queen? Are you working with the Truthbringers?”

“I don’t know anything about the queen.” I stumble back with my crutches because he won’t stop advancing.

“Do you know why I was summoned to Briarlock?”

“I don’t even know who you are.” I back into the work table, and a crutch rattles to the ground. He looks like he’s a breath away from putting that sword right through my belly, but Tycho grabs his arm.

“Grey. Grey. He spoke true. I told you. He doesn’t know.”

I stare into the dark eyes of the man nearly pinning me against the table. “Clouds above,” I breathe. “You’re the king.”

“I am,” he says. “So talk. You know something.”

“I—I don’t know anything about the queen,” I say, and my mouth is dry. I don’t know if I’m supposed to kneel or to bow or to start begging forgiveness for everything I’ve done wrong. “Callyn opened Lord Alek’s last letter. It didn’t say anything about the queen. It said something about the archery competition on the second day. That Father would be on the field. It wasn’t a threat, but … almost.”

The king’s expression is so unyielding. “Nothing about the queen? Nothing about Sinna?”

And then I hear it in his voice. The fear undercutting everything else.

I shake my head quickly and look at Tycho. “I was going to try to get to Emberfall. To warn you somehow. But my father came home. He took the silver.”

Tycho and the king exchange a glance.

“I watched the archery competition,” the king says. “Alek was at my side the whole time.” He pauses. “And this doesn’t explain the soldiers down the lane. Nor the message I was given.”

Tycho frowns. “Where is the letter now? Who claimed it?”

I inhale to answer, but the door at my back clicks.

Tycho’s eyes go wide. “Grey!” He lifts an arm and shoves the king to the side.

I hear the snap of a crossbow, but I don’t register the sound until a bolt appears in the king’s shoulder.

Then my father’s voice. “Good job, Jax. You’ve finally done something right.”