The rest of the week flew by.I visited the young girl and her mother at the market again and bought more of their honey cakes.I told the girl that I would be back working in the forge with Cillian in a few days, and her excitement filled me with pride.
On another of my days off, I took Nightmare for a ride outside the city gates.We found a meadow with a small stream.I stripped down and bathed, enjoying the pleasure of the water running over my hot skin.As always, I passed the fortress gates to check the guards’ faces before returning to the forge.
It was my first day back in the forge, and Cillian had asked me to stock up on horseshoes.By the end of the day, I had filled a wooden crate with new horseshoes and carried them to the shop.
‘You won’t need to make a horseshoe for months—’ I came to an abrupt halt when I realised Cillian wasn’t alone.
‘Aren’t you the woman telling anyone who will listen that you’re a blacksmith?’
It was the black-bearded man who had stood behind me on the bridge to Murus.
‘Sheisa blacksmith, Mac.’Cillian frowned.
‘You’re joking?’Mac said with a sneer.
I ignored Mac’s stare and moved to hang the horseshoes from largest to smallest on nails in the shop wall, making it faster for Cillian to find the size and shape he needed.
‘Why would you want that oversized pant-wearing woman messing around in your forge, Cillian?Women are only good for one thing and, even then, you have to give the mouthy ones a slap or two to keep them in line.’
I fumbled and dropped a shoe as my ears burned.
‘You can do better, Cillian.There’s something wrong with that one.’He lowered his voice only slightly.
‘I don’t need your ore.’Cillian pushed a sack into Mac’s chest.
‘What?It’s good ore!’
‘I don’t use bog ore.’Cillian crossed his arms.‘So don’t come back.’
‘It’s not bog ore!It’s good stuff,’ Mac hissed.‘What did she say to you, huh?Or has she put some spell on you?’
Cillian picked up a large hammer and stalked towards the man, who backed up quickly.‘Get out of my shop, and if I ever see your face in here again, I’ll rearrange it for you.’
Mac’s eyes moved frantically between the hammer and Cillian’s stony face.
I snorted when he tripped, backing out of the shop.His bag of bog ore landed heavily on his gut, and I heard him grunt just before Cillian closed the shop door.
I continued hanging the last of the shoes.
‘You know I don’t think those things about you, right?’Cillian stood behind me, the hammer held forgotten by his side.
I turned to face him.‘I know.’
I reached out to take the hammer from him, feeling his warmbreath fan across my cheek for a moment before I stepped back and stowed the tool away.
The following day, Cillian and I were having our morning coffee when the sound of hooves across the cobblestones caught our attention.We walked to the front of the forge, where we could see the street better.Soldiers wearing full armour and red capes marched out of the fortress gates and onto the street.People on their way to set up for the market stepped back to make room for the imposing soldiers, while others followed behind them into the city square, chattering excitedly.
Cillian looked at me with a raised brow, and I nodded at his unspoken question, my curiosity getting the better of me.
A sizeable crowd had already gathered in the square, and we found a place somewhere in the middle to stand.Both of us were tall enough to see over the crowd to the soldiers lined up in formation.My gaze searched every uncovered face I could see.
Wearing helmets, two men in full captains’ uniforms were in front.Their horses stood motionless despite the noisy crowd surrounding them.Their armour was fitted flawlessly and crafted from steel instead of the more common and cheaper iron.
The captain on the left raised his hand, and the entire square of people went quiet.He took off his helmet and tucked it under his arm.He was young with a wavy mop of brown hair and pleasant hazel eyes.The captain on the right removed his helmet next and revealed shiny dark hair and obsidian eyes.The unusual scar that stretched across his left cheek was impossible to ignore.
I gasped desperately for air.
Memories of my mother, of that final journey we took that ended in her death, began to crush me.It was as if I were lying helpless in a grave while the memories pressed down on me, choking me.Everythought of that night filled my lungs like dirt, thick and suffocating, and I couldn’t move beneath the weight of it all.
