Page 133 of Hellbound

Ksenia nodded, reaching for a couple of blue-gray ingots and common steel ingots.

“You’re playing with fire, Senna. What are you doing?”

“That’s sort of the purpose of a forge.” Ksenia tossed more ingots into the flame.

“No—don’t deflect.” Danika’s hand closed around her arm.

“I’m doing what no one else can and no one else will.” Ksenia turned away. “You have to trust me on this. I can’t tell you more because it’s too dangerous.”

“Every time I see you, you look more haunted. And I think it’s because of your blade,” Danika said firmly.

Danika was partially right, of course. The line between Senka the spymaster and Ksenia the rebel bondsmith was becoming blurred, and she feared her original form wouldn’t be intact by the end.

“Bonded weapons don’t make decisions.” Ksenia faced her but closed her eyes. “People make decisions. They’ll make the same ones with common steel.”

“Bonded weapons are an addiction,” Danika hissed, hand clenched. “We’re feeding that.”

“We saved forty-four families,” Ksenia said, her voice quiet with a hard edge. “We did that. And it’s what we should be focused on. Not taking away the only advantage people like us have.”

Silence hung heavy between them.

She didn’t want to fight. Not again.

“I don’t want to lose you.” Danika shook her head, her brows pinched together. “I don’t want you to be hurt.”

Ksenia pulled her close, and Danika buried her face into her shoulder.

“I want to help.” Her words were small and muffled. “I just don’t always know how. Sometimes I think what Dad was working on could—but it’s so complicated.”

Ksenia’s shoulders slumped from relief. Then guilt.

She set her chin on Danika’s shoulder.

“There is something I need your help with.”

Danika pulled back to look at her.

Ksenia loathed to put Danika in danger. But there was no way she would be able to figure out Danika’s particular gravity-well locks anytime soon. It was a mini labyrinth inside, with counter-pressure and bearings of varying weights that made her head spin whenever Danika tried to explain it to her.

“How?” Her voice brought Ksenia back to the present.

Ksenia raked her hand through her hair. “I need a copy of his study key. I recognized your lock before I even reached the landing.”

Danika’s eyebrows rose, questions crossing her face, but she suppressed them. “Easy enough.”

Purple and blue sparks flew from the furnace.

“Shall we continue?” Ksenia tipped her chin at it, grateful for the distraction.

Ksenia reached for a halter front made entirely of chainmail, then pulled it over her head to cover her torso before replacing her apron.

Danika rubbed her shoulder. “I’m not looking forward to this.” She copied her sister.

“Yeah, this is going to fucking suck.”

This time, Karsan had demanded a Damascus pattern.

The more complex the pattern, the greater the weapon’s potential. But it came at a cost.