Forging Silver into Stars

When we reach Ironrose Castle the following evening, I deliver my messages to Rhen, offer my greetings to Harper, and then disappear into the room I always use, claiming exhaustion from the ride.

It’s hardly even a lie. I close myself into the room, grateful for the chance to finally lose my armor, soak in a hot bath, and collapse into bed.

This isn’t supposed to be a long visit, and I’m glad. Despite what Jake said, I feel like I’m being watched. Like I’ve lost a bit of Grey’s trust.

In the morning, I train with the Royal Guard. They’re more skilled than the army soldiers in Syhl Shallow, and I always enjoy the challenge, especially since they admit me into their ranks without question. The Queen’s Guard in Syhl Shallow is more cloistered, and I’ve never been allowed to train with them, so it’s one of my favorite parts of coming here. Jake is with Harper, Rhen is doing whatever he should be doing with Grey’s missives, and I’m … adrift. At least I can lose myself in swordplay and forget about everything happening at home, especially since many of the guards are eager to hone their skills for the Royal Challenge. They’re full of questions, too, which I didn’t expect.

Teach us how they fight on the other side of the mountain, they say to me.

Is it true that the king’s magic has been welded into their blades?

Are their weapons lighter? I’ve heard they’re lighter.

“Faster,” I say. “But not empowered by magic.”

This lasts for exactly one hour. Rhen appears at the side of their training arena. “Commander,” he calls to Zo, his senior officer, who’s overseeing the training exercises. “I need Tycho.”

“Yes, my lord,” she says with a nod, and she gestures for me to exit the arena.

Prince Rhen might be the only member of the royal family that I don’t currently have any friction with, so I sheathe my weapons and duck through the fence around the arena to face him.

Without preamble, he says, “Jacob has indicated you and my brother are engaged in a bit of discord. Explain.”

I make a mental note to beat the crap out of Jake again later. “There is no discord.”

“So Jacob is lying to me.”

Silver hell. “No—he’s not. It’s just—” I sigh tightly. “There’s no discord.”

“You’ve said that.” He turns. “Walk with me.”

I hesitate, but he’s not waiting, and I don’t want there to be discord with him, too, so I jog to catch up. When we approach the doors leading out into the courtyard, guards swing them open, and we step into the sunlight. Two guards trail us, but I’m no danger to Rhen, so they stand along the back wall of the castle.

I wish I knew what Jake had told him. I’m bracing myself, waiting for another lecture on duty and obligation.

But Rhen only says, “I do not like to linger in the arena.”

“You don’t want to distract the guards?”

“No. I shouldn’t be a distraction.” His voice takes on a dark note, and he frowns. “Too many … memories.”

He and Grey were once trapped here. I’ve only heard bits and pieces of what they endured, but it was enough to know they were tortured by the magesmith who held them captive with magic, and most of the time, Rhen took the damage to spare Grey. I don’t know what specifically happened in the arena, but I can imagine it was a lot, because Rhen seems to involuntarily shudder. He takes a long breath, glancing at the sky, then up at the castle. After a moment, he seems to shake off the emotion.

Maybe someone else would comment on it, but I don’t. I often have to do the same thing when I think of my childhood. Rhen endured something terrible. So did I.

For the first time, I feel a spark of kinship with him, and it takes me by surprise. I’m not sure what to do with it.

“If we’re speaking those kinds of truths,” I offer slowly, “I do not like to linger in the courtyard.”

It’s where I was chained to the wall and flogged, once upon a time.

Rhen glances over but says nothing. Wordlessly, he changes course, heading along the cobblestone walkway toward the stables.

“Forgive me,” he says after a while. “I did not consider it. I should have.”

I’m off balance now, because I wasn’t anticipating this kind of conversation. Maybe he wasn’t either.

“It was a long time ago,” I say.

And it was—for both of us. But I can’t look at the walls of the courtyard without remembering the flickering torchlight, the shackles clamped around my wrists, the bite of the whip as it tore through my flesh over and over again. Until that moment, I’d thought nothing could be worse than what those soldiers did to my sisters and me when I was a child.

Now it’s my turn to involuntarily shudder—to look at the sky, the trees, to inhale the spring air and center myself. To feel the armor on my back and the weapons that are never far from my hands.

I’m here. I’m safe.

Once I’m steady, Rhen glances over. “You’re far more generous than I would be.”

He yielded a kingdom to his brother, so I’m fairly sure that’s not true. But I shrug and keep walking.

We’ve never talked about this. I’m not sure what to say.

“The courtyard isn’t all bad memories,” I offer. “Sometimes I have to remind myself that it’s just a place.”

“The arena isn’t all bad memories either,” he agrees, and it almost sounds as if he’s trying to convince himself. “Grey and I would match swords every day to try to stave off the boredom. He was very good. He’d never yield.”

“Do you miss it?”

“The curse?” His shoulders are tense. “Never.”

“No.” I glance over. He never wears weapons or armor, but he must have been a great swordsman, especially if he sparred with the king. “Do you miss the swordplay?”

He gestures to his face, his missing eye. “It wouldn’t be the same.”

“Have you tried?”

He doesn’t answer. We’ve reached the stables, and the guards there step forward to roll the doors open. Two dozen equine heads poke their heads out to see who’s coming in, hopeful for an extra ration of grain. Mercy rattles her hoof against the door and whickers when she sees me, her ears pricked.

I smile. “I’ll have to bring you an apple later,” I call to her.

“Here,” says Rhen, and I turn to see him offering me a handful of hard caramels.

I’m doubly surprised. But maybe this was always his destination, because he keeps some for himself, then feeds them to his own horse.

Mercy laps hers from my palm, then blows warm breaths against my neck while she mouths the candies, leaving a trail of drool to find its way inside my armor.

“Lovely,” I say to her.

Rhen joins me by her stall, rubbing under her mane. She noses at him for candies, too, and he feeds her one.

“I haven’t tried,” he admits, and it hasn’t been so long that I’ve lost the track of our conversation. “After I lost my eye, the simplest things caused me difficulty. Pouring a glass of water. Walking down steps. When we travel to unfamiliar cities, Harper has to walk on my blind side. Swordplay would just be one more way to fail.”

“You’d learn to accommodate,” I say. I think of Jax, how he was so reluctant to put his hand on the bow, and then his first shot flew fifty yards. “I think you’d surprise yourself.”

“Maybe.” He feeds Mercy another caramel. “I didn’t bring you out here to talk about me. Tell me what my brother has done wrong.”

I sigh. “The fault is mine. Grey’s done nothing wrong.”

He scoffs. “I highly doubt that.”

I whip my head around, and Rhen smiles, a little shrewdly, a little sadly. “You are more ardently loyal than even he was, Tycho. If you and Grey have found a point of conflict, I would bet good silver that the fault is on his side.”

I shake my head and stroke a hand down Mercy’s muzzle. “No. It’s mine.” I explain about Nakiis and the tourney—and then, when his expression doesn’t change, I tell him about Jax and Lord Alek and what happened in Briarlock.

“I don’t really know what draws me there,” I say, and my voice is quiet. I’m not sure why I’d admit this to him, of all people, but perhaps admitting our fears to each other has opened a door I never realized was closed. “Maybe it’s the reminder of what my life used to be like—but that’s hardly a comfort. I don’t know. But I shouldn’t have lingered when I was due to return. Too much is at risk.”

Rhen listens attentively and feeds my horse another candy. He makes for a good audience, and he waits, saying nothing until I’m done.

“So you see,” I say. “The fault is mine.”

“I disagree.” He turns from the horse, heading toward the opposite end of the barn, which leads to another path that eventually meanders through the woods.

Intrigued, I follow.

“You’ve mentioned this blacksmith before,” Rhen says. “If this Jax is as innocent as you hope, then Alek will consider his messenger to be too risky, and he’ll move on to someone else, likely somewhere else. If these people are no threat to the Crown, then I see no harm in chasing whatever you seek, whether it’s friendship or romance or even just a few hours of simplicity.” He pauses. “Grey himself made many missteps along the way, and he should not be too critical of moments of levity and amusement. Maybe you should remind him that instead of claiming his throne, he spent months hiding at some tourney in Rillisk.”

I laugh. “You will forgive me if I am not the one delivering that reminder to the king.”

“Fine,” he says without laughing. “Then I will.”

He’s so serious that it chases the amusement off my face. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“I mentioned before that Grey does not yield,” he says. “That sounds like a strength, and in many ways, it is. He stayed by my side through the eternity of that curse.” Rhen glances over. “But when I needed answers from him, he refused to give them. Even when you ended up chained on the wall beside him. Even when the guards uncoiled their whips.”

He’s never spoken about this so directly, and I feel as though Rhen has driven a sword right into my side. My steps almost falter.

“Again,” Rhen continues, “in a way that is a strength. He held a secret so dearly that nothing could force the words from his lips. I know my role in that moment, and how much harm I caused. You would be right to hate me for what I did, Tycho. But I was trying to protect my people. You were trying to protect him.” He pauses. “Grey was trying to protect himself. So when I hear that you and my brother are in a moment of discord, I wonder if he is once again unwilling to yield in a moment when he very well should.”

No one has ever said anything like this to me. I don’t know if I can speak. I don’t know if I can breathe.

“On the day that Grey returned to Ironrose,” Rhen says, “I asked him what I had done to lose his trust. And Tycho, I had done nothing. The fear was inside his head—and we all paid the price. So if our king has made you feel as though you are not worthy of his trust, then he has made a grave misstep indeed. True loyalty is a gift.”

We’re approaching the woods, and I’m glad for the shadows, for the cool air, for the fact that we’re alone, because I think I’m about to choke on my breath.

“Pull yourself together,” he says pragmatically, “for it’s one thing for me to know this, and entirely another for Grey to be aware of it.”

“I’m together.” But I’m not. Not yet.

“I didn’t realize that would shock you.”

“No one ever speaks of him that way.” I give him a rueful look. “This entire conversation feels treasonous.”

He stares at me in surprise. “Treason! He should hope any treason comes from the likes of someone like you. He has held on to his throne for years, when there was a time I worried it would only be a matter of months.” He glances over at me. “But there have been attacks on the palace, and now these letters are changing hands. The insurrection has crossed the border. I’m worried his first true test as a ruler has come.”

“Me too,” I admit.

“Don’t doubt yourself, Tycho,” he says. “Grey is lucky to have you.”

I wish it were that easy. But I nod. “Thank you.”

We walk in silence for a while, until we take the loop that leads back to the castle.

“I do miss it,” Rhen admits, and my eyebrows go up. “Swordplay,” he adds.

“The guards have followed,” I say. “Borrow a blade. We could spar right now.”

He hesitates. “Not yet.”

“As you say.”

He’s quiet again, and I think that’s it. But then he says, “Next time, perhaps.”

I smile. “Your Highness. Whenever you’re ready, I stand willing.”

Rhen smiles in return. “My brother is a fool indeed.”