Forging Silver into Stars

I expect Jake to question me while we ride, or to tell me what happened with Jax’s father, but he does neither. He’s oddly quiet, but I don’t really mind, because I can let Mercy canter along the darkening path while my thoughts remain firmly planted in Briarlock. My heart feels so light that my pulse seems to beat in time with her hooves. I feel like I’ve been smiling for hours, remembering the feel of his skin or the taste of his lips or the silken softness of his hair.

A week will be too long. There’s no way to predict what Grey and Lia Mara will need when I return, but it’s rather doubtful they’ll need me for much. It’s only a four-hour ride. I could be out and back within a day.

I don’t want it to be a day.

“Tycho,” says Jake. “Let’s give the horses a breather.”

I sit down in the saddle and Mercy slows reluctantly, tugging at the reins until she realizes that Jake’s horse has dropped to a walk, too. I don’t want to walk, though. My entire body feels jittery, full of an eagerness that I can’t quite reason out. If Jake suggested sprinting on foot the rest of the way, I think I could do it.

Then he says, “So tell me about Jax.”

I sigh, inhaling the cool air that’s arrived with the twilight.

“Oh dear god,” says Jake.

I cut him a glance. “Stop it.”

“Look, as much as I love that you’ve grown up in a place where you’ve got absolutely no hang-ups about crushing on a guy, I’m going to have to shoot the stars out of your eyes for a second, T.”

I turn that around in my head for a moment and come up with nothing. I’ve known him and Noah and Harper for long enough that they don’t often find a phrase that I can’t parse out. “Is that Disi talk?”

“No—well, sort of. I’m glad you’ve finally found someone to pine over, but—”

“I am not pining.”

He gives me a look. “There’s a reason I knocked when I came back the second time.”

“There was no reason to knock.” But heat crawls up my neck anyway, and I keep my eyes on the path.

“Uh-huh. And where’s your bow?” he says.

“I gave it to Jax. His bow was snapped in the fight with his father.”

I expect that to launch a new round of teasing, but instead, he says nothing, and we walk in silence for a while. It’s not an uncomfortable silence, but it’s weighted, like he’s thinking.

“What did you mean about ‘shooting the stars out of my eyes’?” I say.

“I mean it’s obvious you have a thing for this kid, and I get it. He’s not breaking any mirrors.” He pauses, and his voice drops a bit, gentling. “And I saw his father. I know why you got him out of there.”

At the mention of Jax’s father, I don’t feel gentle at all. “I wish the magistrate had been willing to hold him for longer than two weeks.”

Jake is quiet for a long moment. “You said Jax was holding a message for Alek, right? That’s the night you were hurt?”

“Yes. He wasn’t doing anything but holding the message. He hadn’t read it. And today, he told me he hasn’t seen Alek since that day. I don’t think he was lying.”

“If he’s not, I know why.” He pauses. “Alek has been seeing that baker—Callyn, right?—instead.”

I go still. “What?”

“He was there when we were going through the forge. She said he’s been coming to Briarlock to see her.” He pauses. “He walked her back down the lane to the bakery. I didn’t follow them too closely, but I rode far enough to see him kiss her at the door—and it sure didn’t seem like a first kiss.”

Alek and Callyn? I try to realign every moment I’ve spent with Callyn, and I can’t draw any conclusions.

While I’m deliberating, Jake reaches a hand into the pouch on his belt and withdraws two small objects that appear to be a combination of wood and steel. When he holds them out, I take them from his palm. They look like wax seals, crudely formed. There are bits of black-and-green wax caked to the metal, along with a few spots of rust, and I study them, trying to determine whether I recognize the design.

Before I’ve figured it out, Jake holds out a folded scrap of parchment. I loop my free arm through Mercy’s reins to take it. The paper is well worn, dusty and stained in spots, as though various items have been shoved on top of it. When I unfold it, I see a dozen sketches of a seal that I do recognize.

“The Truthbringers,” I whisper. Something in my gut clenches. I look at Jake. “Where did you get this?”

But I know. I know before he even says, “At the forge when we went to arrest his father.”

“Then it must be his father’s,” I say. “I asked Jax—”

“I asked his father. He swore he’s never seen that before. I also asked if he was working with the Truthbringers, and he said he only provides what’s needed from the forge. He says it was Callyn’s father who got mixed up with the Uprising. Not him.”

My mind won’t stop spinning. I have so many questions. Does Jax know? Was he keeping that a secret? His voice was tense when he mentioned Callyn. Could this be why?

“The magistrate said the forge is a full two years behind on their taxes,” Jake adds. “The bakery isn’t much better. Did you know that?”

The clench on my gut tightens. I remember little Nora’s voice. Look at all that silver! “No.”

“Did you ask Jax about anyone else, or just Alek?”

“Just Alek.” I frown.

Jax may have been telling the truth that he hasn’t seen him in months, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t seen anyone else. That doesn’t mean he’s not carrying messages for other Truthbringers.

I hand Jake the parchment and study the wax seals again. I don’t want to think Jax could be involved.

But he could. I know he could. I remember the whispering with Callyn, the silver they’d spilled all over the floor.

I remember the way he lectured me about privilege and magic. The way Callyn flinched from my touch.

All the joy in my heart has iced over.

“I’m surprised you left them there,” I say hollowly. Jake’s eyebrows go up, so I add, “Instead of interrogating them. Or dragging them both back to the Crystal City with us.” I hold out the seals. I don’t want them in my hand.

Jake slips them back into his pouch. “Alek was ready to draw blades when he saw me talking to Callyn. I’m not starting a war over a few scraps of paper. We’ll see what Grey wants to do.”

I swallow at the implication in his words. “But it doesn’t look good.”

“No.” He sighs. “It doesn’t.”

The horses plod along. I’m tempted to whirl Mercy around on the path and gallop back to Briarlock, to demand answers I’m not sure I want.

“You’re the King’s Courier,” Jake says.

“I know.”

“You have access to the entire royal family—more than just about anyone else—”

“I know.”

“I’m not trying to lecture you, T.”

“On the day Alek stabbed me, Jax could have finished me off. I had information from Rhen tucked beneath my armor. But I was also with Jax for hours, shooting arrows in the woods.” I search my memories of that afternoon. The air was sharp and cold, full of snow flurries. There was a sound in the woods—but we never saw anyone. “If Jax were plotting against the throne, he’s had several opportunities to cause trouble. The first time I went to Briarlock was by accident, when Mercy threw a shoe. Alek—or Jax—could have ambushed me then, and he didn’t.”

“Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?”

I sigh. “Both.”

“I’m not saying he’s guilty. I saw his father, and that kid probably has a hellish home life. But … I know what people are capable of when they’re desperate.”

I whip my head around and glare at him. “So do I.”

He doesn’t flinch from my gaze. “I know.”

I flush, and now it’s some combination of anger and humiliation and a whirlwind of emotions I can barely identify. I draw up Mercy’s reins.

Jake reaches out to grab one, and she prances, fighting his grip.

“I didn’t tell you this to upset you,” he says quietly.

I say nothing. I’m not even angry with him. I’m not angry with Jax either, or even Lord Alek.

I’m angry at myself. I should have been paying attention.

I grit my teeth. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Let’s go.”

“One more thing.”

“What.” I all but spit the word at him. Mercy tugs at the rein again, prancing sideways. “Let her go,” I say.

He does, but I keep a tight grip, waiting to hear what he has to say.

“Grey needs to know,” Jake says, and my eyes flash to his. “So,” he continues, “do you want to tell him, or should I?”

I’m on edge when I walk through the palace. It’s not so late that everyone is asleep, but the hallways feel tense and quiet, with few servants out and about. The tension must all be in my head. I left Jake with the horses, but there’s a part of me that wants to change my mind, to hide in the barn with Mercy while Jake handles this conversation.

But that feels cowardly. I didn’t want a chaperone—but that means I have to prove I didn’t need one.

The hallway leading to the royal suites is flanked by guards, but they nod and allow me to pass. When I reach their private chambers, I ask the guards on duty if the king and queen have gone to sleep yet.

Please say yes.

Maybe I did need a chaperone.

“The king is meeting with advisers,” says Tika, one of the guards. “But the queen is within. Shall I announce you?”

I hesitate. Lia Mara has been so sick and tired. I don’t want to disturb her, especially if she’s resting.

The Royal Guards aren’t usually friendly with me—or anyone outside their ranks—but Tika hesitates, then leans close and drops her voice. “Her Majesty’s spirits are rather low after what happened to the princess. I believe she could do with a bit of kind companionship.”

I inhale sharply. “Something happened to Sinna? Is she all right?”

Tika nods. “The princess was found in the forest. She is unharmed.”

That only leaves me with more questions, but Tika straightens and reaches for the door handle.

When I’m admitted, I expect the space to be brightly lit, every wall sconce flickering, but instead, the room is dim, the only light coming from the hearth. The queen reclines on a low sofa by the fire, Sinna curled against her, tucked under a light blanket. They’re both asleep, a book open under Lia Mara’s hand.

The moment feels peaceful and intimate, and I pause just past the threshold. But as my eyes adjust to the light, I can see the red rim of Lia Mara’s eyes, the dried tear streak down one cheek. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her cry. The queen has always been full of gentle strength. I’ve seen her hold the hand of dying soldiers, and she’s never wavered.

There are stories all over Syhl Shallow about the king’s brutal magic during the Uprising, how fire swept through many of the palace hallways to stop an assault on the royal family. I’ve heard the tavern tales of how the king’s magic fractured limbs and stopped hearts—which are never quite as graphic as what I witnessed with my own eyes. As I told Jax, there was a reason I was glad for a chance to stop being a soldier.

But the stories of the queen’s kindness and empathy aren’t shared as widely. I walked at her back as she moved from body to body, checking for survivors, using the magic in her own ring to heal anyone she could.

“They’re dissenters,” I remember the queen’s sister saying. Nolla Verin didn’t check a single body. “You should leave them to rot.”

“They’re still my people,” said the queen.

The young princess is curled so tightly against her mother. Something has happened. Something bad. I wonder if I should leave, or if I should wait.

While I’m deliberating, the door clicks open, and I turn carefully, putting a finger to my lips before the guards can announce someone new.

But it’s not one of the guards. It’s the king.

Grey doesn’t look surprised to see me, though I’m sure one of the guards told him I was here. It’s too dark to read his expression, but his eyes flick to Lia Mara.

When he speaks, his voice is a low rasp. “Is she asleep?”

I nod, then hesitate. “Tika said something happened to Sinna.”

Grey draws closer, and I realize that same tension clings to the lines of his face. He looks as tired as Lia Mara does, but he nods. “Let me get them to bed. I’ll tell you.”

He reaches for the tiny princess, gently disentangling the girl from her mother. The toddler easily snuggles into Grey’s shoulder, tucking her face into his neck without waking, but Lia Mara stirs.

“No,” she says, and her voice breaks. “No, I want her with me.”

“I know,” Grey says gently, and there’s a note in his voice I don’t think I’ve ever heard before. He rests a hand against her cheek. “Come lie in the bed.”

Her eyes are a little wild, not quite awake, and she blinks at him, and then at me. “Oh,” she says. “Oh, Tycho. Forgive me.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” I take a step back, to quietly leave them to privately deal with … whatever this is. But Grey meets my eyes and gives a small shake of his head.

Wait, he mouths.

I give him a small nod. When Lia Mara rises, she tucks herself against his side. There are dark stains at the edge of her chemise. But the family disappears into the bedroom, leaving me with the fire. The room feels heavy and melancholy, but I can’t reconcile that with the rest of the palace, which seems tense, but not overwhelmingly so. Something has happened here. Between them.

It’s not long before Grey reappears, closing the door gently behind him. When he comes to face me before the hearth, I say, “I feel as though I am intruding.”

“You’re not. I asked you to wait.” He pauses, his eyes searching mine. I’m not sure what he finds there, but he says nothing.

There’s so much tension in his frame that for a quick moment, I wonder if Jake got to him first, if Grey is going to confront me about Jax and Briarlock right this instant.

But … that doesn’t match the heady emotion of whatever is going on in this room. Something fractures in his gaze, and Grey has to rub at his eyes. He’s frozen in place, not even breathing.

I’m frozen, too. I’ve never seen him like this. If he were anyone else, I’d touch his arm, or say his name, or … just simply acknowledge the strain I can feel in the air. But as Rhen said, Grey never yields. Not to his brother, not to the magesmith who once cursed him, not to the threat of war. Not even to pain. He once hiked five miles through the woods when he had an arrow wound through his leg and a dozen lash marks across his back. I was all but crying from the agony of it, but Grey never broke.

While I stand there deliberating, he lets out that breath slowly. His hands lower, and his eyes are clear, his breathing steady. In control again, which should be reassuring, but I just lived through the last thirty seconds, so it’s not.

He rubs a hand over the back of his neck and looks away. “We lost the baby.”

It’s my turn to stop breathing. Four simple words spoken so plainly shouldn’t have the impact of a thousand arrows. I thought all this emotion was about something happening to Sinna.

I don’t have the right words. I don’t even know if the right words exist. But I can’t stand here in the face of so much pain and do nothing. I step forward and wrap my arms around him.

He’s startled for a moment, which isn’t surprising, as Grey isn’t usually one for affection, and our relationship has been tense for weeks. But then he hugs me back, and he doesn’t let go.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.

He says nothing, but I can feel the weight of his sorrow. If he’s crying, he’s doing it silently, but he also hasn’t pulled away. I wait, and I breathe, and I wonder why fate is so cruel as to bring two men to tears in my presence today.

After a moment or an eternity, Grey pulls back and straightens. His eyes gleam in the firelight. He looks as raw as Lia Mara. I wonder how long ago it happened. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days.

“Dice and whiskey?” I say. It’s a common expression among the soldiers when someone has suffered a loss. Usually it’s followed by a lot more drinking than gaming.

Grey shakes his head. His throat jerks as he swallows.

“Cards?”

He hesitates. “Yes.”

We sit. I deal.

Grey picks up his cards, but he doesn’t look at them. Instead, he slides them between his fingers and stares into the fire. “It was three days ago,” he says, and his voice is as low as I’ve ever heard it. “Sinna had slipped away from the nanny. You know how she is. Loves to sneak, loves the chase.”

I nod.

“But an hour went by,” he continues. “Then two. Three. No one could find her. I tried magic, I tried … everything. She wasn’t in the palace. Lia Mara was …” His voice catches. “She was distraught. The baby began to come. There was so much blood. Noah couldn’t stop it. The midwife couldn’t stop it. Sinna was missing, and Lia Mara was fighting them to go looking for her daughter, and I just—”

He stops speaking for a long moment, and then he shakes himself and looks at me. “I couldn’t do anything. For either one.” He rubs at his eyes again. “I tried to use magic on Lia Mara. To stop the labor—but it was too far. Too early. Maybe I made it worse.” He grimaces. “I saved her, but the baby … the baby was already …”

I put a hand on his wrist. “You didn’t make it worse.”

But as I say the words, I don’t know for sure. I remember Lia Mara sitting at breakfast. You don’t know what it would do to the baby.

“I might have.” His eyes meet mine, and I see the guilt and worry there.

“You didn’t,” I say again, and there’s a part of me that’s trying to convince myself. Grey only ever wants to use his magic for good, but there are times when emotion gets the best of him and his power can flare without focus. It happened when I was fifteen and we were chained to the wall of Rhen’s castle. It happened during the Uprising, when hundreds of people surged into the palace.

I don’t move my hand. “Where did you find Sinna?”

“In the forest,” he says. “Beyond the guard barracks. Well out of the range of my magic. She made it into the mountains. I still don’t know how, whether someone lured her or she made it on her own. We found her asleep under a tree. Lia Mara is terrified to allow her out of sight. She doesn’t even trust the guards. I’m shocked she fell asleep.”

I study him. “When is the last time you slept?”

“I catch an hour here and there.” His jaw tightens. “No one knows about the baby yet, Tycho. No one but Noah and the midwife. There was so much panic about Sinna, and with as sick as the queen has been … we don’t want to spread further rumors yet.”

I nod. “No one will hear from me.”

His mouth twists. “She’s been so ill for so long. Noah says it may have happened anyway, that there’s no way to know. But I can’t help but think that I—” He breaks off and takes a long breath and rubs at his eyes again.

I think of everything going on in Briarlock, but right now, none of it matters. Right now, he’s not a king, and she’s not a queen. He’s a grieving father and she’s a heartbroken mother.

“You should sleep,” I say to him. “You need it as badly as she does.”

He gives a humorless laugh. “Well, right now, I don’t trust the guards either.”

“Sleep,” I say quietly. “I’ll sit sentry.”

He goes still, studying me, and for a flicker of time, I see everything that’s unspoken between us. He draws a long breath, and I can’t tell if he’s going to refuse or acquiesce, so I say, “Go. Rest with your family. I’ll stand guard. Sinna won’t get past me.” I hold his gaze. “Neither will anyone else.”

He hesitates, but then he stands, slipping his cards back onto the pile. He puts a hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze.

Then he’s through the door, and I keep my word.