Forging Silver into Stars

I’m not one for murderous thoughts, but for Alek, I’m making an exception. I’m wishing I hadn’t left my bow with Jax, because I long to nock an arrow on the string and let it fly. I imagine Alek flailing on the floor of the throne room, writhing as he tries to pull a shaft free of his chest. His blue eyes would be clouded with pain and anger, and he’d be trying to swear at me, but the arrow would’ve punctured his lung.

I bet you’d accept a bit of magic now, wouldn’t you, I’d say.

Much like Grey’s barely restrained temper wasn’t all about me, mine isn’t all about Alek.

But some of it is.

I should probably join Jake by the side of the dais, but I’m still smarting from Grey’s comments, and I don’t need to be chastised again. Instead, I linger by the wall a bit apart from everyone. Alek stands in the middle of the throne room, dressed for travel, armed for battle. His expression is troubled and wary, but he bows respectfully when the queen gestures for him to come forward. “Your Majesty,” he says. “I hoped to speak with you alone.”

Lia Mara is resplendent on her throne, wearing glistening red robes with a black satin belt, her hair long and shining over her shoulder. There’s no hint of distress or dismay about her expression, but she takes Grey’s hand and holds it when he joins her on the dais. His thumb strokes over her knuckles slowly, and just that tiny movement steals some of my agitated worry. Their pain is invisible, but it seems to radiate throughout this entire room.

“We issued a summons weeks ago,” Lia Mara says evenly. “If you wished to speak with me alone, Lord Alek, you’ve had ample opportunity. Now you will address my court and explain yourself.”

“I sent word—”

“You attacked the King’s Courier. You assaulted a member of this court.”

“I defended myself, Your Majesty.” His voice is just as even as hers is. “As is my right. If the king has seen fit to grant magic to those in his circle, you should be aware when those powers are abused.”

I was defending myself, too. I want to speak so badly that my fingertips are digging into my palms.

“Tycho doesn’t abuse his power,” says Grey.

“How do you know?” says Alek. “Have you asked him?”

I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from speaking.

“Do not question me,” Grey says coolly. “You were summoned here to answer for what you did.”

“I have answered for what I did,” Alek says. “Tycho should be forced to answer for his actions.” He pauses, gazing around the room dramatically. “Did I injure him so badly that he cannot speak for himself?” His eyes land on me, and they’re ice cold.

I’m sure mine match.

“No,” Alek continues frostily. “He’s right there. He bears the magic to heal himself, so these claims of assault seem rather frivolous to me.” He pauses, his eyes finding mine again. “Would you like for me to do it again, and we can all have a demonstration?”

I have never wished for a sword and dagger as much as I do this very moment. “Go ahead and try,” I say darkly. “We shall see how it ends.”

He draws blades. “Gladly.”

“Hold.” Lia Mara’s voice is clear and sharp over the sudden murmur that echoes through the throne room. “I will not abide bloodshed in my court.”

Alek’s gaze hasn’t left mine. My heart is pounding in my chest, and my hand clenches near the hilt of a sword that’s not there.

Danger sparks in his eyes as he says, “The old queen would not have minded a bit of sport.”

“I am not my mother,” Lia Mara snaps, “and you would do well to remember that, Lord Alek. Now put up your weapons.”

He slides his sword and dagger into their sheaths as quickly and smoothly as he drew them, then bows again with perfect gallantry. “As you say, Your Majesty.”

The court falls silent again—or maybe the rush of my pulse is blocking any sound. I force myself to look away from Alek, to see how this interaction is being received. As always, there are many people here who don’t trust the king, just like Alek. There are many people who love the queen—just not the man at her side. It wasn’t different four years ago, when we first came to Syhl Shallow. But in the months since the Uprising, this feeling has grown darker, more insidious. A dagger in a shadowed corner instead of open rebellion.

Alek has taken a step forward, and his tone is repentant now. “Had I known you bore such doubts about my response, Your Majesty, I would have returned to court at once. I assure you, I meant the King’s Courier no harm. I knew he had magic, and I assumed we were simply … having a disagreement.”

“That involved bloodshed,” she says flatly.

“I contend that he threatened me with magic first,” says Alek.

He’s not lying. Grey looks at me, and his gaze could cut steel.

I have nothing to say.

The queen is still looking at Alek. “Tycho is not one to pick a fight,” she says, and the king leans in to murmur something to her.

“Perhaps not one to pick a fight,” says Alek. “But I would ask that you inquire about his dealings in the small town of Briarlock. He has been seen many times with the young blacksmith who held a message for me.” Alek’s gaze shifts to Grey. “I believe your man-at-arms discovered some effects that indicate a link to the Truthbringers in the blacksmith’s workshop, did he not? I have heard that the boy is hungry for silver, and your so-called courier enjoys a good bit of freedom.” He looks at some of the other House ladies and lords who are gathered in the throne room. “Rumors have been flying in the city that Princess Sinna was at risk. Missing for hours, in fact. I believe we all deserve to know whether you’ve brought someone into your confidence who seeks to work against our queen—”

“Enough,” says Grey, and his voice is low and vicious. “Tycho is not working against the queen.”

A low murmur has filled the throne room again, but Alek looks at me. “Were you in Briarlock yesterday?”

“You know I was there,” I say tightly. “Inquiring as to your whereabouts.”

“Were you?” he says, putting a finger to his lips. “I saw Lord Jacob, but not you. He was well informed of my reasons for being there.” He pauses. “Where was the young blacksmith, then?”

I swallow tightly. Every eye in the room is on me—including Grey and Lia Mara.

“Answer,” says Grey, and there’s absolutely no give in his voice.

“He had nothing to do with this!” I say. “He was injured, and I—”

“Used the king’s magic to heal him?” says Alek. “A young man who’d displayed evidence of working with the Truthbringers? Who else have you been working with, Tycho?”

I inhale to snap at him, but the room explodes with noise and commotion, including nobles who are suddenly demanding a formal inquiry. Many others are yelling for the queen to separate herself from the king.

Jake appears beside me. “Not another word,” he says.

“He’s lying,” I seethe.

“They don’t think he is,” Jake says under his breath. “If he’s trying to be misleading, it’s working.”

The queen is on her feet. “I will have silence,” she declares. “And I will have order, and I will have—”

She makes a tiny sound, very much like a gasp, and it’s such a small noise that I almost don’t register that I’ve heard it. But her hand goes to her abdomen, and she gasps again. Almost as quickly, she’s straightening, her free hand clutching at Grey’s hand. Her face has gone pale, but she’s clearing her throat.

“I will have silence,” she declares.

But the room is already silent. I’m not the only one to have noticed.

Everyone has gone still. Almost every eye has fallen to that hand that rests above her stomach.

Grey leans close to her and says something, his voice very low. Her jaw is tight, and she draws a slow breath before straightening.

Some of the contempt has slipped out of Alek’s expression, and his gaze shifts from the queen to the king. Instead of disdain, his eyes flicker with outright hostility when it comes to Grey. The court might not know what’s happened yet, but Alek is savvy enough with court politics to know something is amiss. It’s bad enough that there are already rumors about Sinna’s disappearance.

“I will meet with my advisers to discuss what has been said this evening,” Lia Mara says, and her voice is strong and clear.

“Perhaps the King’s Courier should be stripped of his magic until these questions have suitable answers.”

I go still. This suggestion comes from a woman of the court, Lady Delmetia Calo. She’s the head of the Fifth House, which isn’t known for being closely allied with Alek. I’ve never had an issue with her—and to my knowledge, she’s never been outright opposed to Grey either.

For her to suggest this means the distrust of magic may run even deeper than I thought.

“Take them off,” Jake whispers. “Do it now, before anyone orders it. Do it before it looks like you have a problem with it.”

I do have a problem with it.

All eyes are on me again, so I tug at the steel rings, pulling them free of my fingers. I’ve worn them for so long that they scrape past my knuckles. The whole time, I’m waiting for the king or queen to tell me to stop, to speak in my defense, to tell the court that Alek’s accusations are baseless lies.

But they don’t.

This is worse than humiliating. I’d almost rather the guards cut my fingers off and take them by force. My jaw is so tight I don’t think I’ll be able to speak, but I step onto the dais and bow to them both, then hold out a hand with the rings.

“I will answer any questions you have,” I force out. I don’t know what else to say.

I would never betray you.

That’s what I want to say. But I shouldn’t have to. They should know it.

Grey takes the rings from my palm. “Return to your quarters. We will send for you.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

I bow again, then stride out of the room.

I expect someone to follow, but no one does.

It’s bizarre to think that last night, I was sitting sentry so the king and queen could get a night of sleep without worrying for the princess, and now I’m sitting alone in my room, wondering if I’m going to lose my position at court.

I don’t know what Jax is doing. I don’t know what Alek is doing.

I do know I’m not working with the Truthbringers.

But I remember how Lady Delmetia Calo said I should relinquish any access to magic. The way the court erupted in shouting. Maybe Alek has sowed enough doubt in me, in magic, in the king, that truth won’t matter. Just perception.

I flop back on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I’m not a prisoner, but I feel like one. I wonder how long I’ll be forced to wait.

Salam helpfully pads across my bed, lies down on my chest, and begins to purr.

I sigh and absently go to twist the rings around my fingers, but they’re not there. My hands feel weird without them. My thoughts feel weird without them. It’s not a feeling of vulnerability, not entirely, but … maybe a little.

My door clicks softly, and I startle. Salam scrabbles off the bed to dash out of sight.

Little Sinna slips through the gap, letting the door fall closed behind her.

I sit up straight. “Sinna!”

She puts a finger to her lips. “Shh. I’m hiding.”

The last thing I need right now is the princess sneaking away from her governess and hiding in my chambers. I stand and put out a hand. “You need to go back. Come. I’ll take you.”

“No!” she whispers, then dashes to the opposite side of the room, climbing into the window seat. “I need to look.”

“Look for what?” I stride across the floor. “If you go missing again, your new governess will be dismissed—”

“I can’t see the woods like you can, Tycho.” She presses her tiny hands against the glass. “He said I have to be patient, but he would come back.”

My heart seems to stop beating for a bare second, then kicks hard against my ribs. “Who?” I demand. “Who said he would come back?”

“Shh,” she whispers. “He said Da would not like it.”

I’m staring at her. “Sinna. Who?”

“He doesn’t have a name, but he could fly, Tycho! He gave me a leaf made of ice, too. It was so cold—”

“Silver hell.” I run a hand over the back of my neck and swear under my breath.

She looks at me crossly. “Mama says those words are only for the battlefield.”

I drop to a crouch in front of her. “Sinna—how did he fly?”

Her face screws up. “With wings, silly.” She kneels up on the window seat and presses a finger to my lips. “But we can’t tell Da.”

I make a choking sound. Of course they wouldn’t find tracks around little Sinna. Nakiis wouldn’t have to leave tracks when he could fly out of sight.

I don’t know why he’d come after the princess, but I do know how he feels about Grey—about any magesmith, really.

They’ve been suspecting Truthbringers or some kind of plots against the throne, but whoever lured Sinna into the woods was someone I let out of a cage.

I scoop Sinna into my arms. “I need to bring you back. You can’t be here right now, Sinna.”

She howls and wiggles and tries to climb over my shoulder. I ignore her thrashing and head for my door. When I throw it open, there are already guards in the hallway, and I hear voices down at the other end calling Sinna’s name.

“I have her,” I call. “Sinna snuck into my room.”

“Let me down!” She kicks her feet. “Tycho, you let me down!”

Lia Mara appears before me, and she takes her flailing daughter into her own arms. “I have had enough of your sneaking—”

“I want to look at the woods!” she says.

“Sinna.” Grey’s voice is sharp, like the crack of a whip, and the toddler jumps.

So does Lia Mara. “Grey,” she begins softly.

“She cannot keep doing this,” he says, and his expression is like thunder.

“She’s fine,” I say. “She wanted to look out the window at the woods—”

“No!” Sinna shrieks. “Don’t tell him, Tycho!”

There’s an audible gasp among the guards. Every head in the hallway turns to look at me, and I nearly flinch.

Grey takes a step toward me, and he looks like he could burn me to ash without thinking twice. “You had better tell me.”

“Of course I’m going to tell you,” I snap.

There’s no gasp this time, just the brittle tension of a dozen held breaths.

I force my hands to unclench and fall back a step. “Your Majesty.”

He points at my door. “Inside. Now.”

I expect him to slam the door once we’re inside my room, but he doesn’t. He eases it closed, then leans against it, arms folded.

“Talk,” he says.

I swallow. I’ve never been on this side of his anger. I told Jax that I would take a knee and swear fealty again if Grey demanded it—and I meant it when I said it. I would do it right now.

But for the first time, after what transpired in the throne room, I find myself wondering where Grey would stand if I needed his help.

His eyes are dark and unyielding, and I’m worried I’ve already learned the answer.

“She snuck in here,” I say quietly. “She said she wanted to look out the window. Just like she was doing in the library earlier.”

“That’s not a secret,” he says. “What else?”

“She said she’s looking for him,” I say. “I don’t know who him is.” I hesitate. “But I’m worried it might be Nakiis.”

His eyes don’t thaw one bit. “Why?”

“He told her not to tell you that he was here. She said he had wings.She said he made her a leaf out of ice. You remember how Iisak used to—”

“I remember.”

I take a breath. “She said she doesn’t know his name, but he told her not to tell you about him.” I pause. “She said he would be coming back.”

He studies me for the longest time, and I refuse to wither under his gaze. The silence is unbearable, though. When he says nothing, I start talking.

“He didn’t hurt her, Grey—and he could have. You saw my armor. You know what they’re capable of. She’s so tiny that he probably could have carried her out of here—”

“Tycho.” His voice isn’t sharp anymore, and he runs a hand across the lower half of his face. Underneath all his anger and worry and doubt, there still flows a current of pain.

I hear what he’s not saying, too. Nakiis might not have hurt her—but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t have. Or that he wouldn’t have used her against Grey.

“He let her go,” I say softly. “He left her unharmed.”

“He said he would return.”

“I know.”

“There is already such distrust for magic, and now—”

“I know.”

“And now I am to warn my guards and soldiers that a magical threat may come from the sky.”

“He’s one scraver—”

“You hope.” He gives me a look.

I bite my tongue.

He’s silent again. So quiet that wind rattles my windowpanes, and I nearly jump.

“Jake told me of what happened in Briarlock,” he finally says. “About Jax.”

I flush and look away, fidgeting. “Grey …”

“Even when I felt an attraction for Lia Mara, I knew my duty to Emberfall. And later, to Syhl Shallow.”

I frown. “I know.”

“I know you’re not working with the Truthbringers, Tycho.”

I look up in surprise.

His gaze hasn’t softened. “But it doesn’t matter what I know.” He pauses. “At court, your loyalty is in question. The company you keep is in question. Your actions are in question. You may hate Lord Alek, but you heard the reaction to his accusations.” His eyes seem to darken. “Your position won’t get better once I warn the soldiers about Nakiis. To say nothing of Lia Mara.”

“Forgive me,” I say. “I would never—”

“I don’t want apologies,” he says.

I freeze. “As you say.”

“I want you to return to Ironrose,” he says.

My eyebrows go up, but I know enough to keep my mouth shut now.

“The first event of the Royal Challenge is nearly upon us,” he says. “You would be expected to travel ahead, so you may as well go now.” He pauses. “I will follow shortly. Lia Mara will remain here with Sinna. We have a new governess from a highly respected House, and she has impeccable references. I will ensure she does not leave Sinna’s side.”

My chest is still tight. This should feel like a relief—but it doesn’t.

It feels like I’m being sent away.

“I’m not worried about one random blacksmith,” Grey continues. “And all messages point to a threat against me alone. I will worry less if the queen is not with me during my travels.” He pauses. “But you are to ride straight through to Emberfall without deviating from your path. Am I clear?”

I nod once. “Yes,” I say hollowly.

“Good.” He claps me on the shoulder. “If you pack now you can leave by full dark.”

I blink. “You wish me to leave tonight—” I catch a glimpse of the fire in his eyes and I break off.

If I leave tonight, I will need to ride hard to make it across the border to my first safe house before midnight, when they lock up.

I highly suspect Grey knows this.

I nod again. “Yes. Of course. Your Majesty.”

Half an hour later, I have a full pack strapped behind Mercy’s saddle, and I’ve replaced the bow I left with Jax. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m forgetting something important, but I ignore any lingering worries. I’ve hardly been given time to say goodbye to anyone, but I’ll need to ride fast to make it across the border, so I don’t want to linger. There’s a tension among the workers in the stable, and a few sideways glances cast my way. I wonder what gossip has already sparked in the air around the palace.

There’s a part of me that’s relieved to go.

Mercy is eager, leaping into a canter once we’re free of the palace gates. I rarely leave at night, and her ears are pricked as we cover ground swiftly. Maybe she can sense my mood, because she doesn’t tug at the reins or distract me. She’s steadfast as ever.

I wish I had a distraction. My thoughts are swirling with the events of the last twenty-four hours, of everything that’s happened in the palace.

But at the forefront is Jax, the warmth in his eyes, the strength in his hands, the wild tangle of hair he keeps knotted at the back of his neck.

He can’t be a traitor. He can’t be plotting against the king. He can’t.

An hour passes, then two. We’re nearing the turnoff for Briarlock. Again, Mercy must sense my thoughts, because her pace slows.

Jax. Jax, Jax, Jax.

I’m in so much trouble already. I need to make the safe house by midnight.

But I need to know for sure.

I sit down in the saddle and Mercy responds immediately, dropping to a slow lope when we reach the guidepost. The night is pitch-black, and I shiver under my light cloak.

For the first time, I consider that I might have been followed. Maybe by Alek—or maybe guards, sent by Grey’s order.

I hate this. I draw Mercy to a halt.

If Alek has followed me, I won’t hold back. I’m not worried about political appearances now. He may have gotten the best of me once, but he won’t again. I’ll burn him right to ash.

But I wait and hear nothing. Eventually, Mercy paws at the ground, eager to move.

I slip the rein and we ride on. We’re close now. I’ll get some answers, for good or for bad.

But it’s not until I ride toward the bakery that I flex my fingers on the reins and realize what I’m missing.

Grey still has my rings.