Chapter 41
Petra
Ludovicus tossed a pouch of coins onto the counter.
The very wooden, very dry counter that looked like it would ignite if I simply looked at it too long.
So I averted my gaze to peer at the blacksmith who was, just like Ludovicus had said, very young.
No older than me, if I had to guess. He eyed the pouch of coins, his thick, corded arms crossed over his chest.
“I need the forge for the day,” Ludovicus said in a no-nonsense tone.
The blacksmith reached forward, snatching the pouch from the counter and working the drawstrings open. A single brow rose on his greasy, soot-stained face. “This ain’t gonna cover what I’d make today.”
Ludovicus’ eyes caught on the piece of parchment that sat beside a mess of tools. He craned his neck, his gaze traveling over the dozen lines of script. “Shit.”
“A lot of people want weapons made after what happened yesterday,” the blacksmith said.
His eyes narrowed on me for a moment, his gaze traveling down the well-made tunic I wore that certainly didn’t blend in with the slums of Araqina.
Little did he know I was forged in the slums, just like the weapons he forged here.
Ludovicus reached into the interior pocket of his cloak and tossed another pouch onto the counter, this one even larger. The blacksmith sucked his teeth before he nodded once and reached for the second pouch, tucking both into his pocket before he rounded the counter.
“When I return, I better find it exactly as I left it,” he barked as he walked toward the door.
Ludovicus reached into his pocket once again, flicking a single silver piece in the blacksmith’s direction.
He fumbled for it but managed to catch it before he shot Ludovicus a nasty glare.
“Get yourself a pint of ale, too.” The door swung shut behind the blacksmith, and Ludovicus moved to turn the latch in place, locking us inside. “Ready?”
“Are you sure this is a good idea? This place looks a little…” I started with a grimace, my eyes flitting around the space, “flammable.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
And with nothing to do but trust him, I stood by and watched as Ludovicus shrugged out of his cloak and tossed it on the counter. Suddenly, he was no longer the apologetic man he’d been moments ago. Gone were the pleading eyes, replaced by a glint of resolution.
He moved around the forge like he was born to do so, his eyes roving over the bars of steel leaning against a section of the back wall.
Beside the bars stood a few dozen unfinished blades.
At least, I assumed they were unfinished.
Some had surfaces or edges that were wavy.
Some had hilts, some didn’t. Some weren’t even shaped into swords yet, just long pieces of unpolished steel .
Ludovicus picked through them, brows furrowed over dark eyes as he concentrated. He’d pick one up, stare at its edge, hold it close to his face as if he were looking for something I couldn’t see, then place it back down again.
“You don’t want to make one from scratch?” I asked, confused.
“It can take weeks to perfect a sword’s shape and edge,” he said, still concentrating on the half-finished blades.
“I want to find one that’s just about finished.
” He carried it toward the forge, reaching for a tool on the wall.
Some sort of tongs? He secured the blade between the hands of the tongs and thrust it into the hearth.
The sweat trickling down my brow seemed to be a constant companion here in Araqina.
Here in the forge, though? The heat was brutal.
I was all the way across the room from the hearth’s blazing fire and I could hardly stand the suffocating temperature.
“How the hell are you able to be so close to the fire?”
“I was born and raised here in Araqina,” he answered, an easy laugh bubbling up.
“The heat outside is comparable to the forge, is it not? Besides, a forge feels more like home than anywhere else.” He pulled the steel from the fire, glowing yellow at the end of the tongs, and laid it atop a hunk of black stone in the middle of the room.
“This is an anvil,” he explained. “It’s where you hammer out the steel into the shape you want. ”
Grabbing a hammer from the wall, he wasted no time slamming it down against the softened metal.
Each strike made me flinch involuntarily, but I watched in rapt amusement.
There was such concentration in his eyes, such an easy comfort, I was struck by the fact that he did, truly, look to be at home.
He was in his element here, doing something he clearly loved.
My heart suddenly cracked, an unexpected ache at the fact that Ludovicus was really, truly, just a man. Not a monster. Not a Bloodsinger. Not the leader of the Board of Blood. Just a man who’d had everything taken from him .
“Okay,” he started, pulling me from my thoughts. “I have a rough plan, but I have no idea if this is going to work.”
“I’ll try anything.”
“Can you direct some of your power toward the blade? A burst of fire, maybe?”
I nervously eyed the wooden counter again. “In here?”
His smile was knowing. “It’ll be fine.”
“If you say so. But you’re going to want to stand back here.”
With a nod, Ludovicus backed away, taking his place behind me as I burrowed into myself.
Focus, Petra. I stared at the slowly cooling metal, isolating the fire within me and willing it to grow hotter, brighter.
With a single hand, I cast my power forward, a shot of flames sailing for the blade.
It collided with a metallic clang, sparks flying outward.
I threw my arm over my face, wincing as the sparks fizzled and died on the dirt floor.
“Okay,” Ludovicus murmured, grasping the steel with the tongs again and plunging it into a vat I hadn’t noticed.
Steam billowed upward as he moved the blade through the sloshing water.
“It’s not quite finished yet,” he said, slowly pulling it from the tub, “but we should be able to tell now if it worked.”
◆ ◆ ◆
It hadn’t worked. I’d tried standing closer, concentrating harder, tapping further into my fury, and nothing. Hours had passed since our first attempt, and the sun had long since set.
My tunic and trousers clung to my skin. No matter how many times I peeled them away from my body, it was only a matter of seconds before they were plastered to me once again.
I’d kicked off my boots at some point, relieved to find the dirt beneath my feet was a few degrees cooler than the rest of the space.
But even the cover of darkness hadn’t cooled the forge at all.
My hands were blistered and throbbing. My chest was heaving .
I stood barely a foot away from where the blade was set on the anvil, glowing yellow after Ludovicus had pulled it from the fire once again. Was this the sixth time? Or the seventh?
Okay, Petra. This is it. This is the one. My toes dug into the dirt as I scraped up every bit of power I could find within me, mentally compacting it into one concentrated ball of fire, and shot it toward the blade.
Clang. Pop. Fizzle.
Ludovicus plunged the sword into the water. The focus on his face had remained steadfast all day, through every attempt. It never faltered, even as my spirits did. His look of hope never wavered even when mine had been all but thrown into the hearth and burned to nothing.
Pulling the blade from the vat again, Ludovicus nodded once before he ducked through the back door to the alley behind the forge.
The single torch was just enough to illuminate the poor, tattered burlap dummy that stood patiently waiting to be stabbed once again .
Ludovicus didn’t put much power behind his strike since the blade wasn’t technically finished, but it was enough to see nothing special happened when it sliced through the dummy’s fabric finish.
Fuck.
Cal had to be going crazy wondering where I was. How long would he believe I was spending some time alone , as I’d said in my note? Had he figured out that Malosym was gone yet? Surely he’d come looking for me soon if he hadn’t already. The dungeon would be his first stop.
I blew a hard sigh through my mouth, clearing out my lungs.
Ludovicus was silent, inspecting the edge of the blade with pursed lips.
Neither of us said anything as we walked back into the forge.
He placed the blade down on the anvil, his hands on his hips as he stared at his work.
His look of concentration that hadn’t faltered?
Yeah, it was faltering. It was crumbling away, in fact .
“I don’t think it’s possible," he finally said, rubbing at his jaw.
I didn’t fight him, didn’t argue. It had been a long shot to begin with. So why did this disappointment sting so much? I hadn’t realized how high the hope had built itself up in my chest until I felt the walls as they tumbled to the dirt.
I leaned back against the counter, my hands gripping the wooden edge for only a moment before I pulled them away, cringing when I saw the charred marks I left behind.
I supposed the blacksmith wouldn’t be returning to find his forge the exact way he’d left it.
If only imbuing the blade was as easy as a simple touch.
What if…
My spine straightened as a very, very stupid idea took root. “Ludovicus,” I said slowly. “I have one more idea.”
He raised a brow, and whatever he saw on my face made worry flash across his. “What?”
“This is probably going to be hard to watch, so it might be a good idea to wait in the alley.”
He was silent for a moment as the worry on his face morphed into fear. “Your Majesty…”
“Heat the blade.”
“What’s your idea?”
“Heat the blade,” I repeated, and though my tone wasn’t harsh, Ludovicus didn’t argue this time. He stared at me for one final second before he gave a quick nod, moving to place the blade in the hearth one last time.
If this didn’t work, I had no other plans. No other ideas.
My stomach churned as the glowing metal was placed on the anvil again, Ludovicus’ eyes wary on me as I stepped forward and stood before the weapon that I hoped would be my salvation.
“Go outside, Ludovicus,” I said quietly .
He moved to stand a few paces behind me, his dark eyes flicking between me and the blade. I hoped I wasn’t about to scar him for life.
With my palms raised before me, I found my power again.
I didn’t only summon it, I commanded it, gathering every spark, every ember that burned within me, all the way down to the deepest parts of my soul.
I commanded the white hot flames of my fury, the heat so great that it burned the inside of my ribcage, the surface of my skin, behind my eyes.
And then I closed my bare hands around the glowing blade.
A silent scream rocked through me, the pain so intense it stole the sound from my throat.
White exploded behind my eyelids as I willed myself to tighten my grip.
The pain shot far past my hands, up my arms, into my chest and down my legs, until my entire body seized.
I was being flayed from the inside, sliced into a thousand pieces as I pushed every bit of my power out through my fingertips, willing it to meld itself to the blade.
I wanted this to work. Please, please work. I wanted to end Malosym’s life and go on to live one of my own. I didn’t want to feel the devastation of squandered hope once again. I didn’t want to feel the resolution I’d felt this morning, being so willing to die.
A scream filtered through my brain, but the blood rushed so loud in my ears, I couldn’t tell whether it came from me or Ludovicus. Sparks crackled from the place where my hands met the blade, skittering over my skin as I pushed with everything I had and everything I was.
Petra , I heard in my mind. It was Adorex, the energy coming down the line frantic. Petra. Hurt?
Yes , I thought back. And then, No.
Petra. Where?
I didn’t answer her, even as her energy began to whirl faster, fear entering my mind from hers.
With one final surge, I gave what was left of me.
It had to be enough. This couldn’t be all for nothing.
My hands opened and I stumbled backwards, dazed and blinking with dizziness.
The white in my vision was replaced by the angry orange glow of flames.
Flames that were not in the hearth, where they should be.
Oh, shit.
“Petra!” Ludovicus called, his hand closing on my shoulder and yanking me back just as a chunk of flaming wood fell from the ceiling.
I was disoriented as I watched him reach for the tongs, his movements impossibly precise as he quickly snatched the blade from the anvil and plunged it in the water, just long enough for the steam to lessen from a billowing cloud to a few wisps of white.
The fire in the ceiling was spreading quickly, the flames eating away at the dry wood.
Ludovicus’ free hand closed around my wrist and he yanked me toward the door, snatching his cloak from the front counter that had begun to ignite on one end.
His eyes were wild as we staggered into the street, but no one paid us any mind.
All eyes were on the building that churned out black smoke, illuminated by the angry flames reaching into the night sky.
I wasn’t sure what I saw as I stared down at my palms. The skin was charred, melted in places. This went beyond blisters, beyond the surface level of my skin, and — oh Saints, was that a bone? I gritted my teeth as nausea rose up the back of my throat and my mouth began to water.
I clung to consciousness long enough to conjure a raincloud just as wide as the building so as not to flood the streets.
People marveled as the perfectly timed, perfectly sized rain shower doused the flames enough to smother the worst of them, oblivious it had been summoned by the unassuming woman standing in the street.
Darkness fell once again as the flames banked, the streets lit only by torches and the few smaller fires still burning.
“I’m going to have to give the blacksmith a lot more than two pouches of coin,” Ludovicus heaved, out of breath as the rain began to lighten, smoke sizzling from the embers that still glowed.
The building hadn’t burned down completely.
Much of it was still salvageable, but I was sure I didn’t want to be around to see the smith’s reaction.
I lowered myself to the ground, my energy dropping as soon as the adrenaline ebbed.
Shit, I was going to pass out. Ludovicus’ concerned voice filtered through the quickly descending grogginess as he lowered himself beside me, the sword discarded next to him.
I couldn’t make out what he was saying, because my focus was somewhere else — on the tiny, white spark that flared to life when the tip of the sword hit the dirt.