Chapter 6 #2
Vivienne Cross was standing ten feet from his forge.
His brain scrambled, trying to assemble the pieces.
Charlie… with Vivienne Cross… here?
He remembered his last conversation with Charlie when he’d caught her reading Sword of Embers.
Just some, uh, research. For a client. I can’t really say who.
Of course. Vivienne Cross had come to Colorado with Rowan, and she needed a bodyguard.
Ben straightened instinctively, then immediately hunched again, annoyed with himself. Charlie didn’t acknowledge knowing him and for a moment he felt crushed. Charlie dealt with celebrities for a living. She didn’t need some blacksmith trying to impress her by association.
Stop it. This isn’t her day off. She’s working.
God, she probably thought he’d kept quiet about knowing Rowan because he didn’t want to look like a name-dropping jerk.
He swallowed, wiped his hands on his leather apron, and focused on Vivienne Cross. She paused in front of the armor stand, her head tilting as she took in the pieces before returning her attention to Rowan. Charlie hung back half a step, scanning the crowd with practiced ease.
Rowan grinned like a kid about to light a fuse.
“This is him,” Rowan said. “Viv, this is Ben Massey. Best metalworker on the Front Range. Possibly the continent.” Rowan ran his hand over the chain mail. “I commissioned this chain mail shirt. Amazing, isn’t it? Better than what the prop department’s done.”
Ben winced. “Rowan—”
Vivienne’s gaze was sharp and curious. “You made all of this?”
“Yes, Ms. Cross,” Ben said. He ran his hand over his hair, realizing just how sweaty and sooty he must look.
“Please, it’s Viv.” Her mouth twitched. “You must be the surprise Rowan told me about.”
“I-I…”
She reached for the chain mail and tested its weight. “This looks historically accurate.”
“It is,” Ben said, falling into familiar rhythm. “As much as possible without sacrificing safety or function. Some compromises for wearability and weight. But the same techniques.”
Charlie’s gaze flicked to him, measuring. He felt it like a hand brushing his cheek.
“Try it on,” Ben told Rowan. “Let’s see if it needs any adjustments.”
Rowan slipped the chain mail over his costume. It was a perfect fit.
“This is excellent,” Viv said, circling Rowan. “What?” she added, smiling at his grin.
“You know what I’m going to say,” Rowan replied. “It hasn’t been made yet.”
Viv’s grin widened. “No. It hasn’t.”
Ben blinked, confused. What hasn’t?
She turned her attention to the knives and swords, then to Charlie. “You know weapons, right?” She looked back at Ben. “By the way, This is Charlie King, my very own Sir Mariel.”
Charlie winced. It was subtle, but Ben caught it.
“We know each other already,” she said, glancing away from Ben.
“Oh,” Viv said, studying Charlie. “Small world, or are you a Ren Faire regular?”
“Small world,” Charlie said. “This is my first Faire.”
“But you do know weapons?”
Charlie nodded. She stepped closer to the table, her interest clearly piqued. She examined a sword then picked it up carefully, respectfully. Not the way some tourists who’d never touched a sword in their life handled one. The way someone who understood them did.
“This is very well-balanced,” she said, testing it.
“Th-thank you.”
“Light, too.” She stepped back to a safe distance and swung the sword. Ben’s heart flipped in his chest.
Rowan looked back and forth between the two, grinning like a cat with a canary. Ben wanted to sock him.
“So you give it your stamp of approval?” Viv asked Charlie.
“Approval? For?”
Rowan shook his head. “Come on, Charlie, you’ve read the books. What’s Sir Aldric’s first quest all about?”
“Finding the lost Ember Sword, of course.” She looked at the sword in her hand. Her eyes widened at the same time Ben realized what Rowan was getting at.
“And you’ve read the books, too?” Viv asked him.
“Yes, ma’am…Viv.”
Her smile widened. “Then you know what the Ember Sword is supposed to look like.”
His heart thudded once, hard.
“I do.”
Rowan snorted. “He made one once. Years ago. Wouldn’t let anyone touch it.”
Ben shot him a look. “It was a prototype.”
Viv’s eyes lit up. “You made the Ember Sword.”
“An early version,” Ben said carefully. “I’ve learned a lot since then.”
She held his gaze. “I want you to make it again. For the show this season. If that would interest you, of course.”
Ben barely registered Rowan’s laugh as the world narrowed to a pinpoint.
“Yes,” Ben said, without hesitation. “I-I’d be honored.”
“As if he’d say no.” Rowan clapped him on the shoulder, beaming. “Congratulations.”
Charlie watched Ben, her eyes gleaming.
Wait. Did I just impress her?
Viv launched into logistics—timelines, materials, historical versus cinematic needs. Ben answered confidently, the way he always did when he talked about his work.
When Viv told him how much she’d pay him for the sword, he had to brace himself against the table.
“It’s a deal.”
“Great! I’ll get a contract written up for you.” Viv nodded toward the costume shop across the path. “Now, I want to take a look in there before the jousting’s over. Ben, it was a pleasure meeting you. We’ll see you again at Rowan’s jousting match?”
“Of course.”
“Maybe we could go to dinner as well,” she added, glancing at Rowan. “You could regale with me stories I can’t get out of him otherwise.”
Rowan laughed and Ben realized his old friend was head over heels for Viv.
“I’ll pay you double what’s she’s giving you for the sword to keep your mouth shut,” Rowan said.
Ben laughed. “Pay me triple, and you have a deal.”
“A bargain!” Rowan slapped him on the back again and they started across the path. Charlie walked beside Viv, her head on a swivel. Rowan followed the women.
Ben watched them go, barely believing what just happened.
He was going to forge the Ember Sword.
Even better, Charlie looked at him like he was…someone special.
No. It’s just your imagination.
But he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.
Charlie slowed just slightly as she reached the shop. She lifted her hand and brushed the edge of a gown hanging beside the entrance. Pale gossamer fabric. Intricately embroidered bodice. A gown fit for a princess out of a story.
No, not just any story.
Her touch lingered no more than a second, but even from here, Ben could see the longing on her face.
Then she disappeared inside.
The way she winced only a few minutes ago. Maybe it wasn’t because she was embarrassed to know Ben. Maybe it was because Viv called her Sir Mariel.
Could it be…?
Every warrior wanted the best armor.
But maybe Charlie longed for silk and starlight, too.
Warrior Princess.
“Here’s the forge but I don’t see them,” Ben heard someone say, the voice sharp with anger.
“They’ve got to be here somewhere,” someone answered. “This is the only place selling chain mail.”
Were they talking about Vivienne and Rowan?
Ben turned toward the voices and saw a knot of people—five of them—clustered together, all wearing Caiden Bramble’s Embersworn capes. They were scanning. Hunting.
Shit. How did they know Rowan and Viv were coming here?
Had they been recognized earlier? No—the prosthetics had changed their faces completely, and the costumes did the rest. There was no way they could have picked them out.
“Maybe they’re checking out the other shops first,” one of them said. “Let’s split op and keep looking. Text when you see them.”
“Bitch thinks she can just walk around like nothing’s happening,” one of the men said.
Shit. These weren’t just fans hoping for autographs. This was an angry mob.
One of them was headed straight toward the costume shop.
And Charlie.
I’ve got to get them the hell out of here.
Not caring about his forge, Ben moved.