Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
The Faire wouldn't open to the public for another hour, but the grounds were already buzzing with vendors setting up, performers running through routines, and security doing their rounds.
Ben ran the polishing cloth over the chainmail one more time, even though it didn't need it.
The steel rings gleamed in the Saturday morning sunlight.
Perfect. Just like it had been perfect fifteen minutes ago when he'd checked it the first time.
Ben’s phone sat on the workbench, screen dark, but he kept glancing at it anyway. Charlie's last text had come through at six-thirty that morning.
On our way. See you soon
It was now seven-twenty-five. She'd be here any minute.
Ben set down the cloth and picked up his phone, scrolling back through the week's worth of messages. Brief exchanges, mostly. Charlie texting between shifts, during Viv and Rowan’s interviews, late at night when she finally had a moment to herself.
Tuesday, 11:47 PM:
Long day. Radio interview ran over, then two podcasts back to back. Viv's a trooper but I can tell she's exhausted.
You holding up okay?
Yeah. Just miss having someone to talk to about normal things. Like which dipping sauce goes best on Strippers.
Definitely Jerk Sauce.
YOU DID NOT JUST SAY THAT!!
I’m dying right now. Literally cannot breathe.
Wednesday, 9:23 PM:
Denver Post interview went well. Rowan's good at this stuff. Very smooth.
And you? How are you doing?
Fine. Keeping Viv safe. Easy days.
That's not what I asked.
I miss being up in the mountains. Does that sound weird?
Sounds perfectly reasonable to me.
Can't wait for Saturday.
Me neither.
Friday, 10:47 PM:
One more day. You ready for tomorrow?
Chain mail's polished. Embersword sketches are done. Rowan's going to look like a proper king.
She’d paused a long time before texting again after that response. Then:
That’s not what I was asking.
To see you again? Yeah. That goes without saying.
I’m glad you said it anyway. Because I can't wait.
Ben smiled at his phone, reading that last message again.
I can't wait.
Three simple words that had kept him up half the night, wondering what it meant that Charlie King—careful, guarded Charlie—had said them so plainly.
His phone buzzed with another text.
In the VIP lot. See you in ten.
Ben stepped out of the forge to meet them, wiping his palms on his apron like a nervous teenager.
When he caught sight of Charlie, Ben forgot how to breathe.
She was in her usual tactical gear—dark pants, boots, fitted jacket over a t-shirt—but seeing her again after spending the week remembering how good she felt under his hands and fantasying about everywhere else he wanted to touch her made everything sharper.
The way she moved, scanning the area with professional efficiency.
The way the morning light caught her hair as she turned. The way her eyes found his immediately.
Shane walked beside her, grinning like he knew exactly what Ben was thinking. Viv and Rowan were on her other side, Maddie trailing slightly behind them, everyone stretching and talking after the drive from Boulder.
Charlie walked toward him, professional mask firmly in place, but there was something in her expression—a softness around her eyes, the hint of a smile peaking through her professional armor—that made his chest go tight.
“Morning,” she said when she reached him.
“Morning.” His voice came out rougher than he intended. “Good week?”
“Long week.” Charlie glanced back at the group, then at him. “But we're here now.”
“Yeah.” Ben couldn't stop the smile spreading across his face. “You are.”
Shane smirked. “Moose. You gonna stand there grinning at her all day, or are we getting this show on the road?”
Charlie's cheeks flushed pink, and Ben wanted to punch Shane in the shoulder. Instead, he cleared his throat and stepped back, gesturing toward the forge.
“Chain mail's ready. Come on in.”
The group filed into the forge—Viv immediately gravitating toward the display cases, Rowan heading straight for the armor stand where his mail waited, Maddie pulling out her ever-present tablet. Shane stayed near the door, eyes scanning the area like the operator he'd always be.
And Charlie stayed close to Ben, close enough that he could smell her shampoo—rich and warm, a familiar forest scent.
Sun on ponderosa bark.
When she looked up at him, he could see the gold flecks in her hazel eyes.
“Missed you,” she said quietly, just for him.
Ben's heart did something dangerous in his chest. “Missed you too.”
Shane cleared his throat. “I'm gonna go coordinate with security. Make sure we've got eyes on all the entry points.” He looked at Charlie. “You good here?”
“Yeah. I've got Viv.” Charlie's professional mask slid back into place.
“Text me if anything feels off.” Shane nodded at Ben, then headed out toward the Security tent.
Viv was examining the display cases with the intensity of someone who understood craftsmanship. She traced a finger along the glass near a perfectly balanced longsword. “These are incredible, Ben. The detail work is...” She shook her head. “I can't believe you make all of this by hand.”
“Thank you.” Ben moved to stand beside her. “Actually, I wanted to show you something. The preliminary sketches for the Embersword.”
Viv’s eyes lit up. “Lead the way.”
Ben crossed to his workbench and retrieved a leather portfolio. He laid it open on the counter, revealing detailed sketches—multiple angles of a sword that managed to look both elegant and deadly.
The blade was straight and true, medieval in style, but the pommel and crossguard carried subtle flame motifs. Not cartoonish. Just enough to catch the light, to suggest fire without screaming it.
“Oh,” Viv breathed. She leaned closer, studying every line. “Oh, Ben. This is perfect.”
“I was hoping you’d say that, because the prototype's about sixty percent done.” Ben pulled back a canvas drop cloth on the far end of the bench, revealing the sword in progress.
The blade was forged and ground but not yet polished to its final finish.
The hilt waited for its leather wrapping and final assembly and the Wyvern Fire Jewel hadn’t been attached yet.
Viv actually gasped.
“It's going to be functional,” Ben explained, feeling his pride swell at her reaction. “Not just a prop. When Rowan holds this, it'll have real weight, real balance. It'll feel like what it's supposed to be—a weapon worthy of a king.”
“Aldric's sword.” Viv picked up one of the sketches, her fingers trembling slightly. “This is exactly what I saw in my head when I read the books. Exactly.” She looked up at him, eyes shining. “How did you do it?”
“I read the descriptions pretty carefully.” Ben shrugged, trying to downplay how many times he'd reread those passages through the years, how many sketches he'd thrown away before getting it right.
“And I figured if you were going to all this trouble to film an actual avalanche to make it look authentic, the sword should be authentic, too.”
“Can I touch it?” Viv was already reaching for the prototype.
“Carefully. The edge isn't sharpened yet, but—”
Viv lifted the blade, testing its weight. Her whole face transformed—pure joy. “Rowan needs to see this. Rowan!” She turned, still holding the sword. “Get over here!”
Rowan looked up from where he'd been examining his chainmail. When he saw what Viv was holding, his expression shifted to something like awe. “Is that—?”
“The Embersword,” Viv said. “Well, the beginning of it.”
Rowan crossed to them in three strides. Viv handed him the blade carefully, and he held it like it was precious, which filled Ben with pride.
“This is extraordinary work,” Rowan said quietly. He moved through a slow practice form—testing balance, weight distribution, the way the hilt sat in his palm. “This is a real weapon.”
“That's the idea.” Ben watched the actor move, pleased to see that his calculations had been right. The sword fit Rowan's build, his reach, the way he carried himself.
“When will it be finished?” Viv asked.
“Two weeks, maybe three. I want to get the engraving perfect on the blade. And the Wyvern Fire Jewel pommel stone—I'm still sourcing the right amber for it.”
Viv was beaming now, the stress of the week melting away. “This is going to be the centerpiece of our production photos. The marketing team is going to lose their minds.”
Ben felt Charlie's presence before he heard her. She'd moved closer, watching the exchange with that quiet attention she brought to everything.
“It's beautiful,” Charlie said softly. “The craftsmanship is incredible.”
Their eyes met, and Ben saw real appreciation there. Not just politeness. She understood what this meant—the hours at the forge, the precision required, the care in every detail.
“Thank you,” he said.
The moment stretched between them, warm and private even with Viv and Rowan right there.
Then Maddie's voice cut through. “Viv? The gates will be opening in twenty minutes and we need to be at the main stage for the sound check.”
Reality crashed back in.
“Right,” Viv said reluctantly. “We should get Rowan into his armor.”
Ben carefully returned the Embersword prototype to its place on the workbench and covered it again. Then he turned to the armor stand where Rowan's chainmail waited, gleaming in the morning light.
“Come here,” Ben said to Rowan. “I'm no Caiden Bramble, but I can help you into the armor.”
Rowan scoffed. “Don't remind me that Duke's going to be here today.”
“Playing nice is part of the job, love,” Viv said, but there was tension in her voice.
“I know.” Rowan sighed. “Doesn't mean I have to like it.”
Charlie and Viv stepped back to give them room. Maddie was already tapping notes into her tablet, and Ben could hear her muttering about scheduling and camera angles. She sounded vaguely annoyed.