Chapter 14
Today was turning out to be one of my favorite days.
First, Scarlet put our father in his place—and he crumbled. I had to bite back my laughter, but oh, elements, did I want to scream from the rooftops that our mighty General had just been scolded by a girl.
And now? I got to play with my pet snake.
Humming softly, I skipped through the dimly lit corridor, twirling the ring of keys around my finger with practiced ease. When I reached his cell, Shayde was already at the bars, hands gripping the metal, waiting.
I caught a flicker of hope in his eyes. And then—oh, how quickly it died.
“Aw, don’t look too happy to see me, Snake,” I cooed, tilting my head. “Today’s your lucky day.”
“Any day with you in it is a waste of light,” he deadpanned.
I gasped, clutching my chest in mock injury. Then, with deliberate slowness, I lifted the keys. His brows knit in confusion, his gaze flicking from the keys back to me. Without breaking eye contact, I slid one into the lock and turned it with a soft click.
The door creaked open, and I stepped aside, gesturing grandly. “Go on, then. Freedom awaits.”
Shayde didn’t move. “This has got to be some fucking joke.”
I rolled my eyes, already exhausted by his constant attitude. With a bored sigh, I turned and strolled toward the exit. “Stay. Or don’t. Doesn’t matter to me.”
Silence. Then—footsteps.
A slow, satisfied smirk curled across my lips. There’s a good snake.
I led Shayde through the merchant’s corner of Hollow Summit, past the main village, and up the southeastern trail. He followed in complete silence the entire way.
Disappointing.
I’d been hoping for him to spew a million questions just so I could deny him the answers. But no. One can’t have everything in life.
At least my little snake slithered along without protest. Obedient—for now.
We passed the bakery, the scent of fresh bread lingering in the cool air, before turning right toward the armory. The smithy was attached, its iron door streaked with soot and age. Without so much as a glance back, I pushed it open—making zero effort to hold it for Shayde.
“Oh, Balveer! Where art thou?” I called, singing dramatically as I stepped inside.
The sharp clang of metal striking the forge rang through the space, echoing off stone walls. A blast of heat rolled over us, heavy and suffocating, the scent of burning coal thick in the air.
I smirked. This was going to be fun.
I rounded the corner to find Balveer at his forge, putting the finishing touches on a longsword. Sweat dampened his long black ponytail, and soot streaked his tan, muscular arms.
Shirtless. As always. Which, of course, is precisely why Doryan conveniently “visits during his lunch breaks.”
Balveer had been a blacksmith since before he arrived at the Hollow. And after his initiation, his craftsmanship in building our armory didn’t just make him valuable—it made him somewhat of a legend.
I wielded my earth element, shifting the coals in the forge just enough to make the flames flicker and dance.
Balveer’s dark eyes snapped up, forehead creasing as he took in the sight of me—then Shayde—then back to me.
“What?” he asked flatly.
I pursed my lips, leaning lazily against the doorframe.
“I brought you a new apprentice.”
Balveer blinked. “I didn’t ask for an apprentice.” Then, just like that, he went right back to hammering the sword.
I scoffed. “Way to be grateful!” I shouted over the rhythmic clang of metal on metal.
Before I could add another snarky remark, Shayde brushed past me, his shoulder knocking against mine just hard enough to be intentional.
He moved through the smithy without a word, sharp eyes scanning every detail—the worn anvil, the neatly arranged tools, the half-finished blades resting on the workbench. His fingers trailed along a row of daggers, testing the weight of one before setting it back with a quiet clink.
He stopped near the forge, watching the flames with a critical eye. “You’re using bituminous coal,” he observed. “Gives you a hotter fire, but it burns dirty. Doesn’t it leave too much slag in the metal?”
Balveer paused mid-strike, his grip tightening around the hammer.
His gaze flicked up to Shayde, assessing.
“Not if you know how to manage the airflow,” he said, jerking his chin toward the bellows.
“I control the oxygen intake to keep impurities low. Besides, charwood’s not strong enough for what we make here. ”
Shayde hummed in acknowledgment, running his fingers along the edge of a half-finished blade. “Still. If you mixed in even a little hardwood charcoal, you’d cut down on sulfur content without sacrificing heat.”
Balveer snorted. “You sound like an apprentice who thinks he knows everything after a year at the forge.”
Shayde didn’t flinch at the insult. Instead, he picked up a pair of tongs. “I’ve been working in the smithy since I was old enough to lift a hammer.” He set the tongs down and nodded toward Balveer’s anvil. “Mind if I test your steel?”
My lips twisted. Damnit. He was supposed to loathe the smithy, not enjoy it.
Balveer’s dark eyes narrowed. He gave Shayde a once-over, then smirked. “Go ahead. Let’s see if you’re full of shit.”
Wordlessly, Shayde grabbed a raw ingot from the worktable, weighing it in his palm before tossing it once and catching it smoothly. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, snatched a set of tongs, and placed the metal into the fire.
“Why bother with the tongs? Thought fire wielders couldn’t burn?” I chided.
Shayde didn’t acknowledge me, but Balveer did. He cut his eyes toward me, unimpressed. “Fire wielders are only immune to dragonfire. Haven’t you learned anything from Doryan? Plus, he’s wearing tungsten.”
Heat crept up my neck, and I quickly schooled my expression.
His focus remained on the forge. His movements were smooth and precise—unrushed but efficient. He worked the bellows with practiced control, feeding just enough air to the flames to intensify the heat without pushing it too far. The ingot shifted, glowing a deep, molten orange.
Satisfied, Shayde withdrew the metal, laid it against the anvil, and swung.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
The ringing of steel against steel echoed through the smithy, each strike clean, deliberate. He wasn’t just swinging a hammer—he was shaping something, bending raw metal to his will.
Balveer watched, arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable. But I didn’t miss the slight raise of his brows.
For once, even he was impressed.
When Shayde finally set the metal down, Balveer reached out to inspect the piece. He ran a thumb over the grain structure, testing the consistency. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest.
“Well, shit,” he muttered. “You do know what you’re doing.”
I sighed dramatically and rolled my eyes.
Balveer ignored me, his gaze still on Shayde. “You ever forge full blades, or just mess around with shaping raw steel?”
Shayde met his eyes evenly. “I can forge a blade, balance it, sharpen it, and fit a hilt better than half the so-called blacksmiths I’ve met.”
Balveer’s smirk widened, and he nodded at me. “I’ll take him.”
Shayde grinned and shook Balveer’s hand.
I scowled and spun on my heel. “Come on, Snake. Gotta show you one more thing.”
He followed as I led him upstairs, the wooden steps groaning beneath us. The second floor was built straight into the stone mountain wall, nearly invisible from the outside unless you knew where to look.
Walking past the three apartment doors, I swung open the last one at the end of the hall. “Here ya go.”
Shayde stepped inside, his sharp gaze sweeping over the space—if you could call it that. A low, single bed sat against the wall, with a small chest of drawers beside it. One tiny window let in a pitiful sliver of light.
He exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. “Who else works at the smithy?”
“Just Balveer.”
He turned, narrowing his eyes. “There are three apartments up here.”
I smiled, all teeth. “Yep. The blacksmith job was Rhodes’s idea. But this? This was mine. Five-star stay, don’t you think?”
His jaw ticked, but he didn’t take the bait. “Where’s the bathing chamber?”
I flicked a finger over my shoulder, casual as ever. “Oh, the only extra chamber is in the vacant apartment.”
Shayde stared at me. “So I can use the bathing chamber in the extra apartment, but not the apartment itself?”
“Exactly.” I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Look, Scarlet’s the reason you’re even breathing free air right now. Don’t get greedy. Be a good boy, and maybe—maybe—you’ll earn an upgrade.”
His nostrils flared slightly, but he didn’t argue.
“What about the choker?” Shayde asked, voice flat but edged with irritation.
“That stays on. I think it complements your eyes,” I smirked. “But just know it’ll only take one mistake from you for me to throw you back in that cell.”
He scoffed. “Take my elements away, fine. I don’t care. But it’s weakening my connection to Drithan. I am not okay with that.”
I stepped in closer, voice dropping into a snarl.
“And I am not okay with you endangering my sister’s life.
Or have you already forgotten? You’re here because you were too much of a coward to reveal the Grim—and Scarlet almost died for it.
” My lips curled. “Oh. Wait. She didn’t die.
But the other girl? Her blood is on your hands. ”
The moment the words left my mouth, he moved.
Shayde slammed me against the stone wall, caging me in with his body. The air rushed from my lungs, but I didn’t flinch. His face was inches from mine, his breath hot with fury.
“I don’t need my elements to break your pretty little neck.” His voice was a low, dangerous promise.
I bared my teeth in a grin, unfazed. “Oh, so we’re acknowledging you think I’m pretty? Considering past events.” I let the words hang, watching the fire flash in his eyes. “But one: I don’t think harming me would do you any favors. And two: I’d break your pretty little ass to pieces.”
Shayde smirked, arrogance dripping from every word. “You think I’m pretty, Fitzroy?”
I growled, hands balling into fists as I shoved him off me. His smirk faltered for a split second, but he didn’t resist. Instead, he stepped back, giving me the space to move.
“Touch me again, and I’ll cut your throat, Snake,” I snarled.
He blinked. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that.” Shayde’s voice cracked, shoulders softening just enough to betray a flicker of vulnerability. I could see the pain he was harboring in his eyes.
My lips parted, his response hitting me like a blow to the chest. For a heartbeat, I almost let the raw emotion settle in. But I slammed it down, storming out before any more unwanted feelings could surface—reminding myself that I couldn’t fucking stand him.