Page 7 of A Kiss of Hammer and Flame

You mean my hammer, she thought, scowling. ‘Just give me the damn ale,’ she said, before recalling the company she kept and fighting the urge to shrink beneath the floorboards.

Jon chuckled heartily and led them to a table in the back, setting her tankard on it.

Cahra exhaled, taking a sip of the cloudy, malt-rich ale, and turned to Lord Terryl. Who was now sitting not across from her…

…but supportively by her side.

Ignoring the hammer of her heart against her ribcage, Cahra forced herself to study her surroundings. The doorway she’d entered was one of two, the other’s crooked frame anchored to the opposite corner of the crowded room. She watched a group of ruddy-faced men exit, sloshing ale all over the tacky floorboards. A candelabra’s tapers flickered near them and she noted the low ceilings smudged with smoke from years of men’s pipes and scorched meat. Scanning the room, she flinched as a loudcrash, then voices, echoed from the kitchen. She released the breath straining in her chest, hands balled into fists, her knuckles white.

Breathe. Her panicked turn still had her feeling anxious. But these were her people, in her Quadrant. She was safe here, Cahra told herself.

If only she believed it.

Lord Terryl looked at her, the hearth’s flames catching his dark hair and lighting it to match the gold flecks in his starry eyes. ‘What would you like to eat?’

Inhale. Exhale. ‘I appreciate it, but you don’t have to. I can pay my own way.’

‘I am sure that you can.’ He looked amused. ‘You do require sustenance, though, and I know just the dish. Tell me, do you like pork?’

‘Yes,’ Cahra heard herself reply. She supposed a full stomach would do her good. While it was true she’d hardly eaten, it was also normal. Lumsden tired so easily these days that she tried to save their modest food for him.

‘Excellent.’ Lord Terryl turned to Jon again, his words lost to the din of the tavern. The conversation ended with the two men belly-laughing.

Whowasthis young lord?

He settled back into his seat, face flushed. ‘I ordered a specialty Jon makes for me, after I have travelled and require a hearty meal,’ Lord Terryl said warmly.

‘Travelled?’ She frowned. He no doubt lived in the Nobles’ Quadrant of Kolyath near the Steward’s castle, but it was hardly a day-long hike from where they were.

He lowered his voice. ‘The Wilds,’ he said. ‘There are villages outside Kolyath that need wares but cannot enter the kingdom. I offer them trade.’

‘The Wilds?’ She gaped at him. ‘But the people of the Wilds are nomads, exiles.’ Nature worshippers, who had little but the clothes upon their backs, or so the rumours went. ‘And Lord Terryl, leaving the kingdom is banned!’ As was such worship – a death sentence, if it was discovered. Only the prophecy’s magick existed for the Steward.

The thought of this young lord being discovered by their ruler…

It’s what made the Steward, and everything about Hael’stromia, so dread-inducing. The entire kingdom knew Kolyath’s ruler would do whatever it took to get the prophecy’s weapon, and obliterate any and all obstacles in his way. Those who’d vanished from the Quadrant because of whispers of the weapon were never seen again.

Not alive, anyway. Cahra gulped her ale.

‘It is, but some merchants incur exceptions,’ Lord Terryl said.

‘Oh?’ She’d just assumed he was an everyday noble. A merchant lord was strange, but what did she know about high-borns? Lord Terryl having met Jon at least made sense now.

‘I supply ore and minerals to Kolyath,’ he explained. ‘However, outside the kingdom, I also trade in everyday items with the people of the Wilds, depending on what they request.’ The lord gauged her reaction. ‘You are wondering why I aid them.’

Cahra couldn’t help herself, shrugging. ‘Maybe.’

Hael won’t help us.

‘The people of the Wilds are just that – people. They need things, things that the Wilds cannot provide. Tools. Medicines stronger than herbs of the forest floor. Weapons for hunting. The alternative is venturing beyond these lands and, as you know, the other sister kingdoms are not exactly welcoming alternatives.’

Cahra watched him and the way he moved, sounded, as he spoke. She was practised at pinpointing verbal sleights of hand, but he didn’t seem to be lying to her. So she didn’t either. ‘In Kolyath, it’s rare to be so kind,’ she said slowly.

‘Especially for someone in my position,’ he said, voicing the words she hadn’t. ‘There was a time when I, too, was like my peers. But as I came of age, I learned something.’ Lord Terryl returned her gaze. ‘There is value in helping others.’

Cahra didn’t know what to say, firstly to the idea of a helpful high-born, and secondly to the fact that one was apparently sitting next to her. So she said, ‘Right,’ and peered at him. ‘Why would you tell me any of this?’

‘I believe that you might understand,’ the lord said simply. Again, she found herself scanning his posture, his chest and shoulders open and relaxed. What did those words mean? Her life had taught her to be cynical, but unnervingly, something in her felt he was sincere.

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