Page 17 of Between Soul and Vessel
“My forge?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “There are more modern ones. Some don’t even have a lever or bellows, for that matter.”
“I’ve seen them at the blacksmith shops in the Capital. They run on magic.” My hand slid from the lever, and I walked over to the small table, grabbing a sheepskin glove. I slipped my hand inside, picked up a pair of tongs, and walked back to the forge.
“They do. They seem to be more efficient.”
I quirked a brow, pinning her with my gaze. “Are you saying I’m not efficient?”
Her mouth popped open before she swiftly shook her head. “No, mortals on a Sunday, no. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant it might be a better use of your time. Er—” She let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m sticking my foot in it, aren’t I?”
I chuckled. “Little bit.”
Returning my attention to the forge, I pinched the end of the blade with the tongs and pulled it out. It was the perfect shade of orange. Taking it over to my anvil, I laid it on the flat, picked up my hammer, and began to shape it.
Tang. Tang. Tang.
The sound of metal forging metal stalled our conversation, but when the blade needed to be reheated, I placed it back into the fire, and Avriel picked up where we’d left off.
“I didn’t mean any offense.”
“I know you didn’t,” I replied as I began to pump the lever.
“I just know how much you enjoy blacksmithing, and I thought you might like trying out something new. Her Majesty would probably gift you a new forge if you asked her.”
My arm went still. A second passed, or maybe it was two. Muscles firing, I pressed down on the wood handle, continuing what I was doing. “The empress has already given me so much. I could not ask her for more.” The words felt bitter on my tongue. When no reply came, I glanced to my right, saying, “You’ve gone quiet on me now. What is it?”
“Nothing.” She stepped closer to the forge and peered down at the heating blade.
The rhythmic squeak in my handle, the gusts of air from the bellows, and the crackling of the fire occupied the silence as I waited for her to say something more. But, as usual, she offered nothing.
“Come here,” I directed softly, taking a step back as I gestured for her to stand in front of me.
She shot me a suspicious look before she complied.
My fingers roamed down the length of her arm, never touching her until they reached her hand. Gently, I took it and guided it to the handle. “Magic makes things simpler, yes, but when things become too easy, there is little satisfaction in it. When there is no satisfaction or pride, it cheapens the work.” I guided her hand on the downstroke,and the forge came to life. Her scent bloomed around me once more, the proximity of her body so close to mine, it was torturous.
How badly I wished to close the distance between us.
“What are we doing?” she asked, her voice all breathy.
I knew the meaning behind her words was deeper. I could tell her the truth, that we were playing a very, very dangerous game, but if I did, that would acknowledge that there was something between us, and for her sake, I couldn’t do that. So I kept my answer at surface level. “I’m going to teach you how to forge a lump of metal into a blade.”
And so, for the next three hours, that’s exactly what we did. I taught her how to load the forge with the right amount of charcoal, how to ensure the blade was hot enough to work with, as well as other basics like the proper way to hold the hammer. Sometimes, my hands had a mind of their own and they’d caress her arm, something I’d catch too late. Sometimes, she would stop hammering and peer down at my traitorous, wandering hand that hadsomehowmade it to her waist on its own accord. Swiftly, I’d remove it.
“What did you call the last step again?” Avriel asked. She was standing over by a barrel filled with oil. Sometimes I used water or brine, but for the type of metal we were working with, oil was the best choice.
“Quenching the blade. It’s the most crucial step,” I told her as I pulled the red-hot blade from the fire, showing it to her. “Do you see the color of the metal?”
She stepped closer to me, surveyed it, and said, “Mhm, it’s a bright cherry red.”
“Right. The color signals that it is at the correct temperature, and it is ready to be quenched.” I walked over to the barrel, taking the blade with me. Avriel followed. “When Aryx first taught me how to forge, he would have me periodically test the blade with a magnet, prior to quenching.”
Avriel joined me at the barrel. “Why a magnet?”
“When metal attains a high enough temperature, it becomes non-magnetic. It’s called the Curie point. Once it reaches that, you know the blade is ready to be quenched. It’s more of a surefire way to know the blade is ready, rather than judging by the color, which can vary for a number of reasons.”
“So then why don’t you still use the magnet method?” she asked.
