A Throne for Sisters

“They sent some of the boys from the orphanage,” Kate admitted.

She tried to read the blacksmith then, and work out what he was going to do next. If he handed her back, she had no doubt that there would be some kind of reward for him, and in her experience, people did whatever was in their own best interest. She reached out for his mind, and she found him staring back at her.

“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” Thomas said.

“What do you mean?” Kate countered. She knew from painful experience that anyone who knew what she was would react badly. Hadn’t the barge hands thrown her into the river to drown because of it?

She saw Thomas shake his head. “There’s no point in trying to hide it. One of our neighbor’s sons… he was like you. He always seemed to know what we were thinking, even when we didn’t say it. I learned to get a feel for when he was listening in. We didn’t know what he was until we heard some of the masked priests giving their sermons.”

“I don’t know… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kate said.

Thomas reached out, unchaining her wrist.

“You can run if you want,” he said, “but I’m not going to hurt you.”

Kate didn’t run. She had the feeling that the blacksmith had more he wanted to say.

He did. “I don’t care about what you’re able to do. As far as I’m concerned, you aren’t cursed, or evil, or anything else they say. Listen… my son Will has gone off to one of the companies. Wants to be a great soldier. Well, I’ve needed help around the forge ever since.”

Kate frowned at that, trying to understand what the blacksmith was saying.

“You’re offering me a job?”

It wasn’t what she’d escaped from the House of the Unclaimed for. It wasn’t what she’d wanted when she’d been trying to leave the city, either. Yet she had to admit that there was something enticing about the prospect.

“You’re running,” Thomas said. “But my guess is that you don’t have much of a plan. They chase the indentured who run. If they catch you, they’ll hurt you, and then they’ll sell you on. This way, you get to work at something I guess you’d like. You get to be safe, and I get help. You can have food and shelter, learn my trade.” He looked at Kate expectantly. “What do you say?”

Kate hadn’t expected this when he’d caught her. She hadn’t expected anything but violence, and probably the hangman’s rope. She felt as if it was all happening far too quickly, leaving her reeling.

He was right though. She would be safe like this, and she would be learning something she wanted to know how to do. She wouldn’t be in the country, but maybe there would be time for that in the future.

“Where do we start?” she asked.

***

The smithy was a dark space as they walked in, and Kate felt a hint of worry as she felt Thomas’s hand on her shoulder, guiding her in. What if this was all some kind of trick? For what, though? Kate couldn’t imagine what he might want.

He would want something. Everyone wanted something.

She waited while he lit a lamp, then moved over to the forge, laying out charcoal in something that looked far more careful than just a random mixture.

“Watch carefully,” he said. “One of your jobs will be to help light the forge in the morning, and there’s an art to doing it well.”

Kate watched the patterns of it, trying to make sense of it.

“Why do it that way?” she asked. “Why not just throw the charcoal in?”

She saw Thomas shrug. “Heat is a blacksmith’s greatest tool. It must be treated with care. Too much fuel, or too little, too much air or too little, all of this can ruin iron.”

Kate was surprised when he handed her a flint and steel, pointing to a spot where he’d set kindling.

“We start with wood, then build.”

Kate set to work with the flint and steel, striking sparks until the flames flickered in the kindling.

“Why did you run away?” Thomas asked.

“Do you know what the orphanage is like?” Kate countered. It was difficult to keep a hard edge out of her voice at the thought of it.

“I wasn’t there, so I would guess not,” the smith said. “I’ve heard rumors.”

Rumors. Those weren’t the same as the real thing. They weren’t even close. A rumor was a few words, quickly forgotten. The reality had been pain and violence and fear. It had been a place where every day had involved being told she was less than everyone else, and that she should be grateful just for the chance to be told it.

“It was that bad then?” Thomas asked, and it was only as he said it that Kate guessed how much of it must have shown on her face.

“It was that bad,” Kate agreed.

“Aye, there are some evil places in this world,” Thomas said. “And they’re often not where the priests tell us they are.” He nodded in the direction of a large set of bellows. “I’ll work you hard here, Kate, if you want to stay. Let’s see if you can get some air into the fire so it gets hot enough.”

Kate went to the bellows, expecting them to move easily. Instead, it was as hard as one of the cranks of the grinding wheels at the orphanage had been. The difference was that, as she strained at the bellows, she could see them making a difference. The forge fire grew, changing color as she fed it with air and charcoal. She watched the flames shift from yellow to orange, to a white heat that could move steel.

Thomas took a piece of iron, placing it within the forge. “Keep going, Kate. Iron only shifts slowly. There are things we can’t rush.”

He said it with the patience of someone who had worked a lot of the metal. Kate kept working, ignoring the sweat building up on her skin. She found herself wanting to impress the smith. After what he’d offered her, she wanted to show him that she was worth it. It was a strange feeling; at the orphanage, she hadn’t cared. Maybe that was just because they hadn’t cared about her, except as a commodity.

“See the shade the iron has gone?” Thomas asked. “When we get the metal out of the forge, we’ll have to work it quickly. When it starts to fade, we have to get it back in the forge.”

Kate understood, and she rushed to grab a pair of tongs, reaching for the metal and snatching it out at speed. She didn’t want to waste a single instant in her forging. The movement was too quick, and Kate felt the moment when the metal slipped and twisted from her grip, falling to the stone floor of the forge.

It brushed her leg on the way down, and Kate screamed. White heat flashed through her, the barest brush of it pure agony. Thomas was there in an instant, tipping a trough of water over her and the metal both. Kate heard the metal cracking, but right then, there was no time to care. It simply hurt too much.

“Hold still,” Thomas said, grabbing a jar of pungent salve. It proved to be gentle and cooling, numbing Kate’s leg so that the agony receded. From where she lay, Kate could see the cracks in the billet of iron she’d grabbed too quickly.

“I’m sorry,” she said. She waited for Thomas to hit her for her clumsiness, the way the nuns would have. Instead, he held out a hand, lifting her up.

“The main thing is that you’re not hurt worse,” he said. “It’s a bad burn, but it will heal.”

“But the iron…” Kate began.

Thomas waved that away. “Iron cracks. The important thing is that you learn to be patient. You can’t become a master smith in one day, or even in a hundred. You can’t rush around a forge. It’s a place for patience and calm, because the alternative is burnt skin and broken metal.”

“I’ll do better,” Kate insisted.

He nodded. “I know you will.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Sophia walked beside Sebastian, heading deeper into the palace with him. She found her hand creeping into his as they walked, her delicate fingers interlacing with his much stronger ones. She had never thought that such a simple moment of human contact could feel so important.