Slave, Warrior, Queen

He took a small step toward her.

“Listen to me very carefully, Ceres. The palace still needs swords delivered from time to time. I have put in a good word for you, and if you make swords the way I have taught you, you could make a little money of your own.”

Making her own money might possibly allow her more freedom. She had found her small, dainty hands had come in handy when carving intricate designs and inscriptions on the blades and hilts. Her father’s hands were broad, his fingers thick and stubby, and few others had the skill she had.

Even so, she shook her head.

“I don’t want to be a smith,” she said.

“It runs in your blood, Ceres. And you have a gift for it.”

She shook her head, adamant.

“I want to wield weapons,” she said, “not make them.”

As soon as the words had left her mouth, she regretted speaking them.

Her father furrowed his brow.

“You wish to be a warrior? A combatlord?”

He shook his head.

“One day it may be allowed for women to fight,” she said. “You know I have practiced.”

His eyebrows crinkled in worry.

“No,” he commanded, firmly. “That is not your path.”

Her heart sank. She felt as if her hopes and dreams of becoming a warrior were dissipating with his words. She knew he wasn’t trying to be cruel – he was never cruel. It was just reality. And for them to stay alive, she would have to sacrifice her part, too.

She looked into the distance as the sky lit with a jolt of lightning. Three seconds later, thunder rumbled through the heavens.

Had she not realized how dire their circumstances were? She always assumed they would pull through together as a family, but this changed everything. Now she wouldn’t have Father to hold onto, and there would be no person to stand as a shield between her and Mother.

One tear after another dropped onto the desolate earth as she remained immovable where she stood. Should she give up her dreams and follow her father’s advice?

He pulled something out from behind his back, and her eyes widened to see a sword in his hand. He stepped closer, and she could see the details of the weapon.

It was awe-inspiring. The hilt was of pure gold, engraved with a serpent. The blade was two-edged and looked to be of the finest steel. Though the workmanship was foreign to Ceres, she could immediately tell it was of the finest quality. On the blade itself there was an inscription.

When heart and sword meet, there shall be the victory

She gasped, staring at it in awe.

“Did you forge that?” she asked, her eyes glued to the sword.

He nodded.

“After the manner of the northerners,” he replied. “I have labored on it for three years. Indeed, this blade alone could feed our family for an entire year.”

She looked at him.

“Then why not sell it?”

He shook his head firmly.

“It wasn’t made for that purpose.”

He stepped closer, and to her surprise, he held it out before him.

“It was made for you.”

Ceres raised a hand to her mouth and let out a moan.

“Me?” she asked, stunned.

He smiled wide.

“Did you really think I forgot your eighteenth birthday?” he replied.

She felt tears flood her eyes. She had never been more touched.

But then she thought about what he had said earlier, about not wanting her to fight, and she felt confused.

“And yet,” she replied, “you said I must not train.”

“I don’t want you to die,” he explained. “But I see where your heart is. And that, I cannot control.”

He reached a hand underneath her chin and lifted her head until their eyes met.

“I am proud of you for it.”

He handed her the sword, and when she felt the cool metal against her palm, she became one with it. The weight was perfect for her, and the hilt felt like it had been molded to her hand.

All the hope that had died earlier now reawakened in her chest.

“Don’t tell your mother,” he warned. “Hide it where she cannot find it, or she will sell it.”

Ceres nodded.

“How long will you be gone?”

“I will try to be back for a visit before the first snowfall.”

“That’s months away!” she said, taking a step back.

“It is what I must do to – ”