Page 99 of Forcing Fate

A small ping of jealousy resonated inside. He had no qualms telling a fair lady his name, but not me, his fellow soldier.

Niehm tilted her head and raised her eyebrows, waiting for his traditional longer title.

“My apologies, but it’s only Darrak. Nothing more.” Something in his eyes flickered, but he kept his face schooled to a smile.

It was rare to denounce any heritage by refusing to announce their father’s name when prompted. To do so was to forfeit any inheritance or land that might be attached to that name. Apparently, he was either so well off that he needed no inheritance, or he had a feud with his bloodline.

That, or he was simply being secretive, at risk of offending any of his line, and therefore denounced his heritage outright.

Niehm made a noise of interest, and I looked past her to see Elenor and Willhelm continue walking. He cast a thoughtful glance back at me before replying to something Elenor said.

“Shall we then?” the bounty hunter, Darrak, asked.

He moved to Niehm’s side. He should have known he would get nowhere with her, but she carried my coin and didn’t trust him to be alone with me. Little did she know I was with him most of my day.

As we made our way to the arms market, the easy smile Darrak used on Niehm faded as he took in his surroundings. He was never quite at ease, never fully letting down his guard. He had a talent for observing his surroundings while looking as though he was oblivious, but I knew him better. If I asked, he could probably tell me the exact number of men we walked by, their topic of conversation, and give explicit descriptions of each one.

At the market near the gate to the school grounds, we ignored all the fancier merchants with their sparkling, jewel-laden blades, and heavy swords. We passed bright, colorful shields and intricately carved bows to a small vendor tucked up against the wall.

An old man sat in a wicker chair, clothed in a brown cloak with a thin cane to his side. The few wisps of white hair still attached to his scalp whipped in the light breeze, seeming to have a life of their own. His eyes were shut in slumber, and he breathed deeply, lost in his dreams.

“Gerald,” Darrak called lowly.

I tilted my head as the old man stayed seated with no sign he heard us. His breathing remained the same and his eyes remained closed, his few hairs dancing wildly about. I shifted my feet and glanced at Darrak, who crossed his arms.

“Old man, are you going to sell me some steel or will I have to take my coin to another?”

The old man’s face split into an eerie grin and he peered up with cloudy blue eyes. “You… I know you. You would not trust the steel of another,” he said, staring down Darrak.

His smile unnerved me, sending a chill down my spine as his gaze landed on me and Niehm.

“Ah, you bring guests!” He leaned forward in his chair and squinted at me, looking me up and down. “So you must be the one they’re all in a tizzy about.”

“Begging your pardon, sir?” I rubbed my arms against a chill.

“The girl soldier. The child warrior. Do you think you’re so special?”

That smile stayed plastered on his face, but his eyes told another story. I saw venom behind them—and malice.

“Gerald. A blade if you will,” Darrak demanded, bringing the old man’s gaze back to him.

“Ah yes, yes. Well, give an old man a chance to get up. I have one foot in the grave and my other is none so steady.” He complained as he rose. I would have offered to help had I not seen the danger in his eyes.

“Ah—hmmph. Yes, now. What is it you need? A blade laced with poison? Blow dar–”

“A simple blade.” Darrak cut him off, grinding his jaw.

He was irritated at the older man, though I didn’t understand why. He brought us here, after all.

The old man turned a weary eye on us, dropping his smile. “I do not deal in simple blades.”

“A discreet blade,” Darrak clarified. “One that could be carried on a person without notice.”

The old man’s eyes darted to Niehm, her sword, then to me. “Mm-hmm. I see. I have a few.”

He walked into his stall and moved a few boxes, leaning heavily on his cane, muttering to himself. Rifling from one box to another, he grunted with the strain of moving the crates.

“Ah, here’s one.” He pulled out a small triangular sheath with a leather thong attached. He tossed it to Darrak and continued his rummaging.

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