Page 123 of To Bleed A Kingdom

Relief fills me and I share a smile with Amara, who peers at me from where she walks on the other side of Aurora. I wasn’t sure Aurora would be able to make the weapons. This may be common practice within my realm, but I haven't seen any with that style in this one. Although, that’s not surprising. The steel here isn’t as strong as ours; it seems too pliant to contain a single jewel, let alone several. Not to mention there are no beings in this realm who possess the power needed to bless jewels like Zander can. But after seeing Aurora’s work firsthand, I thought if anyone could do it, it would be her.

Reaching across Aurora, Amara taps the parchment. “I especially like Griffin’s. His sword is in need of replacing, anyway.”

“Oh, gods!” Aurora slaps the stack of sketches to her side. “I've pleaded with him time and time again to let me make him a new one, but he refuses every time.” Huffing, she shakes her head. “He says there's no need, it does exactly what he needs it to do.”

“Unless it snaps in half in the middle of a fight,” Amara adds with a scowl. “The stubborn ass is just cheap.”

“Or he’s pragmatic,” I argue, turning sideways to allow a group of drunk humans to stumble by. “I've had my sword my entire life and I've never replaced it.”

“Yours,” Amara drawls, “is in impeccable condition.” Scrunching her nose, she extends her arm, flopping it from side to side. “His wobbles. It looks like the blade is about to fall off.”

“It really does,” Aurora agrees, appearing pained at the very thought.

“Then it's a good thing he’ll be getting a new one,” I say, feeling confident Griffin will accept the gift despite his protests. In the small chance he doesn’t, I can always persuade him to do so. In normal circumstances, I would never do such a thing. But in this instance, when someone's preference puts their safety at risk, I’ll decide for them.

Aurora flips to the parchment with the design I drew for her. It’s similar to Darius’ with round, orange topaz jewels studding the center of the blade from hilt to point, but a bit shorter in length and narrower.

“Is it weird for me to ask you to make your own present?” I ask, questioning myself once again whether it's rude to even ask. “Maybe I should find another blacksmith to create yours.” I reach for the drawing, but Aurora jerks it above her head, outside of my reach.

“Don’t you dare! I’m a blacksmith. I can’t use someone else’s creation.”Lowering her arms, she peers down at the parchment, stroking the sketch in a loving manner. “This is perfect. You’ve given me two presents. Not only do I get to create it, but I get to keep it.” Pulling me into a tight hug, wisps of her blond hair tickle my cheek. “Thank you, Lena.”

“You’re welcome,” I reply, wondering if she would react the same way if she knew the true purpose of the sword.

Amara eyes Aurora with a dubious look, her short brown hair partially shielding her face. “Do you even know how to wield a sword?”

“I am a blacksmith,” she states dryly, releasing me.

“It's a valid question,” I say, shruggingwhen Aurora whips her narrowed gaze to me. “Cascadonians seem to have an aversion to females doing anything besides wiping snotty noses and rubbing their husband’s feet.”

Aurora rolls her eyes. “Point taken. Yes, I know how to wield a sword.” Peeking over her shoulder, she searches for anyone nearby, then lowers her voice. “My mother’s guard Aerin has been training me since I was a child.”

“I would think your mother wouldn't approve,” Amara says.

“She wouldn't.” Aurora smirks. “If she knew.”

“Isn't Aerin the same guard who wanted to arrest me?” I ask, recalling the sneer of the dark-skinned Air immortal.

Aurora winces. “That’s him.”

“He seemed loyal to your mother,” I reply. “It’s surprising that he would disobey her.”

“He’s loyal to a fault, but he's also the one who found her after the Battle of Brecca.” Her expression morphs, sobering in a blink. “He said he couldn't bear the thought of something like that happening to me as well, so when I told him I wanted to learn, he was more than happy to help.”

“Smart male,” Tristan says. Coming up from behind us, he wraps his arms around Aurora’s waist and tugs her against his chest, nuzzling her neck.

“What are you ladies up to?” Kace asks, strolling up beside me. Zander squeezes between us to place a wet smack of a kiss to my cheek. Cringing, I wipe off his slobber and he laughs. So I punch him in the gut.

“They’re not ladies,” Zander grunts, bent over at the waist and clutching his stomach. “They’re savage brutes.”

“Except for Aurora,” Amara adds.

“I'm not a lady!”

Amara snorts. “You think because you slapped on a pair of britches you're not a lady? You are a born and bred lady no matter what you wear.” She slaps a palm to Tristan's face and shoves him back, his body slamming against the cobbled street.

“What is wrong with you?!”he bellows.

Ignoring him, Amara tosses her arm across Aurora’s shoulder, winking. “But you’re the kind of lady I actually like.”

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