Page 9 of In Darkness Forged

“And will anyone go with me?” Somehow, her voice did not waver.

“You will go alone.” Lord Dreichel’s tone was implacable. “This is not a prize that can be won by strength of arms—any show of force and my men would be slaughtered where they stood.”

So it was better to send a woman with no weapons at all?

“No,” Lord Dreichel continued, “I will risk no one else. Not for a cause that may already be lost. I will grant you the remainder of the season to restore the stone. Then and only then will I forgive your family for their failures. Do not”—his tone held the chill certainty of a threat—“appear in front of me again until you have accomplished this task.”

What he was asking was preposterous. Unthinkable.

“And if they kill me the moment I cross the border?”

“Then you will be dead, and I? I will have lost nothing.” His head tilted, and his gaze grew pointed. “Perhaps I even stand to gain. After all, your mother’s magic vanished with your birth. Who’s to say it cannot come back again?”

And with that, Lord Dreichel turned his back on her, leaving Aislin somehow alone in a room full of people. Nearly gasping from the impact of that final blow.

Did he truly believe that? Even worse, did anyoneelsebelieve it? Did her mother…

No. Aislin refused to consider it. Refused to allow that thought a foothold. Her mother loved her, with or without magic. And the matrilineal magic in their family had always worked the same way—from mother to daughter, never in reverse. No matter what anyone believed, Aislin could not give back a magic she’d never possessed.

For an instant, she caught the stricken gaze of Sandric, who seemed to have finally recognized the consequences of his actions.

But it was too late for him to take them back. And why should he, when he must endure nothing but his father’s anger? He would remain here, safe in his own home, while Aislin…

She must attempt the impossible. Cross the Dredwall River. Go alone and unaided into a land of magic and nightmare, with nothing but the common gray stone at her feet.

A stone that owed its power to the shapeshifting warriors beyond the river—the hostile and terrifying night elves.

There was nothing and no one in the world who could help her now.

CHAPTER3

Aislin did not return home right away, but wandered for a time on leaden feet, stone clenched tight in nerveless fingers. Her thoughts churned helplessly, wondering whether her rashness had sealed her family’s fate or merely hastened the inevitable. If she could go back, would she make the same decisions? Or would she wait and hope for another opportunity to speak to Lord Dreichel, where she could plead with him for mercy instead of attempting the impossible?

The truth was, she still had no other means by which to repay him—no money, no magic, no skill of value. And the man was not exactly known to be merciful, so perhaps this was the only way.

By the time she reached this conclusion, it was late, and everyone was already in bed, but Aislin knew she could not put off explaining what was about to happen. Her family needed to know so they could be prepared.

With cold, stiff fingers, she picked up the lantern her mother always left burning when Aislin was out and crept into the tiny room her parents had once shared. But when she gazed down at the thin form huddled beneath the bedclothes, she almost lost her nerve.

How could she tell her mother that Lord Dreichel might be sending her to her death?

“Mother, something’s happened.”

Her mother rolled over and sat up, her face pale and thin in the lantern light, anxiety glittering in her eyes.

“It’s good news,” Aislin said, keeping her tone light and her expression neutral. She would not lie, but there was no reason for her mother to know how much danger she would truly be in. “I have a task I must complete for Lord Dreichel.”

“Then… he will give us a chance to pay our debt?” Her mother’s hoarse whisper was laden with hope.

“Yes.” Aislin swallowed the deluge of words that tried to spill out in the wake of that yes. So many things she wanted to tell her mother, but couldn’t—all of her fears and uncertainties, all of her questions. But her mother needed nothing so much as hope, and if she knew the truth…

“That is such a relief.” Charys sank back into her pillow with a sigh and closed her eyes. “I was so afraid…”

Aislin slipped the stone into her pocket, took her mother’s hand, and squeezed it gently. “I will save our home, Mother, I swear it. But I will have to leave right away. Lord Dreichel has given me only until the end of the season.”

“No!” Her mother shot upright, and her grip on Aislin’s hand grew fierce. “No, Aislin, you must not leave. I will not allow it! We will ask him for a different task—something that does not require you to leave this valley.”

Her hand trembled from more than weakness, and Aislin knew she was afraid. Terrified of losing her daughter to the same unknown dangers that she believed had claimed her husband.

---