Page 60 of An Honored Vow

I changed tactics. “Perhaps Elverath didn’t find it fitting to make you Fae because you have already been blessed.”

She scoffed, her hands waving over her sister. “Any blessings given to me have rotted away.” Her jaw dropped as she turned and saw what I held in my hand. The blade was still wrapped in my cloak, but Syrra recognized its hilt.

I knew she had stared at that blade for hours, as a girl, as a warrior in training, even as a seasoned one. I knew she had haunted the equipment room in Sil’abar to stare at the relics of storied warriors because I had done the same at the Order. I stared into the stony eyes of the statues that had not been destroyed, devouring every story I heard of them, not knowing that one day I would meet one of those statues come to life.

With a blade more powerful than any other.

I pulled out the sword, a gloriousringechoing through the room as if the steel conducted its own music from the air. Syrra gasped as she saw the blade forged anew, but silver.

“Faelin’s blade did not choose me.” I kneeled and presented the sword to her. “I think it had another,wiserwarrior in mind.”

Syrra blinked down in disbelief, no quick retort finding her lips. She reached her hand out but did not dare touch the blade. Her fingers shook over the steel.

“How did you reforge it?” she croaked. “Those arts have long been lost to us.”

“We asked and Elverath answered.” I lifted the blade a few inches higher.

Syrra pulled her hand back. “What … what if it doesn’t choose me?”

“Then no one beyond these walls will ever know.” Syrra was strong, but I knew a soldier could only take so many hits before her shield shattered and her blade began to dull. Maerhal, Nikolai, Lash. Her blood rejecting the chance to turn Fae.

Syrra needed a win.

We all did.

And I hoped I was right that this would give us one.

She took a deep breath and reached for the hilt. Her hand moved like snowmelt, barely at all and then all at once. Her fingers wrapped around the hilt, and the steel shone brighter than the suns with her touch.

Syrra hoisted the blade high over her head. It carved a trench in the rock with just a scratch. The blade was sharper than any other in existence. Syrra’s eyes went wide as the bright glow of the blade faded and the weapon’s true color returned.

Gold. The same color the blade had been while wielded by Faelin.

But the sword was no longer the Faemother’s.

It was Syrra’s.

For the first time in weeks, a smile crept along Syrra’s mouth. It was not one of joy or pride, but one of vengeance.

CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO

CALLING DAMIEN INTO MY DREAMwas as easy as breathing. Whatever connection he had formed between our minds was second nature now. I smirked down at him from his precious golden throne when he appeared, kneeling on the floor of the throne room.

“I knew you would be tempted.” Damien’s magic eye flared as he pushed himself off the marble floor. He pulled on the bottom of his waistcoat so it sat straight across his hip.

I snarled at him and used my control over the dream to set the throne aflame. I stayed in the seat as the gold started to drip onto the floor. “I’ve come to propose a trade.”

Damien scoffed. He tucked his hands behind his back though he didn’t hide his surprise quite enough. “You have nothing that interests me.”

“I don’t?” I raised a brow. “How disappointed Kairn will be that his master thinks so little of him.”

Damien’s eye narrowed by a fraction. A hairline wrinkle appeared between his brows but it disappeared as he adjusted the circlet that appeared on his head. “Blades are useful but they can always bereplaced.” He emphasized the last word as he scowled up at me. “Why walk through a battle to collect a new weapon when I have my choice of blacksmiths here in the capital?” His tone was cool and collected, but I recognized it for the mask it was.

“You may forge new Blades at will, but you can’t forge new pendants, can you?” I waved my hand and Kairn’s pendant was conjured along the front of my leathers. I twisted on the throne so both my legs were folded over one armrest, completely encased in the burning flames.

Damien’s lip curled. “If you know what it does, then I doubt I have anything that could tempt you to part with it.”

I pulled one of my smaller blades from my belt and scraped the molten gold from the back of the throne. Damien flinched.

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