Page 33 of A Kiss of Hammer and Flame

Her cheeks felt hot. It wasn’t just the cider warming her insides.

Cahra downed the revelation with a gulp of her drink, grimacing as she straightened her legs to cross them at the ankles.

Terryl asked her, ‘How is your knee?’

‘It’s fine. Better than last time.’ She lifted the rogue joint, testing it.

Terryl cocked his head. ‘What do you mean?’

It would never end, these conversations circling back to her past. It would never stop. Until she made it.

She took a deep breath, locking it in her lungs until they ached, then slowly let it out. ‘When I was younger, in Kolyath,’ Cahra began, ‘I was homeless. Lumsden took me in when I was a child. Before that, I lived on the streets. It’s what I wanted to tell you in the garden.’

Well… One of the things.

She thumbed the handle of the mug, waiting for the judgement, the rejection.

But it never came. Terryl just watched her with those thoughtful gemstone eyes of his. ‘I suspected that it was perhaps something like that.’

Her mouth fell open. This time, she reallydidn’tknow what to say.

She sat in silence as Terryl went on. ‘Everyone has a beginning. Sometimes it looks quite different to what we end up doing, being. For example, my own beginning is rather divergent to what I am doing these days.’ He almost sounded like he’d laugh, but didn’t. ‘What I am trying to say, somewhat dismally, is this: it shall not matter, if you do not let it. You are so much more than your station. Take what you will from your beginnings, but if you do not wish them to define you, do not let them.’ He held her gaze.

Cahra sat frozen, her heart pounding, his words echoing inside her. Never in her life had anyone gifted her such kindness. Not even Lumsden, who had loved her, in his way.

With searching eyes, Cahra raised her gaze to Terryl’s and found him staring back, an earnest smile on his lips. Terryl put down his mug of cider. Then he delicately took her hand, his soft skin brushing the callouses on her palm before gliding to the tattoo on her wrist, and the crimson of the fire-keeper’s stone that coloured her Guild ink.

‘They say that ground tenebrite gives these markings their vibrancy,’ he murmured, the feel of his touch making her heart skip. ‘Is that true?’

‘Yes,’ she whispered, struggling to speak. ‘For smiths, it symbolises the forge’s fire, its ever-burning heat. It’s why Veil’s Eve is so important to us… It’s tonight, you know.’

‘Ah, of course,’ he replied, tracing languid circles around the tattoo with his fingers. ‘Veil’s Eve, when the space between the veil and void is at its thinnest.’

‘And when people lift the veil on hidden truths and bear witness to those of others,’ Cahra breathed, the words all rushing out at once.

‘Oh?’ Terryl arched an eyebrow. ‘Do you have anything else that you wish to share?’ The lord’s voice was low and teasing.

Seers, yes…She felt heady, bewildered yet exhilarated. But suddenly, he withdrew, Cahra also catching the telltale footfalls that now approached.

From the shadows, Raiden’s voice broke in. ‘Supper is served.’ He turned to her. ‘How’s your leg?’ The Captain’s words were gruff, but at least they were sincere.

Meanwhile, Cahra’s head was still spinning from what he’d interrupted. Eventually, she flashed Raiden a smile. ‘I’m okay.’ She went to stand, Terryl at her side as she levered herself to her feet.

Raiden watched Cahra’s careful movements as they returned to Langera, who was doling out servings of pheasant, gravy and a selection of vegetables, the succulent scent of cooked meat and rosemary and thyme wafting ever closer. He cleared his throat.

‘So,’ Raiden said to Cahra, ‘I was thinking. As a way of rewarding you for your help, how would you like to learn a weapon?’

Cahra, mere steps from mouth-watering food, hobbled to a stop. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Don’t worry, I’ve already sought his permission,’ Raiden told her, nodding to Terryl. ‘Look, you saved me today. You savedhimtoday,’ Raiden continued, as the lord smiled. ‘And you have my thanks. So if, somehow, we needed your help again in future, knowing you can hold your own against a soldier wouldn’t hurt.’

‘I held my own just fine today,’ Cahra retorted.

‘Against a weapon-wielding soldier focused onyou. What do you say?’

She considered. Terryl had dismissed her as a fighter, which normally she wouldn’t give a fig about, but she had been trying to help him. It wouldn’t hurt to learn a weapon, especially from someone like Raiden. Hael, it might even help her smithing.

‘I say yes.’ She grinned. ‘When do we start?’

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