Page 165 of Mountain of Mirrors and Starlight
They were very late to the feast.
“Your drawstrings are undone,” Minerva commented, when he took a seat beside her.
Caer’s hands went to his chest. “No, they’re not.”
“Not those ones.”
His cheeks heated, and he fought the desperate urge to slide beneath the table. Aislinn caught his gaze, however, grinning with barely concealed laughter, and he found himself held there.
The feast was a relatively small affair—the six dwarves, Aislinn, Caer and Beau, Venus and Tiberius—
And Aeron, by Venus’ right hand side, smiling contentedly like the cat with the cream.
“Have you tried out your new mirror yet?” Caer asked, trying to sound placid.
“I have examined some of its minor functions, yes,” Aeron replied, neatly sipping his spiced wine.
“And its other ones?”
“Require a little more preparation.”
“Will you share its findings with us?”
Aeron blinked. “Why, of course, Your Highness. Why would I not?”
Caer turned back to the food, trying to be satisfied. He hoped he was wrong about Aeron—or at least that Bell and Minerva knew what they were doing.
The excellent spread proved a welcome distraction. There were half a dozen stuffed birds, all lightly spiced and oozing with fruits and nuts. Gold plates of sliced, salted vegetables accompanied them, oozing with butter. There were dense, flat breads and thick, creamy cheeses. Caer couldn’t name everything, but everything was delicious. It was finished off with quinces and honey and sparkling, cool cider.
After the meal was finished, music was played. Cards were dished out. Everyone seemed too tired for dancing. Luna snuck off early, no doubt to visit Dillon in the stables. He and Aislinn didn’t linger for long after. She took his hand and dragged him back to her room, shoving him up against the wall.
When they finally slept, it was with his head resting against her breast, and all worries obliterated beneath the steady, unfathomable warmth of her heartbeat.
The next morning, Caer woke before Aislinn, kissed her brow, and left her a note saying he was going into town. Hard as it was to leave her bed, he wanted to embrace life in Avalinth, and he didn’t feel like he could truly settle in until he did what he’d promised himself he would do—find a master to teach him the trade.
There was no shortage of blacksmiths in the town to inquire with, but most of them were not in the market for an apprentice. They were, however, more than happy to point him in the direction of the next business that might be. Caer spent the better part of the morning moving from forge to forge.
Finally, he found someone. A burly, red-haired fellow with a metal leg that whirred slightly as he moved.
“I might have an opening,” he said. “If you can prove yourself.”
Caer glanced at the weapons on the wall. “I can make you a sword—”
The dwarf snorted. “Anyone can make a sword, and I can tell by the burns on your arms you’ve plenty of experience with a forge. No, I want you to make me something with a little more… beauty.”
“Beauty?”
“Never underestimate the importance of beauty when selling, lad. Besides, I have a side business in jewellery-making. Look!” He parted his long red locks, displaying a pair of twinkling silver earrings. “There’s a bunch of scrap metal over there,” he said, dropping his hair back into place and pointing to a nearby workbench. “Take as long as you need.”
The scrap was arranged into immaculate piles, sorted into buckets and pots of gears, wires, thin seats, thicker plating. Everything was organised by colour as well as type. Caer took a while to hold several of the pieces, hoping for inspiration to strike. He sketched a few designs on a supply of paper he’d been given, wishing he had Beau’s skill with a pencil and wondering if it would be cheating to go back to the palace and ask him for help.
He decided itwouldbe cheating, and he wanted to face this challenge by himself.
He took some of the wire and started to bend it, teasing it with a pair of tweezers until it resembled a pointed, curved shape, reminiscent of Aislinn’s ears.
A thought struck him.
He pulled out several more pieces of silver and started bending and curling, welding parts together with the help of the forge. He made a few errors. He had to restart a couple of times, not satisfied with where it was going. Doing the second one was a nightmare, but he wanted a perfect match—and the opportunity to prove his success wasn’t a one-off.
