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I am the keeper of steel and silver. He, like all of Hunter’s Hamlet, knows the only one permitted to touch me is the man the master hunter decides will be my husband. No exceptions.
I can’t stop myself from wondering what it would feel like if it were me. My own thighs tingle, heat rising to my core. I don’t want Wallice. But I do want to know what it feels like to be touched. To be desired for more than my skill with a hammer and position in the hamlet.
But I let him go. I have no other choice. He has his role and I have mine. They were given to us before we were born, determined solely by our family name and sex. No matter how much we might hope, or dream, or begrudge, neither of us can escape the path laid before us.
I might be the forge maiden, but I am no delicate flower. I am as cold as silver. As strong as iron. I will bend for destiny, but not for any man.
Fear marries desperation to breed poor decisions, Mother always says. We must protect the silver, for it is our only defense against the vampires. A defense that grows more finite by the day.
“What are you?” he rasps. What am I? A strange question coming from a beast like him. I smile wildly. “I am your death.”
“What trickery is this?” I whisper. The monster that stares back at me moves her mouth in time with mine. But I cannot make sense of her. The woman has dusky, bloodshot eyes with irises ringed in gold. Dark purple veins bulge from paper-thin skin that is sunken against the bones of her face. She looks…I look…almost like one of them. “What is this?” I repeat, louder. A sickness that has nothing to do with my throbbing head is rising in me. “The truth of what you are becoming.” “You lie!” I scream and raise the sword higher. “That is why I have brought you here. The hunters are turning you into
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“What am I going to do with you?” “Love me forever?” My mouth moves on its own. “Careful, or I just might.”
I forged magic
