Forging Silver into Stars (Forging Silver into Stars #1)

by Brigid Kemmerer

But I sometimes wonder if he craves quiet moments like this in the same way that I do. Moments where he doesn’t have to be the fierce ruler and I don’t have to be a well-armed messenger carrying word of threats against the throne, and instead we’re just two people with a horse that needs tending.

He doesn’t smile, but there’s a warm light in his eye that only appears when he speaks of their daughter—

Grey seems to have moved past the curse that tormented them, but Rhen still wears the weight of his past like a cloak he can’t shrug off.

The air is full of the scent of cooked meats, warm breads, and sweet honey, but it’s the company in the room that’s the most inviting.

Grey and Jake are at home with a sword in their hands, and I am too, but there’s something calming about being with people who wield warmth and empathy instead of weapons.

I should have followed the others to the training fields. Grey would stumble into his own sword before it would occur to him to interrogate me about courtship

“But Rhen has suffered a lot—” “So has Grey,” I say. “So have you.” I almost flinch. Noah knows me too well. Better than anyone, probably.

He once said that he used to see people on the worst day of their life, and it was his job to help get them through it. I’m certain he was very good at it.

“I was a good soldier, Noah. I’d do it again if he asked me to.” “Would you?” The question hits me like a knife. It’s a little too piercing, a little too precise. “Yes,” I say firmly. “I would.”

“I just want to make sure you enjoy it,” he says, “and that you haven’t taken this job because it’s a convenient way to hide when you don’t want to feel vulnerable.” “I don’t feel vulnerable anymore,” I say. “Grey made sure of it.”

keep feeling a twinge in my gut every time I think of accepting his silver, as if coins earned honestly and those earned from disloyalty don’t all spend the same.

Then I got hurt, and it seemed like the village physician carved out a piece of Da’s heart when he took my foot.

think of that moment when Lord Tycho stood in the workshop. The way he said, I would offer you mercy. I’ve heard that they believe in fate on the other side of the mountain in Emberfall, and right this moment, I want to beg fate to send him back.

Everything about him disgusts me, from the way he glares down at me, to the casual marks of wealth and prosperity that seem like a mockery of everything I’m lacking.

“Fine,” Jax says darkly. “It wasn’t pity. It was a rich lord riding through a small town, throwing some generosity to the poor folk of Briarlock. Maybe our taxes pay for a life of ease in the Crystal City, where you can borrow the king’s magic to solve all your problems, but here, all you’ve done is remind us of what we’ve suffered. Of what we lack.” His voice has grown sharp with disdain. “So forgive me, my lord. You have my thanks.” Lord Tycho looks like Jax has slapped him. Even Nora is silent.

He carries himself like a beaten dog, but there was so much anger in his expression when he shoved me away.

The monsters who tortured me have all been of the human variety.

I have as much reason to hate him as anyone, but I don’t. What I said to Noah was true: Rhen has suffered a lot.

“If you need a task,” Rhen says without looking up, “I am happy to provide more of a diversion than staring.” Or maybe he would. “I’ll take a task,” I say.

“I know Lia Mara wishes to rule with a gentle hand, but if she and my brother do not keep a tight leash on their nobles, they’ll seek every weakness. Any attack on you is an attack on them, and they should have taken action to put it to rights.”

“That is not tricky. Loyalty to your country doesn’t matter if you’re disloyal to whoever is ruling it.”

Callyn was frightened, but Jax was so brazen. I realize now that it was a camouflage for his own fear. I learned early on with skittish horses that sometimes they need a quiet moment to allow an element of trust to form before you ask something of them. People aren’t much different. I know that better than anyone.

Any flares of hope have been fully extinguished after what he did. Not even an ember is left.

But I keep thinking of the light in his brown eyes. His voice, soothing and low. Steady. I won’t hurt you. The way his fingers curled around my wrist, more gentle than I expected. The way he didn’t back down from my anger. The way he didn’t retaliate, when he surely could have. I need to stop thinking about it.

I look down at my hand, the one Tycho healed. I was hurt, and he healed it … and he asked nothing in return. The magic was powerful and terrifying and wondrous all at once. I shoved him in the chest and yelled at him, and he could have taken my head off right there. He didn’t. I would offer you mercy.

“Put some coins on the line and we can finish this in the arena.” “I try not to humiliate people in public,” I say, and he glowers in response, but the man at my back speaks again.

“Do you really want to go back?” he says, and the way he’s looking at me is piercing, like he knows every emotion I’m not voicing. I inhale like I’m ready to breathe fire. I’m tempted to hit him with a crutch. I’m ready to snap at him that I’m busy, that I don’t need his pity, that I don’t need some stupid spoiled lord from the Crystal City to interfere with my life when I’m in the middle of trying to save the forge through unscrupulous means.

I do what he says, but when I’m facing the horse, I say, “You do know I can’t ride.” “Well, you couldn’t shoot an hour ago.”

Tycho bursts out laughing. It feels like I’ve won a prize.

And when it’s very late, and very dark, and the palace is quiet, I think about Jax: his watchful eyes, his cautious smile, his fierce determination that revealed itself in the most surprising ways. Like how he seemed almost afraid to succeed at something like archery—followed by clear eagerness to learn once he didn’t fail. I think about his hand on my wrist when we sat by the forge, how I wanted to pull away at first. I think about how his voice was low and soothing, how his fingers were so gentle against my skin that it held me in place. I think about Jax more often than I’d like to admit.

“Besides, it would be inconvenient if you were to catch a chill, fall ill, and die.” “Inconvenient,” I echo. “Of course! Who else would try to stab me with a pitchfork?” “I’m sure someone would be eager to oblige.”

“Jacob has indicated you and my brother are engaged in a bit of discord. Explain.” I make a mental note to beat the crap out of Jake again later.

But when it’s very dark, and very late, and very quiet, I allow myself to think of Lord Tycho, and how that fur trader wasn’t the first person to see me as capable.

You fancy him, Cal said. Maybe I did. Does it matter? I may as well fancy a star in the sky.

Grey may have taught me how to defend myself—how to save myself—but when I was younger and terrified of what fate might have in store, Noah always gave me a safe space to heal.

“People will surprise you, Tycho. For bad, for good, in so many ways you’ll never expect.”

“I know. Jake is a good man.” “He was a good man then, too.” He pauses. “You’re not distracted. You’re not reckless. If your heart tells you someone deserves your attention, listen to it.”

“I’ve never lied to you.” “Deceit isn’t always about lying.” His eyes are intent and focused.

I’m not one for murderous thoughts, but for Alek, I’m making an exception.

“The choice is always yours.” When has the choice ever been mine? My choices have always been shaped by the decisions of others.

I know what to do with violence. It’s intimacy that feels frightening.

“In that case, come keep me company. An armed man broke in earlier.” That makes me smile.

“Scars are nothing to be ashamed of,” he says. “I’m missing an entire foot and somehow the King’s Courier is in my bed.” “The King’s Courier considers it an honor.”

“Sometimes risks remind us of what we have to lose.”

This is a different kind of magic, one that no one can take away from me.

Where does that put their loyalty? Can you respect someone and still deride their choices? If they want to kill the king, is that loyalty? Or is that treason?

Taking a choice away from someone else isn’t devotion, and it isn’t loyalty. He talked about Jax playing dangerous games, but Alek is playing the most dangerous one of all. A game of make-believe with lethal stakes: disguising control as faithful devotion. Disguising assassination as an act of protection.

said you’re magnificent. Exquisite. Flawless. I thanked fate for leading me to your door.” “Oh,” I say, and my voice catches. I’ve spent so many years hearing that I’m good for nothing more than misfortune, so my heart thumps hard in my chest. “Is that all?” “Ah … let me think.” He gazes at the ceiling. “I said you’re unexpectedly talented—” I give him a shove. “You’re a scoundrel.” “With archery!”

“Watch your words, Lord Alek. I know who you are. I will remind you that you are in the heart of Emberfall, not your home country.” His tone could slice through steel. “My brother may need to pander to you, but I do not.”

“You misunderstand. My point is that your instincts seem sound.” “I don’t know about that.” “We can only play the cards that fate deals.” “Well, I keep playing them badly.”