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Temra is just as transfixed as any of the children.

Getting my hands on bricks, clay, and more iron is tricky. I visit several houses in the village looking for the items. Temra accompanies me to dispel any awkwardness. People are so friendly, not questioning anything. One person hands over a broken hoe. Another finds a cracked clay pot to donate.

I wish I had grown up in a small town. Amanor is lovely. So few people, everyone kind and willing to help their neighbors. I wonder if it’s even possible to feel unsafe in such a place.

I borrow the Derinors’ shovel to dig a large hole into the ground just outside the forge. I line the interior with clay and brick, leaving no gaps. It’s a slow process, stacking the bricks, lining them with clay, visiting more villagers when I run out of materials.

But I love every moment of it.

It feels so good to be using my hands again.

I may not be hammering, but using the kiln, wielding the familiar tools, feeling safe again—I cherish all of it.

Farming. Forging. Farming. Forging. Laughing with the children, listening to Petrik’s stories, watching Kellyn interact with his family—I enjoy all of it.

On a farming day, I return from the river with a bucketful of water in each hand. I pass by the storage shed, where the Derinors keep their farming equipment overnight.

Deep voices stop me in my tracks.

“I’m so sorry, Da,” Kellyn says. “I had nearly three thousand ockles saved up for you and Ma, but we were robbed on the road, which is why we arrived with nothing but the clothes on our backs.”

“I’m only glad you’re safe,” Mr. Derinor, Garon, says.

“But you would have been able to expand the house, buy more seeds for the next planting season, and—”

“Kellyn, you know your ma and I don’t want you doing what you do. We would much rather have you safe than have you continue to send us money. We wish you would give up the sword and settle down. Speaking of which, don’t think it didn’t escape my notice that you arrived with two young women. Which one do you have your eye on?”

He doesn’t speak for a moment, and I hold my breath.

“The tall one,” Kellyn answers.

“The quiet one?” his father inquires.

“Yes, she’s really quite amazing when she does speak.”

“Well, there! Stop swinging that sword around, marry the girl, and settle down. That’s how things are meant to be done.”

I nearly drop my buckets.

“Da, I don’t want to give up the sword. Besides, Ziva thinks I’m a selfish crook who’s obsessed with money. She’ll never have me.”

“Have you made a gesture?” Garon asks.

“Oh, Da—”

“No, you listen here, young man. Your ma was the beauty of the village. Every lad and some of the ladies wanted her. But do you know what I did?”

“You didn’t propose first; you proposed the grandest,” Kellyn utters, deadpan, as though he’s heard the words a million times.

“That’s right. I declared my love in front of the entire village. I laid my soul bare to show her just how much I cared.”

“People don’t marry so young anymore, Da. Besides, this one doesn’t like grand gestures. She hates attention. That would never go over well.”

“Then think of what would be a grand gesture to her and do it. Women are all about us telling them our feelings and showing that we care. Do that, and she won’t be able to say no to you.”

“This conversation is making me really uncomfortable.”

“Well, good. You should be uncomfortable. Love is uncomfortable at first. It’s terrifying and exhilarating. But that will pass. It will become easier and something that youneedrather than want. And if that doesn’t happen, then you’re with the wrong person.”