Page 63

“Mm-hmm.” She nodded. “Its bloom is as resilient as it is beautiful. Fire-retardant. It thrives in heat. Perfect for safe work amidst flames.” She tilted her head again, her eyes twinkling with something mischievous. “Perhaps the flames aren’t so different from the flowers after all. They both grow with the right care.”

My fingers brushed the silky-soft petals, a spark of realization flickering in my chest. A flower that could grow beside the flames…

All this time, I’d been thinking I had to rebuild my forge as it was—as Kald’s forge, where weapons had been made. A place ofhard steel and brute force. Sweat and fire and clanging iron. But maybe… maybe it didn’t have to be that way.

Maybe I could create a place where beauty and craftsmanship came together. A forge for creation, not destruction. Iron mixed with intricacy, fire tempered with softness. I didn’t need to be bound by old expectations.

This forge… this forge would be mine.

“I can plant these inside the forge, then?” I asked, my mind racing now. Images of a new, more vibrant space blooming in my head, in place of the smoldering ruins. Firelight flickering against glowing blooms. Strength and beauty, side by side.

“Absolutely,” the dryad replied with a warm smile. “Why not fill the space you create with things that inspire you? It is yours, after all. It can be whatever you wish.”

The words brought to mind Elias’s birthday wish—I wished that we could have Papa’s forge working again, so we could be like we were before.

What did that really mean to him, though? I realized he might not remember the forge in its glory but rather the feeling it had given him—the warmth of family gathered around the fire, the laughter that once echoed within the walls. I hadn’t just lost the forge; I had lost a piece of what made us whole.

But now, I had the chance to create something new, to fill that space with safety and joy once more. I wanted to give Elias back that feeling, not just a replica of the past, but a bright new future we could share together.

And I wanted to do it my way.

I glanced down at the heavy coin pouch Lady Hargrave had given me earlier. There was enough in there for a fresh start... and maybe even a few firepetals to brighten the way.

I met the dryad’s eyes, suddenly feeling like I had just stumbled upon a secret I wasn’t supposed to find so easily—but one that belonged to me all the same. Those bright green eyestwinkled knowingly, as if she could see the new currents of hope flowing through my mind.

“How much for a bundle of these?” I asked, my voice steadier now. Sure. Almost eager.

The dryad’s smile widened, her vines swaying gently as she handed me several more crimson blossoms. “Oh, don’t worry about the cost,” she said with a wink, leaning in conspiratorially. “Consider it a gift. I can tell you have a grand vision.”

I laughed. “I’m not sure how grand it’ll be, but thank you.”

With a wink and a nod, I carefully tucked the bundle of firepetals into my bag, the fiery blooms resting against the pouch of coin. The weight of both—possibility and beauty—felt like the first step toward something new.

A forge filled with flowers.

My forge.

Chapter 25

Adull thud echoed outside my window, pulling me from a restless sleep. I blinked, disoriented, the soft light of dawn seeping through the curtains, chasing away the remnants of an all-too-brief slumber. For a moment, I lay still, willing myself to sink back into sleep, but the sounds from below—the scrape of something heavy being dragged, the occasional clatter of metal—tugged me fully awake.

I rubbed my eyes, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me. The night before had stretched long into the early hours as I sat hunched over the small wooden desk in my cramped room, scribbling ideas onto parchment. My fingers had been smudged with charcoal as I sketched, erasing and redrawing, lost in a flurry of inspiration. I could still see the remnants of those late-night sketches scattered across the desk, plans for a new forge. I'd written out a list of tools, materials, and costs, every number circled in red ink, the coins Lady Hargrave had given me carefully budgeted next to my meager savings.

But when I finally dragged myself to bed, the doubts had crept in. Could I really do this? Could I rebuild, not just the forge but... everything?

The thud outside repeated, louder this time, shaking me from my thoughts. I groaned, pushing myself upright. Wrapping a shawl around my shoulders, I padded to the window.

Below, the wreckage of the forge was still a charred mess, but there—amidst the ruin—Vorgath moved with quiet determination. He stood shirtless, sweat already glistening on his chest in the early morning light. In his hands, he gripped a large beam of wood, muscles flexing as he tossed it into a growing pile of debris. Another dull thud followed as the beam landed heavily.

I felt my breath catch for a moment. He was... relentless.

And so damn sexy.

With the distance between us the last few days, it had been easy for me to push aside memories of our night together. But now, looking down at him, sweat slicking his torso and muscles shifting with every precise, powerful movement—I found myself remembering everything. His hands on me, the heat of his breath near my ear. The way his mouth had claimed mine, hot and desperate. The way he had filled me so completely...

My throat went dry.

I swallowed hard, pressing my fingertips to the cool glass of the window as if it could somehow pull me back from the surge of heat rushing through my body.