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“So, what’s your plan?” His voice was tight, but it wasn’t the outright rejection I expected. He was listening now.

“Let her train with me, with Vorgath, and when she’s ready, she can decide if she wants to take up the forge or follow the path you’ve laid out.” I hesitated, then added, “Maybe she’ll choose both. Why does it have to be one or the other?”

Thorne’s eyes narrowed slightly, clearly thrown by the idea, but I pressed on.

“I was supposed to be a mother, a wife, a seamstress.” I felt the weight of those old expectations settling on me as I spoke. “But I took over this forge because I had to, and I’m still a mother. I’m still... me. Women can be so much more than just one thing. Lira doesn’t have to choose between being part of your legacy and making something new of her own.”

As I spoke, I realized how deeply that truth resonated within me. My whole life, I’d been given labels—roles to fill, expectations to meet. But none of those things had captured the fullness of who I was. I was a widow, yes, a mother, but I had become a blacksmith, a protector, a fighter. More than just one thing. And why couldn’t Lira do the same?

Why couldn't everyone?

“Maybe she’ll want a family, maybe she won’t,” I continued. “But that doesn’t mean she can’t build something else for herself, too. She could have babies and the forge. She could have both, or neither. But it’s her choice, Thorne. Just like it’s been mine.”

Thorne’s lips twitched, his jaw working as if he was biting back a retort. I could see the battle going on behind his eyes—the struggle between his pride and his need to protect his daughter. After a long pause, he exhaled sharply.

“Fine,” he said gruffly. “She can train here. But if she changes her mind, you’ll respect that.”

“I will,” I agreed, my voice steady. “But you have to respect her decision, too.”

Thorne didn’t answer, but the silence felt like agreement—begrudging, yes, but still an agreement. I allowed myself a small breath of relief, the tension between us loosening ever so slightly.

But there was still something unresolved.

“Thorne,” I began slowly, unsure how to approach it now, especially after this small truce. “The fire here... Was it you?”

Thorne’s face twisted in surprise—genuine surprise. He damn near looked... offended?

“You think I’d waste my time burning down your forge? Woman, I’m not a child,” he snapped. “If I wanted to best you, I’d beat you with my skill, not cowardice.”

“You’re the only one I can think of who hates me enough to try something like that,” I countered, crossing my arms.

A rough chuckle rasped from his throat. “I don’t hate you. You’re…” He paused, searching for the right words. “…stubborn. Foolhardy. Proud. But I don’t hate you.”

His words left me momentarily speechless. I had been prepared for hostility, for more of the same dismissive disdain he usually threw my way. But this?Stubborn. Foolhardy. Proud. Those weren’t kind words, but the way he said them, there was something almost grudgingly admiring in his tone, as if he couldn’t deny the fight he saw in me, even if it frustrated him to no end.

But that still meant someone had come after me, and now I didn't even know who.

“So, if it wasn’t you…” I let the question hang in the air, watching for any sign of a lie from the man in front of me.

“Perhaps it was the orc.”

“Vorgath?” I asked, confused.

But he shook his head. “Not Vorgath. The other one. The mean one.”

“The other—?” I froze.Dregor?

Vorgath's confession from the night of the fire came flooding back. How he'd looked at me with that tortured expression, his voice tight with emotion as he spoke of his brother, of Dregor's vendetta. He’d suspected Dregor from the start. But I hadn’t believed him. No, I’d been so wrapped up in my anger at Thorne that I’d dismissed the possibility without a second thought.

But Dregor...

“What’s he got to do with any of this?” I asked.

Thorne hesitated, his gaze flickering back to the beam he’d been studying earlier, like it held the answers he was reluctant to share.

“I spoke to him,” he admitted finally. “After I saw him with you at the inn, saw the way he seemed to dislike Vorgath, I thought, well, enemy of my enemy, right?”

A cold dread settled in my stomach. “You thought about working with him? To what... take Vorgath down?”