Page 129
Story: Master of Iron
“You’d be finishing up your second-to-last year of schooling,” I say.
“And you’d be making more weapons, trying to grow ever closer to your goal of retiring in the northern continent,” she says.
I close my eyes tightly. “Did you ever intend to come with me? Or were you just humoring me?”
Her body stiffens slightly. “I was going to go. To try it at least.”
She doesn’t need to say the rest, that she’d leave the moment she was bored.
“And your plans to become a professional fighter? A guard? When did you think you would tell me about those?” I ask.
She laughs lightly. “I thought I might share that once you were settled in paradise. I thought your temper wouldn’t be so dangerous.”
“I still can’t believe you kept so much from me back then.”
“You’re a worrier,” Temra explains. “I didn’t want to stress you.”
“Oh, so it was all for my feelings?” I ask doubtfully.
“No, it was a bit of selfishness on my part, too.”
I suppose I can’t blame her for that.
“I want you to be happy,” I tell her. “When this is all over, if joining Skiro’s guard permanently is what you want, then that’s what I want you to do.”
The words break my heart, but I go through with them.
“And what will you do?” Temra asks.
“Don’t worry about me.”
“Ziva—”
“No, I mean it. I’ll be fine. I’ll figure something out.”
“Just promise me we’ll still see each other.”
I let out a noise between a laugh and a sigh. “It’s nice to hear you say that.”
She scoffs, offended. “Just because we want different things, it doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you again! You’re the biggest constant in my life. I want you to always be there.”
“I always will. Even if we see less of each other, we will still see each other.”
We just have to survive Kymora first.
My days grow more repetitive in the next week. During the daytime hours, I heat armor and magic it. Over and over again. Zovid mans the bellows. Abelyn holds the individual pieces of armor before me with tongs. And I coax it to be strong. To be light. To be an unbreakable shield for the body.
My evenings are spent in the company of Kellyn or my sister and Petrik. We talk and laugh and reminisce. Sometimes I even seek out Serutha and Ashper, just so we can talk magic. It’s so nice to spend time with people like me.
I’ve never warmed to anyone so quickly before in my life. I can honestly say I never had friends before I left Lirasu.
But I’m mostly shocked by how much I like having other people around.
In measured doses, of course.
Temra and Kellyn spend their time with the army. Preparing.Running through drills. Exercising. Training horses and men alike. Though Marossa has double the guard Skiro does, it’s still pitiful when compared to Kymora’s numbers. However, the princess has an impressive collection of horses. Together they’ll make up quite the cavalry, which will give us a better edge than last time, to be sure.
Petrik has an inquisitive mind that leads itself naturally to politics. I watch him navigate the meeting room like a royal adviser who has been doing so for years. Though they run him ragged, Petrik seems to come more alive day after day, as though finding a purpose for himself. A use for all his knowledge as a scholar.
“And you’d be making more weapons, trying to grow ever closer to your goal of retiring in the northern continent,” she says.
I close my eyes tightly. “Did you ever intend to come with me? Or were you just humoring me?”
Her body stiffens slightly. “I was going to go. To try it at least.”
She doesn’t need to say the rest, that she’d leave the moment she was bored.
“And your plans to become a professional fighter? A guard? When did you think you would tell me about those?” I ask.
She laughs lightly. “I thought I might share that once you were settled in paradise. I thought your temper wouldn’t be so dangerous.”
“I still can’t believe you kept so much from me back then.”
“You’re a worrier,” Temra explains. “I didn’t want to stress you.”
“Oh, so it was all for my feelings?” I ask doubtfully.
“No, it was a bit of selfishness on my part, too.”
I suppose I can’t blame her for that.
“I want you to be happy,” I tell her. “When this is all over, if joining Skiro’s guard permanently is what you want, then that’s what I want you to do.”
The words break my heart, but I go through with them.
“And what will you do?” Temra asks.
“Don’t worry about me.”
“Ziva—”
“No, I mean it. I’ll be fine. I’ll figure something out.”
“Just promise me we’ll still see each other.”
I let out a noise between a laugh and a sigh. “It’s nice to hear you say that.”
She scoffs, offended. “Just because we want different things, it doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you again! You’re the biggest constant in my life. I want you to always be there.”
“I always will. Even if we see less of each other, we will still see each other.”
We just have to survive Kymora first.
My days grow more repetitive in the next week. During the daytime hours, I heat armor and magic it. Over and over again. Zovid mans the bellows. Abelyn holds the individual pieces of armor before me with tongs. And I coax it to be strong. To be light. To be an unbreakable shield for the body.
My evenings are spent in the company of Kellyn or my sister and Petrik. We talk and laugh and reminisce. Sometimes I even seek out Serutha and Ashper, just so we can talk magic. It’s so nice to spend time with people like me.
I’ve never warmed to anyone so quickly before in my life. I can honestly say I never had friends before I left Lirasu.
But I’m mostly shocked by how much I like having other people around.
In measured doses, of course.
Temra and Kellyn spend their time with the army. Preparing.Running through drills. Exercising. Training horses and men alike. Though Marossa has double the guard Skiro does, it’s still pitiful when compared to Kymora’s numbers. However, the princess has an impressive collection of horses. Together they’ll make up quite the cavalry, which will give us a better edge than last time, to be sure.
Petrik has an inquisitive mind that leads itself naturally to politics. I watch him navigate the meeting room like a royal adviser who has been doing so for years. Though they run him ragged, Petrik seems to come more alive day after day, as though finding a purpose for himself. A use for all his knowledge as a scholar.
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