Page 29

Chapter 28

“ W hat are you doing here, Thorne?” The words sliced through the stillness of the night like a hammer to anvil.

But Thorne didn’t flinch. He didn’t even turn to look at me immediately. Instead, he brushed a hand over one of the wooden beams, tracing the grain as if he had laid it himself—the audacity.

My knuckles tightened at the hem of my robe, resisting the urge to pick up a nearby hammer and lob it at the back of his head.

When he finally deigned to acknowledge me, he did it with that all-too-familiar arrogance.

“Just trying to understand what everyone sees in you.” His tone was light—conversational, even—but there was a tightness around his eyes.

As I studied him, it hit me—if he meant harm, Sylwen’s runes would have kept him out. He wasn’t here to destroy; he was here to confront something he couldn’t ignore any longer.

That’s when I knew—it wasn’t just the rebuilt smithy he was seeing. It was everything that went into it. Every beam and stone, every rune carved into the doorframe, every piece of mithral woven into the walls was a testament to something he couldn’t quite grasp. He was seeing a community that had come together, people who had once been strangers working side by side. People who had chosen to help me, to see me succeed, while he stood on the outside, clinging to his outdated beliefs and refusing to bend.

A bark of laughter escaped me unexpectedly. “Are you... jealous?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Don't be ridiculous,” he answered, but a flicker of confusion crossed his features, and I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

Because for all his stubbornness and pride, Thorne Ironsmith was just a man struggling to understand a world that had changed around him, feeling the ground shift beneath his feet. I was standing in the middle of that change, a reminder of everything he couldn’t control.

And it wasn't just me.

“Is this about Lira?” I asked.

Thorne’s grip on the beam tightened ever so slightly. “My daughter has always been too headstrong for her own good,” he said. “She thinks she can defy me, defy the guild, because you’ve put ideas in her head.”

I hesitated, my brow furrowing. Me? I’d barely spoken to the girl.

But maybe it wasn’t about what I’d said at all—maybe it was what I represented. I was here, building a forge, defying the expectations set for me, showing girls like Lira that there was more to life than the roles people tried to force them into. I didn’t even realize I was setting an example, but maybe that was exactly why Thorne resented me. He didn’t like the thought of anyone disrupting his carefully crafted world—least of all, someone like me, someone he had written off as incapable.

“Well, then, I'm glad I did,” I finally said. “Lira deserves to know she has choices. And if that scares you, maybe you should ask yourself why.”

Thorne’s lips pressed into a thin line. “She doesn’t need choices,” he said, his tone clipped. “She has a respectable path laid out for her. Lira is supposed to be planning for a family, carrying on my legacy through blood and name! That’s her role, and there’s order—structure—to it. It’s the way things are supposed to be, and it’s being undermined by you—someone who wasn’t even supposed to be here in the first place.”

I took a steadying breath. Thorne’s version of the world—the one with paths laid out for everyone, with neat, predetermined roles—had crumbled a long time ago. War had changed that, had rewritten the rules.

“I didn’t ask to be here,” I reminded him. “Life just happened. You think I wanted this? My husband died, remember? You think I planned on standing in the ashes of everything we built, trying to piece it back together from scraps?”

Our eyes locked, and something shifted between us. For the first time, Thorne was silent— really silent—none of his usual blustering excuses or dismissive remarks.

“You keep talking about order and structure,” I said, leveling my gaze at him. “But what you really mean is control, don’t you? You think you can make Lira into something she doesn’t want to be. But you can’t. No one can.”

Thorne’s gaze flicked to the forge I’d rebuilt with my own hands. “This world... it’s not what it was. The guild isn’t what it was.” He shook his head, as if trying to shake off the truth. “Everything’s changing.”

“Change doesn’t have to be bad, ” I said, my voice soft but firm. “She wants to be part of your legacy on her own terms, not just through name and babies. She needs your guidance, not control. If you want to keep her close, let her find her way.”

His gaze snapped back to mine, a flicker of doubt crossing his features. I pushed on, sensing the opening.

“You’re her father. She needs you, but not to control her, to guide her. To let her find her own way.” My voice softened, but I didn’t back down. “You’re scared of losing her. I get that. But you'll lose her anyway if you don’t give her the chance to choose.”

Thorne’s lips tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might turn and storm out. But then his shoulders sagged, just a fraction, and his voice dropped low.

“You think you know her better than I do?” he said, a tinge of bitterness in his tone, but it was muted now, quieter. “You think you know what’s best for my daughter?”

I shook my head. “No. But I do know what it feels like to be trapped. You want to protect her, I get that. I want the same for Elias every day of my life. But sometimes... we have to let them figure out what they want for themselves.”

Thorne’s jaw worked for a moment, his eyes dropping to the floor, as if he was turning everything over in his mind. Then, almost begrudgingly, he spoke.

“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?”

Thorne nodded once, sharply. “I thought maybe we could come to some sort of understanding—undermine Vorgath, maybe steal some of your business, give you a little push out of the way.”

I stiffened, my grip tightening on the hem of my robe, but I let him continue. I needed to hear this.

“Vorgath’s never been one to back down, and I figured Dregor had reason to hate him as much as I did,” Thorne went on. “But it didn’t take long to realize that Dregor wasn’t interested in anything like that. He wasn’t looking to tarnish your reputation or take away a few customers. No. He wanted destruction.”

I swallowed hard. “And the fire…”

It hit me all at once, like pieces falling into place. Dregor. The fire had been a faceless threat, a shadow hanging over me. But now, knowing it had been him—knowing—somehow, the fear started to lose its edge. As dangerous as Dregor was, as terrible as the fire had been, at least I had a name for it now, a face to put to the destruction. It wasn’t some unknown force lurking in the dark. It was him.

And maybe that meant I could start to move past it.

“Do you think he’s done?” I asked. “With the fire?”

“Some of my boys saw him leaving town a few days ago.” Thorne’s gaze shifted toward the forge, his expression hard to read. “I think he did what he set out to do.”

I followed his gaze, letting the weight of his words sink in. The fire had been Dregor’s message, his way of striking fear into us, of proving that no matter how far Vorgath had come, no matter what peace we tried to build here, the past could still burn through it. It should have terrified me—knowing that someone like Dregor, someone driven by hatred and chaos, had come this close to destroying everything I’d fought for.

But instead, I felt... steadier. Maybe it was because I’d already survived the worst of it. The forge had burned, but it hadn’t crumbled. The beams still stood. And so did I. The fear still lingered, but it no longer consumed me.

“So now what?” I asked, unsure of how to move forward.

“Now, you just keep going,” he said, his voice rough but not unkind.

I felt a strange sense of understanding pass between us in that moment, an unspoken acknowledgment of the struggles we’d both faced—different, yes, but no less real. He wasn’t the enemy I had once believed him to be. Dregor was the one who had brought the fire and the destruction. But Thorne? He was just trying to hold on to a world that was slipping away, same as I once had.

“And you?” I asked, not quite sure why I wanted to hear his answer. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to go back to the guild, back to the order I understand,” he said, though it sounded more like he was convincing himself than anything else. He turned slightly, as if preparing to leave. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “And maybe... maybe I’ll talk to Lira.”

There was the faintest hint of an olive branch in his tone, fragile but real.

“Maybe you should,” I replied softly, watching him retreat from the forge, his footsteps crunching softly in the gravel as he disappeared into the night.

When I was sure he was gone, I glanced back toward the cottage, where Vorgath was waiting, his steady presence like the heat of a forge at my back. Thorne and I had reached a kind of truce, Dregor was gone for now, and there was still love and light in my life—a future I could forge for Elias and myself.

And though it wasn’t perfect, though the world was still scarred and uncertain, it was mine to shape.