Forging Silver into Stars
: Chapter 10

When it comes to political maneuvering, Prince Rhen always has a lot of ideas.

When I arrived this morning, he read the queen’s letter about a Royal Challenge, and now he’s got books and maps and papers spread across a table in his strategy room, and he’s been making a list of suggestions for the king and queen to review. Ironrose Castle is large, with wood-paneled walls, marble floors, and elegant tapestries, but the rooms always seem much more stuffy than what I’m used to in the Crystal Palace. In the days I’ve been gone, more letters have been found among shipments in Silvermoon and Blind Hollow, but when I riffle through them, they’re all the same: nothing more than tracked movements written in simple code. Mama and Papa. Mother and Father. Nyssa. No threats, no warnings—at least none that I can discern. There aren’t enough to make a pattern anyway.

Rhen doesn’t really need me right now, which isn’t uncommon, especially when he’s got a task to occupy his thoughts. Normally I’d bide my time with his Royal Guards, or I’d ride out to Silvermoon to stroll through the marketplace. Sometimes Princess Harper would join me, and I like her company, because she reminds me of her brother, Jacob.

Today, though, I’m still replaying Jax’s comments before I left Briarlock. He carries himself like a beaten dog, but there was so much anger in his expression when he shoved me away.

All you’ve done is remind us of what we’ve suffered. Of what we lack.

But more than that, I’m thinking of the moment just before, when his eyes blazed into mine with a wild desperation. He was in pain. Afraid. Ashamed.

Steady, I said. I won’t hurt you.

And then … in his eyes, I suppose I did.

I forget sometimes that my experience with magic is vastly different from everyone else’s. What I know came directly from Grey himself. I was never tortured by magic, never affected by the monster Rhen was once cursed to become.

The monsters who tortured me have all been of the human variety.

I forget, too, that the people of Syhl Shallow see the Uprising as less of an attack on the royal family, and more of an incident that proves the danger of the king’s magic. They weren’t in the palace to hear the screams. They didn’t see the splintering wood as protestors broke through doors and invaded private quarters, searching for the king and queen with weapons drawn.

They only heard about the flash of magic that lit up the sky for miles. The flames that swept through the palace hallways.

The women and men who died for trying to attack a king who never would have meant them any harm.

I think of the queen refusing Grey’s magic to help with her sickness from the baby. She’s never shied away from his powers. I wonder if even she is affected by the fears of her people.

Callyn was so afraid of the magic that she shoved her sister behind her in the bakery. I’ve worn these rings for years now, but I remember the first time I found the sparks and stars in my blood that allowed me to wield magic. It was wild and wondrous—but not frightening.

I healed her friend, but she still found it terrifying.

I hate that.

I glance at Prince Rhen where he’s scrawling notes on a piece of parchment. He only has one eye, because the other was clawed out during a battle with an enchantress. He wears a small leather patch over the worst of his scars, but he’s allowed his hair to grow long to cover that half of his face. At the right angle, you can’t even tell.

I have as much reason to hate him as anyone, but I don’t.

What I said to Noah was true: Rhen has suffered a lot.

We’re the only people in the room right now, aside from two guards stationed outside the door. Maybe that’s part of why the rooms here feel so quiet and stuffy. At the Crystal Palace, there’s always someone around, ready to play a game of dice or share a meal or go for a ride. There’s always little Sinna looking for entertainment. But here, beyond Harper, Rhen doesn’t have a close circle of friends.

Lia Mara said I should tell Rhen that she hopes to see him compete in the Challenge, but I haven’t passed on that part of the message. I know he used to spar with Grey, but I haven’t seen him engage in swordplay since he lost his eye. I wonder if he misses it. He buries himself in work whenever there’s an opportunity, like now, so I think he might.

Honestly, I’m not sure Rhen would notice if I left.

“If you need a task,” Rhen says without looking up, “I am happy to provide more of a diversion than staring.”

Or maybe he would.

“I’ll take a task,” I say.

He smiles, but it’s more ironic than it is amused. “You’re one of the few people who would hear that as an offer and not a rebuke.”

I shrug, unfazed, and reach for an apple from the platter of fruit in the center of the table. “What do you need?”

“Truly, I need nothing.” He finally looks up, and his one eye narrows. “You’re not one to sit idle. What troubles you?”

“Nothing.” I take a bite from the apple.

He looks back at his maps, then makes a mark. I keep eating the fruit. I expect him to dig, the way Lia Mara or Noah would. Even Grey would pry answers out of me. But Rhen doesn’t. There’s no expectant weight to this silence.

Maybe that’s why I talk. “Last week, when I returned to Syhl Shallow, Mercy threw a shoe, so I stopped off in a little town to find a blacksmith. I did—but I also found Lord Alek, from one of the Royal Houses.”

Rhen glances up. “I remember Alek. His older sister was my spy. She found the first magical artifacts in Syhl Shallow.”

I nod. “His mother was killed in the first battle with Emberfall, too.” I pause. “But Alek was young when all that happened.”

“That means nothing. You were a boy when you stormed my castle with Grey.”

I suppose that’s true.

“And?” Rhen prompts. “What was Alek doing there?”

“I don’t know.” I frown. “He wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

“If his presence there feels significant to you, I believe there is a reason.” He pauses. “He has bothered you in the past, has he not? Grey should have locked him up in that stone prison.”

“I can handle it.” Alek isn’t the only member of the Royal Houses who takes issue with my position as King’s Courier—but he’s the only one who has no hesitation in being openly antagonistic about it.

Rhen scoffs. “I know Lia Mara wishes to rule with a gentle hand, but if she and my brother do not keep a tight leash on their nobles, they’ll seek every weakness. Any attack on you is an attack on them, and they should have taken action to put it to rights.”

I shift my weight, fighting the urge to squirm. I don’t like questioning Grey’s actions, or Lia Mara’s either. “Politically, it’s tricky,” I say. “Lia Mara believes Alek is loyal to Syhl Shallow—just not to Grey. He hates the magic, and he’s not the only one.”

“That is not tricky. Loyalty to your country doesn’t matter if you’re disloyal to whoever is ruling it.”

I’m the last person who’s going to tell Lia Mara how to rule, especially if she can’t eat and she’s vomiting all night. I take a bite of the apple to avoid saying anything.

Rhen sighs and pulls one of his maps closer. “Fine. So you have no idea what this politically tricky potential traitor was doing?”

“He said he was looking for the blacksmith. It’s innocuous enough that it might not even matter. I mean, I was doing the same thing. Grey asked me to see if he was still there when I rode through, but he wasn’t. I spoke to many people, but no one seemed overly familiar with him.” I pause, thinking of Callyn and Jax, and the silver scattered along the floor, or the way Jax’s hand was burned so severely.

“You’ve thought of something,” says Rhen.

“No. Maybe? The blacksmith is friends with the girl who runs the bakery. I saw them the first time, too, when Lord Alek first appeared. The blacksmith was badly injured this time. A burn from the forge—but it didn’t seem like a casual burn. I got a close look when I healed it.”

Have a good look, my lord.

Callyn was frightened, but Jax was so brazen. I realize now that it was a camouflage for his own fear. I learned early on with skittish horses that sometimes they need a quiet moment to allow an element of trust to form before you ask something of them. People aren’t much different. I know that better than anyone.

I wish I’d given Jax that moment.

Rhen’s voice calls me back. “The burn seemed intentional?”

I nod, then frown. “He said his father caused it. I don’t get the sense that they’re working with the Truthbringers—but I can’t get past the fact that Alek was there. They had so much silver. More than I’d expect for a small bakery in a tiny town. You remember those first letters mentioned gathering your best silver. So … maybe.”

“Is Briarlock a merchant city?” he says. “Could this be related to the messages hidden in the shipments?”

I think about it. “Not really. It’s a small village surrounded by farmland. A blacksmith and a baker wouldn’t be involved in shipping much of anything.”

“They’d be receiving things, though,” says Rhen. He sits back in his chair. “A blacksmith would receive bars of iron and steel—though admittedly those wouldn’t do well for hiding slips of parchment. I presume they know who you are. Do they seem disloyal to the Crown?”

“They seem less like traitors and more like people wary of a distant nobility. You know how these villages are with rumors and gossip. What you hear in Emberfall is only half as bad as what they say in Syhl Shallow.”

“How so?”

I shrug. “A month ago I heard a woman telling a tavern full of people that her cousin had seen the king’s magic twist a man into knots while he screamed. For courtly entertainment.” I roll my eyes. Grey would never do any such thing.

Rhen sighs. “I suppose stories of benevolence don’t generate crowds.”

“I spent so long chasing down messages with you that I think I’m looking at everyone with suspicion.”

“Good. That’s a healthy way to stay alive.”

I wonder if he’s being facetious. He doesn’t look like it. I sigh and take another bite of the apple.

“What’s a healthy way to stay alive?” says Princess Harper, as she comes through the doorway. She’s in high laced boots and calfskin riding breeches, her long curly hair pinned at the back of her neck. She walks with a limp, and I know she struggles with strength and balance on her left side. Some malady from her world that’s plagued her since birth. There’s a scar across her cheek, too, though nothing as severe as Rhen’s. Another reminder that none of us survived the past battles unscathed.

I rise when she enters, but Harper doesn’t stand on ceremony, so she waves me back into my chair.

“Seeing everyone with suspicion,” I say, in answer to her question.

She drops into the chair beside Rhen, then leans in to give him a kiss on the cheek. He murmurs to her, something too soft to hear, but he lets go of a paper to give her hand a gentle squeeze, then brushes a kiss across her knuckles.

It’s interesting to see the way they treat each other, compared to how open Grey’s affection is for Lia Mara. Rhen and Harper’s love always seems very gentle, very quiet, trapped in little moments between the two of them. I glance away, because something about it is potent, as if I’m witnessing something intimate and private.

At the same time, I wonder what it would be like to trust someone that much, to allow myself to be that vulnerable. I remember my conversation with Noah, and memories of my childhood begin to surface. That old, familiar tension begins to crawl across my shoulders again.

“I didn’t expect you to return so soon,” says Harper, drawing my gaze back.

“I didn’t either.” I shrug. “I don’t mind the ride. I like the queen’s idea of a competition.”

“I do too,” says Rhen. “It’s good to give the people an event to rally around.” He pulls several sheets of paper together. “But one big competition here might favor Emberfall too strongly. She should have preliminary competitions to narrow the field of victors—”

“Like semifinals,” says Harper.

“Indeed.” He looks at the maps again. “I believe there should be one in Syhl Shallow and another in Emberfall. Competitors can enter both. That would encourage travelers to cross the border and spend coins in both countries, which I presume is her intent.” He points at the map. “Here. This is farmland, yes?”

I peer at the map. The area he’s indicating is an hour’s ride north of Briarlock. “Yes.”

“The Crown could rent the land during the summer months, and host a competition.” He points to an area near the castle. “We can host one here, too. It would be widely accessible, especially with our proximity to the harbor. I’ll include this in my return letter to Grey.” He makes a note. “And the final competition could be held here in late autumn, well before the snows block the mountain pass.”

I wonder if Lia Mara will want to travel in late autumn, but I nod. “I will let them know as soon as I return.”

Maybe Rhen hears something in my tone, because he glances up. “Has Grey asked you to return quickly?”

I shake my head. “No. But I spent so much time here that Lia Mara began to assume I was having a clandestine romance. I’d like to avoid that if possible.”

Harper snorts. “Really? With who? The Royal Guard?”

I smile. “Well, Noah is just the opposite. He thinks I—”

I break off as I remember exactly what Noah said, the way he compared me to the prince.

Rhen looks up, of course. “Noah thinks what?”

I lose the smile. “He thinks I use this role as a means to keep people at arm’s length.” I pause. “He implied you do the same.”

“Noah thinks I keep people at arm’s length?” Rhen straightens. “Harper, do you believe that to be true?”

“Well. You spent like a million years trapped by a curse, during which you stayed in this castle with no one but Grey for company. Gee, let me think—”

“That’s quite enough.”

“Hmm.” Harper smiles and taps a finger to her lips. “Truly, it is a mystery.”

He sighs—but he picks up her hand and kisses her knuckles again.

“I will finish my message this evening,” Rhen says to me. “And you are free to return tomorrow, if you like.” He pauses. “But here is what you should do.” He pulls the map closer, indicating towns that lie near my path back to Syhl Shallow. “There are tourneys in Kalmery, Blind Hollow, Wildthorne Valley, and Gaulter. Stay an evening in each. Attend the tourney. Spend some silver. Spread word of what is being planned. See how this is received among the people so you can share what you find with Lia Mara and Grey.”

I nod, eager to have a task. Eager to have a plan.

Maybe I’m more like Rhen than I think.

“Yes, Your Highness,” I say. “As you wish.”

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