Three

Before

The light was good for battle today.

I held my sword up to it, making the blade glow as if it had been heated by the forge once more.

"I'm sorry, have I come to the right place? I'm looking for the swordsmith."

A boy a little older than me stood at the gate, gazing with uncertainty at my father's shop, his hands around the reins of a fine black stallion alongside him. He was tall and lanky, with a mop of black hair, a large chin, and plump cheeks he hadn't quite grown into yet. His too-big dark sherwani with gold embroidery and jeweled buttons betrayed his status.

I narrowed my eyes—he lived at the palace, and he worked for Emperor Vahid.

The emperor who had overthrown our kingdom and slaughtered half my mother's people in the north.

And I knew exactly why he had come.

"If you can't tell you are standing at the swordsmith by the various blades hanging outside of the building, I think you've got other problems besides being lost."

His uncertainty turned to a scowl.

Good. I wouldn't help him. Working for the emperor and flashing his colors around our village would mean he would get nothing from us but disdain. My father had supplied the old king with weapons that were as beautiful as they were deadly. But apparently, Emperor Vahid wanted his swords forged at the same smith.

"I prefer to be certain before making an assumption and proving myself an ass," he said with his nose in the air. "Something it seems you have no problem doing."

I inhaled sharply. Did this gaudy fool just call me an ass?

He puffed out his chest like an overgrown bird and stared down at me. "You clearly have no idea who I am ."

A snort escaped me. This boy barely had hairs on his chin, and he was trying to lord above me? "I know exactly who you are, unfortunately. If you've come for the new emperor's sword, my father would be the one making it."

His mouth dropped open and I gave him a satisfied smirk.

"I've been sent by the emperor himself, and you still speak to me like this?"

"Look around you." I gestured to my small village at the edge of the mountains, the clay-packed houses embedded into the mountainside like flecks of snow, on the edge of the territory where all the northern tribes were forced to submit to the emperor. We might be a day's ride from the city where the emperor established his new court, but we were far from compliant here.

No one in this village would be impressed by Emperor Vahid's power.

These people cared about raiders coming for their family, about freedom from the imposed laws of the capital, and their ability to trade and make money from bartering their goods in the city. Not a single villager would turn their head at this boy's fine stallion—unless it was to steal it as retribution against the emperor. We were more worried about mountain marauders and the bitter winter decimating the next harvest of apricots in the valley.

I took a sidelong look at the boy's horse, decked out in Emperor Vahid's golden emblem—the outline of a zoraat flower crested on its saddle.

"These people supported the king. He protected them. You won't find much simpering for you here, if that's what you are after."

"And yet, if your father is the smith, then he has already agreed to make the emperor's sword." He raised his chin.

Rage expanded my chest, leaving me momentarily breathless. I pursed my lips together. "He values his head."

"You obviously don't."

I picked at my nails, attempting to appear calm. "I do, I just know who has the power to remove it. It isn't you."

His hand darted to the scabbard at his waist as if to prove me wrong and pull free the curved scimitar hanging there. I knew from the plain handle that it was definitely not made by my father.

Ours were solid, sure, and intricately carved. My father prided himself on his silver koftgari-decorated grips and the pommels of camel bone that he usually shaped himself.

But I'd been handling knives since I was a babe, and generally the person already holding one had the upper hand. Mine flashed in the sunlight before this boy could even draw his, and he held up his hands as I pointed my double-edged talwar at him, the sharpest side in the vicinity of his throat.

"I wouldn't if I were you," I said calmly, not bothering to hide the smile in my voice.

"This is treason!" he sputtered, and I didn't miss that flash of fire in his dark gold eyes. It seemed the pretty boy had some spirit in him after all.

"Dania!" a voice shouted from across the yard.

I groaned inwardly as my father came up the path.

He bowed to the boy who was at least twenty years his junior, and I wanted to scream. I wanted to wrench his head up with the end of my sword and tell him not to bow to the emperor's lackeys ever again.

"Forgive my daughter. She is sometimes too passionate." Baba gave me a warning look, his ochre eyes narrowing on me.

I laughed instead, though I couldn't hide the bitter edge to it. "I was just playing with the boy. Honestly, does the palace not teach the guards how to fight?"

Baba frowned at me, not buying my act for a second. "He is not a guard, Dani, as you well know."

I winced. "Nanu wouldn't like us conversing with him," I muttered, only to him.

"Nanu doesn't pay our expenses," he shot back.

I folded my arms across my chest and settled for glaring at the boy instead. He gave me a dismissive glance and returned his attention to my father. I pressed my teeth together to stop myself from drawing my sword again.

"My name is Mazin, and I'm the ward of the new emperor. I've come at his behest to give the specifications for his new sword and provide payment." He paused, his face bland, but I didn't miss his eyes sliding to mine. "If your skills should prove satisfactory," he said finally.

I lunged, anger beating again at my chest. That he would dare to even suggest that my father's skills wouldn't be good enough for the emperor made my blood heat. "You know nothing about my father if you think his blades would be anything other than satisfactory. He is the most sought-after bladesmith in all the kingdoms."

My father placed a hand on my shoulder, stilling me. "It's all right, Dani. Emperor Vahid has every right to inspect my work to determine if it is up to his standards."

"So why send this silly boy, then? Especially after he took away the village protections? Why not come himself?"

"Because perhaps he trusts this silly boy, " sneered Mazin, pulling himself to his full height, which I begrudgingly admitted was considerable.

I cocked my head, not letting him intimidate me. "I guess we always knew Vahid was a fool."

Mazin sucked in a harsh breath, surprise and something like wonder crossing his face. I guess no one had dared to insult Emperor Vahid in his presence before.

Good, he deserved a little grounding. But at my father's stricken expression, I knew I had gone too far.

"Dania!" My father yanked me back behind him. "Stay out here while we talk." He gave me a look that dared me to defy him.

Heat flooded my face as I looked at my father, incredulous. "What? You always have me in the shop when discussing—"

"Not this time. Perhaps when you can guard your tongue better so we don't get reported for treason." He said the words low so that only I could hear them, his voice sharp with frustration.

I clamped my mouth shut. Baba never spoke to me this way. My eyes narrowed at the boy standing beside us.

Baba and I were a team. Ever since my mother died, we were together against everything.

Mazin followed my father into his smith, and a flush of shame heated my cheeks. The boy threw the curl of a grin at me over his shoulder as he went.

I clenched my fists tight against my legs.

That boy had made an enemy today.