The Shattered Circle

19. A Time for Quiet

Relief washed through my body as we entered the Winter Palace. All the concerns and dangers bound up in Luka's death and the ambitions of the others could wait at least a few hours while the King in Black deliberated and laid plans. I was home, as comfortable in these halls as in my own skin. Shira relaxed next to me. This was no home to her, but at least it was safety compared to the treacherous streets of Sanctum and the danger of predation by undead. She knew my word was law within the Winter Palace and our accord afforded her my protection.

Haven awaited near the door like a faithful hound, bowing his head at my approach. His claw wounds from Luka had already vanished, visible only as faint and quickly fading scars. Undeath certainly had its advantages. "Welcome home, my lady."

I smiled despite the weight of the day. "Thank you, Haven."

He held out my signet ring to me, no doubt returned by Melody. "Everything in the house is in order and all affairs that can be settled today are settled. I took the liberty of preparing a guest room and a bath for Master Anstydir. He anticipated that you would wish to speak to him in the morning. I thought it prudent to keep dinner warm for you and our guest." His button-like eyes turned towards Shira meaningfully before returning his gaze to my face. "Also, Ember requested your attention when you wish to give it."

I took the ring and slipped it back on my finger. Sometimes I wanted to hug the wight and never release him. "My gratitude. Would you kindly show Shira to dinner? I will join her when I have finished speaking with Ember."

Haven bowed his head and padded off towards the solar and adjoining kitchen with Shira on his heels, while I turned on my heel and headed for the armory. The broad set of double doors leading out to the drilling square were open and on the far side, I could see the glow of the furnace in her workshop, half left open to the air. It was cut of the same spellwrought stone as the palace, but not so different in construction from the average village blacksmith's quarters. I would have given Ember a kingdom's ransom for her knowledge and expertise, but she preferred only to have a place where she could work her art undisturbed. The smithy stood alone, surrounded by the palace walls, but directly adjoining no other building. She liked her privacy.

No hammer blows rang out from the smithy as I approached, a sign that Ember was on to more delicate work or perhaps resting. I knocked on the door before entering, drumming a familiar pattern with my knuckles so she wouldn't hurl a tool at me, thinking I was some intruder.

"Ladyship." The greeting was coarse and simple a few moments after I stepped in, like the surface of pumice, and delayed by distraction. "Just about finished."

Ember sat at her workbench, laboring away at whetstones and steel. I knew when to give her space, taking a seat on a simple, heat-scarred stool by the door. The forge was still burning, enough to make the room almost unbearably warm even with large slats in the wall allowing for air flow, molten salt slowly cooling in one of her quench troughs. While magic I knew almost nothing of, I could rattle off the name of every tool in the workshop, and appreciate the artistry to every choice she made.

The smith was my height while sitting, stripped down to a light shirt, light pants, and a heavy leather apron scarred from use. Burns were not a concern to her: her skin was a dull, ashen gray except for the delicate threads of golden veins in her wrists and neck, hair the color of charcoal left in a messy knot at the back of her neck. The elemental fire magic that had shaped her ancestry left her with eyes glowing like stirred coals. Her craggy features scrunched with focus as she worked, breath steaming out of her body with each puff.

Like Haven, Ember had been with me since the beginning. The only difference was that I had lost no part of her, something I would forever be grateful for.