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“Untested is what I need,” Arin replied. He stepped closer to Ember, who had not stopped hammering. “The court is full of serpents. They expect a blade from a famous smith—predictable, traced. I want something forged in silence. Something unknown.”

“No. But it will stop the hand that pours it.”

The master smith, a barrel-chested man named Korvin, bowed. “For you, Your Highness, anything. A longsword? A sabre?” “Untested is what I need,” Arin replied

She understood. Not a war blade. An assassin’s blade. A thing of shadows and precision.

“He vanished,” Ember said. “And this forge is the last place he touched. I stay because I am still waiting for him to come back and tell me I did it right.” They expect a blade from a famous smith—predictable,

“Three days,” she said.

A murmur rippled through the forge. Korvin’s face reddened. “She is but an apprentice, my lord. Untested.” But it will stop the hand that pours it

He stepped into the firelight. For the first time, she noticed the weariness under his eyes, the way his hand rested near a hidden dagger at his hip.