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No one answers me for a while, all of them watching with slack jaws as I form the blade. The dagger is high in the air, rotating in a circle as my magic elongates and transforms the blade into a slender stiletto with a wicked razor-sharp tip. It’s a beautiful blade, one I might even have considered keeping, but the blade doesn’t want that.
“No,” Prince Rinan finally answers, never taking his eyes off the dagger. “People who’ve never been near each other have it, and new cases are springing up daily.”
I move my hands and rotate the stiletto dagger, focusing on the hilt again, adding accents and symbols to it. “Okay, I know we spoke about it yesterday, but could it be a cursed object? Did the witches ever give you anything that you handed out to others? A case of swords? Apples? Anything you could have distributed?” The dagger rotates in the air, almost complete.
“No, we’ve never taken anything from witches, especially weapons or food,” Prince Drogo says, like that should be obvious with how much they hate my kind.
Damn. Okay, at least I eliminated the right things.
I close my eyes, listening to the dagger, then imbue it with a cloaking ability before I quench it in water to cool it down. The sizzle of the dagger hitting the water is the only sound in the shop for a while as my thoughts turn over the mystery of the illness.
When the dagger’s cool, I give it to Rinan. “When needed, this dagger will make you seem invisible to your enemy.”
He holds the dagger, turning it over in his hand. The other two look at the dagger with affirmation mixed with a little fear. For a minute I think he won’t accept it, but then he places it in his belt and I smile.
“How are you doing that?” Prince Rinan asks, true curiosity in his face.
“It’s Metal Magic.” I shrug. The least useful of the magics.
“Of course,” Prince Arlys says, but he seems uncertain.
“And how did you do that?” Rinan asks, touching the dagger at his side.
I pause. How did I do that? I never really think about how my magic works. I just feel and do. “All metal has a feeling or a sense about it. I see it as a desire or longing to be made into something. I have the ability, or patience, or just desire to listen. When I listen, I can make these things. Like when I was in the Deadly Passage. All those weapons didn’t want to be forgotten shards any longer, they wanted to create something to remember the owners who welded them on the battlefield, so people won’t forget their sacrifices.” That’s the best way I can explain it.
I look at Prince Rinan again, pointing to the dagger on his belt. “That metal was meant to be your dagger. It wanted to be your dagger.”
Prince Arlys looks thoughtful. “Magical weapons could be useful to our people.”
“If you trust what she says about them,” Prince Drogo adds, not looking pleased at where this conversation is going.
I lift my hands. “I’m not trying to make an army’s worth of weapons to fight my own people with, I’m just having fun.”
“Because she’s still loyal to her people,” Prince Drogo’s words are low and angry.
“What exactly would have made me loyal to your people?” I ask.
He looks annoyed. “You married shifters. Your loyalty should be with us.”
I huff. “Because we’re so the picture of a storybook happily-ever-after. After a few days of ‘bliss,’ I should be eager to switch sides all for the sake of some pretty faces, huh?”
Something changes in his expression. “I’m hardly a pretty face.”
I laugh. “I meant the other two.” I didn’t, but he’s annoying me.
His scowl is back.
Prince Rinan laughs too. “I kind of hope you two never like each other. It’s more fun this way.”
I think of last night. Of Prince Drogo comforting me from my bad dream. It’d felt like a dream itself. And now that the thought is in my mind, my cheeks feel hot, and I pull my gaze from the mysterious man. The one who's all hardness and anger on the outside, and something softer on the inside. Something I like.
Prince Arlys clears his throat. “Ok, but the illness. Let’s focus. You don’t have any other ideas or explanations?”
Poor guy. He’s desperate for answers. I remember being in his shoes. I feel sad, but I’m annoyed too because I can’t work my way through this problem. I’m sure there are better people for the job. Even the healers might be better than me when it comes to this. But my mom has promised them that I can do this, so I guess I need to figure it out.
Still, they’ve made it my job, and I need to find a solution. I don’t want to know what they’ll do to me if I don’t. “I need to keep thinking.”
Prince Drogo glowers at me, stepping close to me. I can feel the heat of his body and see his chest rising and falling as he breathes. “Quit fucking with us! I know you know what’s making us sick. Be fucking honest!” He presses closer to me, his heat and the heat from the fire behind me ready to incinerate me, and honestly, I don’t know which fate would be worst.
