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Hali felt a surge of hope. If the Forge’s power was indeed fading, it might be enough to turn the battle and give them the advantage they so desperately needed.
As she fought, Hali kept a close eye on the Forge members. Sure enough, she saw some of them beginning to flee, their faces etched with terror. Others dropped their weapons and surrendered, the fight draining out of them as they realized the futility of their efforts.
The remaining assassins, sensing the change in momentum, grew more aggressive in their attacks. But Hali and her friends were ready for them. With renewed vigor, they fought back, driving the assassins further into retreat.
Finally, the last of the Forge members either fled or surrendered, leaving Hali, Sooty, Pippa, and Osric standing amidst the chaos they had wrought. The chamber was a scene of devastation, with debris and unconscious bodies littering the floor. But they had won. The Forge’s power had been broken, and their ritual ruined.
Hali let out a shaky breath, her heart pounding in her chest. They had done it. They had stopped the Forge and saved the hostages. But even as she allowed herself a moment of triumph, she knew that their work was far from over. The Obsidian Circle still loomed in the shadows, and there would be other battles to fight.
For now, though, they had won. And that was enough.
Hali approached the caged Hammer of Earthblood, her eyes drawn to the intricate metalwork that Osric had created. The complex patterns seemed to mirror their own relationship—beautiful, unbreakable, and forged in the heat of adversity. She couldn’t help but marvel at the skill and craftsmanship that had gone into its creation.
Osric joined Hali by the caged Hammer of Earthblood, his eyes still alight with the thrill of their victory. He took her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers.
“I couldn’t bring myself to destroy it,” Osric said, his tone tinged with a hint of sorrow. “It’s a part of who my people are. Our history. Everything that’s shaped us, tempered us into who we are today.”
Hali nodded, gaze flickering toward the twin scars glowing molten on Osric’s sweat-sheened chest. “It’s important to remember what’s shaped you always.”
“But at least this way, none can ever wield it. The only power in the world capable of breaking the cage is the power inside of it now. It is . . . safe now.”
Hali threw her arms around his neck. “You’re a genius, do you know that?”
“Hardly. I’m just the brutish hero.” He grinned down at her, and scooped one arm beneath her thighs to help lift her into the air, bringing them closer together. “Thankfully I’ve got a brilliant, clever heroine to steer me right.”
As they kissed, Osric tasted of smoke and embers and something more—a fierce determination that matched her own. Hali felt a surge of pride and affection for this man who had fought so fiercely by her side.
When they finally broke apart, Hali rested her forehead against Osric’s, their breath mingling in the cooling air. “We did it,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from the smoke and exertion.
Osric nodded, his eyes shining with a mixture of exhaustion and triumph. “We did.”
Chapter
Eighteen
Osric stood outside Folio & Fancy, the gift in his hands growing heavier by the second. He’d been looking forward to this all morning, yet now that the time had come, a nervous flutter had taken up residence in his chest. He exhaled slowly, trying to summon his usual calm, but it eluded him, the anxious thoughts circling in his mind like a pack of hunting hounds.
No, he was determined to make this a good day. The Forge’s plans had been thwarted, and he had a new path ahead of him, one that didn’t involve cold stone and even colder hearts. One that, if he was lucky, would involve a certain bookshop owner and her endless collection of stories.
With a wry smile, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The familiar scent of old books and Hali’s favorite cinnamon tea enveloped him, and for a moment, he was adrift in the memories of the past few weeks. The late nights poring over tomes, the whispered conversations in the dimly lit shop, the way her eyes sparkled with curiosity and her cheeks flushed with excitement. He’d missed her, more than he cared to admit, and he needed to make up for lost time, and plenty else besides.
“Hali?”
Osric’s voice emerged as a croak, and he cleared his throat, trying again. “Hali?”
She was seated at the shop’s counter, a stack of correspondence piled in front of her, and she started at the sound of his voice. Her eyes widened, and she blinked a few times, as if trying to clear a haze from her vision. The guarded look on her face melted away, replaced by a soft smile.
“Osric.” She stood, and the room suddenly felt too big, too open, and he wished he could reach out and take her hand. “What are you doing here?”
He crossed the room, stopping in front of her, and held out the gift he’d brought. “I, uh. I wanted to thank you. For everything. You didn’t have to help me, and I’m . . . I’m sorry for the way I repaid you. But I want to make it right. I want to be better. For you.”
Hali took the bookstand from his hands, tracing a finger over the intricate flames and books that adorned its surface. “It’s beautiful.”
“I made it. For you. I mean, I forged it. With my own hands.” He winced, and she laughed, the sound like a thousand bells. “I mean, I shaped it from metal.”
“I know what forging is, Osric.” She turned to look at him, her eyes shining. “It’s . . . It’s perfect.”
