Page 9 of Prince of Darkness and Deceit

Her annoyance doesn’t falter when she sees me. “You’re late.”

I balk. “The sun just rose!”

“Anton and I have been working for hours,” she retorts, waving a hand at the apprentice she’d been yelling at. “Though working is a loose term for what Anton’s done. We’ll likely have to smelt this batch all over again and pray to Ignar that the metal can be salvaged.”

I wince at the vitriol in her voice when she utters the God of Flame’s name. But when a second passes and we aren’t smote where we stand, I glance at her poor apprentice and confirm Anton is not put off by her scolding.

Like many men in Verdanthia, he’s infatuated with my stunning, hot-tempered twin. But unlike other men, he doesn’t mind being taught a trade by a woman. It's one of the many reasons I’m fond of the young man who stumbled into our town ten years ago.

“Your work ethic makes you an example to all Verdanthians,” I deadpan. “Now, are you ready to go? Most of the tradesmen are already setting up their booths for the market.”

Ferria and I lobbied hard for the right to sell our wares in the market this year. With supply caravans coming less and less, we could both use funds to help purchase the rarer, more expensive items whenever they do come through town.

“Yes. Yes. Hold on for a second.” Ferria spins on her heel and strides to the cast-iron trunk tucked along the far side of the smithy, partially shielded by heavy crates and wooden casks stacked on top of each other.

She kneels, withdraws a key from her apron pocket, and unlocks the forbidding trunk. She takes out a thick burlap sack. The items inside clank together as she swings it over her shoulder.

She locks the trunk once more and stands to face me. “All right. I’m ready.”

“Um.” Anton clears his throat. “Aren’t you forgetting the⁠—”

“Curses!” Ferria rushes over to the open flame in the mantel and grabs the glowing red tongs to pull out a small object. She drops both onto the nearby worktable in the blink of an eye.

Then she bundles the mysterious object into a cloth and shoves it into her apron pocket.

“Gods, Ferria!” Anton rushes over and reaches for her. “Your hands!”

“Are fine.” She holds up her palms in demonstration. They’re a little pink, but otherwise unharmed. “I’ve told you a hundred times, I’ve grown up around this smithy. I know what my touch can handle.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to refrain from calling out the lie. It’s not like I can tell Anton the truth anyway.

Anton drops his hands and releases a heavy breath. “Right. Yeah. Sorry…I forgot.”

“Hm.” Ferria turns and walks back to me. Over her shoulder, she calls out, “Melt down that metal again. This time, wait before adding saltdusk. I’m trusting you to get it right.”

“You can count on me.” He chuckles.

Ferria bends over to grab a clean rag to wipe her face. Anton’s gaze slides down my sister’s body.

When he meets my eyes, a sheepish grin tugs on his lips. I just smile and take the second satchel Ferria retrieved from the workbench before following her outside.

“You know, Anton is half in love with you,” I say, leaning back to prevent myself from toppling forward as we walk down the hill. “I think he falls more in love every time you chastise him.”

“Please.” She snorts. “He’s a child. He doesn’t know what love is.”

I laugh. “He’s twenty-three. Only one year younger than us. And he’s got a killer smile, and he’s impressively tall…and have you seen how muscular he’s become over the last year since he’s been⁠—”

“Elara Stonebloom.” An instigating smirk curls my sister’s lips. “Are you admiring other men? What would Lev say?”

“Pft. He wouldn’t care. He’s Lev.”

Lev and I are close, but he’s not possessive or preoccupied with our untraditional relationship, if you can even call it that.

He has aspirations, as do I. We’re companions. Friends. Not life partners.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Ferria hops over a divot in the ground with grace that makes me jealous.

Something about her tone gives me pause. “What do you mean?”