by Aiken G. A.
There were not many women who were blacksmiths in the Hill Lands, but some tried to follow in their fathers’ footsteps before finding a mate and settling down to bearing children and hard times. But of the very few he’d met in his years, none—absolutely none—had been like her.
She carried that battle hammer with the ridiculously sized head around like it weighed nothing. But he’d seen the damage it—and she—had done. That thing was as heavy as it looked and yet she wielded it effortlessly. Wide shoulders, muscular arms and thighs, and a tattoo of one of the blacksmith guilds made her a woman to be feared. Not dismissed as something in their way.
The witches should have made their warning stronger. Because if this woman decided her sister wasn’t going anywhere . . . her sister wasn’t going anywhere.
Yet despite the obvious strength of her body and the willingness with which she battered soldiers into the ground for no more reason than to help a boy she didn’t seem to know and, perhaps, a little early-morning entertainment, the smile she flashed at the thing standing by her long legs proved that she liked this animal. Liked and protected it the way she did the wild horses in the valley and the sheep on her neighbor’s nearby farm.
In other words, she wasn’t evil. Because those who were evil didn’t care about anyone but themselves. They certainly wouldn’t risk their own lives to protect demon wolves with eyes they had to make sure they didn’t put their hands near.
“Would you like to come to town with me?”
Caid looked over his shoulder at the blacksmith. The wolves were gone, as was the soldier, although they could still hear his screams from the forest, hysterically begging for death.
She smiled at him. “I’ll take you to my shop. You can have some food, something to drink. Relax for a bit before you get back on the road. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
With a nod, Caid agreed. “We’d appreciate that.”
“Well, I do owe you a lot. You protected me and my young friend here . . .” She glanced at the boy. “Samuel? Right?”
“Yes. Samuel,” the boy replied.
“Let’s go, lad. We need to get something on that neck of yours.”
Hefting the head of her hammer on her shoulder and holding the steel handle in her hand, she started off, speaking to them over her shoulder.
“I think you’ll all like my town. It’s a lovely place.”
“Come on,” Caid said to his sister, motioning to Farlan and Cadell. “We’re going with her.”
“And we’re just going to ignore the demon dogs she’s friends with?”
“Demon wolves and yes.” He turned his sister around by her shoulders and pushed.
“I’m in charge,” she reminded him.
“And our father always says if you have to remind your team of that . . .”
* * *
“I’m Keeley by the way,” Keeley told her new friends. She walked backward so she could speak directly to them.
“I’m Laila.” The female Amichai pointed at the dark-haired Amichai. “This is my brother Caid.” She pointed at a shorter but wider blond male. “This is Farlan.” She gestured at the male with light-brown hair and an extremely scarred jaw. “And this is Cadell.”
Facing forward, Keeley said, “Welcome to all of you.”
“So we’re just going to pretend those wolves don’t exist?” Laila asked.
“That’s exactly what we’re going to do!” Keeley joyfully replied. She’d just survived a battle and she felt pretty good about herself. Why ruin it all by fighting a woman she barely knew?
“Are you a witch of the dark gods?”
“Me? A witch?” Keeley had to laugh. “I have one loyalty aside from my family and it’s steel. That’s where my heart and love are.”
The female suddenly cut in front of Keeley, blocking her from going farther.
“Then how did you call those things to you?”
“Laila,” her brother warned, but she merely held her hand up to him.
“I found a puppy once. I helped it.”
“I’ll ask again. The eyes didn’t bother you?”
“Your eyes don’t bother me. Why should his?” When the female’s gaze narrowed and her head tilted to the side, Keeley added—because she still didn’t want to fight—“The world is filled with all kinds. Can’t go around ignoring the suffering of others simply because someone looks different from what I’ve seen before. All I know is he didn’t bite me. He didn’t try to rip my arms or legs off or go for my throat. So I helped. Just like I helped Samuel. Just like I’m trying to help you.”
“I do appreciate that,” Laila admitted, “but still—”
“Life is too short to go around hating things I know nothing about. My ignorance doesn’t mean others should suffer. Now, I’m going to my shop. You can come with me and Samuel, or you can stay here, worrying about animals you won’t see again.” Keeley stepped close, lowered her voice so only Laila could hear her. “Or, you and your lot can keep following me around like you’ve been doing for the last few days and I can continue to pretend I don’t see you. Something I’ve been doing because nothing you’ve done makes me believe you mean any harm to my kin. So it’s up to you what you want to do from here since it seems that you are in charge of this little herd of yours.” Keeley raised a brow. “Understand, Amichai?”
It took a moment for the female to respond. She’d been busy gawking at Keeley with her mouth open. Finally, she tossed her head, hair flipping away from her eyes, and said, “I understand. Perfectly.”
“Good. I’m glad. Come along, Samuel!” Keeley called out.
Then, with a wink and a smile—the one that annoyed her mother to no end—Keeley continued on once more. And this time . . . no one stopped her.
* * *
Laila gawked at Keeley Smythe as she walked off with Samuel and the boy’s three horses. Eventually, her brother came up to her.
“What was that about?” he asked.
“She knows who we are.”
“Why do you look so shocked? Everyone knows who we are. The kilts usually give it away.”
“Let me rephrase. She knows what we are.”
That did make her brother pause. “What makes you think that?”
She looked at Caid. “She called us a herd.”
“Huh.”
Cadell and Farlan joined them.
“Is something wrong?” Cadell asked.
“The sister knows what we are,” Caid replied.
“Should we kill her?” Farlan asked. When Laila closed her eyes in frustration and let out a little growl, he added, “What? That’s a valid question.”
“No, it’s not!” she snapped. “We can’t kill the sister. And we are definitely not killing her because she knows. Before this is all said and done, I’m sure a lot of humans will know. Should we kill them all, Farlan?”
“If they cause us problems . . .”
Sucking her tongue against her teeth in disgust, Laila followed the blacksmith. “Talk to him, Caid!”
“Talk to me about what?”
“The fact that you’re being an ass.”
“According to you, I’m always an ass.”
“This is true.” Caid put his arm around Farlan’s big shoulders.
“And if you harm the blacksmith in any way, I’ll take your cock off and give it to me cousin to make jewelry with. Understand?”
Farlan rolled his eyes but nodded. “Fine. I understand.”
“Excellent!” Caid pushed his comrade on. The less talkative Cadell walked alongside him, his smile irritating his friend.
Caid, sensing he was being watched, looked into the forest. It was deep and dark in there even though it was late morning now, but he could see all those burning eyes staring at him. Studying him. It was then that he felt the blacksmith might be wrong. They would be seeing those wolves again, and Caid was not looking forward to that moment at all.
CHAPTER 3
Caid stood in the middle of Keeley Smythe’s “shop” as she called it an
d, for once, he marveled at what he saw.
They’d been following her for about five days before meeting her face-to-face during that minor battle, but they’d never gone into her forge. They just wanted to get an idea of who she was and what her family was like.
Her “shop” was not just a forge. She’d apparently purchased the two pitches behind hers and had hired masons to come in and erect a proper building. The first part was a typical forge, with a large hole in the ceiling to allow the smoke to go out. But behind that was the “shop” part, where she sold all manner of steel weapons and then, behind that, was where she brought in the horses for reshoeing.
There were two horses already waiting for her when she arrived, and they were clearly happy when they saw her, affectionately nudging her with their big bodies and resting their giant heads on her shoulder.
But this wasn’t a one-woman business. Keeley Smythe had workers. Men and a few boys, who worked the forge. The boys were all in training, but the older men were blacksmiths in their own right. Perhaps they’d found working for themselves too expensive and working for the Old King too dangerous. More than one blacksmith had ended up on the wrong side of the Old King’s rages. Or the rages of his sons.
After she assisted the two horses, Keeley returned to Caid and the others. “Let’s get you some food and water. Samuel, there’s a place out back for you to clean up. Wash your neck,” she said, pushing him toward a back door. “I’ll put some healing ointment on it after.”
Once Samuel was through the door, an older woman emerged from another room. Yawning and scratching her head, she wore nothing but a plain shirt and, stepping from the doorway, she took a nice, long stretch, arms over her head, her body going up on her toes. Tragically, she wore no undergarments and the stretch allowed the shirt to rise until they were all given a lovely view of her crotch.
“Good gods, woman!” one of the blacksmiths complained. “Put some bloody clothes on!”
Caid had never heard a man tell a woman to put on clothes before, so he sensed she did this sort of thing often.
Smirking, Keeley pointed at the woman. “This is my cousin. Keran. She lives here.”
“It’s only temporary.”
“It’s been temporary for five seasons.”
Keran finally had her eyes open and she looked over their group with cold eyes. That’s when Caid noticed all the scars. Some on her face. Many on her neck. Quite a few on her legs and arms and more than seemed reasonable on what he could see of her torso when she took another quick stretch—much to the annoyance of the workers. But underneath all those scars were muscles. Hard, trained muscles.
What cleared everything up for him was the tattoo she bore on the side of her neck. Like her cousin, she wore the tattoo of a guild. Unlike her cousin, though, it was not a worker’s guild, but a fighter’s. Which meant that in her younger days, she’d get in a pit and fight others. Sometimes with weapons. Sometimes with bare hands. And always to the death.
He’d honestly never met a fighter with a little bit of gray at the temples. They never managed to live that long.
“Perhaps you would be kind enough,” Keeley teased her cousin, giggling as she spoke, “to put some clothes on before my workers are overwhelmed with your beautiful self.”
Keran patted Keeley on the shoulder. “I know how hard it is for them.” She turned, but then stopped; blew out a very large breath. “There is something I forgot, Cousin. In my room . . .”
“Ewwww. I don’t want to know about that.”
For a moment, the fighter appeared confused, but shook her head. “No, lady idiot. You have a visitor. She got here just a few minutes before you did.”
Frowning, Keeley stepped around her cousin, but after peering into the room her seemingly always smiling face suddenly had a thunderstorm of an expression. One even Caid would never want to confront.
“What are you doing here?” Keeley demanded, stepping back.
A woman walked out of the backroom. Prim and proper and covered from neck to feet in thick white robes that made her look a tad . . . chunky. White gloves on her hands. A small white cap sat on the back of her head, barely covering her shorn, dark blond hair. She was a nun. Caid didn’t know which sect she belonged to, though. She wore no markings on her clothes.
She lifted her hands up, palms open. “Before you say anything,” the nun began, “let me just explain . . .”
Laila yawned and the nun saw her for the first time . . . then the rest of them. Her gaze moved over their unit as she slowly lowered her hands. Caid blinked in surprise. Those were not the eyes of a godly nun. Not the way she’d just sized them up.
“Who are your friends?” the nun asked, attempting a smile.
Keeley sneered. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Startled, the nun looked back at Keeley. “What?”
“You come here, asking questions about my friends, and you think I owe you an explanation?”
“It was an innocent question.”
“There’s nothing innocent about you . . . sister.”
“All these years,” the nun said softly, shaking her head, “and you are still an annoying cow!”
Caid blinked in surprise at the way that sentence went from soft to yelling.
Keran pushed her way between the two and shoved them apart. “Cut it out.” Both women opened their mouths to argue, but Keran quickly added, “I’ll get fully naked right here! Tits and bush for the world to see!”
They closed their mouths, turned away from each other.
“Good,” Keran said. “Now I’m going to put on some clothes. You two play nice until I get back or I’ll start the punching. Understand?”
She wisely didn’t wait for an answer, but as soon as she had disappeared into her room, closing the door behind her, the nun said, “I can’t believe you still haven’t changed.”
“Why should I change? I didn’t desert my family. That would be you. And for what? To supplicate yourself before some god so you can take care of everyone but your kin?”
“It’s always so simple for you, isn’t it?”
“It is. Family is all. Something you still haven’t learned and don’t care about.”
Sisters. They were sisters. Caid knew that now. They didn’t look at all alike, but only siblings could bring out the worst in each other this way.
“Don’t tell me what I care about, Keeley,” the nun snarled.
“You have no idea what I care about! What matters to me!”
“I don’t care what matters to you! Get the fuck out of my shop!”
“I’ll leave when I’m damn well ready. I don’t answer to you! Not anymore!”
The back-room door opened and a now-dressed Keran stepped out. “How are we all doing?” she asked, grinning. “Everyone having fun?” When no one answered, she suggested, “Why don’t I get food for everyone. You lot look hungry. Fresh bread. Some cheese from Marcy’s pitch, eh? Doesn’t that sound lovely?”
“I have work to do,” Keeley barked before storming away.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Keran said, heading toward the front exit.
The nun, though, didn’t move. She was too busy watching her sister through narrowed eyes . . . until Samuel came through the door that led out to the back of the shop, freshly washed. At the sight of him, the nun’s entire body tensed and her eyes grew wide. But the boy completely panicked, spinning around and attempting to flee out the door he’d just come in. First, though, he ran into the doorframe, backed up, shook off his dizziness, and then ran out, slamming the door behind him.
The nun let out a deep, pained sigh, her eyes briefly closing before she returned to Keran’s room.
“Did you see that?” Laila asked him.
“How could I miss it?” Caid asked. “I was standing right here.”
“Think the nun fucked the boy?” she whispered, giggling.
“That boy,” Caid told her with great confidence, “has fucked no one. Except maybe himself.”
<
br /> * * *
Keeley focused on working some iron pommels because she needed to hammer away and steel needed much more finesse. Thankfully all the mercenaries making their way into her shop these days needed swords for their battles. Keeley had been making a small fortune off the upcoming war between the royal brothers and, at times like this, work helped her deal with her rare bouts of rage. She lost herself in the smithing so that her mind could focus on something other than the fact that her younger sister, born only a few years after her, had the bloody nerve to stand before her in that ridiculous outfit and act all pious and gods-infused. Bitch was lucky Keeley didn’t punch her right in the nose! And the fact that she didn’t point out how chunky being a gods-damn nun had made her showed the strength of Keeley’s will. Because those white robes weren’t hiding anything! Except her feet. Why did she need to hide her bloody feet? She not only had to give up sex to be a nun but her feet as well?
What religion insisted on covering its worshippers to that extent? Why was that necessary?
Why had her sister given up everything to join those religious fanatics? That’s how Keeley thought of the sects found throughout the land. They ruled the lives of their members and Keeley did not like that at all. The gods she chose to worship didn’t make her dress in any specific way. They didn’t ask her to give up her life for them. A few nonlethal sacrifices for the start of the planting season and to bless her most important weapons, and her gods seemed more than happy.
What she didn’t have to do was give up her entire family! That her gods never asked of her.
And Gemma had been raised the same way, their mother hoping the sisters would work the forge together. A true family business. It was a nice dream but not one that Keeley ever expected her sister to realize since she’d never loved blacksmithing the way Keeley always had. Keeley believed that people, when they could, should do what they loved. She loved working with steel, just as their father loved working his farm. Why would she ask Gemma to do something—anything—she didn’t love?
Yet locking herself away in some nunnery and giving up all freedom to appease some random god . . . ? That was something Keeley would never understand. Her sister deserved better.
