A Throne for Sisters

by Morgan Rice

  “Are you running away from your indenture?” Thomas asked. He shook his head. “No, you’re too young. From one of the orphanages then? You have hunters after you?”

  “They sent some of the boys from the orphanage,” Kate admitted.

  She tried to read the blacksmith then, and work out what he was going to do next. If he handed her back, she had no doubt that there would be some kind of reward for him, and in her experience, people did whatever was in their own best interest. She reached out for his mind, and she found him staring back at her.

  “You’re one of them, aren’t you?” Thomas said.

  “What do you mean?” Kate countered. She knew from painful experience that anyone who knew what she was would react badly. Hadn’t the barge hands thrown her into the river to drown because of it?

  She saw Thomas shake his head. “There’s no point in trying to hide it. One of our neighbor’s sons… he was like you. He always seemed to know what we were thinking, even when we didn’t say it. I learned to get a feel for when he was listening in. We didn’t know what he was until we heard some of the masked priests giving their sermons.”

  “I don’t know… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kate said.

  Thomas reached out, unchaining her wrist.

  “You can run if you want,” he said, “but I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Kate didn’t run. She had the feeling that the blacksmith had more he wanted to say.

  He did. “I don’t care about what you’re able to do. As far as I’m concerned, you aren’t cursed, or evil, or anything else they say. Listen… my son Will has gone off to one of the companies. Wants to be a great soldier. Well, I’ve needed help around the forge ever since.”

  Kate frowned at that, trying to understand what the blacksmith was saying.

  “You’re offering me a job?”

  It wasn’t what she’d escaped from the House of the Unclaimed for. It wasn’t what she’d wanted when she’d been trying to leave the city, either. Yet she had to admit that there was something enticing about the prospect.

  “You’re running,” Thomas said. “But my guess is that you don’t have much of a plan. They chase the indentured who run. If they catch you, they’ll hurt you, and then they’ll sell you on. This way, you get to work at something I guess you’d like. You get to be safe, and I get help. You can have food and shelter, learn my trade.” He looked at Kate expectantly. “What do you say?”

  Kate hadn’t expected this when he’d caught her. She hadn’t expected anything but violence, and probably the hangman’s rope. She felt as if it was all happening far too quickly, leaving her reeling.

  He was right though. She would be safe like this, and she would be learning something she wanted to know how to do. She wouldn’t be in the country, but maybe there would be time for that in the future.

  “Where do we start?” she asked.

  ***

  The smithy was a dark space as they walked in, and Kate felt a hint of worry as she felt Thomas’s hand on her shoulder, guiding her in. What if this was all some kind of trick? For what, though? Kate couldn’t imagine what he might want.

  He would want something. Everyone wanted something.

  She waited while he lit a lamp, then moved over to the forge, laying out charcoal in something that looked far more careful than just a random mixture.

  “Watch carefully,” he said. “One of your jobs will be to help light the forge in the morning, and there’s an art to doing it well.”

  Kate watched the patterns of it, trying to make sense of it.

  “Why do it that way?” she asked. “Why not just throw the charcoal in?”

  She saw Thomas shrug. “Heat is a blacksmith’s greatest tool. It must be treated with care. Too much fuel, or too little, too much air or too little, all of this can ruin iron.”

  Kate was surprised when he handed her a flint and steel, pointing to a spot where he’d set kindling.

  “We start with wood, then build.”

  Kate set to work with the flint and steel, striking sparks until the flames flickered in the kindling.

  “Why did you run away?” Thomas asked.

  “Do you know what the orphanage is like?” Kate countered. It was difficult to keep a hard edge out of her voice at the thought of it.

  “I wasn’t there, so I would guess not,” the smith said. “I’ve heard rumors.”

  Rumors. Those weren’t the same as the real thing. They weren’t even close. A rumor was a few words, quickly forgotten. The reality had been pain and violence and fear. It had been a place where every day had involved being told she was less than everyone else, and that she should be grateful just for the chance to be told it.

  “It was that bad then?” Thomas asked, and it was only as he said it that Kate guessed how much of it must have shown on her face.

  “It was that bad,” Kate agreed.

  “Aye, there are some evil places in this world,” Thomas said. “And they’re often not where the priests tell us they are.” He nodded in the direction of a large set of bellows. “I’ll work you hard here, Kate, if you want to stay. Let’s see if you can get some air into the fire so it gets hot enough.”

  Kate went to the bellows, expecting them to move easily. Instead, it was as hard as one of the cranks of the grinding wheels at the orphanage had been. The difference was that, as she strained at the bellows, she could see them making a difference. The forge fire grew, changing color as she fed it with air and charcoal. She watched the flames shift from yellow to orange, to a white heat that could move steel.

  Thomas took a piece of iron, placing it within the forge. “Keep going, Kate. Iron only shifts slowly. There are things we can’t rush.”

  He said it with the patience of someone who had worked a lot of the metal. Kate kept working, ignoring the sweat building up on her skin. She found herself wanting to impress the smith. After what he’d offered her, she wanted to show him that she was worth it. It was a strange feeling; at the orphanage, she hadn’t cared. Maybe that was just because they hadn’t cared about her, except as a commodity.

  “See the shade the iron has gone?” Thomas asked. “When we get the metal out of the forge, we’ll have to work it quickly. When it starts to fade, we have to get it back in the forge.”

  Kate understood, and she rushed to grab a pair of tongs, reaching for the metal and snatching it out at speed. She didn’t want to waste a single instant in her forging. The movement was too quick, and Kate felt the moment when the metal slipped and twisted from her grip, falling to the stone floor of the forge.

  It brushed her leg on the way down, and Kate screamed. White heat flashed through her, the barest brush of it pure agony. Thomas was there in an instant, tipping a trough of water over her and the metal both. Kate heard the metal cracking, but right then, there was no time to care. It simply hurt too much.

  “Hold still,” Thomas said, grabbing a jar of pungent salve. It proved to be gentle and cooling, numbing Kate’s leg so that the agony receded. From where she lay, Kate could see the cracks in the billet of iron she’d grabbed too quickly.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. She waited for Thomas to hit her for her clumsiness, the way the nuns would have. Instead, he held out a hand, lifting her up.

  “The main thing is that you’re not hurt worse,” he said. “It’s a bad burn, but it will heal.”

  “But the iron…” Kate began.

  Thomas waved that away. “Iron cracks. The important thing is that you learn to be patient. You can’t become a master smith in one day, or even in a hundred. You can’t rush around a forge. It’s a place for patience and calm, because the alternative is burnt skin and broken metal.”

  “I’ll do better,” Kate insisted.

  He nodded. “I know you will.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Sophia walked beside Sebastian, heading deeper into the palace with him. She found her hand creeping into his as they walked, her delicate fingers interlacing
with his much stronger ones. She had never thought that such a simple moment of human contact could feel so important.

  “Why did you agree to dance with me?” Sophia asked.

  Sebastian looked at her as if he didn’t understand. “You sound surprised.”

  “Shouldn’t I be?” she said with a tilt of her head. “I mean, I’m no one, not really. And you’re… well, you.”

  That was probably closer to the reality of it all than Sophia should have gone, but right then it was hard to keep from saying more than she meant. She might have gone to the ball with the intention of doing something like this, but the thought that she might succeed with someone as kind and as good and as handsome as Sebastian was more than she could have hoped.

  She’s more amazing than anyone I’ve met, and she’s wondering why I wanted to dance with her?

  Sophia smiled as she caught that thought, although she didn’t say anything about it. She imagined that nothing would ruin the mood quite so quickly as letting Sebastian know what she really was.

  “I’m just glad that you agreed to dance with me,” Sebastian said, as if he weren’t a prince, or handsome, or everything that Sophia imagined anyone could want. Did he really not know it? No, Sophia could see that he didn’t, and in its way that only made him more desirable.

  Sophia had gone there with the intention of seducing someone, but now she was starting to think that those things cut both ways.

  That thought brought with it a sense of nervousness that Sophia hadn’t expected to feel, even as she looked at Sebastian, imagining the play of the muscles under his clothing. She felt a little guilty too, because everything she was in that moment was a lie, and because of everything she’d gone there to do.

  It seemed so cynical now, going to the court to snare the attentions of some rich man, or inveigle her way into the good graces of some noble friend. Compared to what she was feeling now, that all felt cheap and tawdry.

  “What are you thinking?” Sebastian asked, reaching up to touch her face. Sophia had a brief moment to reflect that it must be strange, living your life having to ask that. Mostly though, she thought about how perfect his skin felt against hers.

  “Just that I still can’t quite believe this is happening,” Sophia said. “I mean… I have nothing. I am nothing.”

  She saw Sebastian shake his head. “Don’t ever say that. The war might have taken your home, but you’re still… you’re amazing, Sophia. I saw you at the party, and it was like you were the sun standing among dim stars.”

  “Wasn’t it your brother who was supposed to be the sun?” Sophia joked, but then put a hand on Sebastian’s arm to stop him as he started to answer. Partly because she didn’t want to go there, and partly because she could feel that Sebastian didn’t either. “No, don’t. I don’t want to talk about Prince Rupert. I’d rather hear about you.”

  Sebastian actually laughed then. “Normally, it’s the other way around. The number of times I’ve had women come up to me just because they want to get closer to my brother, you’d think I was his pimp or his procurer.”

  Sophia could feel the note of bitterness there. She guessed that it was hard being the brother no one paid any attention to. They kept walking along corridors lined with wood panels and hunting trophies, every niche hung with tapestries and paintings that made Sophia want to stop and stare at the sheer quality of the work involved.

  “I find it hard to believe that women would ignore you,” Sophia said. “Are they blind?”

  It was too much, but right then, she couldn’t help herself.

  “There are some,” Sebastian admitted. “They crowd around sometimes, and I can see them planning who will make the next move.”

  “Milady d’Angelica?” Sophia asked.

  That brought a smile. “Among others.”

  Sophia couldn’t help herself then. “She is very beautiful. And I’m told she has excellent taste in dresses.”

  That earned her a small look of puzzlement, but that was quickly gone.

  “I guess I’m looking for more than that,” Sebastian said. “And… well, I get the feeling that they’re hoping to catch me in a marriage. I want to be more to someone than just the object in a game.”

  The guilt from before flashed through Sophia again then, because in her way, she was every bit as bad as the others were. Well, maybe not as bad as a girl who had been planning to drug Sebastian and take advantage of that, but she was still being anything but honest with him.

  “I wish I could say that my intentions were entirely pure,” Sophia said. She shouldn’t be warning the prince, but right then she felt as though she owed it to him. She could see what kind of man he was. Exactly the kind of honesty and kindness that made him so attractive to her meant that Sophia felt as though she shouldn’t be doing this at all. “I wish that this were just because I liked you.”

  “But you do like me?” Sebastian said.

  There was no one else around right then, so Sophia let herself do what she’d wanted to do since the ballroom, and kissed him.

  It was a strange experience. The only time it had happened in the orphanage had been when an older boy had pushed Sophia up against a wall, forcing his mouth against hers until one of the nuns had broken it up. Sophia had been beaten for it, as if she’d had any choice in it all. That had been rough, and brief, and disgusting.

  This kiss was none of those things. Sebastian, it turned out, was a gentle kisser, whose mouth met Sophia’s in what seemed like a perfect joining of two halves into one whole. Sophia could sense the concern in him, not wanting to drive her away even as he wanted to kiss her deeper. She wrapped her arms around him, encouraging him, and for a moment or two, Sophia let herself be swept away by it.

  “I hope that answers your question,” Sophia said. “It’s just—”

  “That you are homeless, and you do need to do what it takes for a noble girl to survive?” Sebastian suggested. “I understand, Sophia. Let’s face it, most of the girls in there wouldn’t have been half so honest.”

  Probably not, Sophia guessed, but right then, she didn’t want Sebastian thinking about the other girls who had been in the ballroom.

  “Are we okay?” she asked. She hadn’t thought it would be this hard to bring herself to seduce someone. Maybe she should have gone with someone else. Someone she could have done this to without feeling guilty.

  The truth was that Sophia didn’t want anyone else.

  “I think we’re more than okay,” Sebastian said, offering her his arm.

  Sophia took it, relishing the feeling of being that close to him. It made her heart beat a little faster just to be there, and she found herself missing half of the beautiful things they passed in the palace, simply because she spent her time staring at Sebastian instead.

  The palace was impressive, though. It seemed to stretch forever, in washes of marble and gold that must have cost a fortune to construct.

  “It must have been incredible, growing up in a place like this,” Sophia said, thinking of just how different it all was from the orphanage. There was the most precious thing of all here: space. Space without people shouting or giving her orders. Space without a hundred other girls all forced into hating one another because they had to compete for every scrap of kindness and food.

  “It’s an impressive building,” Sebastian said, “but honestly, it isn’t the one I spent the most time in as a child. My mother had me raised on one of the smaller country estates we own, because there were times when the city seemed too dangerous.”

  Sophia hadn’t thought about that. Of course the dowager would have a dozen castles and homes spread around the kingdom.

  “It was just you?” Sophia asked. “Not you and your brother, or you with your mother?” She caught a hint of sadness in Sebastian’s thoughts then, and reached up to brush his jaw with her fingers. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.”

  “No, it’s fine,” Sebastian replied. “It’s actually good to have someone who wants to
know. But no, I was mostly kept apart from Rupert, and from Mother. The idea was that we wouldn’t all be in the same place if anything… happened.”

  In other words, so that one of them would survive if there was an attack or a fire, a plague or some other disaster. Sophia could understand it in a way, but even so, it seemed like a harsh way to live. Kate had been the only one giving her the strength to keep going when they’d been younger.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here now,” Sophia said.

  “So am I,” Sebastian assured her.

  They made their way up to a suite of rooms shut off from the rest of the palace by a solid oak door. Sophia had been expecting a bedroom beyond, but instead, it was like a whole house crammed into the space. There was a receiving room furnished with older but comfortable divans and rugs, and there were doors leading off the space that Sophia guessed led to bedrooms or dressing rooms.

  Sebastian held her out at arm’s length. “Sophia, there’s a second bedroom here if you want it. I… I don’t want you to feel that you have to do anything, just to get my help.”

  That was one of the kindest things anyone had done for Sophia. She’d assumed that everyone wanted something. She’d assumed that even for nobles, safety was a kind of transaction. Yet here the prince was, giving her a chance to get everything she wanted without having to ever go near his bed.

  “You’re a good man, Sebastian,” she said, taking his hands. “A kind man.”

  She kissed his hands, then pulled him closer.

  “And that’s why I don’t just want to sleep in the room next door.”

  They kissed again then, and there was far more passion in this attempt than there had been in the previous one. Perhaps part of that was that Sophia had far more confidence that she knew what to do now. Perhaps part of it was that Sebastian didn’t feel as though he had to hold back.

  They clung to each other, kissing as their hands started to explore one another. Sophia felt a moment of nervousness then, and Sebastian looked at her.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.