Home > The Blacksmith Queen (The Scarred Earth Saga #1)(7)

The Blacksmith Queen (The Scarred Earth Saga #1)(7)
Author: G.A. Aiken

Keran had met Amichais before, but they weren’t a friendly people. Not that she blamed them. Those in the Hill Lands didn’t like those from the mountains and made that clear by their treatment. So the Amichais wisely kept to themselves, sticking to the wooded areas and bigger cities—where they could mostly be ignored—in their kilts, chainmail shirts, and heavy armaments.

She still wanted to keep an eye on the Amichais since she had no idea why they would help her cousin and that skittish boy. There was just one problem: She was unable to see out of the corner of her left eye. Not since that brutal battle with a man three times her size; Keran woke up three days afterward with the winner’s gold purse and a blood-filled eye that didn’t clear up for weeks.

So it wasn’t her sight that told her something had happened off to her left. It was the sounds: a man’s cry of pain and the destruction of the wall separating her room from the rest of the shop.

Keran was off the windowsill and facing the rest of the Amichais in seconds. But they were just standing there, while one of the workers was writhing on the floor of her bedroom, holding his chest with one arm . . . and sobbing.

She jutted her chin at the female Amichai—since she seemed to be in charge—and asked, “What happened to him?”

“He tripped.”

Keran smirked. “Into your ass?”

Keeley stood beside her now. “What are you talking about?”

“This one is a bit of a grabber,” Keran told her cousin with a shrug, “and I think he was rude to one of your friends here.”

“If you knew that about him before this, why haven’t you dealt with it?”

“I did,” she said, rubbing her nose. “I twisted his arm and shoulder until they splintered like kindling; once he healed up, he came back to work. I thought he’d learned his lesson.”

Keeley let out a long sigh, her gaze locked on Keran. “Why did I put you in charge when I’m away?” she finally asked.

“I have no idea,” Keran admitted.

* * *

Keeley knew what she’d seen over her sister’s shoulder. Even though they were arguing, there was no way to miss how Laila’s lower half had changed just before she sent Rob flying through a wall.

Thankfully, though, Gemma hadn’t seen it. Who knew what her religious fervor would make of what Keeley had seen? Keeley already knew what the Amichai were and she didn’t care. Her sister, though . . . she was no longer the girl Keeley had once known. She knew she couldn’t trust Gemma. Not with her new friends. But she knew who could be trusted with their safety.

“I’m going home,” Keeley abruptly announced, motioning to her workers to toss the grabby idiot out of her establishment. He could find work somewhere else. She turned to the Amichais. “And you lot are coming with me. You’ll get some rest and figure out what you want to do in the morning.”

Laila nodded. “That would be—”

Gemma caught Keeley’s upper arm and yanked her toward the door.

“Give us a moment,” she politely asked the Amichais before dragging Keeley into the street.

“What are you doing?” her sister demanded once they were outside.

“Remembering how I was raised,” Keeley spit back. “I see people who need help . . . and I’m helping them. That’s what we do.”

“You’re spouting Da’s goat shit right now? In this moment?”

Keeley shook her head. “What the fuck are you talking about? What moment?”

“We can’t bring strangers home.”

“I’m assuming you’re coming home. You’re practically a stranger.”

“You are such a—” Gemma clenched her jaw and closed her eyes. “Can’t you see the danger all around you?”

Daniel the shoemaker walked up to them and abruptly put a baby lamb in Keeley’s arms. “For your mum. Tell her I’ll get her the baby goat in another week or two.”

They stared at the lamb bleating in Keeley’s arms as Daniel returned to his shop.

“Yes, Sister, the danger is everywhere.”

“Keeley—”

“The Amichais saved my life and the life of that boy you scared away. They didn’t have to. They could have left me to fend for meself, but they didn’t. So the least I can do is offer them supper and a safe place to stay for the night.”

“You can put them up in the pub.”

“Old Stump isn’t going to let Amichais into his pub and you know it.”

Keeley could tell her sister was attempting to think of more arguments to dissuade her but she didn’t want to hear them. She didn’t want to hear anything. So she used her elbow to push open the door to the shop and leaned in.

“You, lot!” she bellowed. “Let’s go!”

The Amichais walked out and Keeley motioned to her cousin. “You too.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re family,” she lied. Not that Keran wasn’t family. She was. But that wasn’t why she was bringing her home this night. No, it was because she was the best fighter Keeley knew and if her sister turned out to be right, she wanted the extra defense. But she wouldn’t say any of that in front of Gemma. Not now. Not ever.

Keran walked out of the shop and closed the door behind her. The three kin stared at one another for a long few seconds before Keeley lifted the baby lamb a bit and said, “By the way, we’re not sacrificing this one for your gods. In case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t wondering actually, but feel free to fuck off,” Gemma shot back before stomping off after their guests.

Keran glanced at her. “You know, I could be wrong but . . . it seems that nuns have changed since my day.”

CHAPTER 4

“It’s like she expects me to forget what she’s done! But I’ll not forget. I’ll never forget!”

It took some time, but Caid was starting to think that this woman was talking to him.

Maybe she wasn’t.

He looked around at the others. Laila was chatting up the nun, trying to find out what she was doing here. He knew his sister’s way of thinking and in Laila’s mind it would seem strange that the nun should suddenly appear when she’d been gone for so long. But Caid also got the feeling the nun was chatting up Laila in the hopes of finding out what they were doing here. Unlike Keeley, though, he didn’t think this one or the cousin knew what they were.

He glanced behind him and there were Farlan and Cadell. For some unknown reason, Keeley had suddenly handed them each a sword from her shop. “I just finished these yesterday,” she’d said before they began to walk through town. “They’re a bit nicer than what you have and will serve you both well.”

She’d been right too. The swords she’d given them were definitely superior to what they had, which was why they were both busy examining their new weapons and discussing them rather than chatting with the blacksmith who’d created them.

And then there was Keran. The cousin. She was bringing up the rear . . . and seemed to be talking to herself because no one was around her. Whatever conversation she was having, though, she seemed to be enjoying it.

So what did all that mean?

He glanced down and to his left. Aye. Keeley was talking to him.

“What are your thoughts?” she asked, a baby lamb draped over her neck like a fur cape.

“I . . . I honestly don’t know because I didn’t know you were talking to me.”

“Who else would I be talking to?”

“Anyone?” Caid gestured to the world around them. “Literally anyone.”

“But I like talking to you.”

“I haven’t been listening.”

She shrugged. “That’s never stopped me before.” She studied him a moment before asking, “Does no one talk to you?”

“Not willingly.”

“Why? You’re very pleasant.”

“No,” he insisted. “I’m not. Ask anyone. My own sister will tell you . . . not pleasant.”

“Are you not pleasant on purpose?”

“If I’m pleasant, people will talk to me.” He leaned in a bit. “Understand?”

“Of course! Some people . . . they never know when to shut up. But what can you do?” she went on. “Life is full of talkers. People who can’t help themselves. As a blacksmith, though, I have to talk.”

“Do you?”

“Oh, yes. I need to know exactly what people want, when they want it, how they want it. And often they won’t say unless you ask them specific questions.”

“Sooooo, you’re saying there’s no way to get you to stop talking to me?”

“Well . . . I’m not speaking to my sister. Ever. Again,” she emphasized. “And when Keran talks to herself, that’s not a conversation you ever want to interrupt. But you’re here, so . . . No. There’s not.”

Suddenly, and without warning, she linked her arm with his and leaned into his side as they continued to walk to her parents’ farm. The baby lamb even rested its head against Caid’s shoulder, like it belonged there.

“But isn’t this lovely?” she asked.

“Is it?”

“It’s been a beautiful day and it’s turning into a beautiful evening. You’ll get a hot meal and some good wine and a roof over your head for the night. What could there possibly be for you to complain about?”

“You talking to me?”

“You might as well get used to it, Amichai. Because if you think I talk a lot . . . wait until you meet me da.”

* * *

Keeley handed the baby lamb off to Keran and then threw herself into her father’s outstretched arms, letting him lift her off her feet in a big hug. She knew at some time he would become too old to do that, but until that time came, she was going to enjoy the way her father welcomed her home.

“How was your day, my little Keeley?”

   
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