The Blacksmith Queen (The Scarred Earth Saga, #1) - G.A Aiken Page 0,102
night. And she’d had an exhausting and weird day. She might as well eat and get some sleep. She could panic about dragons and her sister and everything else in the morning.
Keeley sat down next to Caid, their shoulders touching. He handed her a piece of bread and she gratefully accepted it. She hadn’t realized until now how hungry she was.
“Those centaur travelers we met on the road . . .”
He nodded. “What about them?”
“They said Straton had attacked a town. Another town that sounds like mine.”
“He didn’t burn it down at least.”
“Yes, thankfully. But all those people trapped there now. I don’t even want to think about what’s happening to the women—”
“Then don’t. Don’t think about that right now.”
“You’re right, of course. It’s not like I can help at this moment.”
“Exactly.”
Keeley ate a piece of cheese. “Do you think I need a castle?”
“What now?”
“That’s why Straton raided that town. So he could have a base of operations for his army. I don’t have a base of operations. I can’t wander the land picking up troops as I go along.”
“That’s how the Daughters of the Steppes do it.”
“The what?”
“Never mind.” He took a breath. “Are you planning to raid a town to take it over?”
“Of course not! I’d never do that.”
“Exactly. So why are we even discussing this? Now?”
“Yes, yes. You’re right. I’ll just relax and eat.”
“Good.”
Keeley sipped the ale Caid had poured for her earlier. “Think I’ll have to buy my army?” When Caid stared at her, she added, “I can’t expect the dwarves to do all the fighting for me. I’ll be leading humans, so I’ll need humans to fight for my cause.”
“I don’t disagree,” Caid said slowly, speaking around the food he had in his mouth. “I’m just not sure why you’re worrying about that now.”
“Excellent point,” she agreed. “I just need to relax.”
“Yes. Relax.”
“Take the night off!”
“Take the night off.”
Keeley leaned back against the tree and ate more of the food Caid had provided.
“Maybe,” she began, “we should see the barbarians before we head back to the dwarves. What do you—”
“You really can’t relax, can you?” Caid demanded, gawking at her.
“I have a lot on my mind,” she argued.
“You’re going to make yourself sick. My grandfather had what a healer called a hole in his stomach. She said it was from all the worry he had. It was like he was being eaten from the inside out. You don’t want that, do you?”
“No! Why would you tell me that story? Now I’m going to worry that I’m going to get a hole in my stomach.”
“You need to find ways to distract yourself.”
“But I don’t have a forge.”
“What?” Caid asked on a laugh.
“That’s how I relax. I go to my forge and work. But, at the moment, I don’t have that.” She leaned forward, tried to look through the trees. “Unless there’s a forge around here that you know about?”
“Keeley . . . I don’t even know how to respond to that.”
“I thought you knew this area.”
“Keeley.”
“Fine. Forget it.” She leaned back but one of them must have moved because she was now half on Caid’s shoulder and left side. “Is your kilt magickal?”
The ale Caid had been drinking suddenly sprayed across the ground. “What?”
“Is it magickal? It turns into a bridle when you shift to centaur.”
“I am centaur. I shift to human. And yes, there is a bit of spell-enhancement involved in the making of our kilts.”
“Interesting.”
“Is it?”
“It is. I work with leather, but I never thought about enhancing it with spells to make it better.”
“Not sure you can. We have witches and mages who work with our armorer.”
“Oh. I see. I don’t have magick skills.” She snapped her fingers. “But Gemma does!”
“She’s a War Monk. Her skills are limited and she’s only to use them in battle.”
Keeley frowned. “How do you know all that?”
“I looked into being a War Monk when I was younger.”
“Oh.”
“But the thought of human men telling me what to do set my teeth on edge, so . . . you know . . .”
“As a human woman, I have to admit, I feel the same way.”
* * *
Cross-legged beside him, Keeley picked up the bottom of his kilt and felt the material. “This is really excellent workmanship.”
“Thank you.”
“Did you make this?”
“No.”
“That’s disappointing.”
“Not for me.”
Instead of verbally responding, Keeley just looked up at him and briefly flicked her hands into the air and sucked her tongue against her teeth, letting him know she was now disappointed with his response.