die, but at least they’d die in such a way that the tale would be told for ages.
A dwarf guard pressed the tip of his endlessly sharp spear against Laila’s throat and warned, “Go back to your human form, horsey, or I’ll run ya through.”
Caid heard Quinn growl, always defensive when their sister was even looked at the wrong way, much less actively threatened. But he caught Quinn by his hair and kept control of him before he could shift.
“Stop. Think. For once, Brother.”
Caid’s words calmed Quinn down but the way he sucked his tongue against his teeth told Caid that with even a tiny bit more provocation Quinn might start causing more damage to the dwarf-centaur alliance than anyone could imagine.
Laila shifted to her human form and the spear returned to its locked position with another spear, no longer close to her throat. Caid let out a breath and moved his attention back to the king and Keeley.
“So, you are a blacksmith,” the king was saying to Keeley.
“I am.”
“Have you made anything legendary?”
“Not that I know of.” She pulled her hammer from the leather holder strapped to her back. “Made this hammer, though. Love me hammer.”
The king studied it from where he sat on the throne. “It’s cute,” he finally said.
Caid grimaced and Gemma let out an “Uh-oh.”
Keeley slammed the head into the floor—the sound ringing around the stone throne room—and leaned her weight on the handle.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped.
“I think,” the king said, “you’re just tellin’ everyone you’re a blacksmith, so you can claim to be one of the people. Humans are stupid like that. They’ll believe anything.”
“I don’t lie, King Mundric. I have no reason to. I’m from a long line of blacksmiths. Some of the best blacksmiths in history.”
When the entire room erupted into laughter, Caid whispered to his brother, “Get ready to move. Preferably before she starts killing everybody.”
Because Keeley took her blacksmithing more seriously than almost anything. Anything except her family, of course.
“I don’t see what’s so funny!” Keeley barked out, looking around the room.
“If you’re such a mighty blacksmith family,” Unroch annoyingly suggested, “you should know the Old Songs.”
“Old Songs?” Laila desperately whispered at them. “What bloody Old Songs?”
“The songs we were taught as children,” Gemma whispered back. “They’re blacksmith songs.”
“Of course I do,” Keeley replied, with way more confidence than Caid was feeling. Just because her family of human blacksmiths had their “old songs” didn’t mean they were the same Old Songs as the dwarves’. Especially when the dwarves had their own gods-damn language.
Mundric grinned and it was not pretty.
“Then sing one,” he ordered.
Keeley frowned and Caid felt his heart drop into his stomach.
“I’m not much of a singer,” she confessed. “How about if I recite the words?”
“Anyone can learn the words. The question is whether you know the words and the tune. So sing.”
Keeley let out a breath, bent her neck one way, then the other. Both times her body making loud cracking noises.
She cleared her throat. Once. Twice.
“In times long by when blood did pourrrr!”
And . . . oy. She hadn’t been joking. She had a terrible singing voice. And the song was not made for bad singers. Because it was slow and a bit boring. But Keeley, gods bless her. She kept going.
“A hammer and anvil, I did score.
A hammer and anvil, I did roar!
To bless the gods, the gods, the war gods
I’m covered in blood from war gods!
For the blood of war is our way!”
“Ow,” Laila muttered, sticking her finger in her ear and wiggling it around after Keeley had hit that last high note.
Caid thought it was over. But it wasn’t. Because the tempo changed. Abruptly. Into a fast-moving jig that didn’t sound any better than the earlier dirge.
“I used my hammer
To beat that iron, finesse that steel
Make that spear, craft that bow
For the blood of war is our way!”
The king rammed his spear against the floor again and Keeley stopped singing—thank the gods!—as he struggled to get to his feet. Unroch attempted to help but the king angrily waved him off.
Once he stood, he made his slow way down the three stairs to the black cloth and walked along it until he reached Keeley. While she stood much taller than the Dwarf King, he was definitely wider. Caid couldn’t figure out if he wanted to see them in a fight or not. If nothing else, a fight between those two would definitely be interesting.
When Mundric only stared at her, not speaking, Keeley cleared