Chapter 5: The Forge

The Chancellor opened the empty case in the lamplight, looked at the bare lining, and smiled.

"Dust," he said. "How disappointing."

He shut it and tucked it under his arm.

"Go to bed, Highness. Tomorrow the Tree's gardeners come to measure you for the Festival, and you'll want your strength."

He walked her to the foot of the library stair himself.

He wished Ru a pleasant night and watched them climb until the turn.

She did not breathe until her bedroom door closed.

Then she drew the vellum out of her sleeve with trembling fingers and hid it inside her mattress.

At noon the next day, Ru walked her down to the palace forge.

It sat at the bottom of the service yard, a long stone hall with a chimney the size of a tower, and the heat hit her.

Four hundred wooden collars hung in rows on the back wall.

They were new, pale and smooth, each with a copper clasp.

Nobody had to tell her what they were for.

"The Festival order," said a deep voice. "Every kin in the capital gets a fresh one on the night of the coronation."

The bear stood at the anvil with his back to her.

He was bigger than she remembered, nearly as broad as the doorway, with dark brown hair tied back and forearms thick as young trees.

He turned slowly and wiped his hands on his apron.

"Highness," said Brannoch.

He did not bow.

On the shelf behind him sat a row of small wooden animals, a fox, a rabbit, a duck with a lopsided beak.

"You carve," she said.

"For the little ones. The ones whose parents are on the night shift." His brown eyes were steady. "You came about the collars?"