Page 76 of The Blacksmith

“Is this where you propose to place the covered stands?”

The voice, a sweet sound to her ears, came from behind.

“Aye, Mother.” She spun around. “Do you think the idea has merit?”

“Very much so.”

The lady of Stanton paused to run her hand along a slip of silk. The merchant came over at once, eyes full of eagerness, and they launched into conversation about his wares. The fabrics in his stall were beautiful, but it was a nearby table that caught Idalia’s eye.

“These are lovely,” she said to the man who stood behind it. The man Idalia had been determined to avoid all week.

Stanton’s new smith.

Idalia was not sure how Lance had done it, but apparently he’d promised her father he would find them a new smith. And he had.

She’d welcomed the man to the castle, of course, but had not once visited the forge. And although she had sought solace at the Small Tower for years, she found she could no longer go there. Even looking down toward Eller’s Green assaulted her with unwanted memories. When the need to be alone overcame her, Idalia instead climbed the ramparts to the west, enduring the guardsman’s uneasy glances. There was no tower to hide behind, but at least the wall-walk afforded her new views.

Ones that did not remind her of Lance.

“Many thanks, my lady,” said the new smith.

The man was only a slight bit older than her father, but his hair was completely white. When he’d asked her mother for permission to sell some of his wares at the market, she’d granted it gladly.

Though he was a blacksmith, the man had knowledge of whitesmithing. The jewelry that sat before her was quite beautiful, in fact.

“I apologize for not coming to you sooner.” She had no real reason to give him.

“No apologies are necessary, my lady.”

Though Idalia involved herself less in the daily affairs of Stanton than she had when her mother was ill, it was true that Idalia continued to take on far too much. According to Tilly, at least. Just that morning her sister had begged her to allow Mother to purchase for Stanton. “Go to market day unfettered, just for you,” she had said.

If only she could be as carefree as that.

“If I could commission one of these”—she picked up a bracelet—“from you?”

“It would be my honor, my lady.”

“The old smith was nearly as skilled,” her mother said from behind her. “He made this, in fact.”

Idalia did not realize her mother wore Lance’s bracelet under her long sleeve. Taking it off, she showed the new smith.

“Fine handiwork indeed,” he said, handing it back to her. “But that is to be expected. Master Lance apprenticed for one of the greatest smiths of our time.”

“You knew his father?” Idalia asked before thinking better of it.

“Indeed. A great smith.”

But not a good man, she added silently.

He attempted to hand the bracelet back to her mother, but she’d already hurried off to greet an old friend. Putting it on her wrist, she allowed herself to wander through the stands, although she acquired some much-needed spices for the kitchens instead of browsing for her own enjoyment.

Later, when it was time to leave, she finally found her sister.

“Where have you been?”

Tilly shoved a handful of ribbons at her. The silk strands of color caressed her hands as she stared at them.

“Look at this shade of blue. Have you ever seen anything so lovely?”