Of course he did. You make magical weapons. He wants a weapon. A million customers have said this to me before, but this one … makes my heart do strange things.

I’m torn between trying to come up with something—anything—to say to this man and deciding whether or not to attempt to retrieve the sword. This likely results in me looking awkwardly hunched from what the stranger can see of me on the other side of the counter.

“Are you … all right?” he asks.

“Fine. I’m fine.”

He grins, showing the tips of his teeth, and to my utter horror, he comes closer, leans himself against the counter, and asks, “What’s your name?”

And I swear by the sacred names of the Sister Goddesses that I don’t know the answer to that question. I cannot remember it or anything else when he looks at me like that.

So I look back down at the sword wedged into the ground. Kymora will be here in less than two weeks’ time …

“Come back in three weeks and the smithy will see you,” I say. By then, Temra and I will be long gone, and I won’t have to endure this again.

“What about you? Will you be in?”

For the love, will he just leave?

“I really should get back to work.”

“Of course.” He steps back from the counter, and I can finally breathe again. “Do tell Ziva I look forward to doing business with her.”

That’s the third time he’s said my name. I don’t know why I kept track—only that I loved hearing the word on his lips.

What is wrong with me?

The stranger says something else on his way out the door, but I don’t catch it.

I’m too busy finally getting the sword out of the ground.

After my mortifying encounter with the handsome man, I throw myself into my work, making all the little details on the sword pristine. I’ve shaped the hilt after Kymora’s sigil. While the guard forms the wings of a great falcon, the grip serves as the body and tail. The fuller is pristine and even, the edges sharp, the point deadly.

I’m proud of it.

But is it good enough for a warlord?

It will serve her well in battle. Enemies will have a tricky time getting close enough to kill her, but I don’t know that it’s powerful enough to bring nations to their knees.

Still, it will have to do.

Temra comes rushing in to the forge. She closes the doors behind her carefully.

“The warlord is on her way.”

“What?”

“I just saw her and her men coming up the road. They’ll be here in seconds!”

“She’s early!”

“I know!”

We both scramble for the storefront. I lay the weapon on the desk and shut the doors leading back to the forge. Meanwhile, Temra shoves her schoolwork behind the counter, hiding the mess.

I fidget uncomfortably during the ten seconds it takes Kymora to arrive at our doors.