I instantly take back my earlier thought. I worried this weapon wouldn’t be fit for a warlord, but that was before I saw the weapon in the hands of a seasoned warrior.

Legions of men would fall to this sword. Kymora took out three dummies with one swipe. How many foes could she fell before they were even upon her? The broadsword’s reach could outdistance even a spear’s considerable length.

When the warlord has worked up a fine sweat, she brings the sword close to her face to examine it. Carefully, she holds the sword away from her and brings one finger closer and closer to the blade until a fine line of blood magically appears on her finger. She doesn’t so much as blink from the cut.

“Extraordinary,” Kymora says. She thrusts the blade toward me, which is now marred with a line of her blood, despite not having come into direct contact with it. “Clean it,” she orders.

I nod and take the weapon from her.

My fingers touch the grip and—

This is more than I could have hoped for.

My gaze snaps up to the warlord’s.

This weapon will make me unbeatable in combat.

Though I hear Kymora’s voice, her lips aren’t moving.

I will crush Ghadra’s pathetic rulers and reunite the regions under one rule once more: my own. The people will be enslaved to my will. The royal family will all bow before me. Right before I remove their heads.

I can’t move. I’m barely breathing.

“Well?” Kymora says aloud. “Get that blood off my weapon!”

I rush into the shop, my mind whirring as I try to find a cloth.

The smithy is coming home with me. Once she makes weapons for every soldier in my army, we will be unstoppable.

The horrifying voice in my head doesn’t abate until I wipe the streak of red from the steel.

What just happened? I heard Kymora, but she wasn’t talking. Were those her real thoughts?

Her secrets.

The realization hits me in an instant.

“I’m very impressed with your work, bladesmith,” the warlord says from behind me. She must have followed me inside.

It takes every ounce of willpower I possess to turn around and face Kymora.

“How does it work? The long-range abilities?” she wants to know.

“I—I—” For your own safety and Temra’s you have to pretend all is fine. Get it together, Ziva. I pause and start again. Focus. “It’s in the swing and the intent. You wanted to test its sharpness, so you cut yourself. When you’re ready to sheathe it, the sword will temper down. You’ll want to sheathe the blade slowly and make sure there isn’t a trace of a swing in the motion. I’ve noticed that wearing gloves helps. Something about bare skin makes the weapon a bit more volatile. I haven’t been able to determine exactly how far of a reach the sword possesses. Sometimes it won’t cut things until they’re within a foot of it. Other times, it will reach obstacles that are yards away. Again, I think it has to do with intent.”