The only response was a groan, and Claire glanced over her shoulder. Thorn—or rather, Anvil—didn’t look so great. His breathing was shallow and somehow, Claire thought she caught a glimpse of the shocking green yarn in the undertone of his cheeks. But before worry could engulf her the same way the swamp had claimed one of the Seven League Boots, she heard a jangle in the grass.

Either the chimera had suddenly come alive or …

“The crash came from this way!” an unfamiliar voice shouted.

“Forgers,” Thorn rasped out. “They’re coming!”

Claire had just enough time to tug the Seven League Boot from Thorn’s foot and shove it deep into the mouth of the frozen chimera before the tall grass flattened to reveal a group of shield-wearing Forgers.

There were four of them in total, each one tall and blinding as the sun glinted off their breastplates and metal helmets and the swords on their hips. And the knives in their armguards. And the axes strapped across their backs.

This wasn’t just a group of inspectors. This was a squadron of warriors. And by the time Claire had taken all this in, there was already a knife at her throat.

Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER

15

“Don’t move,” a boy’s voice ordered from behind a visor. “As unauthorized trespassers, you are both now prisoners of the Fyrton Watch.” Claire did as she was told, but her eyes strained, seeking out Thorn. From her periphery, she could just make out a sword under his chin, too. A blade to the throat, she was learning, was basically the equivalent of a Forger handshake. It was how she’d first met Sena, too. Thinking of Sena’s stubborn bravery and Aquila’s sharp wit, Claire took a deep breath. It was time to be a Forger.

“Good morning to you, too,” she drawled in Aquila’s voice. “Manners have certainly changed since I was young.” She tilted her head toward Thorn. “Even my baby cousin Anvil has more courtesy. Which is saying something.”

“I—” Claire’s Forger stopped short, and there was a great squeak as he lifted his visor to reveal a teenage boy with a crooked nose and round eyes.

“Rusted nails,” he swore, clearly stunned, and Claire used his surprise to take a step back and away from his blade. “You’re Aquila Malchain!” the warrior said. “You’ve returned!”

Claire nodded. “So it would appear.”

“And you!” Thorn’s Forger said, lowering her blade. “You’re Anvil Malchain?”

Thorn jerked his head and stayed silent, exactly as the real Anvil would have done. He always chose his words as carefully as he selected his knives.