Devin had a family, out beyond the walls of the House of Weapons. He didnt want to see them hurt just because hed been hot-tempered and not minded his manners. He didnt want to stand by and see a boy beaten senseless for a drunken princes whim either, though. His grip tightened on his hammer, and Devin set it down, trying to tell himself to stand back.

Then Prince Vars grabbed Nems hand. He forced it down onto one of the anvils.

Lets see how good a smith you are with a broken hand, he said. He took a hammer and lifted it, and in that moment Devin knew what would happen if he did nothing. His heart raced.

Without thinking, Devin lunged forward and grabbed for the princes arm. He didnt deflect the blow by much, but it was enough that it missed Nems hand and struck the iron of the anvil.

Devin held the grip, just in case the prince tried to smash him with it next.

What? Prince Vars said. Take your hands off me.

Devin struggled, pinning down his hand; this close to him, Devin could smell the alcohol on his breath.

Not if youre going to keep striking my friend, Devin said.

He knew that just by grabbing the prince, hed created trouble for himself, but it was too late now.

Nem doesnt understand, and he wasnt the reason you knocked over half the armor in here. That would be the drink.

Take your hand off me, I said, the prince repeated, and his other hand strayed toward the eating knife at his belt.

Devin pushed him backward as gently as he could manage. A part of him still hoped this could be peaceful, even as he knew exactly what was going to happen next.

You dont want to do that, your highness.

Vars glared at him, breathing hard, with a look of pure hatred.

Im not the one whos made the mistake here, traitor, Prince Vars growled, death in his voice.

Vars set down his hammer and picked up an arming sword from one of the benches, although it was obvious to Devin that he was no expert with it.

Thats rightyoure a traitor. Attacking a royal person is treason, and traitors die for it.

He swung the sword at Devin, and instinctively, Devin grabbed for whatever he could find. It turned out to be a forge hammer of his own, and he brought it up to block the blow, hearing the ring of iron on iron as he stopped the sword from connecting with his head. The impact jarred at his hands, and there was no time to think now. Catching the blade against the hammers head, he wrenched it from the princes grip with all his strength, sending it clattering across the floor to join the pile of discarded armor.