Free The Four Forges by Jenna Rhodes Page A

no better here than in most of Kerith,” he said mildly.
    Her hand twitched in the silver-blue folds of her gown. Her mouth curved once or twice, then she answered, “What troubles us will trouble all of Kerith.”
    “You’ll admit to them we are troubled, then? Vulnerable?” Jeredon pulled out a chair, turning it backward so he could sit leaning his arms on the ladder-back, and watched her as he straddled it.
    Her mouth twitched, and she cleared her throat. “We have a concern about our fellows of Kerith. Our knowledge of the lands shows us that there are problems developing which can yet be turned away, but they need us to teach them how best to deal with it.” Words meant not for him but composed for the mayor.
    “Ah, the diplomat emerges.” Jeredon flashed a grin.
    She tossed her head again, angry, but not letting the emotion escape her lips as she marched a step closer to him. “You would do better?”
    “If I were the younger instead of the elder, and king instead of half brother to the queen, I think I’d simply burn them out to protect our lands and let them fear us again instead of despising us as they do now. That might not solve our immediate problem, but it would give us the time and space to find out what is encroaching upon Larandaril.”
    The queen sat down wearily on the edge of her bed, and his sister emerged. “Burning them out might be exactly what we need to do. They can’t even manage their own waste!”
    “That is only part of the problem, and we know that.”
    “They press in on us, Jeredon. They lean on us, they crush us.”
    “They’re drawn to what we offer, even as much as they hate us,” he reminded her. “They need us, too. Some even still revere us. It’s why they settle on our borders. We raised them up from mud and sticks—well, not all of them, but many—and they want more. The wars of the Magi left them in rubble, where they once knew more, and we showed them what could be achieved again.”
    “Well I know.” A finger traced the air in resignation.
    “Then why must I tell you this?”
    “We brought our own wars,” she reminded him.
    “And we tithe to them, through the Accords. They all found a way to stick their hand out, aggrieved by us or not. And you think this Stonehand will welcome your proposal? That he will take the hundreds of families you wish to depose from our borders and ship them off here?”
    Lariel brushed a hand through her silvery hair. Gold shimmered as she did so, gold in single strands, and gold rings on her fingers. “I don’t know. I wish I had the Talent for that. It isn’t mine to see tomorrow.”
    “Talent doesn’t solve our lives for us, Sister. It merely enhances it.” He quoted their teachers, chapter and verse.
    Lariel picked up a bed pillow and threw it at him, with dead aim, and even he, with his quickness, couldn’t dodge it. Laughing, he slipped sideways from his chair and feigned death as he hit the floorboards.
    “Oh, get up, you oaf.”
    “No. I am dead. You’ll have to send for the after-healers.”
    “After-healers!” She scoffed at him. “A myth even to us. If such a Talent existed, we would never die.” She threw another pillow at him.
    “Aderro,” he pleaded. “Save me!”
    Lariel broke into laughter. She got up from the bed, kneeled down beside him, her mouth arched as she bent down, preparing to give him the fabled kiss of life. Jeredon tried not to grin as her face neared his forehead. Instead, she doubled up her hand and punched him in the stomach, making him gasp for air. He rolled on the floor, flailing to breathe like a fish reeled in on a hook to land, and she sat down next to him, still laughing. His fault, he’d taught her how to fight like that. He rubbed his stomach’s seized muscles and sucked for air.
    At least he’d made her laugh. When he finally caught his breath, he jumped to his feet and gave her a hand up. They dusted each other off, waiting for the carriage to take them to the grand