Page 24 of Starside

He stands dramatically. The food in front of us is going cold. He doesn’t seem to care. Kira’s stomach growls again.

“Now … a choice.” He looks at the walls. “These swords were sired by my own legendary blade, Maverick.” He pulls the sword from its scabbard, and a gasp spreads through the group. It’s thick—made of several sheets of pure silver. Perhaps even several swords blended together. He sheaths it just as quickly. “I will offer you a chance to claim one of my swords …”

Kira perks up next to me. Her own sword is of far lesser metal—nickel, the most common across Stormside.

“… in exchange for an oath. You will swear on your sword that should you survive and return with magic, you will give half to me.”

There. The confirmation I was waiting for. He is taking some of the magic.

Half wouldn’t be so bad, if the king planned to disperse the magic across his lands, but the current state of Stormside is proof he hasn’t. No, he’s keeping it.

So this is how he has kept himself alive all this time.

The thin man stands. “I’ll do it,” he says, practically wobbling with exhaustion.

The king looks at him as if he’s dirt. Still, he reaches up—and one of the swords flies into his awaiting palm. Just like Raker was able to call his own blade.

Gasps fill the room.

Sword-magic. Can all swords be called, with skill, or only ones made from high metals? Could Stellan do it?

“Come here, boy,” the king says, and the man slowly shuffles forward. His hands tremble as he reaches toward the blade. The king shakes his head. “This blade would never have accepted you, to be sure, but I am bestowing it upon you. Do not disappoint me.”

The man is practically in tears as he says, “I won’t. Thank you, King.” He bows before him and then happily returns to his seat.

“Anyone else?”

Almost everybody else. It isn’t a surprise that nearly the entire group takes the king up on his offer. Over and over, I watch him call the metal down. Kira tries to tug me forward, but I stay seated, even though my own blade is several steps down from silver.

I don’t trust the king. If these swords were made from shreds of his own … could he control them? No, I have no business making any oaths. Not when I don’t plan on returning anyway.

And I certainly have no business making any oaths on my sword to a king I would rather see dead at the end of it.

The only others who also remain seated are Zane, and the handful of additional challengers who have high-quality metal.

And Raker, who has a better sword than even the king.

When the last sword has been called down, the king walks over to the head of one of the tables. My table.

His eyes sweep across the challengers before landing on me. They narrow. His mouth is turned up in an amused smile, but his tone is cold as steel as he says, “You, girl. What kind of blade do you have that is better than my own?”

A hush settles around me. Kira tenses. For as grimy as the king is, he is the most powerful person on this side. He could order me dead, or kill me where I sit, and no one would think twice about it.

“It’s titanium, sir,” I say, keeping my voice measured. Docile, even.

He scoffs. “That would surely shatter against one of my blades. Why not take me up on my offer?”

I will my smile to be pleasant. “For my blade to shatter, someone has to block it.”

Silence.

His eyes narrow. “Silver is silver.”

“Metal is metal when it goes through skin and bone,” I say, smile tight.

Another second of silence. Two. Fuck. I should have just taken one of his damned blades. My heartbeat rattles my chest.

The king tilts his head.