A Fist Forged from Iron: Blood Magic, #3

By Katy Haye

Ana has been reunited with her son, but she's far from enjoying the independent life she thought her magic would provide. Appointed sorcerer to the king, the Muirland palace may be luxurious, but it feels like an ornate cage. And the king seems unable to decide whether he wants to use Ana's magic – or destroy it.

Working with her friends, Ana develops ways to use her magic that could free her from royal demands – but when old enemies reappear, her resolutions to only do good will be tested to the full.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Plumshine Books
• Release date: Jul 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9798215982914

Book preview

A Fist Forged from Iron

Ana has been reunited with her son, but she’s far from enjoying the independent life she thought her magic would provide. Appointed sorcerer to the king, the Muirland palace may be luxurious, but it feels like an ornate cage. And the king seems unable to decide whether he wants to use Ana’s magic – or destroy it.

Working with her friends, Ana develops ways to use her magic that could free her from royal demands – but when old enemies reappear, her resolutions to only do good will be tested to the full.

1

An order from the king wasn’t something one could ignore. Especially not when it was delivered by the king’s terrifying bodyguard.

Ana froze when Tamas strode in, followed by a dozen guards. Her heart pounded as though she expected an assassination, although that was preposterous. They wouldn’t kill her in her rooms; blood couldn’t possibly be allowed to stain the fine carpets covering the boards inside the palace.

Davin, employed to study Ana and her magic, had less call to expect death to be lying in wait. He pushed away from his worktable and inserted himself between her and the troop of guards. What is this?

Tamas, a man as wide as he was tall – and he was very tall – stopped and faced them. A sword swung at his side, although he didn’t need that to be intimidating. Grey hairs dotted his hair and beard but there was nothing of the dotard about the man. A wall of muscle was the description that came to Ana’s mind. The king wants to know what you can do.

Her palms were sticky. I’m supposed to fight guards? Her gaze darted over the other men, now lined up impassively against the wall. None was quite at Tamas’s level, but they were all built on a similar, solid scale. Davin folded his arms as though he had no intention of going anywhere, and she was glad of the reassurance.

Tamas gave her a flat look. Do you think we’d need a dozen men for that? No, girl. You’re supposed to send them to sleep. Can you do that?

Ana licked her lips.

Davin spoke up before she could reply. Sorcerer.

Both of them swung to him. Tamas’s frown deepened. What?

"Ana is a user of magic, not a girl. She should be titled ‘Sorcerer Ana’."

Tamas’s expression didn’t change. His tone was so dry as to be insolent. "Sorcerer Ana, the king commands you to use your magic to send these men to sleep. His attention switched to Davin. And you will study what she does and send a report on the matter to His Majesty."

Very well. Ana stepped forward before the men’s argument grew worse. They’d been at the palace a week, at the king’s insistence. If she were honest, she was surprised it had taken so long for him to start making demands. If he wanted proof of her abilities, the king could have it. This, at least, was relatively harmless.

She glanced aside. Davin had picked up a notebook and charcoal pencil. She stood in front of the first guard and avoided his straight-ahead gaze as she took a breath, felt for the magic at her heart and wrapped her fingers around the man’s wrist. He gave a sighing breath and slumped against the wall behind him, sliding to the floor as Ana stepped back to give him room, releasing his arm. She only had time to register the nervous dip of the next soldier’s throat before her fingers touched his skin and he went the same way as his fellow.

The first six were effortless, her magic flowing through her, an extension of her will. A detached part of her revelled at how much control she had gained over her abilities. The next two took longer, her strength faltering. The ball of magic at her core was ebbing. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, forcing her magic to reach to her fingertips and transfer to the waiting soldiers. A low buzz of fatigue hummed at the back of her head. She had to blink to keep number nine in focus.

When he slumped to the floor, she stepped back and waited for the tiredness to pass.

Do you—

She threw up a hand to stop whatever query Davin was about to make. Tamas was watching her with a flat expression that nonetheless shouted contempt. She wasn’t going to show weakness in front of him. If the king wanted a dozen, that’s what he’d get.

Davin scribbled a note and she moved to the next man, closing her eyes to focus on the depleted ball of magic flickering inside her, forcing her will along the threads of magic.

The twelfth man must have stood for a minute with her hand gripping his wrist before he finally succumbed. Ana stepped back, breathing hard.

You should sit, Davin told her.

I’d like some water, she said instead. She’d sit when Tamas left the room. It was foolish to try and match strength with a man like that, but it was a piece of defiance she wouldn’t deprive herself of.

Davin carried a flask of water always at his hip. He pressed it into her hand. She sipped, tasting firethorn as well as water on her tongue. It wasn’t enough to replace all the energy she’d lost, but it helped her stand straight.

I’ll send a report to His Majesty this afternoon, Davin said, a clear dismissal.

Tamas gave a cold smile. He turned to the closed door, Men! The door opened and another dozen guards marched inside. Tamas jerked a finger and they lined up in front of their fallen colleagues.

Ana’s fingers tightened on the flask. No. I can’t do that all again.

Davin scowled. She’s done.

Tamas’s expression held absolutely nothing. She’s still on her feet. I’d march my men to exhaustion if that were my order.

She isn’t one of your men.

She’ll do as the king bids her.

There’s nothing more to learn from this.

Are you gainsaying the king’s order?

Davin’s jaw tightened. I—

I can do more. Ana took another swig of firethorn water and handed the flask back to Davin. Make sure you capture everything. Because she didn’t plan to do this again.

The magic inside her had been strengthened by the firethorn, but there were threads instead of the solid mass she was used to. The first man took two minutes to send to sleep, the second five. Through humming now loud enough to drown out the sounds in the room, Ana wondered why it wasn’t easier to send them to sleep now that she was exhausted herself. She wasn’t having to find the sensation inside her, it was right there. She should discuss it with Davin. She opened her mouth to tell him the thought but her tongue was too heavy to form the words.

The noise grew louder. Her grip around the third guard’s wrist was the only thing she was aware of.

She’s done. Davin’s insistent voice echoed.

She felt his arm go around her back. Her knees wobbled and she was grateful for Davin’s support.

She’s done when I say she’s done. Tamas’s cold voice rang through the buzzing in her ears.

Working her to her limits shows she has limits. Well done, very scientific of you.

Tamas loomed, grabbing her free arm and pulling her away from Davin. Her bones felt like jelly. Come on, girl. Show me what you can do.

Another emotion pushed through the fatigue: anger. She let go of the guard and grabbed for Tamas’s hand instead, forcing her body to draw on the last of her strength to send the fury coursing through her body into his.

No! Davin snatched her hand away. Her fingers tugged out of Tamas’s grip before her magic could reach him. This experiment is over. Davin’s arms went around her. She wobbled, wanting nothing more than to fall onto the carpet that looked softer and more inviting by the moment. He gripped tighter, holding her against his side. I’ll send a report to the king. He took two steps, Ana stumbling beside him. Take your rubbish with you. Those were the final words that rang over her head before Ana let herself fall into oblivion.

2

Willan! Ana woke with a start, fear snatching her out of the quiet of sleep. She couldn’t remember fetching her son from the palace nursery; couldn’t be sure where he was.

Peace, he’s here. Davin was sitting beside her bed, her fifteen-month-old son on his lap. Willan was swathed with a cloth tucked around his neck, while his face was gluey with porridge. Davin was ferrying the boy’s breakfast from a bowl set out of reach of his grasping hands.

Davin. Thank you. She sagged back against the pillows.

Here. Davin put the spoon in the bowl and reached past it to fetch a cup of water from the table.

As she’d expected, it contained firethorn tincture. She guzzled it down, welcoming the way it dissipated her exhaustion.

I wanted to get some into you before you went to sleep last night, but I didn’t get the chance.

She nodded. She didn’t remember getting into her room, much less her bed.

We’ll take it easy today, Davin told her. So you can recover.

Her expression twisted. If we’re allowed to. I’m at the king’s command, remember.

Davin’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue – how could he? Willan broke the tension by cooing and waving a sticky fist. Davin continued serving him breakfast.

Ana vanished behind the screen to wash and dress. Ready to face the day, she sank onto her bed, brushing her hair into a neat braid while she watched Davin and Willan. All done, Davin declared, using the cloth to wipe the worst of the porridge from Willan’s face and hands.

Why weren’t you scared to touch me? That she did remember; Davin prying her hands off Tamas.

I’m sorry to break it to you, Ana, but you don’t scare me. He smiled and jiggled Willan on his knee, pulling faces and detaching the boy’s grubby, sticky fists from his kerchief as though nothing in the world could trouble him.

Why not?

Because I can control myself.

She coloured. "I can control myself, now!"

Davin shook his head. That wasn’t a dig at you, but them. It’s not all down to your magic, you know. You might provide a stimulus, but they’re in charge of their response.

I sent them to sleep. She chose not to think about what she’d been about to send to Tamas. How are they supposed to respond to that except for sleeping?

He raised his brows. According to their leader, they can march through exhaustion. Maybe they just weren’t trying very hard yesterday.

Ana shivered. She’d been the one working hard, but perhaps that was because she tried to keep on through her fatigue instead of succumbing to it. She shook her head. I appreciate you trying to make me feel better, but I’m aware of what I do.

I’m not trying to make you feel better. Willan grizzled, reaching for her and Ana took him, hugging him close while he grabbed her braid and gnawed the end. This is the sort of conversation we need to start having now that magic is becoming accepted across Muirland. Everyone can’t simply turn round and claim, ‘Oh, magic made me do it!’ We’ll end up cowering away from what’s possible if we do.

Ana fell silent, her gaze unfocusing. It was easy for Davin to argue theoretical points. She knew what her magic did; what it had done; things that had no possible blame except her own.

Okay, let’s take an example, Davin declared, folding his arms. "You think your ex only loved you because you made him fall for you."

She was too tongue-tied to reply, wishing she’d never confided that to Davin.

Maybe you did enchant your ex to love you – but we know you have to be in contact with someone for your magic to affect them, so what was his excuse when you weren’t there with him?

Ana’s mouth fell open, but no reply came.

Davin grinned. See. Aren’t you glad you’ve got my brains on hand?

She shoved his arm. I give thanks daily.

Come on. He stood, clapping his hands before holding them out to Willan. Her son, the traitor, reached up eagerly. Time for the day to start, young man, Davin declared.

Willan gurgled happily.

They dropped him off at the palace nursery where the children of several court lords and ladies were his playmates. Mabelle and Jarmon, the royal children, were too old for nursery. They had lessons elsewhere. Ana was glad of the fact. She’d met Mabelle on the night of the midsummer ball; a memorable night for many reasons. She and Ana shared a secret even the princess’s parents were unaware of so she was glad there would be little chance of bumping into either the princess or her parents.

Next, they went to the chamberlain’s rooms. Davin had to give his report on Ana’s abilities to the king, but he wouldn’t set it into the king’s hand himself. Oh no, he was far too lowly for that.

The chamberlain looked down his nose, although he promised to set the report on the king’s desk.

Will he read it, do you suppose? Ana asked as they turned to head back to their rooms.

Eventually. Davin was irrepressibly cheerful. We wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t interested. He nudged her. The king doesn’t have time to waste our time.

She wondered if that was true.

They turned a corner and she almost collided with someone. Jumping back, she noted the rich fabrics of the man’s clothes, the expensive scent and the aura of wealth that hung around him. It took a moment for her to recognise the man himself.

Uh, Lord Venner. She ducked into a hurried curtsy. Davin bowed.

The king’s councillor didn’t speak. Ana hardly expected it. She looked away from his piercing gaze, stepping back until the wall met her back. He gave the merest nod of acknowledgement and continued on his way, his heel squeaking on the floorboards.

Ana blew out a breath. Davin watched the lord’s retreating back. And how pleased do we think Torran was when he could leave his stepfather’s house and attend the academy? he murmured.

The words weren’t serious. And they certainly didn’t need a reply, but Ana still gave one. I think they get on. When she’d seen them together it had been clear Torran respected his stepfather and, in his frosty way, Lord Venner seemed pleased with his wife’s first son.

Ana spun away from the man and hurried on. She gave a sigh of relief when they were safely back in their rooms, shutting the door firmly. Davin set a pot to boiling. I took a sample of your blood last night, he told her. I’m sorry I couldn’t ask first.

Ana rubbed her left thumb, which resembled nothing so much as a pincushion. I guessed as much. Did it tell you anything of interest?

Haven’t studied it yet, he admitted, That’s today’s job. He gave her a level stare. Your job is to recover.

Ana rolled her eyes. I’m not feeble, you know.

Even soldiers would need to recover after being marched to exhaustion, he stated.

Ana shrugged. She remembered something else from the day before. Why did you tell Tamas to call me sorcerer?

Davin turned as though he didn’t understand the question. You’re skilled in magic. You deserve the respect of a title.

But why sorcerer? Women with magic in Muirland are called witches.

His broad nose wrinkled. Witch has unpleasant connotations.

Ana knew that. Until recently, witches could expect to be thrown off Muirland’s cliffs. Then why not mage?

That has bad connotations, too, he pointed out. Sorcerer is the title they use in Nordin, for men and women both. I think we should use it here, too.

Ana frowned. Don’t they use maestro for magic users in Nordin?

Maestro means teacher. A sorcerer uses magic but doesn’t teach their skills.

Oh. She might have left the academy, but she was still learning things. Sorcerer; yes, she liked that. She glanced around their rooms. Relax and recover. That wasn’t something she was accustomed to. While Davin worked she picked up her lumpy knitting to do a few more rows. Right now, it looked worse than anything she’d ever seen from Patience. It seemed entirely possible she’d be too ashamed to send it to her friend, never mind how exciting the news she’d ciphered into the fabric.

She’d barely started when a knock sounded at the door. Davin was busy examining her blood, so Ana stuffed her knitting into the side of the chair and got up to answer the door.

Only to step back when the servant outside grinned at her.

Innarro. The young man was a palace servant, one of the pages who ran errands to and fro. But Ana was afraid he was also a spy, placed at the palace by Uncle Vanu,