She almost laughed. If he only knew who she was. “Tell me, blacksmith—”
“Roderick,” he snapped.
Her brows lifted. “Tell me,Roderick, will you make one for the Queen of the Mystic Vale?”
His arms dropped to his side, his demeanor changing from resistance to interest. “Are you here on her behalf?”
She grinned. “You could say that, yes.” She turned her gaze back to the shimmering blade and motioned to it. “Tell me about this one.”
“It’s enchanted,” he said.
“It’s magic?” she asked.
“In a manner of speaking.” He reached for it and brought it down from the wall, handing it to her hilt first.
She took it in her hand, the smooth wood of the hilt resting against her palm. The blade itself looked as though it were a masterpiece instead of a weapon. It was lightweight in her hand. She reached for the blade, desperate to touch it.
“Don’t,” he warned. “It’s sharp.”
As she met his eyes, she saw the warning glint there.
“What makes it shimmer?”
He chuckled. “Trade secret. I can’t tell you that.”
The man was infuriating. “Then at least tell me what an enchanted bladedoes.”
“It does what the wielder wants.” Another cryptic reply.
“I don’t understand.”
He held his hand out for the blade. She turned the hilt back toward him, but as she was about to hand it over, a blinding flash of light erupted from its hilt. Heat burned her hand. Startled, she dropped it to the ground with a dull thud. The small forge filled with the metallic tinge of magic as she stared wide-eyed at the man, her heart racing with astonishment at the sudden display of power.
“What was that flash?” she asked.
“A warning.”
He merely grinned as he bent to pick it up. “It’s linked to the bearer. It can make a knight undefeatable in battle once it understands how the knight fights. This one belongs to me.”
“You said it was a special commission.”
“Yes. For myself.” He grinned.
He replaced it back on the wall.
“You mean, it enhances skills?” She eyed it, curious.
He nodded. “A hunter would always catch his prey. A knight would always defeat his enemy.”
“And a blacksmith?”
“Always forges the perfect blade.”
“I suppose that’s why you’re amasterblacksmith, then.”
“I suppose it is,” he said.
A wide smile spread over her face. The back of her neck tingled with sweet anticipation as she thought of the power of the enchanted blade. Wielding one against Snow White would ensure the woman would die. But she could not be the one to kill her. She needed an assassin. Someone she could trust. But who?
