Marsheila Rockwell - The Shard Axe

“ Now it’s over,” he said.

Yes, thought Sabira, I think it finally is.

And then she sank to the floor, her back against the wall. Aggar levered himself down beside her and the two, too exhausted to go any farther, settled in to wait for one of the engineers to find them.

It is clear that the sole perpetrator of these murders was Eddarga Noldrun, also known as the assassin ‘Nightshard.’ Therefore, this Council finds Aggar Tordannon innocent of all charges. Aggar, you are free to go, with our apologies to you and the entire Tordannon clan.”

When Torlan Mroranon had finished speaking, Aggar, standing fully clothed in front of the semicircle of thrones, nodded his head graciously. The small matter of his having disappeared while in custody had been deliberately overlooked once Sabira had testified about her experiences beneath Frostmantle and had shown Nightshard’s ring as proof. If the Council had needed additional evidence of the truth of her statements, the teams of engineers working to clear out the cooled and hardened magma beneath the city and diverting what remained of the active magma flow back to the Fist of Onatar had provided more than enough.

Sabira, watching from her seat beside Elix, expected Aggar to accept the Council’s apologies and put an end to the trial that had already taken up far too much of both her time and his. But instead of responding, she saw him tug at his beard, and noticed Kiruk doing the same.

What was he up to now?

“On behalf of the Tordannon clan,” Aggar said after a quick, silent exchange with his father, “I accept the Council’s apology. But I fear my clan’s business before this august body is not yet concluded.”

Torlan looked surprised, and Kiruk stood.

“If I may?”

Nonplussed, the Mroranon ceded the floor to his fellow Councilor.

As Aggar stepped back, his father spoke.

“Marshal, please come forward.”

Frowning, Sabira looked at Elix, who motioned for her to stand with a barely suppressed smile. Clearly he had no questions about which Marshal Kiruk meant.

She walked forward, giving Aggar a suspicious look as she passed him, but he just grinned in reply.

“Sabira d’Deneith,” Kiruk said when she’d taken Aggar’s place before the Council, “for your past service to Clan Tordannon, we have previously rewarded you with our clan’s most prized weapon, the shard axe. However, we find that in light of your recent actions, this reward is no longer appropriate.”

Sabira fought the sudden urge to grab the urgrosh from its harness on her back and hold it protectively before her. Were they going to take it away from her? Why? Because Orin had died on her watch? Or because she’d attacked and nearly maimed Aggar, who still bore a slight limp as a result?

But, no. Kiruk was fighting to suppress a grin now, as well.

What in Dol Dorn’s name was going on here?

“No mere weapon, no matter how priceless, can adequately repay your loyalty and sacrifice for this clan,” Kiruk continued. “You have acted in all respects as only a member of this clan would. Accordingly, we have chosen to bestow upon you the highest honor any non-dwarf can attain—to welcome you into our clan as a hearthdaughter, through the Ceremony of Blood, Steel, and Stone. Will you accept this honor and this responsibility?”

Murmuring had broken out among the Council at his words, and Sabira saw many of the members nodding and smiling, Anneka chief among them.

She wasn’t sure what her superiors were going to think about this new development, though Elix was clearly in on it and approved. It would make her, in essence, a Deneith dwarf. But how could she possibly refuse without damaging the very relationship she’d been tasked with coming here to salvage?

“Insomuch as I am worthy of such a gift, I do humbly accept both the honor and the responsibility,” Sabira replied, the same words she had used when she’d been given her shard axe. But where her utterance of the phrase had been riddled with guilt before, now she spoke the words with simple gratitude. She’d made her choice willingly this time.

“Aggar?”

The Tordannon heir stepped up to face her, followed by Rockfist, who held a wooden box inscribed with the clan crest. Aggar opened the box to reveal two daggers, likewise emblazoned with the Tordannon crest, one made of stone and the other of steel. He took one in each hand, his former cheer hidden now behind a mask of solemnity.

“Hold your right hand out, palm up,” he instructed her, as serious as she had ever seen him.

When she had done so, he raised the daggers.

“Sabira Lyet d’Deneith, I welcome you into Clan Tordannon. By blood …”

He drove the points of both daggers into the soft flesh of her palm.

“… steel …”

He drew the steel dagger across her palm, drawing a red line that welled blood for a moment, then healed over, leaving a fresh pink scar.

“… and stone.”

Aggar drew the stone dagger down as he’d done with the steel one, creating a second red line that bled and scarred over as quickly as the first had. Then he returned the daggers, neither showing any trace of blood, back to their velvet-lined box, and the barrister took them away.

“You shall henceforth be known as Sabira Lyet d’Deneith Tordannon,” he said formally. Then he let the mask drop and his grin returned, even bigger than before.

“Welcome to the family, sis!” he said, grabbing her up into a fierce embrace while the Iron Council looked on, many of them cheering.

Later, the five of them walked over to the Crown and Scepter, where Kiruk had reserved a private dining room for them to celebrate. The Tordannon patriarch led the small group, followed by Aggar and Rockfist, who were arguing over the barrister’s fee. Sabira and Elix took up the rear, walking in companionable silence.

Outside the restaurant, Sabira paused, her hand on Elix’s arm. When Aggar turned to see why they weren’t following him through the door, she waved him inside.

“We’ll be there in a moment. You can start without us.”

Aggar raised one red eyebrow and looked from her to Elix, then back again, taking in the way her hand lingered on the other Marshal’s arm.

“So it’s like that, is it?” he asked with a surprised smile.

“Yes, it’s like that.”

At least I hope it is, she thought.

Aggar’s grin widened and he gave Elix a quick salute before heading into the restaurant and leaving them alone on the street.

Sabira turned to look up at the dark-haired captain, searching the depths of his hazel eyes. There was so much she wanted to say to him, about Ned, about herself, about them. She didn’t know where to begin.

“Elix, I …,” she began, faltered, then started again. “Aboard the Dancer … ”

“Saba, it’s fine—”

“No, it’s not. What I said about Ned … I didn’t mean …”

“Saba—”

“… and then in your message, when you said you hadn’t lied …”

“Sabira,” he said forcefully, taking her face in his hands. “Shut up. That’s an order.”

And then his lips met hers and, for the first time, there was no shade of the past to come between them and leech away the warmth of their embrace.

Sabira pulled away first, breathless.

“We’d better get inside before Kiruk sends out a search party.”

“Let him,” Elix murmured, his gaze traveling up from her mouth, lips still slightly parted, to meet her longing look with one of his own.

She laughed softly at that, then stood on her toes to press one last, quick kiss against the blue skin of his dragonmark before whispering in his ear.