Chapter 155: A Certain Someone

Orion frowned, his brows knitting together as he turned his gaze from the forge’s glowing embers to Mary. "What do you mean by that?" he asked, his voice low but edged with amusement, as though he already knew where this was going and wanted to see how far she’d go with it.

Mary arched a brow, her soot-streaked face catching the orange light of the flames. "Don’t play dumb with me, Orion," she said, straightening from the anvil where she’d been checking the balance on a newly forged blade. "You know exactly what I mean."

He tilted his head, feigning ignorance with that measured patience of his, the kind that often unnerved anyone who didn’t know him well. But Mary did.

Her hammer clanged down onto the table, startling the quiet between them. "You’re happy," she said, her tone teasing but laced with curiosity. "And I don’t mean the usual kind of happy where yo’ve outsmarted Ronan and Lysander or when you win a duel. I mean..." she gestured toward him with the small tongs still in her hand, "this kind of happy. It’s unusual. Childlike, even."

He chuckled, the sound deep and genuine. "Childlike? That’s a new one."

She grinned. "Normally, after the festival, you mope. Sometimes you’re angry. Sometimes you’re brooding so hard even the moon avoids your balcony. But this?" She gestured at him again. "This is strange."

Orion only smiled in return. The crackling firelight caught on the faint curve of his mouth, turning it into something almost boyish.

Mary folded her arms. "I heard a rumour," she said, voice sing-song, "that you actually took part in the festival last night."

His smile widened a fraction. "They weren’t rumours."

Mary blinked, half expecting denial. When he didn’t give it, her grin spread into a smirk. "You’re serious?"

"Dead serious."

"Well, now..." She said with a shake of her head. "What happened? How?"

Orion paused, his hands resting on the edge of the table. The way the light flickered across his expression made it harder to tell what emotion passed behind his eyes. But then he said quietly, "Someone was adamant I attended the festival and not mope."

Mary stilled, "Ah," she said softly, smiling knowingly. "And let me guess...it’s the same someone you’re having me craft these daggers for, isn’t it?"

Orion turned his head toward her, and the corner of his lips lifted again. "You’re nosy."

Mary laughed, wiping her hands on a rag and setting it aside. "You know that’s not an insult to me."

Orion chuckled. "It’s not an insult to anyone in this pack."

"So?" she prodded. "Am I right?"

He didn’t answer her directly, which was, of course, answer enough.

"The daggers," he said, steering the conversation back to business, or trying to. "I’ll need six."

"Six?" she repeated, picking up one of the papers. "That’s a bit excessive for a single user."

"They are not for decoration or just ornaments." Orion replied.

"You expect whoever this is to be able to use the daggers to fight?" Mary asked him.

"Yes." He told her with a nod. "Buy I also need you to make it light. They should be balanced enough for someone with little training, someone who might not have the stamina to swing a heavy weapon. The blades must be sharp but narrow, good for precision, not brute strength."

Mary nodded, taking everything in.

He didn’t deny it. "They should respond well to movement. If she needs to defend herself, she shouldn’t have to think twice about how to use them. Instinct should do the rest."

"Hmm," Mary murmured, "You’ve already thought this through."

"I had time to," he said.

"Or reason to," she corrected with a small smile. "Do you have any more requests, like anything specific you want to add?"

Orion paused mulling on his words before he spoke up. "I have something for the hilt."

"Okay?"

"It should be something that doesn’t slip," he said. "Something that suits her."

Mary waited, sensing his hesitation.

He exhaled, his tone softening. "The hilt should be shaped like flowing vines, interwoven, almost like roots. Strong but delicate. I want the metal to curve just slightly toward the guard, where it meets the blade, like the branches of a tree that bend but don’t break. The grip can be wrapped in something that’ll age softly with use, not stain easily."

Mary’s gaze flicked between him, her expression thoughtful. "You’re quite the poet when you want to be."

Orion laughed at that.

"Do you want the blades to be able to withstand a Skylur’s hide?" Mary asked him.

Orion nodded. "That’s exactly what I need. Something light but sharp and strong enough to be able to defeat the beasts around Nirvana."

"So it’s basically a weapon. For self defense but should be similar to what a warrior carries is that it?" She asked him.

Orion nodded. The idea came easily to him. Sophia had been running for some time now and while her stamina wasn’t still at its best, it was better, he was sure of that.

And given the fact that there was this unsettling feeling, he deemed it better that Sophia had something to use to defend herself. When he had taught her to use the dagger at the stall, he noticed just how easy she was able to use it, how it was like the dagger was something that called to her even though she did hit him at some point.

The daggers would help if she was in any danger, something like what happened that time Tobias had taken her out of the pack and when she came face to face with a Skylur.

This also meant that he was going to have to teach her how to use the daggers. But then a thought struck him, what if it was a close combat or what if it was a situation where she couldn’t use the daggers or throw them?

Mary observed the frown on his face. "Is something wrong?" She asked him.