Chapter Five

– Germaine

“My lady, do not hold the sword that way. Grip it with both hands. Otherwise, it can easily be thrown from your grasp.”

Keratin’s voice is as sharp as the blade itself, his forehead creased with that permanent frown that makes me want to smack him with the sword instead of wield it.

I roll my eyes so hard it hurts. “It’s too heavy. Look at me. I weigh barely more than this thing. I’m practically swallowed whole by it.” My arms ache like hell, sweat dripping down my temples, and I drop onto the grass of my backyard with all the drama of a dying heroine. “Let’s take a break.”

“That would make it the third break so far, my lady.” His scowl deepens, disapproval radiating off him in waves.

“Yes, well, it’s a much-needed break.” I flop back against the grass, fanning my tee shirt against my sticky skin. “I’m blazing under these clothes. And I need the bathroom.”

Keratin mutters something about ladies keeping private business private.

“Oh, please,” I shoot back, dragging myself up on my elbows. “I’m only going to pee. Not to do number two. Lighten up and stop being so stuffy.”

His expression can curdle milk.

This has been my life for days now. Since the moment I announced—loud, defiant, reckless—that I was ready to go on this so-called mission to save the world, Storm handed me over to Keratin.

Against Keratin’s will, clearly.

His job?

Teach me how to wield a sword.

My job?

Not faint from exhaustion.

So far, I’m failing miserably.

The first day, I almost passed out just holding the weapon. The second, he tortured me with stamina exercises—planks, squats, push-ups. My muscles burned in places I didn’t know existed. The third day, I managed to hold the sword with both hands. Barely. And yesterday, I actually lifted it without collapsing in a heap.

Progress, sure. But saving the world? Not looking promising.

After relieving myself, I wash my hands and sneak a call to Maria. My heart tightens with guilt—I haven’t set foot in the bakery in nearly a week. My mother’s legacy, left in someone else’s care. The thought gnaws at me, but I remind myself I can’t do everything. Not anymore.

“Hey, Mar,” I say, tucking the phone against my ear. “How are things at the shop?”

“Everything’s fine,” she says, though her voice is tired. “We miss you, though. And the workload’s doubled. More customers than ever. I don’t know where they’re all coming from. We’re swamped.”

I bite my lip, guilt twisting deeper. “I’ll hire someone soon, I promise. Just hang in there, okay?”

We chat about mundane things until she casually drops the bomb. “Oh, by the way—Oliver came by yesterday. Practically breathing fire down my throat. Wanted to know where you were. I told him I hadn’t seen you and maybe he should call.”

I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Because he’s a dirt bag, that’s why.”

She presses, curious, but I only mutter, “He wasn’t sincere with me,” and end the call before my voice cracks.

When I turn, Keratin is leaning in the doorway, his gaze unreadable. My pulse jumps. “What?”

He doesn’t answer right away. His silence is unnerving, his eyes sharper than the blade he’s been shoving into my hands all week. Finally, he speaks. “Why, my lady? Why do you want to do this?”

I bristle. “First of all, my name is Germaine. Please use it. And second, what do you mean, why do I want to do this?”

He steps inside, the room suddenly smaller with his presence. “Why are you going on this mission? It will be dangerous. We will face creatures you cannot imagine—some even I have never seen. Do you wish to throw away all you have built here in your world?” His hand gestures vaguely at my life—the bakery, the house, everything. “I know things did not go well with Oliver, but another man could woo you. There are other paths.”

“Stop. Right there.” Fury ignites in me, swift and hot. “Who made you boss of my life, huh?”

His brows knit, but I barrel on. “I choose what I do. Not you. Not Storm. Not the dwarf.” I jab a finger at his chest. “I’m going on this mission because—”

The words choke me.

Because I’m burned out. Because I need to breathe. Because I love the bakery so much it hurts, and sometimes you have to step away from what you love to come back stronger. Because my mother gave me this dream, and I’ve been carrying it alone for so long.

But I can’t tell him that. Not when his eyes are sharp, searching, ready to cut.

He leans closer. “You cannot reply because you do not know.”

The nearness of him catches me off guard. He smells of earth and pine, a wild, grounding scent that stirs something low in my stomach. My gaze snags on his eyes—half-moon irises, strange and beautiful. My throat goes dry.

I take a step back, shaking off the pull. “You’re wrong. I want to be part of history. To save worlds. To find the talisman.” I lift my chin. “Speaking of which, why don’t you tell me what this talisman actually does?”

His sigh is heavy. “Ask Storm. Only the Moon Goddess knows where he and the golem have gone.”

“Golem, yeah?” I blink. “He looks more like a dwarf.”

Keratin’s eyes widen. “Moon Goddess, no. And for your sake, do not call him that to his face.”

Noted.

I rub my temples. “Training tomorrow. I need rest.”

Something flashes in his gaze—pity, maybe, or something I can’t name. “Of course, my lady. Perhaps by some feat of magic, you will hold the sword and even wield it.” He bows and leaves.

His words stick with me long after.

I’m still mulling them over when I spot a cab pulling up outside. My heart jumps into my throat. Oliver? If it’s him, I’ll end this once and for all.

But it isn’t.

Storm and the golem step out, grocery bags in hand, dressed like undercover agents—dark glasses, button-downs, trousers Cordelia must’ve dug out of her father’s closet. The sight is so absurd I clap a hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh.

Storm scratching his back like an ordinary man, not some fire-eyed sorcerer, only makes it worse.

Keratin’s words echo: Perhaps by some feat of magic…

The idea blooms inside me, wild and sudden. Magic.

Abandoning my perch, I race downstairs, intercepting them at the door. “Storm! Where did you guys go?”

The golem doesn’t answer, just stares as usual. Storm bows, overly formal. “Hello, Germaine. How do you do?”

A giggle escapes before I can stop it. He frowns, confused. “Is something funny?”

That does it. Laughter bubbles out of me, uncontrollable. He looks ridiculous in human clothes, and I can’t take him seriously.

“You laugh at me, my lady?”

“Germaine,” I correct between giggles. “Just Germaine. Otherwise, I’ll never stop laughing.”

His jaw tightens, but he concedes. “Very well, Germaine. How are the sword lessons progressing?”

“Not well.” My shoulders slump. “I don’t know why you picked me. I can’t even hold a sword. Look at me.” I gesture down my sweat-drenched body. “Do I look like someone who can fight monsters?”

Behind him, the golem snickers. I glare until he shuts up.

Storm doesn’t comment. Instead, he heads into the kitchen, unloading groceries with deliberate care. “You underestimate yourself, Germaine. You do not see what I see.”

I huff. “Yeah, right. Why don’t we just use magic?”

He stills. When he turns, his face is pale, grave. “Germaine… my magic…” His words falter. His knees buckle, and he nearly collapses. Keratin materializes out of nowhere, catching him, hauling him to the couch.

My chest tightens. Storm’s eyes are closed, his breathing shallow.

“What happened?” My voice cracks, sharp with fear.

The golem wrings his hands. “I told him not to do it. But he insisted. For you.” His glare sears me, accusing.

“What did he do?”

“He used his magic on everyone at the market. To get these groceries.”

I frown. “Meaning?”

Keratin’s voice is horrified. “He hazed them?”

“What the hell does hazing even mean?” My frustration spikes.

Storm’s voice is quiet, strained. “It means I coerced them. Made them give me the groceries without memory of it.”

My stomach drops. “You stole. And worse—you erased their memories? That’s—Storm, that’s not okay. That’s… monstrous.”

Keratin laughs bitterly. “Only if they remember.”

I gape at him, outrage boiling. That’s worse than stealing. Taking people’s will, their memories. How is that any better than what Oliver did to me?

Storm forces himself upright, rubbing his temples. “It was the least I could do. You’ve fed us. Housed us. Clothed us. I wanted to repay you.”

Repay me? By sacrificing his strength? By making himself collapse? By stealing?

I press a hand over my mouth, torn between fury and guilt. “Look at you. Weak. Shaking.”

“I’m fine,” he insists, trying to stand.

“You’re not fine.” My voice is steel. “And you’re not off the hook. When you recover, you’re teaching me magic. No excuses. No arguments.”

Keratin shrugs, resigned. The golem digs into the kitchen.

But Storm’s gaze finds mine, his green-gold eyes gleaming with something fierce. “Then prepare yourself, Germaine. Because by the time I’m done with you… you will breathe and eat magic.”

A shiver runs down my spine—not of fear, but anticipation.