HEIRS TO THE THRONE

The Sunmaso guards marched past the national blacksmith workshop holding lighted torches above their heads and carrying long spears.

Taeyang grabbed Baekho by the collar and yanked him behind the shed.

"Quiet," he hissed.

Baekho's back hit the wooden wall. His eyes were wide. The torchlight from the passing patrol flickered across his face, and for three long seconds, neither of them breathed.

The guards passed. Their footsteps faded.

Taeyang released his grip.

"You nearly got us caught," he whispered fiercely.

"I nearly got us caught? You're the one who insisted we come here tonight."

"You shouldn't have come if you didn't want to.”Taeyang hissed, peering round the corner of the shed. The courtyard was empty now, the guards' torches had already disappeared at the last bend. "They're gone."

From the shadows near the workshop gate, two more figures emerged. Soohyun first with Yohan behind him.

"Did you find it?" Taeyang demanded the moment they were within earshot.

Yohan nodded, but his expression was uneasy. "The doors were bolted. But Baekho was right. I found the key just like he said." He held it up displaying a heavy iron key, in his hands. “The blacksmith didn't even notice me."

"Of course he didn't." Taeyang stepped out from behind the shed, brushing off his sleeves with exaggerated pride. "You're the best thief in Hanseong."

"I'm not a thief, I'm a pickpocket. There's a difference."

"It all looks like the same thing to me, anyway, Let's go."

He started for the workshop doors, but Soohyun's hand caught his arm.

"Taeyang. Wait."

"What?"

Soohyun glanced at the key in Yohan's hand, then at the workshop doors, then back at Taeyang. His jaw was tight. "This is different from the other things we've done."

"It's a workshop. We've been here dozens of times."

"During the day. With permission." Soohyun's voice dropped. "Breaking in after dark isn't a prank. If we get caught—"

"We won't get caught."

"You don't know that."

"I know we've been watching this place for three weeks. We know the guard schedules and how everything works, nothing can possibly go wrong. Come on." He said, pulling his arm free. "But you can still wait here if you want."

He walked toward the doors. Behind him, he heard Baekho mutter something and Soohyun sigh. Then footsteps. All three of them, following.

The national blacksmith workshop was not a place that welcomed visitors after dark.

The heavy iron doors were bolted from the inside each evening, and the Imperial seal pressed into the lock was warning enough for anyone sensible to stay off, The workshop belonged to the empire. Its forges, its tools, its inventory of unfinished blades, all of it was property of the crown, accessible only to those with the proper clearance.

Taeyang had neither clearance nor sense. What he had was a stolen key and a desperate, gnawing need to make something with his own hands.

The lock gave way with a soft click and Yohan pushed the door open just wide enough for them to slip through in single file. Then he eased it shut, and the darkness swallowed them.

The forges still held their warmth.

The coals had been banked low for the night, but they still glowed beneath the iron grates, throwing the workshop into shifting amber light. Shadows moved across the stone walls like living things. Rows of workbenches ran the length of the space, cluttered with tongs and hammers and molds. Unfinished blades lay in ordered rows on a rack near the far wall.

Baekho positioned himself at the door. "One hour. That's all we have before the patrol circles back."

"I know that much." Taeyang said strolling to the nearest forge.

"Taeyang." Soohyun appeared at his elbow. "There are instructions on the wall."

"I saw them already."

"You're not reading them."

"I don't need to." He pulled on the heavy leather gloves. "We've been watching the blacksmiths for weeks."

"Watching isn't the same as doing."

Taeyang turned to face him. "What do you want me to say, Soohyun? That I don't know what I'm doing? Fine. I don't. But I'm going to figure it out anyway. That's what I do."

"That's what you do," Soohyun repeated disbelievingly.

"Yes."

"And that's worked out well for you so far?"

The words hung in the air. Taeyang's grip tightened on the tongs.

"I don't remember asking for your opinion."

"You never do."

They stared at each other. Yohan shifted uncomfortably near the workbench. Baekho watched from the door, his expression caught between intervention and letting them sort it out.

Finally, Soohyun stepped back. "Fine. Burn the place down if you want. I'll be by the door."

He walked away. Taeyang watched him go back before turning back to the forge.

The work turned out to be harder than he'd expected.

Watching the craftsmen work had made the whole thing look easy but now, heating up the fire and iron together Taeyang realized things were different from the way it looked, the raw iron stock he'd selected was stubborn and uncooperative under his hands.

He worked the bellows until the forge temperature rose to something that felt right to him, then he resumed heating the iron. He hammered it after and reheated some more and hammered it again.

The shape came out terrible.

He groaned, wiped sweat from his forehead, and kept going.

Behind him, he heard Yohan and Soohyun talking in low voices. He couldn't make out the words they were saying until he heard his name.

"Taeyang." Baekho called from the door. "We've been here for almost an hour."

"I know that." He puffed.

"The patrol comes through the outer courtyard every hour, If they see the light through the windows—"

"I said I know."

A pause. "You have twenty minutes. Maybe less."

"Can you just let me concentrate on this."

He raised the hammer again. The iron was cooling, losing its glow. But he didn't bother reheating it, He swung his hammer down on it instead.

The iron cracked.

Taeyang stared at the ruined metal in horror and for a moment he actually allowed himself believe what everyone was saying about him.

A useless prince. A failed swordsman. A drunk. A womanizer. And now, apparently, a failed blacksmith too.

He threw the hammer down. It clattered against the stone floor.

"Taeyang—" Yohan started.

"Don't." He grabbed another piece of iron from the bin. "I'm not leaving until I get this right."

"You don't have time—"

"I don't care."

He shoved the iron into the forge and reached for the bellows, pumping them hard. The coals flared. The temperature rose. His frustration rose with it, hot and blinding, and he didn't notice a sudden pressure that had risen behind his sternum until it was too late.

His hand moved on its own.

A column of flame erupted from his palm, It hit the blade on the anvil and kept going, rolling across the workbench, catching the oiled leather of the hanging tools, jumping to the rack of unfinished blades before any of them had drawn a full breath. The fire was impossibly fast, impossibly hot, and Taeyang stumbled backward, his hand still extended, watching the flames spread with horror.

Yohan screamed.

"What did you do?" Soohyun was rushing toward him, his face pale in the firelight. "Taeyang, what did you do?"

But Taeyang wasn't listening. He was holding his right hand up to his face, staring at it. The leather glove had burned away completely.

His skin was unmarked.

"How—" He choked on the sentence.

Everyone knew he had no resonance, how could he..

He was still lost in thoughts and shock when Baekho rushed over to the fire, unleashing Ice from his palms, frost spreading across his fingers as he took aim at the nearest flames. The fire roared back at him, indifferent.

"It's not working!" he shouted after three more tries. "The fire's too fast, it's reached the oil stores—"

An explosion shook the workshop as the oil beneath the workbenches caught.

Soohyun grabbed Taeyang by the arm. "We have to go. Now."

"But I did it—"

"Now!"

He was dragged out of the workshop, they stumbled out into the cold night air. Leaving the fire burning behind them.

Taeyang was still clinging to his hands with a shocked, horror-stricken expression when Baekho cried. “The Summaso guards are here.”

The sound of racing footsteps and the glow of lighted torches rushed into the courtyard all at once, trapping them all in the middle of courtyard.