Chapter 73 Sparks and Steel

Cherish’s forge sat behind the safe house, half room, half shed. The air was warm even with the windows cracked. Iron smell. Oil on wood. A small fire in the hearth kept a bar of metal red at the tip.

Revoli sat on a crate with her knees pulled up. She watched Cherish work for a while. Hammer. Turn. Quench. Steam lifted and faded.

“You’re quiet,” Cherish said without looking up.

Revoli shrugged. “Thinking.”

“Dangerous habit,” Cherish said. She set the hammer down and finally looked over. “About what?”

Revoli chewed her lip. “How I wish I could be like the others. Patrona. Fara. Skye. Even you.”

Cherish snorted. “That’s four very different problems.” She wiped her hands on a rag and leaned on the bench. “Which one is choking you?”

“All of them.” Revoli stared at the fire. “Patrona is steel. Fara glows when it counts. Skye never shakes. You walk into a room and own it. I crack jokes and then hide when things get heavy. I’m a spark. Not a fire.”

“Who told you that?” Cherish asked.

“No one had to,” Revoli said. “You can feel it.”

“Feeling isn’t fact,” Cherish said. “Say what you really mean.”

Revoli swallowed. “I don’t think he would want me. Not like them.”

There was no sound for a moment but the soft pop from the hearth.

Cherish didn’t soften. “You want to be wanted like them. You think you have to turn into them to get it. Which one first? You want Patrona’s stare? Fara’s shine? Skye’s knives? Or my hips?”

Revoli’s face went hot. “I didn’t say hips.”

“You looked,” Cherish said. “Everyone looks. It’s a tool. It works. It also costs.” She flicked the rag onto a hook. “You can use your body to bend a room. I do. Sometimes that’s the only door that opens. But don’t lie to yourself. It won’t hold a man like him. Not for long. He’s moved by what people do when it hurts.”

Revoli hugged her shins tighter. “What do I have?”

Cherish walked over and tapped Revoli’s forehead with a thick finger, then her chest. “A fast mind. A big heart. You see the joke when no one else can. You cut the fear with it. That’s not small. It’s why the rest of you don’t crack.” She tilted her head. “You think he didn’t feel it in the pit? He didn’t know your name, and he stood in front of you anyway. That wasn’t because you’re steel. It was because you’re you.”

Revoli blinked hard. “It still feels like not enough.”

“Then make it more,” Cherish said. “Being a spark doesn’t mean you run from heat. It means you decide where to land.”

Revoli looked at her. “How?”

“Two paths,” Cherish said, holding up two fingers. “First is posture. Second is promise.”

Revoli frowned. “That sounds stupid.”

“Simple isn’t stupid,” Cherish said. “Posture first. Stand up.” She pointed to the floor.

Revoli stood.

“Feet under you,” Cherish said, nudging a boot. “Chin up. Shoulders back. Eyes level. Don’t tuck in. Don’t apologize with your bones. When you walk into a room, you don’t ask the room to let you in. You walk in.”

Revoli did as told. It felt strange. She wanted to fold back down.

“Hold it,” Cherish said. “Breathe once. Twice. Good. That alone will change how people talk to you.”

Revoli lowered her chin a touch. “And promise?”

“Three things,” Cherish said. She held up a thick finger for each. “One: when it’s serious, you say what you mean out loud. No jokes first. You can joke after, not before. Two: you pick one place to stand when it turns ugly. At his shoulder, not behind his back. Three: you stop guessing what he wants and you ask him one honest question. Not soft. Not around it. Straight in.”

Revoli grimaced. “That last one sounds like swallowing knives.”

“Good,” Cherish said. “Means it matters.”

Revoli glanced at the bench, then back. “If I ask and he says no?”

“Then you’ll know,” Cherish said. “You’ll have ground under your feet instead of fog.”

Revoli sat again, slower this time. “I also want to be… braver. Like you. You don’t seem afraid of people looking.”

Cherish rolled her shoulders. “I’m afraid all the time. I just don’t let fear steer. Being provocative is a choice, not a personality. It’s a lever. Use it when it serves you, not when it owns you.” She eyed Revoli, blunt. “If you try on my skin, make sure you can take it off. Don’t turn yourself into a costume you can’t breathe in.”

Revoli laughed once, short. “You really don’t dress it up, do you.”

“Dressing up is for when I’m charging extra,” Cherish said, deadpan. It made Revoli snort for real.

Cherish turned, took something from a shelf, and set it on the bench. A small bundle of hardened leather strips and a clay pot with a resin sheen.

“What’s that?” Revoli asked.

“Hands,” Cherish said. “Yours.” She tapped the strips. “Wraps. Thin. Won’t slow you. Keep the skin from splitting when you hit bone. You don’t have metal claws. Don’t want them. These will keep your nails from tearing. This—” she tapped the pot “—is resin. Warm it, quick dip, quick scrape. Hard edge. Not blades. Just bite. It’ll chip. You re-dip. No one sees it unless they’re looking.”

Revoli’s eyes brightened despite herself. “You made these?”

“Made them because you keep raking your hands open,” Cherish said. “I watch. I fix.”

Revoli reached out, then stopped. “Thank you.”

“Put them on,” Cherish said.

Revoli wrapped her fingers, awkward at first, then tighter as Cherish corrected her grip. The leather hugged her knuckles. She flexed. It felt right.

“Now hit,” Cherish said, pointing to a hanging sand sack near the wall.

Revoli glanced at her. “Really?”

“Really,” Cherish said.

Revoli punched. The sack swung. Her hand didn’t sting. She punched again, then again. She smiled without meaning to.

“See?” Cherish said. “Spark with teeth.”

Revoli stepped back, breathing a little faster. “I want to help him. For real. Not just with jokes. When it counts.”

“Then train when no one’s watching,” Cherish said. “You need speed and timing, not weight. We’ll work grip, wrists, elbow snap. We’ll work eyes. You’ll learn when to cut and when to get out. And you’ll keep your mouth, because that’s a weapon too. But you won’t hide behind it.”

Revoli nodded. “Okay.”

Cherish watched her a second, then softened. “And for the record, girl, you’re allowed to want him. You don’t have to apologize for that either.”

Revoli’s face went warm again. “Feels selfish.”

“It’s human,” Cherish said. “Beastfolk. Whatever. Same blood. Want what you want. Just don’t step on the other girls to get it. Don’t let them step on you either. You all choose him every day in different ways. Let him choose back. That’s grown talk. You ready for that?”

Revoli took a breath. “I think so.”

“Good,” Cherish said. She picked up the hammer again, then paused. “One more thing.”

Revoli looked up.

“When you ask him that hard question,” Cherish said, “don’t make it about the others. Make it about you. ‘Do you see me?’ Simple as that. If he says yes, you’ll know what to do with it. If he says no, you’ll know what to do with that too.”

Revoli swallowed. “Okay.”

Cherish nodded once and went back to the anvil. The hammer rose and fell. Clean, steady hits. Revoli sat and listened. The sound settled her.

After a while she stood and moved to the sack again. Two quick jabs. A short hook. The sack thumped and swung back. She kept her chin tucked like Cherish had set it, shoulders down, hands up.

“Better,” Cherish said over her shoulder.

Revoli smiled. “I’m trying.”

“Trying is doing if you keep at it,” Cherish said.

Revoli hit the sack a few more times, then unwrapped her hands and set the leather neatly on the bench. She touched the resin pot with one finger, then pulled back, careful. “Tomorrow?”

“Before sunup,” Cherish said. “Less eyes. More work.”

Revoli nodded. “I’ll be here.”

Cherish looked at her a long second. “Posture.”

Revoli straightened. Chin up. Eyes level.

“Good,” Cherish said. “Now go sleep before you think yourself in a circle.”

Revoli headed for the door, then stopped. “Cherish?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you. For not laughing at me.”

“I laugh at fools,” Cherish said. “You’re not one.”

Revoli slipped into the cooler hallway. The forge heat fell off her skin. She felt lighter. Not fixed. Not finished. Just… pointed the right way.

She looked down at her wrapped hands and smiled. “Spark with teeth,” she whispered, and kept walking.