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  Something was wrong. Katalin held her breath, frozen in bed as she listened to the darkness.

  The faint glow of embers from the hearth barely pushed back the shadows that cloaked her room. It was too early for the first clang of hammers in the smithy next door, too early for her mother to be up moving about.

  But her inner wolf was on alert.

  She lay still, eyes open, searching for what had disturbed her. Waiting. Listening. But the night was silent—no shuffling feet, no creaking floorboards, nothing out of the ordinary.

  Then—

  A soft chuckle in the dark.

  Papa

  She knew the sound instantly, like the low rumble of bellows before the fire roars to life.

  In an instant, she flung herself out of bed—only to be snared by her own blankets. A startled yelp escaped her as she crashed to the floor, limbs tangled in the sheets, her pride bruised if not her body.

  From across the room, the chuckle deepened into a soft laugh. His laugh.

  She wriggled free, pushing herself upright, blinking through the dim light. There—his silhouette, sitting in the chair beside the small wooden table where she toiled over her lessons, the table she often abandoned mid-assignment to sneak into the forge.

  Henrik.

  She bounced to her feet and launched herself at him, unthinking, unrestrained.

  If he had been anyone else, she would have bowled him over. But Henrik was an old hand at handling his daughter’s enthusiasm. He braced himself just in time, catching her with a grunt and sweeping her into a quick, firm arc before settling her onto his lap.

  “You’ve grown a lot this past year,” he said, shifting her weight slightly. “I almost didn’t catch you.”

  She landed in his lap, arms locked around his neck, face buried in his shoulder. “I knew you would,” she murmured.

  Warmth. Strength. Home.

  She clung to him, breathing in his scent of iron and woodsmoke, of travel and distance, of everything she had missed. His arms tightened around her in return, and for that moment, the world outside her father’s embrace didn’t exist.

  Katalin tightened her grip around her father, pressing her face against him. He felt solid and steady, like always, but there was something different—the way he exhaled, slow and deep, as if letting go of things he’d been carrying for too long.

  “Are you back for real this time?” she asked, her voice muffled against his tunic.

  Henrik let out a breath, rubbing slow circles on her back. “Well, Kitten, I won’t be leaving again without you and your mother.”

  Katalin shifted slightly in Henrik’s lap, her fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic. “Your new smithy is ready?” she asked, her voice bright with anticipation. “The forge and everything?”

  She felt, rather than saw, the small nod he gave. “It’s all set up,” he said, his voice steady in the darkness.

  Excitement stirred in her chest. “So when we get there, you can start teaching me?”

  A pause. She couldn’t see his face, but she felt the slight tension in his arms where they rested around her. “You still want to be a blacksmith, then?”

  Katalin didn’t hesitate. “I will be a blacksmith.”

  Henrik exhaled, his tone gentle as he asked, “Have you talked to other people about what they do?”

  She frowned, puzzled. “Why would I do that?”

  Henrik let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Kitty, you’ll have so many choices. Your mother says your mana pool will be large—almost as large as mine. And if you learn her family’s ways to control it, you could be almost anything you want. Maybe even a mage or a sorceress.”

  A grin spread across Katalin’s face, her confidence unwavering. “Perfect. If I can be anything I want, I want to be a blacksmith.”

  Henrik didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her in a steady, familiar hold. The warmth of him, the slow rise and fall of his breath, surrounded her. He said nothing, just held her, and in the quiet, Katalin could feel the weight of his thoughts as the silence stretched between them.

  Katalin shifted slightly, the hush pressing in on her. She hesitated, then finally whispered, “Papa?”

  Henrik’s voice was soft in the dark. “Yes, Kitty?”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  She swallowed, gripping a handful of his tunic as she forced the question out. “Why don’t you want me to be a blacksmith like you?”

  Henrik’s arms tightened around her, his voice low and firm. “Don’t ever think that. It would make me very happy if we worked together your whole life.”

  She pressed her face against his chest, her voice muffled. “It doesn’t seem like it sometimes.”

  Henrik exhaled, the sound heavy in the quiet room. “You’re old enough to understand what the world is like. People don’t believe women should be blacksmiths.”

  Katalin snorted, the sound sharp. “Are they going to throw me in a dungeon if I try?”

  Henrik let out a small snort of laughter. “No.” But then his tone shifted, more serious. “But you’d never be allowed to own your own smithy.”

  Katalin shrugged, unconcerned. “So? I’ll just always work in yours.”

  Henrik didn’t respond right away. His arms stayed firm around her, but there was something thoughtful in the way he held her. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. “What if I’m not always around?”

  Katalin stiffened. The words settled wrong in her chest. Slowly, she leaned back, trying to make out his face in the dark. “Are you leaving again?”

  Henrik shook his head. “I’m not planning to.”

  She hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. “And you’re going to live longer than me and Cassius and Mama, right?”

  She felt, rather than heard, the way his breath caught. When he answered, his voice was low. “Probably.”

  Katalin swallowed hard and pressed her forehead to his shoulder, curling in closer. “I’m sorry, Papa. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

  Henrik kissed the top of her head, his lips warm against her hair. “That’s all right, Kitten.”

  For a while, they just sat together, Katalin tucked into his lap, his arms wrapped securely around her.

  Then Henrik chuckled, the sound a deep rumble beneath her cheek.

  “And there’s still the other thing,” he murmured.

  Katalin groaned. “Don’t say it.”

  “Hey now,” he said, his tone mock-serious. “I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

  She dropped her head back against his shoulder with a dramatic sigh. “But I’m small.”

  Henrik nodded against her. “But you’re small.”

  “I’m only eleven. I’ll grow,” she said firmly. “I’ve been concentrating on it real hard.”

  Henrik let out a quiet laugh. “I’m not sure it works like that.”

  “Doesn’t matter anyway.”

  “Oh?” His voice held amusement.

  “No,” she said, grinning now. “If I can’t hit it harder, I’ll hit it longer.”

  Henrik lightly ruffled her hair. “That would work.”

  Henrik shifted slightly, his breath warm against her hair. “Tell me,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Why do you want to be a blacksmith so badly?”

  Katalin hesitated, pressing her lips together as she thought. The answer had always been there, but putting it into words felt different.

  “I… I can feel it,” she said finally, the certainty settling in her chest. “It’s right.” She turned her head, trying to see his face in the dark. “You believe me, right, Papa?”

  Henrik gave her a small squeeze, his voice steady when he answered. “I do, Kitten. More than you know.”

  A slow grin spread across her face. “Imagine what kind of smith I could be if I get your mana and Mama’s control.”

  Henrik let out a dramatic groan and shuddered. “It’s scary to think about.”

  Katalin giggled. “Papa…”

  Instead of answering, Henrik squeezed her tight, trapping her against his chest until she squirmed in protest.

  “I… can’t… breathe!” she gasped, laughing between words.

  Henrik loosened his grip just enough to let her inhale, and she jerked upright in his lap, nearly knocking heads in her excitement. “When do we go?”

  Henrik chuckled, steadying her with one arm as she nearly toppled. “My plan was for us to leave for Butterridge today,” he said, his voice lighter now, “but I just found out Duke Alaric is holding a feast tonight and requests that we attend. So, we’ll leave tomorrow.”

  Katalin tilted her head, considering. “A feast is nice. I like feasts.”

  “Yes,” Henrik said with a small, knowing smile. “I’m sure it will be good, but it’s going to be a long day. This will be a midnight feast for Alaric to make official announcements. I imagine the Duchess will have her hand in setting things up.”

  “Oh, I hope so,” Katalin said, grinning in the dark. “If Aunt Teo helped, then there’ll be music and tumblers and maybe a magic show.”

  Henrik huffed softly, amused. “Aunt Teo?” He sounded somewhere between entertained and mildly alarmed. “Since when is the Grand Duchess Teodora Illon Stonehaven—grandmother of Duke Alaric and one of the most powerful women in the realm—‘Aunt Teo’?”

  Katalin shrugged, completely unbothered. “Since always. That’s what she told me to call her.” She crossed her arms. “And you and Mama always said to be respectful and do what I can to be good company for her.”

  Henrik held up both hands, his smirk clear in his voice. “Alright, alright. If that’s what she wants.”

  A comfortable silence settled between them, the warmth of their embrace still lingering. Henrik shifted slightly, his voice quieter when he spoke again.

  “Will you miss her and your brother when we go?”

  Katalin considered the question for a moment, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve.

  “I think I’ll miss Aunt Teo a lot,” she admitted. “We go riding or walking almost every day.”

  She hesitated, then added, “And I’ll miss Cassius—but we hardly see him already. He’s always in the Keep with Sir Lysander or traveling. He gets to travel a lot.”

  She glanced up, though in the darkness, she could only make out the faintest outline of her father’s face. “Will we come back and visit them?”

  Henrik was quiet, as if weighing his words. Then, his voice came steady and sure.

  “I don’t know how often,” he admitted, resting a hand against her back, “but we’ll visit from time to time. And no doubt your brother will come to us as often as he can.”

  After sitting in comfortable silence for a few minutes Henrik squeezed her shoulder, his voice low and warm. “You should try to get a little more sleep, Kitten. It’s going to be a long day.”

  Katalin scrunched her nose. “I’m too excited to sleep.”

  Henrik sighed, the sound soft in the dark. “Then just lay down for a bit. Close your eyes, think about what you want to do today.”

  She hesitated but finally sighed, sliding off his lap and padding across the room to her bed. The blankets were a tangle from earlier, but she kicked them into place and flopped down, arms sprawled wide. “Fine,” she muttered, pulling the covers up to her chin.

  Henrik stood, his chair creaking slightly. “That’s my girl,” he murmured. He brushed a hand lightly over her hair before stepping toward the door.

  Katalin, still buzzing with excitement, rolled onto her stomach. “What about you?” she asked, peering at him in the dark.

  She heard the faint smile in his voice. “I’ll make one last check of the smithy—see if I have everything, and how the new guy has it set up.”

  Katalin turned and buried her face in the pillow. “I don’t like him. He never lets me in the smithy.”

  She could almost hear the smile in Henrik’s voice. “Do you even know him?”

  “No. But I don’t have to,” she muttered.

  “Get some rest, Kitty,” he said.

  She listened to him leaving her room and his footsteps fade, her mind dancing with thoughts of Aunt Teo, the feast, the new smithy, the journey ahead…

  Her eyes grew heavy, the excitement slowly sinking beneath the quiet of the room.

  Then, a voice.

  A gentle hand shook her shoulder, and her mother’s whispered, “Time to wake up, Little Wolf.”

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