Tetra glowered. “What do humans do, sleep naked? I didn’t think being naked featured in the human experience.”

“It’s… Never mind.” Val stifled a yawn. “There’s microwave burritos in the freezer if you’re hungry.”

Tetra stared at her like she’d spoken a foreign language.

“Fine. I’ll show you.” Val stomped into the kitchen.

Tetra closed the door behind her. “Don’t you have Fernwood dew?”

“It doesn’t fall off trees in the city, believe it or not. It’s expensive.”

“You could have told me that before I had three shots of faerie wine last night,” Tetra grumbled.

Val retrieved the box of highly processed carbs from the freezer and thrust it into Tetra’s hands. “Follow the instructions on the box.” She pointed at the microwave. “Push that button to set the timer. Do you need anything else?”

“Yeah. Fernwood dew,” Tetra complained.

“Stay in bed and nurse your headache like everyone else. You have to be at work at five this evening,” Val snapped.

Tetra’s eyes widened. “Work?”

“I didn’t tell you? Enzo offered you a job as a barmaid at the Iron Fist.” Val folded her arms. “Do you have a problem with that?”

Tetra raised her chin. “I am a princess!”

“You’re a condemned criminal,” Val shot back, “and I’m not having this argument with you.”

She bit off the end of her sentence before she ordered Tetra to shut up and accept the job. After storming out of the apartment, she headed to her bathroom and fished in the cabinet above the sink for a small glass bottle that sparkled like ice.

Fernwood dew was too expensive to waste on sulky faeries, but Val had commissions to work on, and she knew from experience that a clanging hammer did nothing good for a hangover.

She shook a single capsule containing clear fluid onto her palm and swallowed it. The headache instantly disappeared. Her tight shoulders relaxed, and she grinned into the mirror.

“Let’s go forge shit,” she told her reflection.

The forge bellowed as a metal bar heated within. Val sat at her workbench with a parchment spread in front of her, elegant wrought-iron paperweights holding down each corner. She scrolled through the messages on her phone as she checked the final design on the parchment.

Her client was a Copper Dwarf mining mogul gifted with endless wealth but pitiful magic.

It’s a sore point for me, he admitted in his email. I saw a young Lunar Fae friend at an event at Tintagel last night whose selenite armbands bore your maker’s mark. It was incredible to see how much they boosted his powers. Could you forge something that will improve my earth powers?

That had been the first email. Val reread it to remind herself of the commission’s purpose, then scrolled through their back-and-forth as they established the design.

The client had approved the final design. Val checked his message a last time to ensure all was ready, then put her phone aside.

It was time to get to work.

She eyed the heavy medallion with the mogul’s company logo carved into the front. The final product would be gilded, but the real value lay in the alloy she planned on making.

Val strode to the forge and inspected the bar, which glowed yellow. The metalloid was a unique blend she’d made a few days ago, just before the shit hit the fan: an iron-copper alloy with the right balance so that her Iron Dwarven magic could manipulate it, but Copper Dwarves would be attuned to it, too.

She wasn’t done yet. Earth magic was more than metal.

Val gripped the bar with the tongs and brought it to the anvil, then chose a large hammer from the rack of tools by her side and tapped it several times to check that it was hot enough to be malleable. The alloy responded to each blow of the hammer.

Now for the tricky part.

Val glanced at the crucible by her elbow. It contained a fine, dull, scarlet substance, a stone from the Spine near the Copper Stronghold that she’d ground to dust. She had no idea if blending rock with iron-copper alloy was possible. It would be crazy, if not impossible, with unmagical forging methods.

She didn’t plan on doing this without magic. She closed her eyes, reaching for the iron particles in the alloy that glowed on the anvil. They hummed in response. Her amulet warmed on her chest, and the iron particles hummed faster, ready to do her bidding.

Val opened her eyes but didn’t stop concentrating on the iron alloy. Tongs in one hand, she took the crucible in the other and shook the stone dust over the glowing metal bar.

The dust shone in the forge’s light, and the amulet throbbed as Val summoned her power. Time slowed. She saw the sparkling motes float down and felt the hectic vibration of each particle in the glowing alloy. The iron parted and welcomed the dust.

Magic surged in the air, its electric smell mingling with the sooty perfume of the smithy. A red glow rose from the steel head when Val lifted the hammer. Instinct guided her to strike the bar, and with every blow, red magic rippled across the hot metal. The crimson glow perfused the anvil, and it wound through her hands and fingers. The amulet scorched her chest, and when Val stopped hammering, blue and scarlet magic pulses flashed through the glowing bar.

Red sparks scattered on the floor as she hung up the hammer. When she plunged the new alloy into a bucket of water, steam rose around her, sparkling with magic.

“Whoa,” Val whispered. She dragged her forearm over her face, mopping sweat, then touched the amulet with her fingertips. It almost burned her. “That was intense.”

She raised the cooling metal from the water. The color was between rust and blood, and magic hummed in its heart.

Val placed the metal in the annealer and sat at her workbench. She fished the amulet out of her sweaty T-shirt and stared at it. The bear’s ruby eyes glowed, and though it was cooler, its warmth still made her pass it from one hand to the other.

“What are you?” she whispered.

The amulet had no answers, but its power made the impossible easy.

Silence hung within like tear gas as the Mustang purred into Williamsburg. Even Genevieve seemed subdued. She submitted to Val’s hand on the gearshift and feet on the pedals, and her engine was a quiet rumble instead of its usual roar.

I know, Gennie, Val thought, running a hand over the galloping horse on the steering wheel. It’s awkward. Gold evening light reflected on the bar’s windows and washed the grimy street in a soft hue. Val couldn’t help smiling at the sight.

“Okay, Tetra.” She turned to the faerie. “Ready for your first real job?”

Tetra folded her arms so tightly that her fingers turned pale in the creases of her elbows. “I’m not a barmaid.”

Val sighed. “I thought we were over this. You need a job. This is a job where you’ll be safe, and people will be safe from you. It’s as simple as that.”

“I’m not a barmaid!” Tetra barked.

“What is wrong with you?” Val yelled so loudly that the faerie flinched. “You could be rotting in the prison realm or being torn apart by faeries right now, but you’ve got an apartment and a job. A life! Why are you fighting me on this?”

“Because I will not be a servant!” Tetra raged. “Reduced and spat upon, trampled underfoot. I would rather die!”