Semua Bab My Billionaire Ex- Husband’s Nemesis : Bab 181 - Bab 190

ARIA'S POVBy mid-morning, the sky had cleared to a brilliant, crystalline blue, though the thermometer outside the kitchen window still read well below freezing.Down in the lower yard, the snow lay four feet deep, burying the stone foundations of the workshops. But Kat and Silas had been at work since dawn, using broad wooden shovels to carve a deep, high walled trench from the main house down to the forge doors.A thick, dark column of oak woodsmoke was already rising straight into the crisp winter air, its heat melting the heavy ice icicles hanging from the forge eaves.Inside the shop, the air was warm, smelling of coal dust, scorched leather, and hot iron. Maya stood on a sturdy wooden box beside the secondary anvil, wrapped in a small leather apron Kat had cut down and hand-stitched for her the week before. Her cheeks were flushed bright pink from the heat of the hearth, her small hands gripping a light four ounce forging hammer."Keep your wrist straight when the hammer hits

ARIA'S POVBy nine the next morning, the warm chinook wind had turned the snowfields into a patchwork of exposed dark loam, grey ice crusts, and rushing channels of foam. The creek below the orchard was swollen to its banks, its roar a constant, vibrant thunder that echoed off the sheer granite cliffs of the canyon gap.Theo, David, and Marcus walked down the gravel track toward the lower boundary, carrying heavy iron pry-bars and a coil of thick hemp rope over their shoulders. The slush had receded enough to expose the gravel roadway, though cold mountain runoff washed over their boots in clear, swift sheets.I followed fifty paces behind with Kat, who carried a heavy ball-peen hammer and a box of square iron rivets to inspect the copper gate's mounting brackets after the heavy freeze.When we reached the lower bridge, the massive, forty-foot span of hand hewn, white oak timbers that crossed the narrow gorge, the water was churning four feet below the deck. White foam sprayed agai

ARIA'S POVThe evening air carried the cool, sweet scent of damp pine and thawing earth as seventeen wooden chairs scraped softly against the flagstones under the terrace overhang.The sun had sunk behind the western ridge, leaving a deep indigo sky studded with early stars. In the center of the twenty four foot ash table, three copper oil lamps flickered gently, casting a warm, amber glow across seventeen wooden bowls filled with hot vegetable broth, crusty rye bread, and roasted goat cheese.Theo stood at the head of the table, leaning his hands flat against the pale wood, his steady grey eyes looking down the entire length of the board."The mud on the southern trail is drying fast," Theo began, his low voice carrying clearly through the calm evening air. "In three weeks, the second fork will be passable for the pack mules. Marcus, David, and I will take four mules loaded with the four iron chests, three sacks of seed wheat, and two barrels of dried apple slices down to Port Merc

ARIA'S POVThe sun hung low over the western crags, throwing long, amber ribbons of light across the flagstones of the forge yard.Four sturdy pack mules stood tethered to the timber rail near the anvil ring, their ears flicking rhythmically to swat at the first spring midges. On the workbench beside them sat seven heavy cedar trade chests, their oak planked sides reinforced with hand hammered iron straps and heavy bronze hinges.Kat pulled a thick iron brand from the heart of the forge fire. The tip glowed an intense, shimmering yellow-orange, radiating a heat that made the surrounding air ripple and distort."Hold the top lid steady, Silas," Kat commanded, her voice steady and full of quiet gravity.Silas leaned his massive weight over the first wooden chest, pressing down on the cedar lid to keep it locked tight. Kat stepped up, positioned the glowing iron face over the center of the wood, and pressed it down with two hands.A thick, aromatic plume of white cedar smoke rose into

THEO'S POVThe descent out of the high gorge was a steady, grinding progression of steep switchbacks and loose shale. By four in the afternoon, the pale, jagged granite of the upper range finally gave way to the smooth, water carved red sandstone of the lower river basin.The air changed here. The crisp, biting pine-scent of our high mountain valley was replaced by the heavy, damp smell of river mud, ancient moss, and decaying hemlock."Watch the footing on the shale shelf!" I called back over my shoulder, keeping a tight grip on the lead mule’s rope as she picked her way over a narrow, rain slicked ledge. "Keep the chests angled toward the rock wall."David tapped the flank of the second mule with his hickory stick, guiding the heavy load of iron safely past the drop off. Behind him, Marcus walked with a steady, ground eating stride, his eyes scanning the familiar, jagged silhouettes of the canyon walls.As the sun dipped behind the western ridge, casting the gorge into deep, viole