Jason cursed as he burned himself on the hot iron he was supposed to be turning into nails.

In his defense, Daramethe just walked past, he was seventeen, and she was beautiful.

Not  that a journeyman mage had any use for an apprentice blacksmith, but he  could dream, and dream he did. It wasn’t like she would ever notice him  anyway. She deserved a lord, or a mastermage. Someone special. 

He rescued his iron bar from the floor and shoved it back into the forge with a sigh, and waited for it to heat up again.

Nails.  The endless task of any apprentice. Even horseshoes would be better,  but their town was too small to need that many, let alone the more  complicated work that the

By the time the iron was hot, his focus was back where it belonged, and he resumed his work with only a little resentment.

“Excuse me? Your name is Jason, yes?”

Jason burned his fingers on his iron again and cursed even as it hit the floor with a clang.

When  he turned, it was to see Daramethe watching him with a concerned  expression on her pretty face. He felt his cheeks heat. Bad enough to  burn himself, but in front of the pretty mage? He wished the ground  would open up and swallow him.

But she knew his name. He didn’t know she knew his name.

“Are  you alright?” she asked and immediately set her basket aside so she  could take his hand in both of hers. Blisters were raising on his  reddened skin, and she hummed softly. “This is a nasty burn.”

She was holding his hand! Maybe getting burned wasn’t so bad!

“It’s  just part of the job,” Jason hurried to reassure her and tried to get  his teenaged brain to work when faced by the young women he admired so  much. “I’m a smith. Burns are expected. I mean, I don’t like them, but  it’s alright.”

She smiled and looked up at him, face shrouded by  her cascade of black hair. Her hands were very small compared to his and  Jason was careful to keep his strength under control. He forgot himself  sometimes, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt her.

“I could  heal it,” she offered shyly, like she wasn’t sure how he would take it.  “I know most people are afraid of magic, but it’s really a very small  magic and you need your hands to do your work-“

“If you’re sure  you don’t mind,” Jason cut her off gently, willing to do just about  anything to keep her talking to him. “I mean, I might be used to it, but  they still hurt.”

“Just so,” Daramethe murmured, and closed her  eyes. Soft green light glowed around her fingertips and coolness soothed  over Jason’s skin as she eased away the sting of his burns- both the  new one, and, to his surprise, every other bump and bruise he had  collected in the last week.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” he told her, taken aback, although pleased. “It was just bruises and bumps.”

“I…  I didn’t mean to,” Dara looked up at him, suddenly nervous of his  reaction. No need to wonder why. Magic was viewed with a great deal of  suspicion, and the unexpected healing could get a very poor reaction  from the wrong person. “You- your body takes magic very well. I mean-  you’re easy to heal-“

Jason couldn’t help but laugh as she stumbled over herself and curled his fingers around hers. “Thank you.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

The  quiet thanks stopped Daramethe’s stammering and brought that sweet, shy  smile back to her lips. She had dimples when she smiled for real, and  Jason was completely charmed by her. She was still holding his hand and  he didn’t want her to let go.

“Could I- would you maybe-“ now he  was stammering, but she was still smiling so it was alright. “Can I take  you for a drink this evening? It would just be at the tavern, but I  mean-“

“Yes,” it was her turn to cut off his stammering with a  simple answer he never expected. Her eyes seemed very, very blue and  cheeks were pink. “I would like that very much.” 

She said yes.

She said yes!

Jason  managed not to jump for joy, but he did smile brightly and ignored the  way his fellow apprentices were laughing at them behind his back. It  wasn’t like they were blind to the pretty apprentice mage, but they  hadn’t gotten the nerve to talk to her, and he had. 

Daramethe could see them too, and her smile dimmed when she heard the laughter. 

“This… isn’t a joke, is it?” she asked hesitantly and Jason’s heart sank. “If it is, please just tell me.”

“it’s  not a joke,” he told her quickly and stepped to block her view of the  other apprentices. “It’s not a joke. I’ve been trying to get the courage  to talk to you since you arrived and they’re assholes and you’re so  beautiful-“

“Do you promise?” she asked carefully, intelligence  bright in her eyes as she watched him, but her cheeks were pink again  when she realized he had called her beautiful. “Jason…”

Jason  wanted to take his hammer to whoever played such a cruel joke on her,  but he didn’t think telling her that was the very best plan. Maybe it  was. She might like the thought, even if he wasn’t able to actually do  it. 

“I will never lie to you,” he promised instead. “I understand  if you don’t believe me, but I promise I really do want to take you for  a drink tonight, and maybe every night after that if you’ll let me.”

Finally,  finally her little smile came back, and she squeezed his hand gently.  There was a faint buzz to her skin and Jason realized it must be her  magic.

“Let’s start with tonight,” she murmured shyly, taken aback  by his honesty. “But if we still like each other after tonight, maybe.”

“Maybe  is all I ask,” he told her, and reluctantly let go of her hand. “Now,  you came over for a reason, and I don’t think it was to see me burn  myself.”

“It wasn’t,” Daramethe straightened, more confident now  that they were on safer ground. “I need iron shavings, and a dozen  nails.”

“Does it matter how big they are?” he questioned, and went  for the nails he made only minutes before. Iron shavings were easy, the  forge always had a wealth of shavings waiting to be melted down into  bar-stock.

“No, as long as the head is large enough to scribe a rune.”

He  handed her one of the nails for her to look over, and collected eleven  more when she nodded her approval. “How much of the shavings do you  need?”

She produced a small glass jar and proffered it even as she  tucked the nails into her basket. Jason filled it quickly and handed it  back to her. “Perfect, thank you!”

“Of course,” he said cheerfully and leaned against his anvil. “Coin or trade?”

“Trade,”  Daramethe replied, and pulled several smaller jars out of her basket.  “This is burn ointment. I thought it might be helpful before, but now I  know for sure.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, and accepted the trade  willingly. If it was a bigger transaction, he might have called his  mastersmith to oversee, but any apprentice could sell nails. “Let me  know if you need more; we’re always making nails.”

“It’s like burn  ointment for mages,” Daramethe giggled as she settled her basket over  her arm. “Apprentice-work is always in demand, even after you’re done  being an apprentice.”

“Always,” Jason agreed wryly. “Let me know if you need nails with bigger heads. It’s easy.”

“I’ll  do just that,” she said and hesitated before standing on her toes to  kiss his cheek, blushing furiously. “I will see you tonight?”

“Tonight,”  he promised, one hand going to where she kissed him even as a stupid  smile spread across his lips. “I’ll be there at sundown.”

“Sundown  it is,” she beamed, and then she was gone, off on her other errands.  Jason watched her go for a long minute, and turned back to his work, far  to smug to be angry when the other apprentices immediately began  teasing him.

Jason ignored them even as he shoved his iron back in the forge and started to whistle.

She kissed him.

Maybe he had a shot after all.