Thorns & Fire, page 4
Wren bit her lip hard to stop it from quivering. She had practically begged him to stay. She’d told him that she loved him. She would not cry, not over him. Not any more.
‘Because it’s not a fucking mystery, Thee. He ended things—’
‘But why? That man is head over heels in love with you. Has been for years, Wren.’ Thea threw her hands up, clearly exasperated. ‘We found something while you were in the Gauntlet.’
Wren’s narrowed gaze slid to her sister. ‘What do you mean, “found something”?’
Thea sighed. ‘A book. Wilder and I don’t know what it meant exactly, but it meant something.’
‘What book?’ Wren demanded.
‘Tethers and Magical Bonds Throughout History.’
Wren stared at her sister. She knew there were magical bonds in existence, of course – she, Thea and Anya had shared one through their sovereign magic, through family. From what she’d seen of the Warswords and their Tverrian stallions over the years, she’d assumed there was a magical connection there as well . . . The midrealms and the lands beyond were full of unknown powers; she just didn’t understand what any of that had to do with Torj.
‘What?’ she said at last.
‘During the Gauntlet, when he was going mad with worry for you, he kept saying he could feel you – your emotions, your magic . . .’
A shiver ran down Wren’s spine. ‘We thought there was a sliver of my power trapped in his scars . . .’
‘It wasn’t his scars,’ Thea replied. ‘He’d been looking into magical wounds with Farissa.’
Wren loosed a tense breath. ‘I knew I had hurt him. I knew—’
Thea shook her head. ‘When he talked to me and Wilder, he wasn’t describing pain . . .’
‘What, then?’
‘Connection. A bond,’ Thea answered, stressing the last word. ‘I’d seen that book in Kipp’s room, so I brought it to Torj. Next thing we know, he was storming off to find Audra. Then you returned from the trials, and you were hurt . . . He didn’t leave your side for weeks. And I didn’t see the book again.’
‘That was the last you heard of it?’
Thea nodded.
Wren turned back to the waves, resting against the ship’s railing, shaking her head. ‘What the fuck does any of that mean?’
Thea nudged her with her elbow. ‘It means there’s a reason the Bear Slayer did what he did.’
‘Keep your fists up,’ Thea barked at Wren across the deck of the ship. ‘Remember, you need to protect your face, be ready to strike.’
Though Wren wanted to snap right back at her sister, she clenched her jaw instead and did as instructed, ensuring that her elbows didn’t drop. The physical exertion offered a reprieve from the onslaught of questions pummelling her mind. After her conversation with Thea the day before, she had thought of little else but that mysterious book. She had asked Kipp about it, but he’d insisted that Thea had taken it from his rooms before he’d had a chance to read it. The irony was not lost on her that the one time she needed vital information, she was as far away from a library as she could be. And so she had combed her memories of every past moment with the Bear Slayer instead, searching for traces of magic beyond her storm powers and his Furies-given abilities, finding nothing.
In the little time she’d known of the book’s existence, it had become her new obsession, Thea’s words echoing constantly in her mind. But it made no sense to her. She had always felt connected to the Warsword.
Thea’s swinging fist brought her abruptly back to the present. Light on the balls of her feet as she’d been taught, Wren watched Thea circle her. They had started training together after the battle at Drevenor; it had been the only thing that got her out of her quarters each day. A minimum of one hour of daily sparring, as ordered by Audra, the Guild Master of Thezmarr. Truth be told, Wren would have attended with or without orders – never again did she want to feel helpless or rely upon the strength of a man.
Now, even aboard the Sea Serpent’s Destiny, Thea was a relentless trainer. Wren hated to admit that it was paying off. She was getting stronger, faster, better. She knew she’d never match Thea’s skill as a Warsword, but she was no longer weak.
She swung her fist, hard, landing another blow to the padding Thea held up.
‘Good!’ Her sister beamed. ‘Really good, Wren. Just imagine it’s Torj’s face.’
Heat bloomed across Wren’s cheeks as she hit again. ‘Shut up, Thee.’
‘Make me.’ Suddenly, Thea lunged forwards, her right fist shooting out in a swift jab. Wren jerked her head back, the punch whistling past her cheek. She countered with a quick left hook, which Thea easily blocked with her forearm.
But Wren launched herself into a combination, sweat beading at her brow – jab, cross, hook, each punch met by Thea’s solid guards. The sharp smack of Wren’s knuckles against the padding had Kipp and Dessa cheering from the sidelines.
‘You’re doing well. Anya would be proud,’ Thea said warmly, clapping her on the shoulder.
For once, the mention of their sister’s name didn’t hurt; rather, it soothed something inside her. Wren returned Thea’s smile, the exercise having relieved her of that tension she constantly carried with her.
She waved to Dessa. ‘Your turn!’
Wren gave her friend an encouraging smile as they swapped places. When she settled beside Kipp, she saw that he was grinning.
‘You’ll be the deadliest of us all before long, Your Queenliness,’ he quipped.
Wren rolled her eyes. ‘You’re not sparring today?’
‘It never was the best use of my talents,’ he replied with a wink.
‘Speaking of . . . How did you wrangle your attendance on this expedition? Don’t you have lectures to give?’ Wren asked him with a quirk of her brow. During her previous semester, Kipp had caused quite a stir as a supposed visiting academic, delivering talks on strategy and how alchemy had been employed during the war.
He offered a roguish grin. ‘I’m always in high demand, but there’s nowhere I’d rather be than at your side during your time of need.’
Wren snorted. ‘So it has nothing to do with the fact that we’ll be within a few hours’ ride of the Laughing Fox at some point?’ she asked, naming his favourite tavern.
‘No idea what you mean,’ he replied with a straight face.
‘And where’s Cal? You usually like to rope him into all the trouble you make.’
Kipp gave a wistful sigh. ‘Off doing important Warsword things. He was assigned to be Zavier’s guard for his return to Naarva.’
‘And you didn’t want to pester him instead? Swing by the Dancing Badger?’
‘I hear it’s been restored to its former glory, but no . . . I’d rather scope out your homeland. For when you need to come good on our deal.’
Wren cringed, cursing her past drunken self for calling in a favour with Kipp in the early hours at the Mortar and Pestle. Sliding her hand into her pocket, she found the scrap of parchment she’d torn from the scroll her friend had given her after the battle at Drevenor. How many times had she considered tossing it in the hearth? How many more had she considered giving it over to Audra to send to the Bear Slayer, wherever he was in the midrealms?
‘Have you decided if you want me to take further action?’ Kipp asked her now, eyes bright. ‘I’ll remind you that it’s a deal regardless of what happens next . . .’
She’d known for years that the Son of the Fox loved to collect favours like they were going out of style, and yet she’d gladly put herself in his debt.
For Torj.
‘Is she still alive? Your grandmother?’ she had asked the Bear Slayer, watching the emotion ripple across his painfully handsome face at the mention of the woman who’d sent him to Thezmarr, who’d saved him from himself all those years ago.
‘She went missing a long time ago, presumed dead. I searched for her for years, but never found anything.’
‘Well?’ Kipp prompted eventually, brow furrowed.
Wren didn’t know why she said it, but she said it all the same. ‘I want you to keep digging.’
If Kipp was surprised by her answer, he didn’t show it. Instead, he saluted her. ‘My investigative services are yours as long as you require them.’
A message was waiting for them the next morning, delivered by raven in the night.
‘Apparently Audra has found a suitable Warsword replacement for me,’ Thea mused over the curling parchment. ‘We’re to meet Cahira on Trader’s Road, at the Harenth turnoff.’
‘Oh.’ Disappointment soured in Wren’s gut. ‘I guess this means we won’t be visiting Delmira together after all.’
‘I guess not,’ Thea replied glumly. ‘But Audra doesn’t like the idea of us together for extended periods – she says that two magic wielders together, one of them a Warsword, is too much of a prize for the enemy to resist.’
Wren knew the Guild Master had a point, but it didn’t mean she had to like it.
‘Cahira’s nice, though,’ Thea offered. ‘You’ll like her.’
Wren gave her sister a reassuring nod. Their arrangement had always been temporary while Audra found someone else, but that didn’t stop the ache from forming. Thea had been her distraction from it all, her connection to a life long-gone. They had both said how they missed Anya, Sam and Ida, but Wren hadn’t told Thea that she missed her as well.
Making her excuses, Wren wandered the ship, weaving through the other passengers, catching a glimpse of the midrealms’ mainland on the horizon.
The closer they got to shore, the more restless her magic became.
CHAPTER 5
Torj
‘Every war that has ever come to pass in the midrealms was first foretold by a seer’
– A History of Thezmarr
QUEEN REYNA’S CONDITION hadn’t worsened, but nor had it improved.
‘Either she’s dead and doesn’t know it yet, or they want us to have whatever information she’s gleaned in the past few weeks,’ Torj wagered to Wilder after they had located rooms at a local inn. ‘Whatever the reason, it’s not good.’
‘No shit,’ Wilder huffed.
The Warswords stood by the door inside the queen’s room while the healer they’d requested tended to her. Torj was driving himself insane with all manner of theories. In the brief time they’d been away, they’d seen first hand the influence Lord Silas had garnered over the common people, and now this?
‘You can ask, you know.’ Queen Reyna’s voice floated towards them as the healer took the coin they’d left and bid them a silent farewell.
Torj glanced up to see the queen settled against a pile of pillows, the quilts tucked in around her waist. The colour had returned to her cheeks, but she still looked frail and weak. He wanted to ask her about what she’d said earlier, about the blaze of iron and embers . . .
‘How are you feeling?’ he asked instead.
‘As well as can be expected,’ she sighed. ‘I presume you want to discuss the events while they’re still fresh?’
‘It would help,’ Torj replied.
‘I don’t know how long I’ve been gone,’ Queen Reyna began. ‘But I know we travelled nearly every day, moving from camp to camp. I was blindfolded for a lot of it . . . but I heard enough.’
Hope soared in Torj’s chest. ‘Do you know where they were headed? I could get word to Audra to rally the other Warswords.’
‘Lord Silas had planned to remain in the dry docks until you caught up. He wanted to make examples of you both. To show how his dark alchemy can eliminate your kind. But an hour or so before you arrived, he received word from another base. They had something he wanted. Apparently, he wanted it badly enough to abandon two Warswords and a ruler . . . The very things he says he’s most intent on destroying.’
Torj shifted, knots tightening uncomfortably in his stomach. ‘Did they harm you?’
‘They . . . they held me down and forced some sort of tonic down my throat. I fought, but there was no use. As soon as that substance touched my tongue, a numbness spread through me. Like my magic was being leached away, drawn out by something . . .’
‘Fuck,’ Torj muttered. ‘So they took whatever they put on those blades and made it into something consumable?’
‘Seems that way.’ She closed her eyes, as though bracing herself against something. ‘My magic . . . I can’t feel it at all. On an ordinary day, I can always feel its presence. But not now. Not after they gave me that tonic. I think . . . I think it might be permanent.’
‘Only an alchemist or healer can confirm that,’ Torj tried to reassure her. ‘It might just take time to fade from your system, or perhaps it was designed to stay there and do something else. I don’t know . . . but we can take you back to Drevenor. Have the masters look you over. Have—’ He cut himself off.
‘Wren make a cure?’ Wilder finished for him.
Torj didn’t look at his friend. ‘If need be, yes.’
‘I won’t go back to the academy,’ Queen Reyna said. ‘I wish to return to Aveum as soon as I am able.’
‘Your Majesty,’ Torj protested. ‘If you do indeed need treatment—’
The queen shook her head sharply. ‘In captivity, I was privy to a lot of their conversations concerning their forces. Lord Silas draws more followers to his side every day. They’re more organized than we thought. They have a recruitment process. They hold at least three villages between here and Naarva. We would have to pass through them all or take four times as long to return. They will not expect us to go back to my homeland, and that is where I wish to go.’
Torj exchanged a look with Wilder, who had started to pace the worn carpet before the hearth. ‘Perhaps you only heard what they wanted you to, Your Majesty.’
‘Why would they leave me behind, only to recapture me on the way to Aveum?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Torj admitted. ‘But that’s the problem. At the moment, we can’t predict their actions. And whatever you’ve heard could be false information they wanted you to report back to us—’
‘They captured a Warsword,’ Queen Reyna interrupted.
Wilder turned to face her slowly. ‘What?’
‘They thought I was unconscious,’ she told them. ‘But I heard them . . . Lord Silas – he was instructing some of his underlings on how to keep the Warsword contained, what dose of the alchemy to ply her with.’
‘Her?’ Wilder’s voice rose. ‘Did you hear a name?’
A resigned sigh escaped her. ‘No.’
‘Fuck,’ Wilder muttered.
‘It’s not Thea,’ Torj told him. ‘They’d be shouting that from the rooftops.’
‘If they’ve got Thea, they’ve got Wren,’ Wilder said bluntly, searching Torj’s face.
Torj had already made the connection and he was using every ounce of willpower to hide it from his friend as images of the poisoner flooded his mind.
‘You look like you’re going to kiss me.’
‘Tell me you don’t want me, Bear Slayer.’
Torj turned to face the hearth. ‘It’s not her, Hawthorne. They’re safe.’
The queen was shivering. ‘They call him by another name as well . . .’ she said quietly. ‘Lord Silas, I mean.’
Torj took a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. ‘And what is this other name, Your Majesty?’
Her teeth were chattering now. ‘Silas the Kingsbane . . . For all the royal blood he intends to spill.’
A wave of goosebumps rushed across Torj’s arms.
‘I’m sending a raven to Audra,’ Wilder declared abruptly before leaving the room, the door slamming behind him.
When Wilder was gone, Torj faced the queen once more. ‘It’s going to be alright, Your Majesty.’
‘Is it?’ she whispered.
‘You’re safe with us. But I do need to ask you something else,’ he ventured.
Queen Reyna dipped her head, giving him permission.
‘That was a premonition you said earlier?’ he said, fighting to keep his voice even. ‘Before you fainted?’
She looked up at him, brow furrowed, as though she were surprised, as though it were something he should already know. ‘It was . . .’
A moment of stunned silence followed before Torj spoke again. ‘And that’s not the first time you’ve said it . . .?’
Queen Reyna rubbed her temples. ‘No, it’s not. I had a vision, during the final days of the war, before the penultimate battle. It was why I requested that you lead my forces. I saw your potential.’
Torj distantly remembered the request coming to him, but the battle had been so chaotic, so brutal, that he hadn’t led the Aveum forces for very long. All the Warswords had united in the fray, using their joint Furies-given powers to drive the enemy back, and Wren . . . Wren had saved them time and time again with her exploding potions, a warrior in her own right.
‘What exactly did you see?’ Torj pressed, his shoulders bunching.
Queen Reyna’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘I thought you’d know . . . I told the Embervale sisters.’
He wasn’t sure he was breathing. ‘Told them what?’
The queen met his eyes, lifting her chin. ‘What I saw in my vision . . . That gold would turn to silver in a blaze of iron and embers. That it would give rise to ancient power long forgotten.’
A chill raked down Torj’s spine as he came back to himself, the queen’s words washing over him, a piece of the past falling into place with brutal clarity. He gripped his hair by the roots, formalities forgotten. ‘You saw this? You knew this was going to happen?’
Queen Reyna’s attention was not on his silver locks, but on the centre of his chest, as though she knew the very scars that marred the skin over his heart. ‘Yes.’
Torj dropped his trembling hands to his sides, biting his tongue so he didn’t spill all manner of frustrations to the queen. It wasn’t her fault that Wren, Thea and Anya hadn’t thought to share this information with him. It wasn’t her fault that in the days, weeks and months after the battle in Thezmarr’s courtyard, Wren hadn’t sought him out to tell him what she’d learned from the winter queen.
