C H A P T E R N I N E T E E N
hea’s gaze darted to Hawthorne and lingered there long enough that eventually those silver eyesT raised to hers, his piercing stare sending a thrill through her. He folded his arms over his chest, arms that had shown her how to hold a bow, arms that had held her through the night, arms that could have easily lifted her naked from the bath and — A muscle twitched in his jaw, a dark gleam to his gaze as though he, too, were recalling those moments between them and what they could mean now in the face of the Guild Master’s news.
The Warswords were taking on apprentices… and they did not look happy. All three warriors surveyed the crowd coldly as whispers broke out across the courtyard. The reversal in the policy clearly hadn’t been their idea. But it didn’t matter to Thea. An apprenticeship was on the line. Like everyone else, she knew next to nothing about the Great Rite of the Warswords, but it only stood to reason that those who apprenticed to one had the best chance of passing the harrowing ritual. Her mind raced at the possibility. Three years was all she had left. To become an apprentice could alter the course of her fate, could mean carving her own legend into the realms that much sooner.
She was going to die, yes, but she would die a Warsword’s death. Thea had never wanted
anything more in her life.
She tore her gaze away from Hawthorne.
Kipp was wide-eyed. ‘A Warsword’s apprentice. And we can nominate the one we want! Do you —’ Someone nearby snorted. ‘You don’t seriously think you’re in with a chance?’ Lachin jeered. ‘Anything’s possible,’ Kipp shrugged. But then to Thea and Cal he said: ‘Obviously not, doesn’t mean it’s not exciting though.’ He seemed much younger in that moment, but Thea found his optimism infectious. ‘It would be something…’ she murmured, her skin prickling in anticipation. ‘Did you two get on? You and Hawthorne?’ Cal asked, following her gaze. ‘When he escorted you to Hailford? Do you think you’ve gained some favour with him?’ Thea’s face went bright red and she made a poor recovery. ‘Uh… Not exactly —’‘Alchemist.’ Thea turned to find the Warsword himself towering at her side, his jaw set, his powerful frame poised
for battle, even now. ‘A word,’ he said.
Thea hated the command in his tone, hated that she was already moving with him, leaving her gobsmacked friends behind. She followed him into the fortress and down an unfamiliar passageway
until he pulled her into a hidden alcove.
While Cal and Kipp hadn’t pressed her for information about the journey with the legendary warrior yet, this instance was sure to ignite their curiosities beyond repair.
But all thoughts emptied from her head as Hawthorne leaned against the stone wall and studied her in the same intense way he had when her skin had been bare. ‘Well?’ Thea tried to get control over her racing mind and thundering heart. ‘Well, what?’ ‘I’m not the right mentor for you.’ His gaze never left hers.
Whatever she’d expected him to say, it hadn’t been that. ‘I didn’t say you were…’ she replied slowly, putting the pieces together. ‘Did you think after last night I would come begging for a place as your apprentice?’ ‘Begging? Not for that, no…’ His dimple showed.
Outraged, Thea’s mouth fell open. ‘You prick. I would never —’ ‘What? Beg?’ Fury blazed in her veins. The audacity of this man was unparalleled. ‘Let’s get one thing clear,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘I don’t want you as a mentor. You’re moody, unpredictable and —’ ‘And what?’ Thea tried not to let herself get carried away. ‘Infuriating.’ ‘That’s not what you were going to say.’
‘I’m not doing this dance.’ ‘What dance is that?’ His rosewood soap tickled her nose and the Furies damn him, she almost leaned in. Steeling herself, she ignored his question. Instead, she folded her arms, desperate for any semblance of a barrier between them, desperate to forget that he’d seen her naked. ‘So we’re in agreement. I won’t
nominate you as my mentor, happy?’ ‘Not even close, Alchemist.’ ‘What then?’ she bit back. ‘What would make you happy, Hawthorne?’ A charged silence lingered between them for a beat and Thea gazed upon the Warsword, unable to tame her pounding heart or the pulse of desire between her legs.
He seemed to sense it because, for a moment, his eyes dropped to her mouth. ‘I don’t intend to be a good mentor.’ His words only stoked her fury. ‘You’d rob a talented shieldbearer of the same opportunity you were given?’ He braced an arm against the wall above her and leaned in. ‘I would have been better off.’ ‘Bullshit.’ ‘I’d be a bad teacher,’ he told her, his face nearing hers. ‘I had a terrible example.’ ‘So you’ve said,’ Thea replied coldly. ‘I’ll nominate Elderbrock then.’ ‘He’s a good choice.’ Thea glanced down, needing to look anywhere but at him. Why did she feel like the fool? She had done nothing to be ashamed of, not truly, and yet her stomach roiled, as though she’d lost something she’d never had. But he’d wanted her too. She’d seen proof of that in the bathhouse. Even now, the tether of tension between them was taut.
Smoothing down her clothes, Thea composed herself as she met his gaze again. ‘Is that all?’ Something in Hawthorne’s expression softened. ‘Alchemist…’ His voice was low and gentle this time. He reached for her, his large, warm hand closing gently around her arm. ‘Althea…’ he murmured, as though there was so much more to say, but that her name alone captured it all.
Despite the words they’d exchanged, despite the tightness in her chest, Thea’s body betrayed her yet again, and she found herself arching into his touch, his warmth.
He would have made a lousy mentor, he’d made that much clear, but perhaps… Perhaps if she was apprenticed to another Warsword, it could give them the space to explore whatever this thing was between them. Maybe — A whistle from the courtyard carved through the tension like a hot blade through butter.
Hawthorne sprung back from her, her arm cold where his hand had been. ‘We are in agreement then, Alchemist?’ Thea sucked in a sharp breath. ‘Yes,’ she told him, chest aching as she spoke the words. ‘We’re in agreement.’
To Thea’s surprise, the shieldbearer cohort was where she had left them.
Thankfully, there was no time for Cal and Kipp’s questions. ‘Enough gossiping,’ Esyllt’s commanding tone cut through their chatter. ‘You’ve each been assigned a group, and that group will be led by one of the Warswords. Learn all you can. And don’t piss them off with your whinging. You’re lucky to have them.’ The message was clear: they don’t want to be here. Don’t make it worse. Thea made a point of looking nowhere near Hawthorne.
The weapons master went on to read out names from a crinkled piece of parchment, and Thea hated how relieved she was to find herself with Kipp and Cal in her cohort. To her dismay, Seb and Lachin were as well. ‘You lot are with Torj,’ Esyllt shouted as the shieldbearers sprang into action.
With her friends, Thea pushed her way towards the towering Bear Slayer, his golden hair glinting in the dawn light spilling over the turrets. He eyed them warily. ‘Gods…’ he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Thea was used to disdain by now, so she ignored this and instead took the opportunity to survey the warrior before them more closely. He didn’t wear his famous war hammer, only a longsword sheathed at his belt. But that mighty weapon was enough to mark him for what he was. She’d know the sheen of Naarvian steel anywhere. ‘Get yourselves together,’ Torj called. ‘We’re heading to the Bloodwoods for a training session.
It’s time for some ranged weapons practice.’ ‘Finally,’ Cal said. ‘If you wipe the floor with Seb, I’d be much obliged,’ Kipp added. ‘I’d pay to see that,’ Thea agreed.
Cal gave a mock bow as they made their way past the gatehouse. ‘Consider it done.’ Kipp turned to Thea next. ‘You going to tell us what all that was about before? Don’t tell us the
Hand of Death has already chosen you?’ ‘Not even close,’ she said.
The early morning sun barely penetrated the thick canopy of the Bloodwoods and thus, the dense forest was just as cold as the dungeons might have been. Thea cupped her hands together, trying to blow some warmth into her fingers. As they walked, she mulled over the Guild Master’s announcement and her mind drifted back to what Hawthorne had told her. ‘There are forces at work we do not understand… Things that threaten the peace the three kingdoms have fought so hard for… It creeps across the lands like a poison… A scourge of sorts,
breaking through the Veil.’ Was that why the Warswords were remaining at Thezmarr? Was that why they were now suddenly involved in ‘shaping the warriors of the future’? ‘I feel that the era of peace is once more at an end. Thezmarrians need to be ready.’ Before long, they reached a familiar clearing in the Bloodwoods, but this time, Thea didn’t have to hide in the shadows. This time, Thea was one of the shieldbearers. That small victory was not lost on her.
Someone had already set up and for a second, she pitied the poor sod who’d been up even before the shieldbearers. She’d take clean-up duty in the armoury any day over set-up duty before dawn.
Racks of weapons had been laid out along the edges of the clearing. Spears, longbows, crossbows, throwing stars, slings and quivers of arrows stood waiting for them. Pieces of parchment with thick painted targets had been pinned to the trees.
Thea was just as aggressive as Kipp and Cal in shoving her way to the front of the group so she could see everything up close. This was different to being in the armoury or in a sparring session – she was finally going to wield real steel.
Torj the Bear Slayer crossed his arms over his considerably muscled chest, leathers creaking, and waited. His mere presence was powerful enough to demand silence, his build as imposing as the other Warswords.
His piercing blue gaze skimmed across them, pausing on Thea for a moment with a flash of recognition. He offered her a subtle nod of greeting before focusing back on the group before him. ‘Our purpose today is twofold,’ he stated without ceremony. ‘First, you will learn the nature of the totem you will be instructed to seek in your shieldbearer initiation test.’ The golden-haired warrior held one between his fingers.
Thea licked her lips as she studied it: a pair of crossed swords, the emblem that signified the first rank of a Thezmarrian warrior: Guardian. ‘These are worn by every Guardian in our forces on their right arm. However, those of you who are new to our units may not know that these totems are more than just a symbol of rank within Thezmarr. All are imbued with an echo of ancient magic that allows them to recognise any worthy warrior. During your initiation test, the totems will call to those destined for Thezmarr’s guild, emitting a signal to deserving shieldbearers only. Once you have one, it is yours for life. Without one, you are no Guardian of the midrealms, no warrior of Thezmarr. When the time comes for your trial, you will find them in the most unlikely of places, in situations that will challenge you. Fail that challenge, and you no longer belong amidst our ranks.’ The Warsword’s words weighed heavy on Thea and she suddenly itched to move, to train. There was no point in standing idle when there was a totem somewhere out there, waiting to test her worth.
Torj cleared his throat. ‘So with that said, we are also here today to ensure you find a preferred weapon. For those of you who are already inclined towards something particular, follow your instinct.’ His eyes landed on Cal as he said this. ‘For those who are less experienced, I urge you to try several and determine what feels most right to you. We have the entire morning at our disposal, so take your time. Thezmarr is not interested in Guardians who rushed through the basics only to discover they can’t shoot for shit later.’ One or two shieldbearers laughed. ‘Is it true that Warswords are masters of all weaponry?’ Thea asked loudly, half expecting to have
her head bitten off. ‘Yes,’ Torj replied.
An awed silence followed.
Until Thea spoke again. ‘Will you give us a demonstration?’
‘What?’ ‘A demonstration.’ Torj stared at her, his brow furrowed as he considered her request.
Thea panicked. Gods, have I insulted him? Asking him to perform like some act in a troupe? I should have kept my big mouth shut. Wren’s right. I bring myself nothing but trouble.
A wide, unexpected grin split across the Warsword’s face, the expression almost appearing a little manic with those ice-blue eyes. He strode to one of the racks and slid a spear from its position.
Thea blinked just in time to see a blur of movement streaking through the thicket.
A loud thud sounded.
Thea gazed with the rest of her cohort where the spear was deeply embedded in the target, right on the bullseye, its end still wobbling from the sheer force of Torj’s throw.
Mouth hanging open, she turned back to the Warsword, only to find him nocking an arrow to a longbow. Thea was struck by how powerful the warrior looked as he drew the string, his chest expanding as he did; an unwelcome reminder of Hawthorne’s prowess, punctuated by gentle touches.
The arrow whistled as it carved through the air.
Another thud sounded as it, too, hit the target.
Someone let out an additional noise of appreciation, and a moment later, Thea saw why. The arrow had shaved off a piece of the spear’s timber as it had shot into the target.
Before they could turn back, a trio of throwing stars flew between the trees, whipping so close past a shieldbearer that they sheared several loose threads from his cloak before piercing the mark in a perfect semi-circle around the arrow and spear. ‘Is that demonstration enough for you?’ Torj asked smugly.
He was met with only awed stares. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Get to it.’ Thea didn’t hesitate. She shoved her way through the crowd, determined to get her hands on a set of throwing stars. At last she could put her Dancing Alchemist skills to the real test. This was the opportunity she had been waiting for. Her body came alive with anticipation; she might not have been as big or as powerful as some of her peers, but Thea was fast and accurate. She had been honing her blade-throwing skills for years and now was her chance to show her potential Warsword mentor exactly what she was capable of.
Ensuring she was in Torj’s line of sight, Thea took up a position in the centre of the clearing, and planted her feet apart, facing the target that still bore the proof of the warrior’s prowess.
She didn’t wait; she threw the stars in quick succession, the small metal points flying with startling precision, burying into the parchment and the tree trunk in three satisfying beats, exactly where she’d intended: a hair’s breadth beside those Torj had thrown. ‘Whoa,’ Cal’s voice sounded from behind her.
The rest of the cohort seemed to pause in curiosity as their comrade approached the target, studying her work with a slack jaw. ‘You’ve done that before,’ her friend accused.
‘No idea what you mean,’ Thea replied. ‘Oh, come on…’ Thea offered him a conspirator’s grin. ‘My sister and her friends have this game…’
‘Go on.’ ‘It’s called Dancing Alchemists.’
She threw a star that landed between Cal’s boots, and he jumped back, swearing. ‘What the —’ Another left her hand in a blur and he leapt again with a yelp. ‘Now imagine you were an alchemist worker.’ Thea grinned and threw a final star, causing Cal to
lunge out of its path dramatically. ‘See? Dancing Alchemists.’ Cal looked from the stars that had nearly severed his toes to Thea, letting out a surprised laugh. ‘Impressive.’ ‘What would be more impressive…’ Torj emerged from the dense undergrowth, his hand on the hilt of his sword. ‘Is if my shieldbearers were actually training rather than laughing and jumping around like prized fools.’ There was an edge to his tone that made Thea’s stomach churn. Had he not seen her throws? Had he not noticed the accuracy of her work? ‘Whitlock,’ he snapped at Cal. ‘Longbow, now.’ Cal surged into action, snatching the bow from the rack and shouldering a quiver of arrows. ‘Target?’ he asked.
Thea watched nervously as Torj considered the shieldbearer before turning his gaze upon the forest, scanning its depths for an undoubtedly impossible mark. Time seemed to slow as he did so, and Thea knew it was now an exercise of humiliation for them both, for appearing to not take their task seriously.
At last, Torj pointed. ‘See that little red flag? About a hundred yards or so ahead? Mid way up that big tree.’ A hundred yards away? Thea followed the line of his finger and had to squint in order to see the tiny scrap of red fabric he referred to. What’s that doing up there, anyway? ‘Yes, Sir,’ Cal replied, already readying an arrow.
He can’t be serious… Thea stared.
But it was the most serious she’d ever seen Callahan Whitlock. He drew the string back expertly, his gaze trained on the target she could barely make out in the dense forest.
The arrow hummed as it soared through the air.
And impaled the flag into the tree.
Slowly, Cal lowered the bow.
Torj clapped him on the shoulder, smiling broadly. ‘Just as good as I remembered, Whitlock.
Keep it up and you’ll be Thezmarr’s lead archer in no time.’ Thea was practically gawking. Cal had said his strengths were with long-range weapons, but this? He’d just pulled off an impossible shot. And Torj’s praise? Did that mean Cal had already caught the Warsword’s attention as a potential apprentice?
Cal merely shrugged, offering her a sheepish smile. There was a story there, that was for sure.
But apparently Torj hadn’t forgotten her role in the laughter and silliness. ‘You’re up, Althea.’ He motioned for her to take the long bow from Cal.
Her hands were trembling as she did, and she knew why. She’d only just earned a scrap of respect from some of the shieldbearers with her throwing star stunt, but it was very possible that she was about to lose it now. ‘Target?’ she asked, following the example Cal had set.
Torj picked up a spear and sent it hurtling through the forest. ‘That.’ About fifty yards away, the weapon quivered in a tree trunk from the force of impact. ‘Right…’ Thea said, gritting her teeth and squaring her shoulders. She centred herself and called
the memory of Hawthorne’s lesson to the forefront of her mind, allowing his words to wash over her, remembering the guidance of his hands on hers as she gripped the front of the bow and brought it up before her.
She focused on her target, still wobbling in its place, and set an arrow to the string.
Exhaling, she drew her arm back, reminding herself that her muscles needed to burn with the effort if she wanted to loose the arrow with enough force.
Now.
Thea could almost hear Hawthorne’s command in her mind, and she released the string.
The arrow sang as it sliced through the air, landing with a thud a few hands north of her mark.
Cal let out a low whistle of appreciation.
And Torj was nodding alongside him. ‘Not what I expected…’ The golden-haired Warsword studied her curiously. ‘Interesting technique.’ Thea looked to her hands, still gripping the longbow, frowning. ‘Is it wrong?’ ‘I didn't say it was wrong. I said it was interesting.’ ‘Why?’ Torj gave her a look she didn’t understand. ‘Because there’s only one warrior I know who holds a bow like that. And he’s not known for sharing his methods.’ ‘Oh.’ Thea’s skin prickled.
But Torj didn’t look concerned or angry, just a little bewildered as he walked off.
Cal was watching her. ‘Who taught you?’ he demanded.
Thea fidgeted with the hem of her cloak, instinct demanding that she hold back. Cal had been nothing but kind to her since they’d met. There was an earnestness to him she found endearing, and she wanted to trust him and Kipp. She knew her hesitation was borne of confiding in the wrong boy years ago and being singed with regret. But despite knowing all this, the name wouldn’t form on her tongue.
Instead, she turned to Cal and blurted: ‘Where did you learn to shoot like that?’ Cal’s cheeks flushed. ‘Uh… Well, my family were hunters. Deer mostly. I was basically born with a bow in my hand. But…’ His blush deepened. ‘Game in my homeland grew scarcer every year and my parents couldn’t afford to keep me, so they sent me here when I was a teenager. I left behind three sisters.’ ‘I see…’ Thea said slowly. She hadn’t met many people in Thezmarr who had grown up outside the guild. Most were infants when they arrived, abandoned like her, sometimes sold with a claim a child had a special gift, sometimes as an offering for the good of the midrealms, all of them passing into the care of the Guild Master. But Cal had known a life outside the fortress, had known a family…
and had been ripped away from them.
‘I’m sorry,’ she told him.
He shrugged. ‘It was a long time ago.’ Thea recognised that forced nonchalant tone. She used it often enough herself. ‘But you still miss them.’ ‘Every day,’ Cal replied, reaching for the bow.
They practised until noon, and all the while, Thea picked Cal’s mind for advice on how to best handle the longbow. She soon discovered that he was also rather proficient with the sling and the spear, and was generous with his knowledge. He patiently walked her through several techniques with both weapons. ‘But from what I’ve seen,’ he told her. ‘Your strength lies with the throwing stars.’
Thea nodded stiffly. ‘That’s not what you want to hear?’ he asked.
Thea chewed her bottom lip. ‘I… I want to be a master of all,’ she answered at last. She waited for laughter or mockery, but none came.
Cal simply shrugged. ‘Then you’re going to need a lot of practice.’ A harsh voice cut through the woods. ‘ — moron is just as useless with a bow as he is with a sword. Furies know why he’s still here.’ Thea’s skin crawled at the sound and, instinctually, she knew its target.
With Cal at her side, they searched the Bloodwoods, finding Kipp wedged between two of Seb’s lackeys, the point of an arrow held to his throat. ‘I’ve been telling you for years, Sebastos, my talents lie in the War Room,’ Kipp said, inching his neck away from the tip, revealing a trickle of blood.
Seb leaned in. ‘And I’ve been telling you for years, no one wants a commander who can’t swing a sword or throw a spear.’ The creaking sound of a bow being pulled taut sounded. ‘Seb!’ Cal had drawn to full height, an arrow nocked and ready in his longbow. ‘Let him go.’ Thea’s heart rate spiked. Things had escalated so quickly. Where was Torj? Surely he should step in.
But Seb turned his sneer towards Cal. ‘You, I’ve never understood. Why you throw yourself in with a bunch of freaks? First this weakling.’ He smacked Kipp’s face with the flat of the arrowhead before jutting his chin at Thea. ‘Then the bitch who thinks she’s a man.’ Thea refused to blush. Instead, she clenched her fists and adjusted her stance. If Cal shot, chaos would follow. She only wished she’d pocketed a few of the throwing stars.
Cal’s knuckles were white around the bow, but he held steady. ‘You want to know why I’m not in with your lot?’ He laughed darkly. ‘I have no interest in playing errand boy for some entitled prick who uses others to fight his battles for him. You’re only here because your uncle is friends with the
Guild Master.’ Thea’s mouth nearly fell open. What?
The tips of Seb’s ears reddened. ‘That’s not true.’
Cal ignored him. ‘Let Kipp go.’ ‘Or what? You’ll shoot me?’ Blood roared in Thea’s ears and she took a step forward without thinking, something crackling in her chest, a static buzzing at her fingertips. All the fear she had felt fell away and her focus became singular: teach Sebastos Barlowe a lesson. Her whole body coursed with a fierce energy that she knew in her bones could take that bastard down. ‘Well?’ Seb taunted, digging the tip of the arrow into Kipp’s neck.
Their friend winced, a bead of sweat trickling down the side of his face.
Seb was enjoying this. ‘You going to shoot me or what?’ Thea took another step forward. ‘Maybe he will,’ came Torj’s deep voice from behind them.
Seb had the good sense to flinch.
Thea froze. ‘And from what I’ve seen, Whitlock doesn’t miss,’ the Warsword added, moving to Thea’s side.
His voice was calm, as though he hadn’t just found his shieldbearers in a deadly standoff, but his ice- blue eyes betrayed the fury beneath.
‘Everyone lower your weapons, now.’ Pure command, no room for insubordination.
Immediately, the lackeys released Kipp. Seb dropped the arrow, and Cal lowered his bow. Thea let her fists fall to her sides, but kept them clenched, her tingling fingernails digging into her palms.
Torj surveyed them coldly. ‘This can go one of two ways…’ he drawled. ‘One, I chalk this up to the usual shieldbearer hazing bullshit, and we don’t speak of it again. Two… If I ever find this happening again… I’ll string you up in the mountain cliff caves and let the storms drown you slowly.
Is that understood?’
‘Yes, Sir.’ Came the unified mumble. ‘Good.’ After that, he called their training to an official halt. ‘Get yourselves back to the hall, eat up. I’ve got no doubt that this session was a warm-up compared to this afternoon’s.’ Thea and Cal waited until the group had dispersed before they rushed to an ashen-faced Kipp. ‘I’m fine,’ he mumbled, wiping the trail of blood from his neck. ‘He’s a fucking bastard,’ Cal snarled, watching Seb disappear towards the fortress. ‘That was never in dispute,’ Kipp replied.
Thea looped her arm through his and squeezed his hand. ‘You’re sure you’re alright?’ Kipp gave a resigned smile. ‘I can’t say that’s how I wanted to spend my morning. But yes, I’m fine. Thanks to you and Cal.’ ‘I didn’t do anything,’ Thea said truthfully. ‘You would have,’ Kipp argued. ‘You looked… powerful, like you had some secret weapon you were going to bring down on him. I was almost scared myself.’ Charged energy coursed through Thea even now, but she laughed. ‘Apparently rage will do that.’ ‘Apparently…’ Kipp echoed, sounding distant. ‘What is it?’ Cal asked.
Kipp hesitated, visibly swallowing before removing his arm from Thea’s, his body caving inward. He didn’t look at them when he spoke. ‘You both know that I’m more inclined towards military strategy, don’t you?’ Thea exchanged a confused glance with Cal and frowned. ‘What of it?’ ‘Well… I just want you to know that I’m good,’ he told them tentatively. ‘Really good. I might be “useless” on the battlefield, but I will always have your backs from the War Room.’ Thea’s heart fractured for him. ‘We know that, Kipp.’ ‘Of course we do,’ Cal chimed in. ‘Everyone has their strengths.’ Kipp forced a smile and tapped his index finger to his head. ‘This isn’t just for decoration, you know.’ ‘Thank the Furies for that, cause it ain’t pretty.’ Cal threw an arm around Kipp’s shoulders.
Kipp snorted. ‘Can always count on you for a morale boost, can’t we, Callahan?’ Thea laughed shakily, the tension ebbing away at last.
As they started back to the fortress, Kipp’s hand drifted to where the arrow tip had broken the skin on his neck. Shaking his head, he muttered. ‘Fucking Seb Barlowe… He’d never get served at the
Fox.’ For once, Thea and Cal didn’t comment.
Back at the Great Hall, Thea snatched up what food she could carry and made for the alchemy workshop. Even though her old cohort had every third afternoon free, she knew her sister would be
tinkering away at her Ladies’ Luncheon Teapot.
Wren was hunched over a workbench, scowling at some part of the porcelain design, when Thea walked in. Ida was seated a few benches over, she glanced up and a slow smile spread across her lips. ‘Althea Nine Lives lives to fight another day.’ Thea grinned. ‘I’m a shieldbearer…’ she ventured, glancing at her sister to gauge any emotion.
Nothing. Wren was absorbed in her work, as usual. ‘So we’ve heard,’ Ida replied. ‘Everyone’s talking about you.’ ‘Saying what?’ Thea hoped her chipper retort would stir some sort of response from Wren. ‘Some say you’re a brazen fool. Others say you’re the fresh blood Thezmarr needs.’ ‘Interesting.’ Thea approached the bench, studying Wren’s handiwork and handing her a thick slice of bread.
At last, Wren looked up and took it gratefully. ‘How’s the design coming?’ Thea asked. ‘Not quite there yet,’ Wren said around a mouthful. ‘I’m using dye to colour the water so I can be sure there are no leaks from the different chambers.’
‘That could be unfortunate.’
‘Exactly. It’s taking some tweaking.’ ‘You’ll get there.’ ‘I know,’ Wren replied, taking another enthused bite. ‘How is life as a Thezmarrian shieldbearer?
Is it everything you always dreamed it would be?’ Thea glanced at Ida, who looked intensely interested in her own potions. It wasn’t that Thea kept secrets… not many, anyway. But she didn’t talk as openly with the others as she did with Wren.
Despite her sister being younger, Wren had mastered wisdom and a cool head – much to Thea’s frustration. With Ida distracted, Thea allowed herself to consider Wren’s question. She thought of the morning lesson with Torj and the pull of her muscles as she drew the bowstring back. But she also recalled the fear spiking as she entered the dormitories last night, the eyes on her both there and across the dinner table. ‘Parts of it,’ she said honestly.
Wren nodded. ‘You knew it would be like this?’ Thea asked.
Wren grimaced. ‘I suspected that not everyone would be thrilled about a woman wielding a blade alongside the guild’s most prized warriors.’ ‘I was too wrapped up in getting here, in being able to call myself a shieldbearer.’ ‘I know,’ Wren said again.
Thea hauled herself up to sit on the workbench, her feet dangling beneath her. ‘You seem to know a lot these days.’ Wren laughed. ‘I’m very all-knowing, all-powerful.’ ‘Doesn’t surprise me.’ Thea paused.
Shaking her head, Wren shifted through various sheets of parchment before consulting a sketch. ‘I suppose you want to be a Warsword’s apprentice? That was the announcement this morning? What you and… Hawthorne were discussing?’ Thea baulked. ‘How did you know he and I discussed anything?’ Wren shrugged. ‘I saw him approach you in the courtyard,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘I don’t like the way he was looking at you.’ ‘What are you talking about?’ Thea retorted. Her pink-tipped cheeks did her no favours, though.
Wren gave her a knowing look. ‘Wars have been started over looks less heated than that, sister. Is
something going on —’ ‘No,’ Thea cut her off. ‘He only wanted my word that I wouldn’t nominate him as a mentor. Less than nothing there.’ If her sister detected the note of hurt in her voice, she didn’t say. Wren only continued looking at her designs. ‘I don’t think that’s the issue, Thee…’ ‘There’s no issue.’ Thea sniffed. ‘And who wouldn’t want to be one of their apprentices?’ Wren scoffed. ‘I can think of a few people —’ ‘I was made for this, Wren,’ Thea interjected.
Wren’s gaze lingered on where Thea’s fate stone rested against her skin beneath her shirt. ‘I don’t doubt it,’ she said. ‘Just be careful. You’re not invincible.’ A flicker of fear from the previous night fluttered to the surface, but Thea didn’t want Wren to know the half of it.
So Thea finished her food and brushed the crumbs from her chest. ‘Must you?’ Wren chastised, motioning to the mess that now littered her workspace.
Thea only grinned. ‘So, what else are people saying about Althea Nine Lives?’ Wren gave one of her long suffering sighs that constantly had people assuming she was the older sibling. ‘Mostly variations of the two previous notions. You’re either an idiot with a death wish, or an
enlightened vision of the future.’ Thea snorted. ‘And what do you say?’ Wren concentrated on her creation, tinkering with an element that Thea couldn’t see. But there was a smile on Wren’s lips and the glimmer of pride in her eyes. ‘I tell them you’re my sister.’
