C H A P T E R FO U R
lthea dreamt of the seer again.A ‘Remember me,’ the magic wielder whispered into the night as she carved the promise of death into the piece of jade. She had no face. No distinct features. But her voice was a song like a cyren’s call. How many had come before Thea? How many had she handed over to Enovius?
The cold surface of the fate stone pressed into Thea’s palm and she jerked awake with a ragged gasp.
Wren was watching from the bed beside hers. ‘What is it?’ her sister asked, brow furrowed in concern.
Panting, Thea allowed herself a moment to adjust to the dawn light filtering in through the windows and the chill of the crisp morning against her heated skin. The others were still fast asleep. ‘It was nothing,’ she mumbled, her heart still hammering as she released her fate stone, tucking it down the front of her nightgown.
But Wren had seen. ‘You had another nightmare.’ There was no point in arguing. Thea gave a stiff nod, mopping the sweat from her hairline with her sleeve. ‘I really think you should talk to Farissa. She could give you something —’ ‘I’m not taking some potion to wipe my mind for sleep,’ Thea snapped. ‘I need to be alert.’ ‘Forget I mentioned it,’ Wren replied with a sigh. ‘I just wish you’d confide in someone about it.’ ‘You know about it. That’s enough.’ ‘Is it? To wear a fate stone… It’s a heavy burden to bear.’ But Thea was done. ‘It’s no burden, but a gift,’ she insisted as she swung her legs from the bed, wincing at the iciness of the floor. ‘To know when you die, is to know how to live, sister.’ ‘Well, just remember, it’s not fate until you actually die.’ Thea tugged on her pants and tunic. ‘Noted.’ A groan sounded from the other side of the room. ‘Don’t tell me you two are at each other’s throats already?’ Ida muttered from beneath her pillow. ‘Nothing but sisterly love over here,’ Wren groused as she, too, dragged herself from her bed. ‘Good gods, the world must truly be ending then.’ Thea winked at Wren and tapped the hidden fate stone. ‘Not today.’
If there was one place Thea didn’t want to be that morning, it was the alchemy workshop. The tasks
were tedious and she usually ended up with a fresh burn or cut to her hands. She felt naked without her dagger in her boot and she was restless, desperate to scour the Bloodwoods for it before it rusted beneath the damp leaves or some nosy shieldbearer discovered it. ‘Shit.’ She drew her hand back from the bunch of wild lavender she was cutting, skin stinging from where the knife had slipped. ‘You don’t pay any attention.’ Wren tossed her a clean cloth to stem the bleeding on her index finger. ‘Because the job is thankless,’ Thea retorted.
Wren’s hands flew to her hips. ‘Do you even know what we’re making right now?’ ‘Some sort of potion?’ But Thea said it quietly because, by the looks of things, her sister was about to burst. ‘It’s a tincture for blinding headaches —’ Thea opened her mouth, but Wren’s hand flew up to silence her. ‘Blinding headaches exactly like the ones your library friend gets.’ Malik.
Wren wasn’t done. ‘So you’re telling me this work is thankless, too lowly for the likes of you, even though it eases the suffering of those who made unimaginable sacrifices protecting our realms?’ Thea flushed. ‘No.’ ‘Good. Now shut up and don’t cut off any of your fingers.’ A huff of laughter sounded from behind them and Thea was mortified to find Farissa, the Alchemist Master looking over their shoulders, her arms crossed at her chest. ‘I couldn’t have said it better myself.’ She smiled pleasantly. ‘You’d do well to listen to your
sister, Thea.’ Thea’s teeth clenched. ‘Yes, Farissa.’ ‘I see you are much recovered from yet another bout of nosebleeds… How fortunate.’ Thea shifted from foot to foot, training her gaze once more on the lavender. ‘Yes, very fortunate.’ The Master Alchemist shook her head before turning to Wren. ‘I’d like to see those designs again when you have a moment, Elwren. I trust you brought them?’ Wren nodded. ‘Of course.’ ‘I’d ask you to leave your sister to finish the tincture, but we don’t want to poison anyone, do we?’ Wren laughed at this. ‘Definitely not. I’ll see you after.’ ‘Gods, you’re a kiss arse,’ Thea muttered as Farissa walked off to one of the other workstations. ‘And you’re as bad as a spoilt child,’ Wren bit back. She gave a sigh. ‘If you weren’t such a pain, I’d show you what I’ve designed. It’s something… Well, it’s something you’d appreciate.’ Thea recognised the note of deviousness in her sister’s voice and when her sister was in that mood, Furies help them all. Though she was loath to admit it aloud, Wren’s mind was nothing short of brilliant. She was a born inventor and the spark in her eye told Thea that whatever she’d created was something that was bound to change fates somewhere in the realms. ‘Alright then.’ Thea folded her arms. ‘Let’s have it.’ Wren’s answering grin was villainous. Their spat forgotten, she rummaged through her satchel and pulled out several sheets of parchment, smoothing them out on the workspace before them. ‘Here,’ she said proudly.
Thea frowned, scanning the sketches. ‘A teapot?’ It was artfully drawn; perfectly symmetrical, but then again, her younger sister was exceedingly good at nearly everything she tried. She was
infuriating like that. ‘It’s no ordinary teapot…’ Wren smirked. ‘I’m calling it the Ladies’ Luncheon Teapot.’ ‘I see,’ Thea replied, though she didn’t. She had no interest in ladies’ luncheons.
But it didn't dissuade Wren, instead she turned to the next page, which featured a more detailed sketch of the interior.
Thea’s eyes narrowed. ‘Two chambers… Why?’ ‘One for tea,’ Wren replied, celadon eyes bright. ‘One for poison.’ ‘What?’ Thea scoffed. Of all the things she expected to come out of her sister’s mouth, ‘poison’ wasn’t one of them. ‘I’ve been working with Farissa on several minor projects while you’re off having your nosebleeds,’ Wren explained. ‘This was one of my ideas. Each chamber has a hidden hole near the teapot’s handle.’ Wren pointed to the place on her drawing. ‘To pour a specific drink out, you need to keep the hole connected to the chamber uncovered.’ ‘But —’ ‘Think about it, Thea. If you were already suspicious of your host, would you not want to see them drink the same drink as you before you took the risk?’ ‘Yes…’ ‘The drink in each chamber needs to look identical. And the server needs to remember which is which. From there, they need to keep their finger over the spot with the unpoisoned drink in order to poison their foe and over the hole with the poisoned drink if they wish to pour for themself. But to the guest… It appears to be the same, coming from the same place. Do you see?’ Thea stared at the pages in disbelief. ‘How?’ ‘I’m starting a working model this afternoon to show the theory. It’s quite simple: the surface tension and pressure prevent the liquids from pouring out. By covering the hole, the server prevents air from entering the chamber.’ Wren touched her hand to the sketch again. ‘This should decrease the surface area of the liquid and prevent it from exiting through the spout. When the server covers the hole with their finger like so, it allows the air’s pressure to hold the liquid in place.’ Thea gave a slow, disbelieving shake of her head. ‘Impressive, Wren,’ she managed, as she continued to stare at the illustrations. ‘Thank you.’ ‘You know… It’s quite a deplorable contraption.’ ‘Well, you can’t have every drop of wickedness in the family.’ Thea laughed, finding her sister’s passion infectious. ‘I’m relieved to hear it.’ They worked in amiable quiet for the rest of the hour, making a range of tinctures for the healers and some more nefarious tonics for whom they didn’t know and didn’t ask. Thus was the work of Thezmarr’s women. Mostly, Thea listened to Wren’s instructions, still marvelling at her sister’s cleverness, and imagining the stealthy missions the Ladies’ Luncheon Teapot would be needed for.
All the while Thea chopped and ground ingredients, she missed the press of her dagger at her ankle, unable to believe she’d been so careless. Over the course of their shift, she tried to find an opportunity to slip out, but Farissa was watching her like a hawk. A damn good imitation of Audra, as though she knew Thea had one foot out the door.
To Thea’s dismay, midmeal was brief and again provided no window for escape to duck away to the Bloodwoods. Feeling bitter, she made her way through the ground floor corridors with Wren, defeat
chasing her with every step. Farissa had gone easy on her for missing the previous day’s shift, but she doubted she would enjoy the same leniency from Audra. She touched her hand to the scab on her cheek, wishing she’d had the foresight to cover it with Wren’s cosmetics.
Just as they reached the steps to the east tower, harsh laughter rang out from nearby. Thea flexed her fingers, recognising who it belonged to. Where that amusement sounded, no good ever followed.
She took a step in its direction. ‘Thea, leave it.’ Wren’s hand was already poised to grab Thea’s arm.
Despite the squirming sensation in her gut, Thea acquiesced. ‘Fine,’ she muttered, making for the stairs.
Six years ago, during one of the defence classes, Thea had requested a more challenging opponent after sparring with a rather unenthused Wren. Sebastos Barlowe had volunteered to show her what a worthy adversary he would make. Only, she had landed a blow against him in front of the whole cohort, and sent him staggering sideways. Although he ended up winning the round, Seb had taken the hit personally. Thea had tried to make it right, offering to shake his hand at the end, but he’d refused. ‘You think I’m shaking the hand of some dirty stray?’ he had said with a sneer.
Wren had warned her that she’d made an enemy of him. As usual, her sister had been right.
Whenever Sebastos Barlowe was near, a fight was never far away.
Now, the laughter sounded again, louder this time. Followed by the sneering voice that never failed to make her skin crawl. ‘ — look at the blithering idiot. Can’t even walk in a straight line —’ Thea didn’t think, she moved.
Shrugging off her sister’s grip and protests, she rounded the corner.
There, Malik’s giant form was surrounded by a group of shieldbearers, who were prodding him with their training swords. Malik was backing away from them, stumbling over his feet, his huge hands raised before him, trying to block them out.
Blood roared in Thea’s ears. ‘Seb!’ Her voice echoed down the passageway as she planted her
boots wide apart, her body tense.
She heard Wren’s groan from behind her.
The shieldbearer in question whirled around. ‘What do you want, stray?’ Thea took a step towards Seb, her cheeks flushing in anger. ‘Still haven’t come up with a more imaginative or relevant insult?’ She fought to keep her voice even as she noted the cuts on Malik’s arms and the confusion in his grey eyes. ‘Half the population of Thezmarr are orphans.’ ‘But you’re the dirtiest and most unwanted. Look at the state of you,’ he said, his nose wrinkling in disgust as he surveyed her pants, tunic, and muddied boots. ‘I can’t tell if you’re more like a dog or your monstrous friend here. Or are you trying to look like a man?’ She could feel the fury rippling from Wren behind her, but Thea didn’t glance back. Instead, her fingers flexed again, itching to grasp the dagger she no longer had. No matter, she’d kill him with her bare hands if she had to.
Seb continued to sneer at her. ‘What’d you want?’ Thea took another step towards him, ignoring the shieldbearer’s lackeys, who had turned away from Malik to jeer at her, gripping their training swords menacingly.
‘Leave him be,’ she told them.
Seb snorted. ‘Or what?’ Fists clenched, Thea didn’t reply. She had no weapon, and they outnumbered her, but there was no part of her that could have ignored what they were doing to Malik, no matter what it cost her.
She took a deep, trembling breath. ‘Leave him be,’ she repeated. ‘He is a former Warsword. He deserves your respect. Your behaviour is an insult to Thezmarr.’ ‘You’d know all about insults to Thezmarr, being one yourself.’ Chest puffed out, he approached, ensuring that he loomed over her.
Thea didn’t yield a step, despite what she saw in his eyes.
His lackeys closed in as well, shoulders pushed back. ‘I’d get away from my sister, if I were you,’ Wren’s voice sounded. ‘Like we have anything to fear from this scrappy mess,’ Seb retorted. ‘I didn’t say she was the one to fear.’ A puff of air blew past Thea’s ear. A cloud of violet dust billowed and then settled over the
shieldbearers.
Someone coughed.
And Seb looked down at his powder-covered tunic, annoyed. ‘What’s this, some witch’s trick?’ He brushed the dust from his shoulder, glaring at Wren — His eyes bulged and his hand flew to his neck.
An angry rash appeared instantly on his exposed skin and suddenly he was scratching wildly. ‘What have you done, bitch?’ Behind him, his followers were red-faced and clawing at their own flesh. ‘I suggest you get yourselves to the infirmary,’ Wren said, coming to stand beside Thea and survey her handiwork. ‘I’d hate for that to get anywhere delicate. You wouldn't want your dick to fall off.
You seem to enjoy swinging it around.’ Seb’s eyes bulged again. ‘Bitch!’ he shrieked, before staggering away from them, his friends close behind.
Thea turned to her sister, her own eyes wide.
Wren raised her brows. ‘Let’s have it then,’ she said. ‘Let’s hear all about how you didn’t need help, how you had it all handled.’ ‘I…’ Thea struggled for words. ‘That… That was brilliant.’ ‘Oh.’ ‘Remind me not to piss you off too much.’ Thea caught a streak of violet dust on her own skin. ‘Why am I not —’ ‘Not affected?’ Wren interjected. ‘You’re immune to Widow’s Ash.’
‘What? How?’
‘Because I made it so.’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘I’ve been sprinkling it in your bedsheets for the last few months. Building up your tolerance.’ ‘So that’s why I woke up itching a bunch of times… Gods, Wren. You’ve got to be joking.’
‘I don’t joke about Widow’s Ash.’ ‘You’re mad…’ ‘Am I? Or am I just prepared for the inevitable moment where my reckless sister bites off more than she can chew with a group of small-pricked shieldbearers?’ Rubbing her temples, Thea shook her head. ‘Both.’ Wren laughed. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘We’re late for Audra.’ But Thea’s attention was on Malik, who now stood a few yards away, his face red and sweat beading at his brow. ‘I have to take him back to his quarters,’ Thea told her sister.
Wren followed her gaze, taking in the sight of the former warrior as he paced, blinking rapidly, his chest heaving. ‘I think you’re right. I’ll tell Audra.’ ‘Never mind Audra, don’t worry about making excuses. You’ll be in enough shit already.’ ‘I’ll come with you —’ But Thea waved her off. ‘It’ll overwhelm him. Just go, we’ll be fine.’ With a tight nod, Wren made for the stairs and disappeared through the door.
Thea approached Malik, trying not to startle him. ‘You’re lost again, aren’t you, friend?’ she whispered.
Malik looked up at the sound of her voice, his eyes wide. He opened and closed his mouth several times before his posture loosened. ‘Good thing I know the way,’ Thea prompted. ‘Come on.’ Although she wanted to take his arm to lead him through the corridors, she didn’t. The injury to his brain was a web of complexities she knew she would never understand, but she had known him long enough now to recognise that sometimes he suffered from sensory overwhelm, particularly after a trying event or ordeal.
She crept through the fortress, noting that Malik’s balance was suffering today. ‘You just need some quiet,’ she reassured him as she held a door open and waited for him to shuffle through.
Audra had shown her the way once before when this had happened. The sharp-tongued librarian had been gentle and kind with Malik – familiar. It wasn’t until much later that Thea realised Audra had probably known him as a Warsword, they could have even trained together.
When they reached Malik’s quarters, the door was unlocked and, once opened, Malik’s dog, Dax, greeted them anxiously. ‘He’s alright,’ Thea told the mongrel as his wagging tail threatened to bruise her legs.
She waited in the doorway until Malik had eased himself into his chair before the cold hearth. ‘Do you want me to light a fire?’ she asked.
Malik stared at the black coals. ‘Alright,’ Thea said, more to herself than to the former warrior. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’ As she turned to go, a rasping sound came from Malik.
She waited, knowing he was trying to get the words out, knowing she could never understand that torment. Her own throat tightened, wishing there was something she could do.
Malik shook his head, as though he had read her thoughts.
Thea pushed the loose hair off her face and sighed, her own words tumbling out of her. ‘I lost it,’ she confessed, tapping her ankle where Malik knew she kept his dagger. ‘I lost it in the Bloodwoods and I’m sorry,’ she told him.
Of all the things, this Malik smiled at? But with an unsteady hand, he motioned for her to leave.
Regret left a bitter taste in Thea’s mouth. She had lost the only remnant of who Malik had been before his injury, the thing he had trusted her to keep and keep well. He had survived all that he had, only to have her lose the blade he had earned with his own blood and sweat and sacrifice.
No, she wouldn’t stand for it. Closing the former Warsword’s door behind her, Thea set out, not towards Audra’s waiting orders, but back to the Bloodwoods.
Outside, the day was grey, but not dark enough to move freely through the fortress and beyond the walls. Still, Thea had her ways. During her short-lived fling with Evander, she had learned some of the least guarded spots of Thezmarr, some of the lesser known paths through the outerwoods. In that regard, the relationship hadn’t been a complete waste of her time.
It wasn’t long before she was once more surrounded by the bleeding trees of the forest, the rich, damp scent of looming rain heavy in the air. She found her trail from the night before and was sure to cover her tracks. The last thing she needed was some curious shieldbearer on her heels. She also wouldn’t put it past Seb to send out some lackeys seeking revenge on his behalf. She hoped he was still in the infirmary, scratching his balls like some flea-ridden animal.
Soon Thea reached the clearing from yesterday. She’d know the place in her sleep, but with the arrow embedded in the tree, there was no mistaking it. Distracted, she ran her scarred fingers through its fletching, the feathers soft against her skin, in such contrast to the deadly tip buried in the trunk.
Whoever had shot it had almost impeccable aim; were it not for her quick reflexes, thanks to a lifetime of Dancing Alchemists, it would have found its mark.
But that was not why she was here.
Where did I drop it? Thea crouched in the leaves and skimmed her palms across the ground. She retraced her movements… She knew she had been holding it right until the arrow came flying at her.
She berated herself. Dropping things when surprised was not the trait of a formidable warrior.
Thea circled the entire arrow-speared tree, sifting through the leaf litter, convinced that the dagger had to be somewhere nearby, even if she had kicked it during her getaway. It couldn’t have gone far.
But as she searched, a roiling sensation built in her stomach.
She scoured the forest floor more frantically, tracing her steps further back than she truly thought realistic. Her chest grew heavy and at last she fell to her knees on the damp earth. ‘Fuck,’ she murmured, staring at her empty hands.
A chill crept along her skin and her scalp prickled, forcing her to look up.
Her throat seized.
For leaning against a tree, clad in his black warrior leathers, was Wilder Hawthorne, twirling her dagger between his long, tattooed fingers. ‘Looking for this?’ he said.
