C H A P T E R F I V E
very part of Thea shrieked at her to flee, but she was rooted to the spot, still on her knees in theE dirt.
Hawthorne’s silver gaze pierced hers and he took a powerful step towards her, a towering wall of muscle. ‘Not going to deny it?’ His voice was deep and husky, his words seeming to reverberate along her bones.
Thea scrambled to her feet, her heart racing to the point of pain, her mouth welded shut. ‘Do you even know what this is? What it means?’ He twirled the dagger again. His tone gave away nothing, but Thea didn’t miss the muscle twitch in his jaw. Up close, he appeared even fiercer than he had up on the cliffs and in the hall. His face was all unforgiving lines and the promise of violence, his square jaw sharpened by his dark beard and his eyes brimmed with an unbroken storm beneath long black lashes.
Again, she chose not to speak. For what could she say that he would believe, that he would understand? She was an alchemist, a poor one at that. She had broken the guild’s laws and, as Seb had put it, she was an insult to Thezmarr. She had no business with any dagger, let alone… She glanced around them at the empty forest, and for a split second, considered — ‘You can try to run if you like,’ he said, a cruel glimmer of amusement in his eyes, almost a dare. ‘But you forget what I am.’ Thea struggled to swallow the lump in her throat, her fingers numb at her sides. No matter how hard she had trained in secret, no matter how well she had learned the mysteries of the Bloodwoods, before her stood a Warsword of Thezmarr. There was no way out.
Hawthorne sheathed her dagger at his belt, watching each realisation as they dawned on her face. ‘Are you going to come to the fortress willingly? Or would you prefer to suffer the indignity of me throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you?’ At that, Thea lifted her chin, resenting the subtle note of enjoyment in his tone. ‘I’ll walk.’ ‘Good.’ They didn’t speak as they trekked through the Bloodwoods, but Thea kept glancing at her dagger in his belt, cursing herself for her own stupidity. Her prized possession had been taken from her and she was on her way to face the punishment she had long feared but never imagined would come to pass. Had she been that naïve? As reckless and foolish as Wren so often told her?
Apparently so.
As she walked at the Warsword’s side, his commanding figure cast long shadows before them
across the ground. Effortless power thrummed from him and she couldn’t help the charged energy that simmered in her veins, or the fluttering sensation in her chest when she looked at him. As cold and unflinching as he appeared, swords strapped to his back and jaw set, something about him heated her blood, even now.
His silver eyes slid to her, as though he could sense her body’s traitorous response to him. ‘Is there something you need to say?’ he growled.
Thea cursed herself. Her future at Thezmarr was at stake and she was ogling the very Warsword who might end it all? ‘No,’ she told him, eyeing her dagger now sheathed at his waist. ‘Good,’ he said again.
And so, in the shadow of a mighty Warsword, Althea Zoltaire walked to her doom.
They reached the Guild Master’s residences and, as Hawthorne’s fist closed and pounded on the door, Thea realised just how terrified she was. Her tunic was damp with sweat and it was taking all her willpower to keep her breathing even. She tensed as she heard the footsteps on the other side, her legs weak beneath her.
The door was thrown open and Thea stared into the discerning face of Osiris. ‘Hawthorne, what is it?’ he said, frowning at the Warsword looming over the pitiful sight of a dishevelled alchemist. ‘Found her with a weapon, amongst other offences,’ Hawthorne replied, not even looking at her. ‘A weapon?’ Osiris blinked. ‘A dagger, out in the Bloodwoods. Of Naarvian steel.’ Hawthorne’s voice was clipped, as though he were impatient to get to the heart of the matter and be on his way, as though deciding Thea’s fate was beneath him.
But Osiris’ gaze pierced her, his mouth twisting into an ugly expression, his contempt almost palpable. He didn’t deign to address her. ‘Take her to the council room and wait for me.’ An icy shiver crept down Thea’s spine as the door closed in their faces, and Hawthorne motioned for her to keep moving down the corridor.
The council room. Was there to be some sort of trial? Thea glanced up at the Warsword to her right, trying to gauge any clues as to what awaited her.
But Hawthorne’s expression was unreadable. The only tiny detail Thea noticed was that his hand kept drifting to her dagger at his belt and a muscle beneath his dark stubble jumped.
The dagger means something to him, she decided. But what? It had been in her possession for the last six years and before that, it had belonged to Malik. She knew for a fact that Hawthorne hadn’t even been in the territory when she’d found it.
At the council room doors Thea suppressed the urge to dig her heels into the ground and refuse to
enter. ‘What’s going to happen?’ she asked.
The Warsword didn’t even look at her, just pushed the doors open and waited for her to go inside, anger rolling off him.
The room was a dimly lit, narrow rectangle with a rich mahogany table running down its centre, six high-backed chairs surrounding it. Hawthorne moved to gather several maps that were spread out, rolling them up and placing them on a nearby shelf that was otherwise rammed with books. Heavy
crimson curtains covered what Thea guessed to be a window, and a trolley of decanters stood in the far corner. ‘You’ll be wanting to sit for this.’ Hawthorne’s deep voice startled her. ‘I’ll stand.’ Thea rubbed her arms as a draught swept through the room. She looked around for the hearth, but there was none.
The Warsword was watching her, noting her every movement.
She didn’t like being assessed. ‘What are you going to do with my dagger?’ she ventured.
‘It’s not your dagger.’ ‘It is.’ ‘Let’s forget for a moment that it’s forbidden for a woman to wield a weapon…’ he said, drawing the dagger from his belt and testing its sharpness with a tattooed finger. ‘Where would an alchemist get a Naarvian blade such as this?’ ‘I didn’t steal it.’ Thea ground her teeth at his tone. ‘It was a gift.’ Hawthorne blinked. ‘A gift.’ Thea opened her mouth to defend herself, but the door flew open and, in that moment, she did indeed need the support of the table.
It was not only the Guild Master who joined them, but the other Warswords: Torj the Bear Slayer and Vernich the Bloodletter. Between them and Hawthorne, they seemed to take up the whole council
room. ‘Sit,’ Osiris ordered.
And this time, Thea obeyed, taking the chair closest to her and sliding into it, clasping her trembling hands in her lap. She didn’t know where to look. Had it only been yesterday that she’d watched the mighty warriors return to Thezmarr, never imagining she might be face to face with them so soon? ‘What’s the meaning of this, Osiris?’ Vernich demanded, his voice gravelly. ‘I was about to ride out to Harenth.’ ‘It appears we have a law breaker on our hands.’ The Guild Master motioned toward Thea.
Despite her racing heart, Thea refused to lower her gaze.
Vernich’s lip curled. ‘I see.’ ‘She was in possession of Naarvian steel.’ Osiris braced himself against the table and shook his head. ‘Stupid girl. Do you not realise these laws are in place to protect you? To protect us all?’ ‘As I told him,’ she jutted her chin towards Hawthorne. ‘The dagger was a gift. The Warsword insisted —’ ‘No Warsword would ever give up his blade. Especially not to some scrap of a girl. And you know the laws. You know what you risked.’ Thea’s shoulders sagged. They didn’t believe her. And even if they did, she’d broken the rules.
Dread sank to the pit of her stomach and she waited. ‘Well, she’s out then. Send her away,’ Vernich stated. ‘Agreed,’ Hawthorne added, folding his arms over his broad chest.
Torj Elderbrock shot them a look of surprise. ‘Don’t tell me of all the things in the realms, this is what you two choose to agree on?’ ‘You know I have little patience for the shieldbearers,’ Hawthorne continued. ‘Let alone thieves who sneak through the Bloodwoods with our sacred blades.’ ‘Hear hear,’ Vernich grunted. ‘So why are we here about it —’ The door banged open again.
Audra, the librarian, strode in, her eyes fiery behind her spectacles, her silver hair pulled back into a tight bun that made her expression all the more severe. Despite her small stature, Audra had as much presence as the towering Warswords, more so, considering she was not happy. ‘Why was I not informed you were questioning one of my charges?’ the librarian asked.
Osiris grimaced. ‘How did you know we were here?’ ‘Nothing happens in this fortress that I don’t know about. I’ll assume the lack of communication
was an innocent oversight, shall I?’ Thea gaped at her warden. ‘There is only one thing to be done here.’ Osiris' face reddened. ‘Therefore, your presence was not required. I will not have some girl compromise all the guild stands and fights for. Do you not know the state of the realm?’ ‘You think one girl can compromise all that?’ Was Thea hearing correctly? Was Audra defending her? ‘You tell me,’ Osiris countered. ‘That was exactly how it happened the last time.’ ‘Furies save us, Osiris. Now is not the time for prophecies —’ ‘Which is what you said time and time again, before a little girl brought the darkness down upon Thezmarr twenty years ago.’ ‘And what was your brilliant solution? To strip half your warriors of their weapons and throw
them out?’ ‘I had no choice —’ ‘There is always a choice. And Thezmarr is weaker for yours.’ ‘Enough about the past,’ Vernich interjected. ‘This girl here broke our laws. She must face the consequences.’ Girl. Always girl. Like she was an unruly child to be disciplined, not a woman who had survived.
Anger crackled in Thea’s veins.
Audra stiffened, as though the insult landed upon her shoulders as well. She seemed to draw herself up. ‘Need I remind you,’ she said between clenched teeth, ‘that the original Warswords were women. The Three Furies were what our entire culture was based upon, what everything the guild stands for started with them.’ ‘Don’t bring your books into this,’ Osiris snapped. ‘Don’t bring your prejudices from decades ago into this,’ Audra bit back. ‘Rather than punish Althea for what she is, ask her why she breaks the rules.’ ‘I don’t care why.’ ‘You should. She has wanted nothing more than to train since she was old enough to walk. All the while we have less and less recruits. Our shieldbearers are failing the initiation test more than ever before, some of them not even reaching the point where they can undertake it. Perhaps it's time to try something new. Althea is no scholar, that's for sure.’ Thea suppressed a wince at that last comment.
Osiris’ eyes narrowed and adopted a dangerous glint. ‘This is your fault,’ he told Audra, his focus honing in on the small daggers at her waist. ‘You encourage this sort of behaviour with your blatant disregard for our ways. You allow your past to cloud your judgement, to interfere with your duties.’ ‘You mean my past as a former Guardian of the midrealms? As a former warrior of this very guild?’ Air whistled between Thea’s teeth. The librarian had never uttered those words aloud before.
But Audra didn’t miss a beat, her voice icy. ‘I have nothing but respect for the Thezmarrian ways,
Osiris, as you well know. My very purpose here is to uphold its spirit, its vision and its place in the midrealms. That’s why I stayed, even after your abhorrent law changing.’ She gestured to the miniature weapons at her belt. ‘And these are ceremonial, as I’ve told you before. A tribute to the Furies.’ ‘How can you expect your charges to follow the laws when you yourself —’ ‘They look like letter openers to me,’ Wilder Hawthorne cut in, as though Osiris hadn’t been speaking. ‘A fitting tool for a librarian, Guild Master. Surely, we would not rob Audra of their uses.
And surely, Thezmarrian warriors would not be threatened by such insignificant blades.’ He posed seemingly polite questions, but Wilder Hawthorne had swiftly ended the debate regarding Audra’s letter openers. ‘However, regarding your… charge,’ Hawthorne said it with disdain.
Thea’s fists clenched in her lap, her pulse spiking. ‘She broke one of our most important laws, and now it seems you’re suggesting that not only she be granted leniency, but what? A place in the shieldbearers’ ranks?’ In that moment Thea didn’t care if Hawthorne was the most celebrated Warsword of all time, or that she’d briefly admired his figure in the hall. He was an unfeeling bastard through and through.
But Audra spoke calmly as she faced him. ‘In short, yes.’ Hawthorne laughed darkly. ‘Warriors of Thezmarr are forged with blood and steel, not plucked from the shadows of the Bloodwoods, or the alchemy workshop.’ His words were harsh, unforgiving, as was his gaze upon Thea.
Thea shifted in her seat. She had spoken no word in her own defence, but aware that her fate was hanging in the balance before her, she felt compelled to say something. ‘I’m good,’ she blurted. ‘Better than good. As Audra said, I’ve been training all my life. I’d be an asset to Thezmarr, to the midrealms —’ Hawthorne’s nostrils flared, his knuckles paling as he gripped the hilt of her dagger. ‘Twirling sticks around in the dark is no warrior training.’ Thea blanched.
Osiris spoke again. ‘The prophecy was clear then, and it is clear now: A daughter of darkness will wield a blade in one hand, And rule death with the other… You know it as well as I do. ’ Audra snorted. ‘Death comes for the midrealms, whether a woman holds a sword or not.’ ‘Althea risked an attack on us all by wielding a blade, one of Naarvian steel, no less. And now
you beg a concession to the laws?’ ‘Yes.’ Hawthorne made a noise at the back of his throat. ‘The system is already broken, a pathetic mess of would-be mentors and weak fools. The last thing Thezmarr needs is another shieldbearer’s hand to hold like a child —’ ‘I’m not a child,’ Thea objected. ‘I’m twenty-four years of age.’ ‘Then perhaps you’re too old —’ ‘Silence!’ Osiris pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Wilder, I’m well aware of your opinions.
You’ve made no secret of them over the years. And Audra, even if I wished to permit the girl to train, it’s against the laws of the three remaining kingdoms. A law that was put in place for our own protection.’ The girl. The girl. The girl. That same fury from before sparked anew, coursing through Thea like a formidable current.
Silver eyes fell upon her once more and she stilled.
Audra paced at the head of the table. ‘No,’ she agreed. ‘You cannot permit her that.’ Thea’s heart fell. ‘However…’ Audra continued. ‘As Hawthorne articulated so well, the system is broken and so something must be done. There is to be a feast in Hailford in three days’ time, honouring the end of King Artos’ mourning period for the queen. There will be an open court beforehand where all the kings and queens of the midrealms will be present. Althea can make her case there.’ Thea hadn’t realised she’d stood, her heart daring to swell as Audra’s words sank in.
The Guild Master spoke again, a curious lilt to his tone. ‘I have never known you to fight the causes of underlings. Why?’ Without tearing her gaze from Osiris’, Audra’s hand went to one of the daggers at her belt. ‘Because of this.’ There was a flash of silver as the dagger cut through the air.
Thea twisted, swerving from its path.
Suddenly, the dagger was in her hand, having caught it midair by its jewelled hilt.
