CHAPTER 31 Wren
CHAPTER 31
Wren
‘There are rare poisons that can be mistaken for desire. Both intoxicate, both consume. Often it is too late to discern the difference’
– An Encyclopaedia of Deadly Plants
T HE POOR MAN blanched at the sight of the silver-haired Bear Slayer and scurried away.
The dose of valerian essence in her hairpin hadn’t been high enough to keep his hulking form down for long. Wren made a mental note to increase the potency.
Torj slid onto the stool next to her and pinned her with hard, dark eyes. ‘This is no place for a future queen.’
Wren downed the rest of her drink, a familiar fury rushing through her along with the liquor. ‘I didn’t fight in the fucking shadow war so a man could tell me where my place is.’
The Warsword blinked at her, stunned. And then, to her surprise, the corner of his mouth twitched. ‘Fair enough, Embers.’
She expected him to haul her away from the den of vices, but instead, Torj raised a hand to the bartender, who nodded eagerly. Wren supposed it wasn’t every day he could boast that he’d served a legend of Thezmarr.
‘Another for you, miss?’ he asked, nodding to her empty pint.
Wren thrust her chin at Torj. ‘He’s buying.’
‘You’ve got a pair on you tonight, don’t you?’ Torj said, his voice low.
‘Always,’ Wren quipped, realizing the liquor had already loosened her tongue. With the Bear Slayer beside her, she was all the more aware of the vibrating energy of the hall, and the sounds echoing off its walls. ‘I guess you’re used to this sort of establishment,’ she heard herself say.
Torj lifted his tankard to his lips and took several large gulps. ‘What’s it to you?’
‘Nothing. Just making conversation.’
‘Since when?’
Since she was two pints in, with more to go, but she didn’t say so. ‘What are you doing here, then?’
‘You mean besides tracking down my wayward charge?’ Torj raised a scarred brow. ‘Not to sample the goods, if that’s what you mean. I don’t have to pay for it.’
‘Perhaps you should. You seem hard up.’
‘I’m here doing my fucking job,’ he muttered.
‘Oh, that’s right. You’re paid to be here.’ Gods, the mead truly had loosened her tongue. ‘How much do you charge for your services?’
He huffed a dark laugh. ‘Not nearly enough coin in the world, Embervale.’
It was at that moment that a woman came sauntering up to them, draping a bare arm around Torj’s shoulders, her eyes hazy with lust. ‘You’re him,’ she murmured in a sultry tone, her fingers tracing the top of the warrior’s chest. ‘The lightning-kissed Bear Slayer...’
Wren bit back a snort, ignoring the flare of annoyance the woman’s presence sparked.
Torj gave a sheepish grin. ‘Guilty, ma’am.’
The woman’s eyes lit up and she gestured to a group of her friends, who surged forwards, gathering around the Warsword like a gaggle of geese. They were in various states of undress and inebriation.
One of them, wearing only a corset and garters, gave Wren a nod of reverence. ‘Every woman in the midrealms knows his name,’ she said.
Wren rolled her eyes. ‘So I’ve heard.’
They fawned over him, offered him everything under the sun: drinks, a pipe filled with what Wren gathered was some sort of aphrodisiac, and oddly, a full leg of honey-smoked ham. But as Torj dealt with his admirers, Wren’s scalp prickled, sensing someone’s gaze on her. She scanned the hall until her eyes snagged on a familiar face.
There, at one of the gambling tables, was Zavier Mortimer.
He smiled smugly and raised his goblet in a silent toast.
‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ Wren muttered in Torj’s direction, getting down from her stool, her fist closing around one of her more dangerous vials as she made her way over to her teammate. ‘Is this your idea of a joke?’ she demanded when she reached him.
Zavier scooped up his winnings and excused himself from the card game. ‘Truth be told, I thought you might see the sign and go running in the opposite direction...’
‘I fought in a war. A brothel doesn’t scare me.’
‘I can see that now,’ he replied. ‘I just wanted to make sure you weren’t some precious princess.’
Wren snorted. ‘I’m no princess.’
‘Apparently not,’ he allowed. ‘What do you think the midrealms would do if it found out the heir of Delmira had taken justice into her own hands not just once, but several times in the last five years? That she’s been killing off their nobles one by one?’
Wren tensed, but said nothing, the vial of ingredients flashing in her mind.
‘Your little box of trophies was rather damning...’ There was a note of amusement in his tone. ‘You’re not even going to deny it, are you?’
‘Why should I? What I want to know is how you found out.’
‘Let’s just say there’s a higher power at work here.’
‘Let’s not.’
Zavier just gave her a maddening grin. ‘I think we will. It looks like I’m holding all the cards, Elwren.’
‘Not for long,’ she countered, her nape prickling again. Wren didn’t have to look around to know that Torj was watching their exchange. She studied her teammate. ‘What do you want, Zavier? To hold my crimes over my head? For what?’
‘I told you: I want to see what you’re made of. To see if we’ve got a slim chance or none of winning the Gauntlet. To see if you’re ready for what’s coming...’ For a moment, he looked serious.
Wren wished she’d brought her drink with her. ‘And?’
Zavier seemed to snap back to himself. ‘You’re not completely hopeless.’
‘What an outstanding commendation,’ she said dryly. ‘Are you putting Dessa to the same test?’
‘Dessa’s too nice. You’re not.’
‘You’ve got that right, at least.’
‘ Nice won’t win us a place as adepts.’ He drained the rest of his drink. ‘I’m off for a refill. Good to know you’re not made of glass – such a shame when pretty things break. See you tomorrow, Poisoner.’
Wren watched Zavier go, more unsure than ever if he was an ally or a threat. Only time would tell.
‘What did he want?’ Torj said at her side, having extricated himself from the swooning ladies.
Wren didn’t take her eyes off her teammate. ‘He left me the note.’
‘What note?’
She sighed, reluctantly facing her bodyguard. ‘The one that told me to come to this place.’
A muscle feathered in Torj’s jaw. ‘You’re telling me that after your rooms were broken into, you found some piece of parchment with random instructions and your first thought was to follow them? Without telling me?’
‘He knew who I was.’ She paused before clarifying. ‘What I do .’
Torj tensed at her side. He’d made no secret of the fact that he didn’t agree with her secret vocation. But now, his face was unreadable, his voice hard as iron as he asked, ‘Did he threaten you?’
‘No.’
Torj scrutinized her, as though searching for a lie. The last thing she needed was the Bear Slayer going on a hammer-wielding rampage over her teammate.
‘I swear it,’ she said, before adding, ‘I know coming here was stupid.’
‘That’s one word for it.’ His shoulders dropped and he led them back to their seats at the bar. ‘You admitting you made a mistake?’
‘A momentary lapse in judgement.’
‘Sounds like a mistake to me.’ Torj signalled for another round of drinks.
Wren hated being wrong, and more than that, she hated that he was right. Nothing catastrophic had happened, but she had put herself in a vulnerable situation nonetheless.
Torj seemed to sense that she was berating herself. ‘You’re forgetting that people messed with Thea, too. No one wanted her to be a Warsword—’
‘I’m not my sister.’ It was a phrase Wren found herself repeating, and she was fucking sick of it.
‘No,’ Torj said. ‘But you share the same strength, the same stubbornness, the same rebellious streak.’
‘So what?’
‘So don’t let little pricks like him beat that down.’
‘Oh?’ she challenged. ‘And what about big ones?’ As soon as the words left her mouth she wanted to fold in on herself and cover her reddening face with her hands.
Amusement gleamed in Torj’s eyes. ‘You wouldn’t know what to do with one.’
The seductive edge to his words made her toes curl in her boots, but pride prevailed. ‘You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?’
‘You have no idea what I like to think of, Embers.’
A pulse of desire shot straight to her core, and she couldn’t stop her gaze from dropping to his mouth.
His nostrils flared, as though he’d read her thoughts.
Wren felt another pulse – this time, her magic thrumming beneath her skin, as though waking beneath his attention. She crossed her legs and cleared her throat, buying herself a moment by taking a sip of her drink.
Torj was watching Zavier gamble from across the hall. ‘We have to watch out for him.’
‘For once, I agree,’ Wren replied.
Torj eyed her warily. ‘With that knowledge about you, he’s dangerous.’
‘So am I.’
‘A lesson I’m constantly learning,’ the Warsword allowed, touching the spot on his neck where she’d pricked him with her hairpin.
Zavier looked over to them again, this time making a show of his hand of cards, a reminder of the power he held over her. Wren felt the warrior tense beside her.
‘Shall I kill him?’ the Bear Slayer asked.
‘I can kill him myself, with more pain and suffering.’
‘I don’t doubt it.’
Wren tore her attention away from her prick of a teammate. ‘I won’t let anything stand in my way. Least of all him.’
Torj nodded. ‘Good. You want something, Embers...you take it.’ He finished his drink and got to his feet. ‘We’re leaving.’
‘And if I fancy another?’
‘We’re still leaving.’
Wren acquiesced. She’d won all the battles she was going to tonight. Tomorrow was another day.
Outside didn’t seem as grim somehow with the Warsword at her side – that was, until the screech of wheels on cobbles pierced the air.
Wren had no time to think before Torj had her pressed up against a hard stone wall, his hammer poised to strike as his body shielded her completely. Blood roared in her ears as fear shot through her, along with the rush of something else as his thigh came between hers, heat and tension pouring from his towering build. A solid wall of muscle enveloped her, a barrier between her and the threat beyond.
A carriage careened past them, sparks flying off the axles of its wheels, the driver’s arms flailing to get control of the reins as he rattled down the alley with a shout.
Wren could feel Torj’s heart hammering against hers, his breath hot on her neck. Even as the sound of the carriage faded into the distance, they did not move. Wren found herself breathless, her breasts rising with every breath she tried to catch, pressing against the plane of Torj’s sculpted chest. The contact was addictive, and just for a moment, she wanted to feel him everywhere .
He was still braced over her when he asked, ‘Are you alright?’
For a second, Wren didn’t answer, knowing that as soon as she did, the heat of him would leave her cold and empty. The press of his body was all that was keeping her upright on her traitorous, buckling legs.
‘Embers?’ he said roughly, peering down at her, his lips now so close to hers.
The nickname she hated sparked another rush of arousal and she bit back a whimper as he shifted slightly, her undergarments growing damp with need. The cords of muscle in his thigh grazed the sensitive skin between her own, the hard lines of his body rubbing against her.
‘I’m fine,’ she managed, fighting down the storm raging beneath her skin, causing her nipples to tighten and her back to arch ever so slightly. She felt him in her veins, in the magic that surged to the surface of her being—
‘You’re sure?’
Want threatened to consume her, to make her act rashly. But she forced those impulses deep down. ‘Yes,’ she replied, stripping her voice of anything remotely heated. ‘Nothing happened.’
‘Right,’ he said, at last pushing off the wall, freeing her. ‘Nothing happened.’