CHAPTER 70 Wren
CHAPTER 70
Wren
‘The greatest alchemy of all is the alchemy of the heart’
– Arcane Alchemy: Unveiling the Mysteries of Matter
W REN NEVER THOUGHT she’d live to see the day when Torj Elderbrock, Warsword of Thezmarr, blushed. But here he was, the tips of his cheeks tinged with pink.
‘Beautiful?’ he said, blinking at her.
She kissed him again, long and deep, cupping his face in her hands, pouring everything she had into him. ‘More than you could ever know.’
How many times had she watched him in awe? How many times had she forced down her desire for him? How often had she admired him from afar?
Years , she admitted to herself. She had wanted him for years .
And now she had him.
But it couldn’t be like this, could it? The Poisoner and the Warsword? The heir and the soldier? Ward and bodyguard? He had said no games, no secrets – but that wasn’t their reality, was it?
‘I should go,’ she said quietly.
Torj drew a blanket up around his waist, his hand curling around her wrist. ‘Stay.’
‘But...’
‘Do you want to?’ he asked plainly. ‘Stay, I mean?’
She didn’t understand the swell of emotion rising up in her then, didn’t know why tears suddenly pricked at her eyes. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.
‘Then stay. Forget the rest.’
‘It’s that easy?’
Gently, he pushed her onto her back and propped himself up on his elbow, dipping his head to brush a kiss across her lips. ‘It is tonight, Embers. I’m not letting you go.’
He traced the line of her jaw with his thumb and her shoulders hitched.
‘Are you going to fuck me?’ she asked.
A slow, wicked smile spread across his face. ‘When you’re ready.’
‘You don’t think I am?’
‘Only you can tell me that.’ He trailed his hands down her bodice. ‘But your current state of dress tells me that perhaps not quite yet, hmm?’
She didn’t know why she was still dressed when there was a gloriously naked warrior beside her, especially when he’d seen nearly every inch of her anyway...He’d had his tongue between her legs, for Furies’ sake. And yet something stopped her. She was no virgin, but...
‘You don’t have to explain,’ he said, as though he could read her thoughts. ‘You never have to explain to me. It’s your choice. Always.’
‘And you still want me to stay?’
He looked at her as though she were mad. ‘I have wanted you in my bed for as long as I can remember, Embers.’
And so, in his bed she stayed.
Wren woke to the warm weight of Torj Elderbrock hugging her to his bare chest, which rose and fell evenly, the Warsword still deep in sleep. He was everywhere, his golden tattooed skin in stark contrast to the pale sheets tangled around them. For a moment, she simply let herself be, drinking in the feel of him, inhaling his scent. In the brief pocket of time between dream and waking, she could pretend that there was no Gauntlet, no attacks against royals, no threats beyond the one to her heart...
For that was exactly what the man beside her was: a threat to the very thing she had built a fortress around in the years since the war. She had been so lost, so broken...He had offered her a piece of himself back then, a piece that she had refused out of fear, out of guilt. And now? That fear lingered, as did her secrets, her brokenness.
Yet he looked at her as though she were something precious, something worthy...
‘You watching me sleep, Embers?’ he murmured, voice thick with drowsiness.
She smiled into his warm skin. ‘Maybe.’
He drew her closer still, pressing a kiss to the top of her hair. ‘I like waking up with you,’ he told her, his words raw, as though he didn’t quite believe he was doing exactly that.
Outside, dawn was spilling across the grounds, and reluctantly, Wren pulled away from him. ‘We’ve got that guest lecture this morning. I told Cal I’d go with him to greet Professor Vulpine. Make a good impression, give him a warm welcome...’
‘Callahan the Flaming Arrow can surely handle that on his own.’ Torj hauled her back to him so that she landed flush against his chest.
Wren bit back another smile. ‘I promised.’
‘You need to be more discerning when dishing those out.’
‘I’ll keep that in mind.’ She savoured his warmth for a moment longer. ‘Then it’s a full day of alchemy, I’m afraid.’
Torj groaned. ‘I swear they work you harder here than the shieldbearers at Thezmarr.’
‘Don’t let Audra hear you say that,’ Wren laughed.
‘I don’t have a death wish.’
‘Glad to hear it, Bear Slayer. Now, will you let me up?’
‘If I have to...’
Wren’s heart stuttered. She had always known Torj was a good man, but this sweeter side...She had never seen it, not like this, not for her. He seemed physically pained by the thought of her leaving his bed. Warmth bloomed in her chest at that.
She peeled herself away from him and headed for their shared bathing chamber. Closing the door behind her, she couldn’t help the grin that tugged at her lips, especially when she caught her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was a mess, her clothes wrinkled beyond fixing, and something had changed...She scanned her face, but nothing was different. And yet she felt it: a shift in herself, a wall coming down, a shield being dropped. It wasn’t as terrifying as she thought. Not when she remembered the weight of those arms around her, or the look of reverence in those sea-blue eyes.
Still smiling, Wren washed and entered her own rooms to prepare for the day. She donned a fresh linen gown and apron, and tugged on her boots. Just as she was scanning the workbench for her belt of tinctures, the adjoining door opened.
Torj padded in barefoot, wearing leathers slung low around his hips, holding her belt in his hands. He came to her without a word and fastened it around her waist, his fingers lingering ever so slightly.
‘Can’t have you without your weapons,’ he said gruffly, stroking his thumb down her cheek. ‘I’ll be ready in five, Embers.’
She watched him go, that ball of power in her chest growing tight. Things had shifted between them so suddenly. When? What had been the moment? She tried to pinpoint the second she’d let herself see the Warsword for who he was...But the truth was that he’d been chipping away at her walls for a long time, slowly allowing her to peer out from behind the barriers, in her own time. And when she’d finally stepped out from behind the fortress she’d built? The world had been beautiful once more.
There’s no going back now... His words echoed in her mind. She touched a hand to her bruised lips. Why, in the name of the Furies, would she want to go back?
When Torj was dressed in his usual warrior’s garb, he escorted her to the lower levels of the building and forced an apple into her hands. ‘You don’t eat enough,’ he told her.
‘Since when?’
‘Since always, Embers.’
‘You’re used to the appetites of Warswords and Guardians who have been training and fighting all day. I don’t need as much, my activities aren’t so physical—’
He raised a suggestive brow at her.
‘I’m serious,’ she said.
‘As am I. You run every day. And the mind needs fuel just as the body does.’
Wren sighed and bit into the apple, suppressing a laugh at the satisfied look on Torj’s face.
When they reached the foyer, the glass cylinders of black garnet looming over them, Cal was already there. He was pacing the marble floor beneath the shadow of the ancient tree that stood at the foyer’s centre, its branches stretching up into the dome-capped ceiling.
‘He’s late,’ he said, glancing up at Wren and Torj’s arrival.
‘Punctuality isn’t a strong suit of a lot of these scholars.’ Wren gave a sympathetic shrug. ‘Give it a minute or two.’
‘But...’ Cal shook his head. ‘What if something’s happened? What if I’ve failed before my duty even—’
‘I’m sure it’s nothing,’ Torj interjected.
Footsteps sounded and Cal whipped round, only for his shoulders to sag as he spotted Kipp, looking particularly pleased with himself.
‘It’s only you,’ Cal muttered, turning back to the main entrance.
‘Only me?’ Kipp scoffed. ‘You sure know how to make a friend feel special, don’t you, Callahan...Where’s this professor you’re supposed to be guarding, anyway?’
‘Not here,’ Cal grumbled, growing steadily more restless. Kipp’s grin, on the other hand, was growing wider by the second.
Wren hated to add pressure, but a glance at her pocket watch told her they couldn’t delay much longer. ‘We’re supposed to be in the lecture theatre by now, Cal,’ she said gently.
‘Fuck,’ he said. ‘Where is he? My instructions were perfectly clear.’
Kipp gave Cal a comforting pat on the shoulder. ‘Maybe he’s already in the theatre. Someone probably forgot to pass on the message.’
Cal glanced around the empty foyer anxiously. ‘Can’t hurt to look.’
Together, the group crossed the marble floor to the entrance of the buzzing lecture theatre beyond. Torj carved a way through the crowd, making for the intricately carved wooden benches that stretched towards a raised platform at the front. Wren had no doubt that he’d chosen a particular bench due to its proximity to the exit.
When she was at last seated, she had the opportunity to survey the hall. The rows of benches lined the staggered levels that reached up the incline of the space, all the way to a wall at the back. The air was thick with the scent of parchment as students rummaged through satchels similar to hers, taking out quills and inkpots. Stained-glass windows depicting flowers and plants cast a kaleidoscope of colour across the hall.
Beside Wren, Cal was scanning the room in a panic. ‘Something has happened to Professor Vulpine,’ he said. ‘I just know it. I’ve fucked this up—’
‘I’m sure it’ll be fine...’ she tried to reassure him, but trailed off as the High Chancellor, Remington Belcourt, took to the stage, his robes billowing. Quiet fell across the hall, and those who hadn’t already taken their seats hurried to do so.
‘Today marks a special occasion as we welcome a distinguished guest lecturer to Drevenor. In the ever-changing landscape of alchemy, where the alchemist’s intellect must navigate myriad possibilities and complexities, the importance of strategic thinking cannot be overstated.’
Wren craned her neck, but couldn’t make out the figure standing in the wings. She elbowed Cal. ‘That must be him there,’ she whispered. ‘He just went directly to the theatre...’
Cal looked put out. ‘Those weren’t the instructions,’ he said sourly.
‘Our guest lecturer comes to us with a wealth of experience, garnered through years of practical application,’ the High Chancellor continued. ‘Most recently, in the shadow war.’
A wave of disbelief washed over Wren. She stole a glance at Torj, who looked equally baffled.
The High Chancellor pressed on. ‘His expertise in combining battle tactics with alchemy has been recognized throughout our lands and beyond. Our own Master of Warfare recommended this lecture as part of our core curriculum. So, let us delay no more, and open our minds to new horizons of understanding and innovation. Please join me in extending a warm welcome to our esteemed guest...’
‘What the fuck?’ Cal muttered beside Wren, rising out of his seat as they saw who strode out onto the stage.
The High Chancellor had already begun clapping. ‘Kristopher Snowden.’
The applause was thunderous as Kipp took to the podium with a grin.
‘You’ve got to be fucking joking.’ Cal was shaking his head in disbelief. ‘I’m going to kill him.’
‘That might be at odds with your sworn Warsword duties,’ Torj said from Wren’s other side. ‘But I wouldn’t blame you.’
Cal looked livid. ‘The fucking Son of the Fox strikes again... Professor Vulpine ...For fuck’s sake.’
One glance at Torj told Wren he was doing everything he could to maintain a straight face as he said, ‘Now that I think on it, Cal...Pretty sure the word “vulpine” has something to do with foxes...’
Wren glanced from her furious friend to the menace that graced Drevenor’s lectern, and couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing.
Torj’s shoulders were shaking beside her, and at last, a rich laugh spilled from his lips, too. Wren wished she could bottle the sound.