CHAPTER 85 Wren
CHAPTER 85
Wren
‘An alchemist’s duty is to embrace the cycles of creation and chaos’
– Transformative Arts of Alchemy
S OMETHING SHIFTED DEEP within Wren, and it altered the very fabric of her soul. She felt the change, both in herself and in Torj, as they came together, and came apart in each other’s arms.
She breathed him in, so that his scent became a part of her.
‘I...’ The words felt inadequate for the storm taking hold of her entire being. But she said them anyway. ‘I love you, too.’
Torj’s answering smile was radiant, tugging that thread within her chest.
She kissed him, slowly and thoroughly, savouring the taste and feel of him. ‘I never want to leave this meadow,’ she whispered against his lips.
He tucked her hair behind her ear, most of it having come loose from her bun. ‘Nor I, Embers. But I doubt your academy waits for love. The Gauntlet is over, and I imagine there are all manner of proceedings to attend to now...Your graduation, for one?’
Wren groaned as reality came crashing down around her. Reluctantly, she reached for her dress, only to realize she needed a washcloth before she could—
‘Here,’ Torj said, dropping a kiss on her bare shoulder and tearing a scrap of material from the blanket beneath them. He poured water from a canteen over it and handed it to her.
Ignoring the heat in her cheeks, she turned her back to him and cleaned herself up as best she could.
‘You don’t need to be embarrassed, Embers. Not with me. It’s my mess.’
‘Our mess,’ she said, smiling faintly.
His arms came around her from behind. ‘I intend to make a lot more messes with you...’
A laugh burst from her. ‘Careful, or I won’t be able to walk.’
A low chuckle rumbled against her neck. ‘Then I’ve done my job right.’
Something bloomed in her chest, and she felt lighter than she had in five long years. It had her wanting to throw caution to the wind and stay out here in the meadow with Torj. She was always so set on moving to the next task, and the next, that she rarely stopped to appreciate the smaller moments.
Like now, where Torj had managed to get his shirt stuck over his head, a sliver of that ridged abdomen showing above his unlaced leathers.
She reached out and traced the contours of his stomach, and those two deep grooves that pointed beneath his waistband. ‘You’re at my mercy now, Bear Slayer,’ she said playfully.
He huffed a laugh, managing to tug his shirt over his shoulders at last. ‘I’ve been at your mercy for a long while.’
She felt drunk. Not Kipp-level drunk, but that contentment and ease that came with the first drink or two of the night: the sensation that she might float away, and everything would be alright.
Torj stuffed the blanket back into his pack and shouldered it while Wren tugged her boots on with a heavy sigh.
As they made their way through the meadow, she picked wildflowers.
‘Planning another poisoning any time soon?’ Torj said with a gentle smile, watching her move through the bushes for the best blooms.
‘Not this time, Warsword. These...these are just because they’re beautiful.’
‘I know the feeling,’ he told her, his gaze lingering on her face as he took the flowers from her so that her hands were free to pick more.
Her cheeks ached from smiling. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done so for so long.
Torj’s expression softened. ‘It looks good on you.’
‘What does?’
He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. ‘Happiness.’
Wren’s eyes pricked with tears, but she blinked them back. This man had ruined her. All those hard edges she had honed, all those walls she had built...She was defenceless against him, and surprised to find herself glad to be so. A little voice in her head chimed like a bell, telling her that there was no way something like this could last, that all good things were fleeting. But the man beside her had not wavered. Not during the war, not in its aftermath.
‘How does this work between us now?’ she heard herself ask, hoping she didn’t sound too vulnerable.
But the Warsword didn’t look perturbed. Instead, he took her hand and kissed her knuckles. ‘We’ll work it out,’ he told her. ‘But know this...From here on, you belong in my arms, in my bed, in my life. You belong with me, no matter what.’
Wren’s stomach swooped. ‘You promise?’
‘I swear it, Embers.’
‘And all the rest? The guild? The academy? What if the world doesn’t—’
‘Then I’ll tear it in two,’ he vowed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. ‘It’s me and you. Always.’