Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
E very part of Thea shrieked at her to flee, but she was rooted to the spot, still on her knees in the 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 na?ve? 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.’