Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
‘ I think you might be needing these?’ From a narrow path in the rock, Torj Elderbrock appeared atop his stallion with Thea and Hawthorne’s horses in tow.
Leaving Hawthorne to his staring, Thea darted forward.
‘Thank the gods,’ she said.
‘I’d prefer it if you thanked me,’ Torj retorted, jumping down from his saddle to help Hawthorne with Kipp, pressing a hand to her friend’s icy skin. ‘We need to get them to shelter, and fast,’ he said, glancing at the Warsword, who still peered out from the cliff’s edge. ‘What’s with him?’
‘No idea.’ Thea shrugged, mounting her horse.
‘Wilder!’ Torj commanded, wrapping Kipp in his cloak and hauling him up into the saddle in front of him. ‘We have to get them tended to. They won’t last much longer out here.’
Those words sent a chill rattling through Thea’s bones.
Hawthorne moved, mounting his own stallion, holding Cal to his front with one arm and gripping the reins with the other.
To Thea’s horror, thick black clouds were rolling in from the seas once more and thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance.
‘To my cabin, Torj,’ Hawthorne ordered. ‘We won’t make it back to the fortress before the next storm breaks.’
‘Got it.’
Thea gripped her reins hard as the horses lurched into action, navigating the narrow, winding path of the mountains. She locked her gaze on the backs of the Warswords in front of her, the lives of her friends hanging in the balance.
They have to be alright ; she chanted to herself. They have to be alright .
The storm broke anew, the clouds once more swallowing the moon, sending rain pelting down at them, the wind howling through the fissures in the mountains and the thunder cracking in the distance.
As they rounded another bend in the trail, Thea glanced out to the thrashing seas and the unimaginable power that gathered there.
The very same power that had struck her, that had coursed through her.
Were it not for the buzzing in her bones, she wouldn’t have believed it.
But there was no time for questions now.
She tore her gaze away from the rolling waves and focused once more on the path ahead.
At last they reached Hawthorne’s cabin, the warriors leaping from their stallions and carrying the shieldbearers inside. Making quick work of tending to the poor horses, Thea rushed inside after them.
A fire had been lit in the hearth, as had several candles, and in the glowing warm light Thea could finally see just how bad both Cal and Kipp looked. They were laid out on a huge bed, deathly pale, with deep rope burns around their wrists.
‘Get their clothes off,’ she heard herself say. ‘We need to get them warm and fast.’
She left the Warswords to undress her friends, while she gathered blankets and heated water over the fire. The tasks kept trembling hands busy, but not her mind.
Will they live? If they live, will they be the same?
Will they recover in time for the test in two days?
Do they even know it’s in two days? All that time she had sat in the warmth of the Great Hall listening to King Artos, they had been suffering.
And it was all her fault. It was s he who Seb truly hated. He had done this to hurt her .
Her friends could have died because of it, because of her. They might yet still.
Sitting at their bedside, Thea started to unravel. She had saved Seb’s arse during the battle at the ruins, and this was the consequence. Who was she to think she could have ever been a shieldbearer, let alone a warrior or Warsword of Thezmarr? The only thing she would ever be was inadequate.
‘Whatever you’re thinking,’ Hawthorne’s voice growled. ‘Don’t.’
The pain in Thea’s chest wouldn’t abate. ‘You don’t understand…’
‘I do. Better than you know,’ came the reply. ‘I sent Torj to get a healer. They’ll get through this.’
‘How do you know…’ Thea’s voice broke.
‘They’re strong and stubborn,’ he said. ‘Just like you. Now come and get dry by the fire. They won’t wake for a while yet.’
Thea let the Warsword lead her from the bedroom to the hearth in the main room of the cabin. She hadn’t realised how weak she felt until he guided her to a chair before the flames. Gently, he pushed her down into its cushions and handed her a steaming mug.
‘Drink that.’
Thea didn’t even bother to ask what it was; it was easier to follow directions than anything else. So she raised the mug to her lips and drank.
Peppermint tea , she realised as the steam carried the aroma to her nose. He remembered… The hot liquid heated her from the inside out and only then did she realise how cold she’d been. She was soaked through, had been for hours —
A heavy blanket fell around her shoulders.
‘It’s not your fault,’ Hawthorne said softly.
Thea pulled the blanket tighter and stared into the flames. ‘It is. Seb – the person who did this… It was because of me.’
‘His actions are his own and he will answer for them.’
‘I’ll make sure that he does,’ Thea whispered, already imagining Seb’s face as she carved her blades through his flesh.
‘I have no doubt.’
Thea looked up, surprised. ‘Why are you being kind to me? I thought you didn’t want —’
Hawthorne sighed. ‘Because I have felt the burden of guilt and would wish it upon no one. Not even a maddening shieldbearer with a death wish.’
‘I don’t have a death wish.’
‘No? Then why is it every time I see you, you’re flinging yourself into danger?’ Another sigh. ‘Get some rest.’
Thea woke sometime later. She rushed to Cal and Kipp, who were both still sleeping. Some colour had returned to their faces and their brows were warm when she pressed her hand to them.
The relief surging through her chest threatened to overwhelm her, so she stepped back, and left them to rest. She found Hawthorne on the porch, leaning against the wall, staring out into the dark early hours of the morning, the rain still hammering atop the cabin’s roof.
‘No sign of Torj?’ she asked.
He didn’t so much as flinch at the sudden intrusion – he’d known she was there. ‘No, but he shouldn’t be long now. It’ll take time to find the right people, the right supplies and ready fresh horses.’
Thea nodded. ‘Cal and Kipp are looking a bit better,’ she ventured.
Hawthorne nodded. ‘I managed to get them to take a bit of broth each.’
‘They were awake? Why didn’t you —’
‘Because you needed rest too. I didn’t want another half dead shieldbearer on my hands.’
Thea’s gut lurched. ‘Did they say anything?’
‘Didn’t do much talking.’
‘But… You think they’ll make a full recovery?’
‘That’s not for me to judge,’ he said, tearing his gaze away from the woods and looking at her, studying her intently.
‘What?’ she snapped, suddenly self-conscious.
‘Are we going to talk about it?’ he asked quietly, turning to face her fully.
‘Talk about what?’
‘What you did out there on the cliffs.’
Thea went still.
‘Your magic , Alchemist.’
Thea stared at him, stunned. The word was like a whisper against her skin, calling her back out into the storms… a sudden buzzing filled her head, like a swarm of bees, the sound vibrating through her whole body.
‘You have magic .’ Hawthorne folded his arms over his chest. ‘That was magic back there.’
Magic . Thea hid her trembling hands. She hardly understood it herself and she certainly wasn’t going to discuss it with him of all people. Not to mention if the guild got word she possessed some inkling of power, her place would be jeopardised, there would be questions, interrogations, even.
No, she wouldn’t entertain such notions, not with him, not so close to the initiation.
‘That?’ Thea scoffed. ‘That was the Furies trying to smite our sorry arses on the mountain, and it was sheer, dumb luck that they didn’t.’
‘I know what I saw,’ he told her, his voice low.
‘Horseshit. Perhaps you’ve taken a few too many blows to the head, or the lightning momentarily blinded you.
There was nothing to see.’ The words flew from her mouth and her hand went to her fate stone, running her thumb over the carving as she always did.
Magic or not, she’d escaped death again, not because she had secret powers, but because now was not her time.
But Hawthorne didn’t need to know that.
‘Where are you from, Alchemist?’ he asked, taking her by surprise with the change of tact.
‘Thezmarr.’
He made an impatient noise. ‘You are not from Thezmarr.’ He was still leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over that broad chest, but he watched her with an intensity that caused her toes to curl in her damp boots.
The flickering sensation in her veins was back, and he tensed, as though he could feel it too.
‘I know what I saw,’ he repeated. ‘I know what I felt out there.’
‘So you’ve said.’ Thea scoffed. ‘Do you really think…’
His eyes narrowed and he pushed off from the wall, closing the gap between them in a single step. ‘You want to know what I think? I think —’ He took a deep, measured breath, his whole body rising and falling.
‘What?’ she baited him, feeling her own temper rise to his. ‘I desperately need to know what deep thoughts bounce around in that thick skull of yours. Go on, tell me.’
‘I think that I have never known someone to be so infuriating … Someone who makes my blood boil in such a way that I want to kill you and kiss you all at once.’
Thea’s heart stuttered, her skin tingling as she realised just how close he was. ‘You’ll no doubt fuck it up either way,’ she taunted, recalling how he’d drawn her in before, only to leave her wanting. ‘But go on,’ she challenged. ‘Do it.’
His gaze darkened. ‘Kill you or kiss you?’
Despite all logic, she leaned in. She wanted this, wanted him , even though she shouldn’t. Even though she knew better. Even though it put everything she’d worked for at risk. Even though he was Wilder Hawthorne and he had spurned her twice before.
Thea lifted her chin. ‘Take your pick, Warsword.’
Then, his hands swept around her waist, pulling her to him, and he kissed her.
It was hard and brutal, nothing like the kiss they’d shared in his cabin before, as though even in the action itself he warred within, just as she did.
Her lips parted under his, his rough stubble grazing her chin.
The taste of him was peppermint on her tongue, the scent of rosewood soap and leather engulfing her senses, her legs turning to liquid beneath her.
She met his kisses fiercely, losing herself in the taste and feel of him, intoxicated, a storm in her chest begging to be unleashed.
His arms encircled her waist fully, and he turned them around, half carrying her to the wall, pushing her against it so her body was flush against his, the warmth of him encompassing her.
He deepened the kiss, scorching and bruising, demanding…
Thea arched her back and moaned against his lips, kissing him just as savagely, feeling his heart beat madly against hers.
She traced his muscular torso, revelling in the strength and power of him beneath her touch, running her hands over his chest freely as she’d wanted to do for so long, his shirt still damp from the rain, his nipples hard through the soft material.
His fingers curled roughly in her hair and he claimed her mouth with his, catching her lower lip between his teeth, stealing the air from her lungs before he broke away, pulling back to gaze upon her.
The heat in his stare had her fingers at the buttons of his pants.
‘What are you doing to me, Thea?’ he murmured, his soft lips finding the column of her throat.
Desire pulsed all over, an insatiable need coursing through Thea. She slid one knee between his legs.
And Hawthorne made a sound deep in his throat that was her undoing.
She kissed him again, her tongue brushing his as his fingers trailed her nape, then her collarbone and the soft skin below, where her fate stone rested.
More , she wanted to cry out. More .
And he gave it to her, coaxing spirals of pleasure from her with every little touch, so that her whole body ached for him. Was it possible to die from need?
He kissed her neck, where her pulse fluttered wildly, and his hands sought the hem of her shirt, slipping beneath. Calluses met her bare skin, mapping her ribs and the curve of her breasts before dipping to cup her between her legs, rubbing her through the fabric.
Thea gasped.
‘Is this where you want me?’ Wilder asked, the rich timbre of his voice promising all manner of dark pleasure.
‘Yes,’ she breathed.
We’re going to do this, here , on the porch, out in the open .
The thought echoed pointlessly in her mind.
Pointlessly because she didn’t care where she was, all she knew was that she wanted the layers between them gone, she wanted his hands on her, his cock inside her.
She wanted to feel every part of him. At last the buttons of his pants came undone and his breathing hitched.
Her own chest heaved, need coursing like a blazing fire – she was utterly lost in him. And she knew that would be their downfall, knew this would change everything.
The same hands that had taken the hearts of monsters now traced her skin, dangerously close to her own heart. Would he rip it from her chest as well? Would it matter?
‘Wilder,’ she whispered, his name like a prayer on her lips.
Suddenly he was pulling away.
‘Someone’s coming —’ he murmured, starting towards the door, leaving her alone and panting.
A moment later, footsteps sounded on the porch, followed by someone clearing their throat.
Torj was there, Farissa and Wren close behind him.