Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
U pon the reaper’s death, the shadow and darkness swallowing the Bloodwoods retreated, revealing a sun-dappled canopy and the usual stillness of the forest.
Panting, Wilder dropped his swords and rushed over, his hands closing gently around her, drawing her to him as he examined her amidst the mess of the leaf litter.
Panic was bright in his silver eyes, following the indiscernible blood spatters across her shredded clothes, his gaze falling to the hot, wet mass of the wraith’s heart heavy in her hand.
‘Are you hurt?’ he asked quietly. He looked as bad as she felt. Clothes ripped, covered in blood and muck from head to toe, and sporting several nasty bruises and gashes.
‘I’ll live,’ she replied at last, her voice raw.
But his concern only deepened as he peeled her shirt away from her skin, where webs of black veins stood out around a jagged slash at the top of her breasts.
Thea stared at it, too. The skin there seemed to fester before their eyes.
Wilder pushed something into her hand. ‘Drink this.’
It was his vial from the Aveum springs.
‘I can’t, that’s yours —’
‘Thea, please.’ He uncorked it and pushed it towards her mouth.
She looked around the carnage for her satchel. ‘I’ve got iruseed somewhere, that will keep me awake until I can get to the —’
‘Thea… Iruseed will do nothing. This is no ordinary wound. I knew someone who was shadow touched… They became part wraith. It’s no life I would wish upon anyone, especially you. I’ve saved the vial all this time, for a wound like this.’
‘But —’
‘Furies save me, just drink it.’
He was already tipping the vial to her lips.
The trickle of water was sweet, crisp, and fresh on her parched tongue. Her whole body tingled as its magical properties surged through her.
The deepest of her wounds knitted together, leaving only faint pink scars behind. And the network of black veins across her skin retreated, disappearing entirely within mere moments.
‘Thank the gods,’ Wilder murmured, tracing her healed skin in awe. ‘I’ve seen what a reaper’s touch can do. But it worked, you’re still… You’re still you.’
Thea blinked at him in shock. ‘You used your vial on me.’
‘I told you I was saving it for something worse.’
‘Thank you,’ she croaked, her throat thick with emotion. Her hand trembled as she reached out to him, needing to know that he was alright. ‘What about you?’
He leaned in, resting his forehead against hers and closing his eyes for a moment. ‘I’ll live.’
‘Good,’ Thea managed.
At that, Wilder smiled. ‘I’m glad you think so.’
Thea rose up on her knees, an arm snaking around the Warsword’s neck and kissed him deeply, needing the reassurance, needing his heat to banish the cold from her bones. ‘We survived,’ she whispered against his lips.
‘Thanks to you.’ He drew back to gaze upon her again, awed. ‘That was some lightning…’
Thea blinked, the memory of the current coursing through her causing a shudder. ‘That was me…’ she said slowly, her skin tingling. ‘I…’
‘Have magic.’ Wilder finished for her.
Thea felt dizzy and small. Her voice cracked when she spoke. ‘I don’t understand how it’s possible.’
‘Nor do I.’ Wilder drew her close. ‘But we can figure it out, together.’
Thea’s shoulders sagged as she allowed herself a moment to rest against him, to take from his strength and revel in the way that, even now, her body responded to him. But above, the light was fading.
‘Magic will have to wait,’ she said, gathering herself and breaking the tender moment. ‘I need to be at the fortress by sundown.’
Thea suddenly remembered what she’d dropped in the blood-stained dirt. It took a minute for her to find it, but when she did, she held the dagger of Naarvian steel out to Wilder. ‘Here.’
But the Warsword shook his head. ‘It belongs to you.’
They were quiet as they moved through the Bloodwoods, though Thea kept catching Wilder stealing awed glances at her, and she, at him. Amidst her varying degrees of disbelief about all that had occurred, one thought echoed intensely as she gazed upon the man who walked beside her.
It was Wren’s words from long ago. A true man will help sharpen your sword, guard your back and fight at your side, in the face of whatever darkness comes…
There was no sign of Cal or Kipp as they trekked back, no sign of a struggle, or evidence that there had been other reapers or wraiths.
Questions peppered Thea’s fragile mind, but she fought them back.
Later , she promised herself as the gates came into view and the sun threatened to dip below the horizon.
When they reached the Great Hall, Wilder pushed the doors open, and they flew inward with a loud bang, startling those within.
Together, Thea and her Warsword entered, faced with the stunned crowd within. As they walked the long stretch to the head table, the silence was so resounding that all Thea could hear was the drip, drip, drip of blood leaking from the black heart still clenched in her fist.
The Guild Master leapt to his feet, looking madly from Thea to Wilder, gobsmacked at the state of them. Beside him, King Artos, the other Warswords and commanders, bore similar expressions.
‘Somehow, a rheguld appeared in the Bloodwoods this afternoon.’ Wilder’s deep voice carried to the far reaches of the Great Hall.
Despite the sight before him, Osiris braced himself on his knuckles. ‘Impossible.’
Another stunned silence thrummed before Thea threw the black heart at Osiris’ feet, blood spattering over the stone floor.
‘Is this proof enough?’ she said.
Stillness settled across the hall as torchlight flickered, illuminating the gore of the carved heart.
‘I was separated from my friends on the way back to the fortress,’ Thea explained. ‘That thing attacked me in the Bloodwoods.’
It was King Artos who spoke next. ‘What in all the realms was a reaper doing in Thezmarr?’ he demanded. ‘Let alone in the midrealms at all?’ He wielded his questions with as much force as he would a blade at the Guild Master, who blanched in the face of it.
‘We informed the rulers that one of the monsters escaped our clutches at the ruins of Delmira.’
An odd sensation clanged through Thea like a warning bell and the image of that small girl in the scorched courtyard came flooding back to her. Anya , the girl who’d set in motion the biggest changes in Thezmarr’s history. Why had Thea seen her amidst the black lashings of the shadow wraith?
‘Am I to understand that the situation was not rectified?’ King Artos asked. ‘The people of the midrealms entrust their safety to the Guardians. Are you telling me that you failed in this endeavour?’
‘Majesty, I assure you —’
King Artos raised a hand. ‘It sounds to me that Thezmarr and the midrealms owe Miss Zoltaire a great debt.’
Osiris’ face had reddened, his eyes slid to Thea and then to Wilder. ‘You mean to tell me that this girl slayed the reaper?’
Tension rolled off the Warsword in waves. ‘Yes. It was Thea who carved out its heart.’
Osiris blinked. ‘A mere shieldbearer?’
Thea squared her shoulders and pulled her totem into view. ‘I’m not a shieldbearer anymore. I am a Guardian of the midrealms.’
King Artos clapped Osiris on the shoulder. ‘Now Guild Master, if this is the calibre of warrior you are honing at Thezmarr, we have no issues whatsoever.’
Osiris continued to stare at Thea until, eventually, he nodded. ‘Very well. Congratulations Miss Zoltaire. We will certainly need to debrief on the situation further, but for now we must continue with the Guardian Ceremony and the announcement of the Warsword apprenticeships.’
Thea’s stomach fluttered at the very word, but she let Wilder pull her to the side of the hall so the proceedings could go on. Dazed, she watched on as her peers’ totems were verified by the Guild Master.
Her heart leapt as she saw Cal and Kipp approach the table, relief surging through her, releasing knots of tension in her body.
‘They’re safe,’ she whispered to Wilder. ‘How, I have no idea…’
‘I think the reaper was lying in wait for you,’ he replied quietly, watching as her friends shook hands with Osiris. ‘It had no interest in Snowden and Whitlock. It was your power it hungered after.’
A chill raked down Thea’s spine, causing her knees to knock. But the conversation was cut short as Osiris finished congratulating the new Guardians and welcoming them officially into the ranks of Thezmarr’s warriors.
‘Now for what we’ve all been waiting for,’ he declared, arms outstretched. ‘Announcing the Warsword’s new apprentices. Your Majesty, if you’d do the honours?’
Beaming, King Artos clasped his hands together. ‘With pleasure, Guild Master. Good people of Thezmarr,’ he began. ‘On behalf of Harenth, Aveum and Tver, congratulations to all of those who made it through the initiation test. The midrealms welcomes your service and your protection.’
Thea could feel the restlessness of the surrounding crowd. The shuffling of feet, the fiddling with cutlery and the barely audible whispers of impatience.
‘The Warsword apprentices have been chosen as follows…’ King Artos gave a long, dramatic pause. ‘Apprentice to Vernich Warner, is Sebastos Barlowe.’
Thea’s blood ran cold. ‘No,’ it came out a broken whisper.
There was a smattering of applause from behind her, but Thea didn’t dare turn back, didn’t dare face Cal and Kipp, whose vengeance she had stolen, only to be faced with this horrific reality.
Seb, his injured shoulder bandaged, his face slick with sweat, came forward.
But the king gave them no time to process such things. ‘Apprentice to Torj Elderbrock,’ King Artos called above the noise.
Thea’s heart stuttered. This was it. This was the moment she’d been working towards for months. Her palms grew clammy and she imagined the sound of her name being called —
‘Is Callahan Whitlock.’
Thea didn’t know where to look, certainly not at Cal, who was now striding proudly towards the Warsword, his hand outstretched.
Thea forced her own hands together, clapping with the rest of them, though her face heated against her will at the humiliation. The applause that followed Cal’s name was much more enthused.
Torj Elderbrock had chosen Cal.
And much to her dismay, Thea understood why. But it didn’t dull the hurt, nor the pang of envy she felt knowing Wilder’s apprentice was next to be announced.
At last, she glanced up at the head table, only to find Osiris’ eyes on her again, wide in outrage. He flung up a hand. ‘Hold on, Majesty,’ he half-shouted, his chair scraping as he left the table and stormed towards Thea.
Thea fought the urge to step back. What now?
‘Tell me that’s not what I think it is,’ he glowered when he reached her, pointing at her hip.
Frowning, Thea looked down.
There, Malik’s dagger hung from her belt.
‘Tell me that’s not Naarvian steel, that it’s not the dagger that got you into this mess in the first place,’ the Guild Master demanded.
Thea recoiled but did not yield a step, her heart hammering. ‘I can’t tell you that, Sir…’
Spit gathered at the corners of Osiris’ mouth, his nostrils flaring. ‘The last time a female touched a sacred blade, chaos rained down on Thezmar,’ he raved. ‘Naarvian steel in the hands of women calls the darkness . How do we know it wasn’t you who lured the wraith from the Veil?’
Wilder stepped forward. ‘Because I gave the dagger to her,’ he growled. ‘I watched as she carved out the monster’s fucking heart. ’
‘Then she is your responsibility, Hawthorne. You’re the Warsword who placed a Naarvian blade in the hand of a woman. The tide will turn when her blade is drawn. A dawn of fire and blood. You alone will be held accountable.’
‘So be it,’ Wilder said. ‘I vouch for her.’
A look of triumph spread across the Guild Master’s face. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Then I hereby announce Althea Zoltaire as Wilder Hawthorne’s apprentice.’