CHAPTER 39 Wren
CHAPTER 39
Wren
‘The body tires before the mind. Keep it strong. Learn to protect it’
– Drevenor Academy Handbook
T HE FOLLOWING DAY, it was Cal rather than the Bear Slayer who escorted Wren to the dining hall. As soon as she crossed the threshold, an eerie quiet fell across the cohort, every gaze latching onto her from around the tables. Word about yesterday’s conflict had clearly spread.
Her face burning, Wren drew back her shoulders and made for her usual seat, trying to ignore the eyes boring holes into her back as she moved between the benches. She had spent over an hour soaking in the tub the night before, yet she could still feel the slide of blood on her skin and the itch of where it had dried. Her hands felt dirty, no matter how many times she scrubbed beneath her nails. The attention on her had her skin crawling all over again.
At the clearing of a throat, she looked up to find the High Chancellor positioning himself at the centre of the dais, his expression sombre.
‘Alchemists of Drevenor,’ he called, and Wren was relieved to feel the stares leave her at last as she slipped into her seat opposite Dessa and Zavier. ‘As no doubt many of you will have heard, there was a vile attack outside the infirmary in Highguard yesterday. As such, we have suspended all official lessons outside of the academy grounds for the time being. While you are still permitted to visit the city to retrieve supplies, you will need to inform an academy master of your intentions to do so, and you must do so accompanied by your team. You will also notice an increase in security and a new class added to your schedules today. An investigation into the incident is underway. For now, we ask that you remain vigilant, that you take your place here at Drevenor more seriously than ever.’
Whispers broke out across the hall once more, but Wren looked up to find Zavier and Dessa watching her. Dessa’s brows were knitted together with concern, while Zavier’s sharp features resembled something more akin to curiosity.
‘Are you alright?’ Dessa asked, reaching across to fill Wren’s empty cup with steaming tea, her eyes falling to the cut on Wren’s arm.
‘Nothing more than a scratch or two,’ Wren told her, giving her a grateful smile as she lifted the tea to her lips.
Zavier hadn’t stopped studying her either. ‘Did you see who it was?’
‘They were wearing masks.’
‘None were left alive?’ he pressed.
Wren’s eyes narrowed. ‘No. They took precautions so that didn’t happen.’
Zavier’s brows shot up. ‘That was organized of them.’
‘That’s not what I’d call it,’ Wren muttered, her lightning crackling at her fingertips at the memory.
‘And before the attack?’ Zavier said. ‘What happened to you? One minute you were fine in the ward, and the next your Warsword was practically carrying you away.’
‘We thought you’d fainted,’ Dessa added.
‘Headache,’ Wren lied.
Dessa winced. ‘Oh, you poor thing. Are you feeling better now? You look a little pale...’
Zavier shook his head, clearly not buying it. ‘If there’s something we should know as your teammates, tell us.’
‘There’s nothing to tell—’
A shadow cast across the table, and Wren looked up to see the High Chancellor staring down at her. ‘I’d like a moment of your time, Miss Embervale. Please come with me.’
Cal made to rise from his seat beside her.
‘Your presence won’t be required, Warsword Whitlock,’ the High Chancellor dismissed him.
Cal’s brow furrowed. ‘I’m—’
‘It’s fine, Cal,’ Wren told him, getting to her feet to follow Remington Belcourt and his billowing robes from the hall.
She found herself in a small classroom, the door clicking closed behind her and the High Chancellor. They didn’t sit; instead, Master Belcourt turned to her, his grey-streaked black hair cascading to his collarbones, framing his line-etched face as he fixed her with his piercing eyes.
‘Warsword Elderbrock made his report last night,’ he said without preamble. ‘He explained about the manacles, and your contribution to their design.’
Wren swallowed hard. ‘I had no idea they would be used in this way.’
‘Nor do most creators envision their work being used for evil when they’re deep in the throes of innovation. But there is danger in invention, risk in all design. You will come to learn that here at Drevenor.’
Wren nodded. She already had. ‘What now, High Chancellor?’
‘Now, I need to know who else knows of these designs. Is there anyone you shared the alchemy with? Anyone who might have passed the knowledge on?’
Wren rubbed her temples as they started to ache. ‘It was more than five years ago...At the time, the only Master Alchemist I knew was Farissa.’ She fought back the sudden burn of tears. ‘I had two friends who helped me with the details of the design. But they were killed in the war.’
The High Chancellor paused before reaching out and placing a hand on her shoulder. ‘And would they have told anyone, Elwren? Before their deaths?’
Wren’s heart seized as a wave of panic crashed against her. For a moment, all she could do was close her eyes and let herself breathe. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.
When she opened her eyes, Master Belcourt was still waiting.
‘You mean, if they were interrogated?’ Wren asked, her voice hoarse.
‘Yes.’
‘I know their final days were full of pain and suffering. But that’s all I know. I can’t tell you who they spoke with or what they said under duress. Nor would I hold them accountable for anything under those horrific circumstances.’ The words came out harsher than she intended.
‘So it’s possible,’ the High Chancellor murmured.
‘It’s also possible that my work was discovered more recently,’ Wren countered.
‘Are you sure you haven’t told anyone else? About your work at Thezmarr or here? Have you been keeping our secrets, Elwren? I hope you’re not underestimating the seriousness of this situation. Your own design was—’
A sharp knock sounded at the door, and Wren had never been gladder to see Zavier as the door swung inwards.
‘I’ve been sent to fetch Wren, sir,’ he said, as though he were oblivious to the tension permeating the room. ‘The additional lesson starts shortly.’
The High Chancellor’s nostrils flared, but he glanced at his pocket watch. ‘So it does. You’re dismissed, then, Elwren.’
Wren followed Zavier from the room, forcing herself to walk at a normal pace, to keep her breathing steady.
‘You’re shaking,’ he murmured, giving her a sideways glance.
‘It’s nothing.’ Wren stuffed her hands into her apron pockets. ‘Who sent you?’
Zavier shook his head. ‘No one. You were gone a while. It didn’t feel right.’
Wren looked at him in surprise. ‘Thanks.’
‘What are teammates for?’ Zavier replied with a wry grin.
‘You mean your sole purpose isn’t to drive me to madness?’
‘Not quite.’ He led her back to the hall and gathered his things. ‘I wasn’t joking about the additional lesson. We’re due at the gymnasium in ten minutes.’
Wren blinked. ‘There’s a gymnasium?’
‘See you there, Poisoner,’ Zavier said before heading out.
Cal was waiting for her, looking worried, but it was Kipp who Wren’s gaze fell upon. He was now seated next to Dessa, his arm around her shoulders, whispering into her ear. Dessa let out an obscene giggle.
‘There’s no stopping him, is there?’ Wren muttered.
‘’Fraid not,’ Cal offered with a sympathetic grimace. ‘Is everything alright?’
Wren looked around for the familiar towering figure. Instead of answering Cal, she asked, ‘Where’s Torj?’
Her friend shrugged, getting to his feet. ‘Warsword business.’
‘So he’s allowed to know every detail about me, invade my private space, and follow me like a shadow, but all I get as to his whereabouts is Warsword business ?’ she retorted, snatching up a piece of toast. With all the interruptions, she hadn’t had a chance to eat.
‘Pretty much,’ Cal said. ‘Why’d you wanna know, anyway?’
‘Forget it,’ Wren mumbled around her food, shouldering her satchel. ‘When does this special lecturer arrive? The one who specially requested you?’
‘Next week,’ Cal replied proudly.
‘How exciting for you, Callahan,’ Kipp injected from across the table. ‘You must have impressed someone high and mighty.’
Wren gave Kipp a warning look. ‘Don’t tease him.’
He threw his hands up. ‘Who said I was teasing? It’s no small feat, becoming a Warsword of the midrealms.’
Cal’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.
Wren elbowed him. ‘Let’s go. I’m supposed to arrive early for every lesson.’
‘Any idea what this next one’s about?’ Cal asked.
‘Apparently, our protection.’