CHAPTER 71 Wren
CHAPTER 71
Wren
‘An alchemist’s intellect must navigate myriad possibilities and complexities...The importance of strategic thinking cannot be overstated’
– High Chancellor, Drevenor Academy
A FTER THE SHOCK of having Kristopher fucking Snowden as their guest lecturer wore off – if that was at all possible – Wren wasn’t surprised to find his presentation one of the best she’d ever heard.
The cohort was enraptured by the way he shared his experiences from the war, and by the strategies he’d put into place that had helped the midrealms defeat the enemy – all artfully done without mentioning anyone by name, for which Wren was eternally grateful. Though she had been there right alongside Kipp and had always appreciated his cleverness, it was another thing entirely to learn about it from an objective perspective. Or as objective as she could manage, having lived through the battles and war councils herself.
The interplay between warfare and alchemy had never been so clear to her, and her appreciation for both her friend’s mind and the discipline itself reached new heights. Though Wren pitied Cal for being the brunt of an elaborate joke, Kipp had earned his place on that stage, and she was proud of him, proud to know him.
Kipp’s conclusion was met with cheers from the cohort, and the fanfare only died down once he left the lectern and disappeared into the wings of the stage. Cal made a beeline for him with a muttered curse.
From the seat beside her, Torj’s muscular thigh slid against hers, and warmth flooded her body. ‘Tell me I can take you back to our rooms now,’ the Warsword murmured in her ear, bringing a flush to her cheeks.
Wren was more than eager for him to do exactly that, until she saw slips of parchment were being handed out. Dessa leaned across Cal’s empty seat to pass her one, and reluctantly, Wren skimmed its contents. ‘I have to be at the gates in fifteen minutes,’ she told Torj with a sigh.
‘That wasn’t on the schedule,’ he argued.
Wren shouldered her satchel and stood. ‘It was added just now. We’re to go into the city for a task.’
‘I briefed them about this sort of shit,’ Torj grumbled. ‘It’s a security hazard.’ But he got to his feet and followed her from the theatre.
They walked through the grounds together, and Wren found herself wanting to slide her fingers through his – willing him to put his arm around her, like she’d seen Wilder do with Thea. But the Bear Slayer did no such thing. Instead he scanned their surroundings for any signs of a threat, a muscle twitching in his jaw as the gates came into view.
‘Why meet at the gates?’ he asked. ‘Why not the stables?’
Wren shrugged. ‘It’s what the High Chancellor’s instructions specified.’
The crease in Torj’s brow only deepened as the master in question approached them.
‘I’m afraid your services won’t be required today, Warsword Elderbrock,’ Belcourt said.
Torj’s demeanour changed entirely. His chest expanded as he pinned the High Chancellor with a cold stare. ‘What?’
‘It was cleared with the Guild Master of Thezmarr.’ Belcourt produced a scroll with Audra’s seal. ‘This is an official task for the novices, and as you can understand, we can’t have one guarded by a Warsword throughout.’
‘Her life has been threatened several times at this academy, as you well know,’ Torj growled. ‘You expect me to suddenly step aside and let her walk off into harm’s way?’
‘It’s an order.’
‘I don’t take orders from scholars.’
‘You take orders from the Guild Master of Thezmarr. And she orders you to stand down.’ The High Chancellor opened the letter and showed the Warsword the script within. Peering over their arms, Wren could see that it was indeed Audra’s hand.
But Torj’s eyes narrowed. ‘I refuse.’
Wren touched the warrior’s arm, feeling the tension corded there. ‘Torj...’
‘If you think I’m leaving you undefended—’
‘It is part of her studies, Warsword,’ Belcourt said flatly. ‘If she cannot participate in this task, she cannot participate in the Gauntlet, nor graduate to adept.’
Wren’s heart was hammering. ‘Torj, please. I am not without my own defences.’
Torj turned his back to the High Chancellor, blocking him out.
Belcourt made an insulted noise. ‘You have five minutes. Elwren, if you are not at those gates by then, you can pack your bags and return to that hovel in Delmira.’
Torj’s fists clenched at his sides. Wren watched the High Chancellor go, her own anger simmering just below the surface.
‘Embers...’ He said the nickname gently, but there was no mistaking the note of panic in his voice.
Was this how it was going to be between them, now that things had changed? She sucked in a breath, steeling herself. She cared for him deeply; she would no longer deny that. But did that mean that her goals, her ambitions should be compromised? Did it give him authority over her?
Wren lifted her chin in defiance. ‘Do you mean to bar the way, Bear Slayer?’ she asked. ‘Do you truly mean to stop me?’
Understanding flared in his eyes. ‘I only mean to protect you. You have to know that.’
‘Then step aside. Knowledge is the victor over fate, and the mind is a blade,’ she told him. ‘I have honed my mind sharper than any sword. And the rest, you have taught me well.’
His handsome face was etched with conflict. ‘Please don’t ask this of me,’ he murmured. ‘If anything happened to you...’
‘Please don’t ask this of me ,’ she argued. ‘You stand there asking me to give up the thing I have worked for my entire life. Where does it end after that? Tell me.’
Torj ran a hand through his hair. ‘I—’
‘I’ll ask you again: do you mean to stand in my way? Or will you be the one to lift me up?’
The Warsword inhaled deeply, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the hilt of his sword. ‘This is truly what you want? To become a Master Alchemist?’
‘It is. You know it is.’
He seemed to brace himself. ‘Then I mean to support you, Embers. Always.’
‘You will be with me,’ she said. ‘Everything you taught me will be right here.’ She touched a finger to her temple.
Torj shook his head, looking torn between shaking her by the shoulders and hauling her mouth to his. ‘I don’t like this.’
‘You don’t have to like it,’ she replied, with a worried glance at the gates. ‘You just have to let me go.’
‘We both know I don’t let you do anything, Embers.’
For a moment, they stared at each other. Wren’s gaze dropped to his mouth. She wanted to kiss him, wanted to feel the strength of his arms as he held her, but the cohort was in view...
Torj’s eyes slid to the gates. ‘Go.’
Swallowing the emotion that had surged into her throat, Wren nodded and gave him a smile. ‘I’ll see you later, Warsword.’
Torj’s returning smile was tight.