CHAPTER 21 Wren
Wren
‘The “assassin’s teapot”, also known as “the Ladies’ Luncheon”, has been one of the most innovative creations to emerge from the alchemy workshops of Thezmarr since the repurposing of dried iruseed’
– A History of Thezmarr
WREN WOKE BEFORE dawn, alone but sated, with a pleasant soreness between her legs. She hated that the bed was empty beside her, but she was grateful for the brief time they’d stolen for themselves the night before. She had needed her soul-bonded, and he’d come for her, no matter the cost.
The potential consequences of their actions made her stomach squirm as she readied herself for the day. But she trusted Torj with her life, and so she cast her worries aside, at least for the time being.
A soft knock sounded at the door, and a familiar voice called out, ‘It’s me.’
Wren pulled Dessa inside and into a tight hug. ‘I’m so sorry I haven’t seen you until now—’
Dessa waved her off. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I brought food.’ She held out a piece of bread slathered in honey. ‘Thought you might need something sweet.’
Wren closed the door behind them and took a bite, almost moaning. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was. ‘Thank you.’
She studied her friend for a moment, awash with gratitude at her ongoing support.
They had come a long way since they’d been tasked with finding antidotes to poison in the Evermere Forest. Wren had thought Dessa too chipper then, too bright against her own darkness, but Dessa had endured.
She had as much backbone as any of them, and to see what she had seen and still have a gentle heart and a smile on her face? That was more than admirable.
‘I’m sorry about Drevenor,’ Wren told her. ‘I’m sorry you never got to finish your opus, to help your father . . .’
Dessa gave a sad smile. ‘Master Nyella approved my designs before the attack. It was going to work.’
Wren felt as though she’d been punched in the gut. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s not your fault, Wren. I sent my designs home. There’s an inventor there. He’s no alchemist, but he’ll do his best. If he has no luck, he has promised to hold on to the designs until I can return.’
‘And your father?’
‘He has good days and bad – more bad than good lately, so I’m told . . . But if I can bring his memory back, I want the world around him to be one he recognizes. That’s why my place is here with you, Wren. Only with you can we achieve the world I want him to remember.’
Words failed Wren then, so instead she took her friend’s hand in her own. She knew she could make no promises, that the world Dessa wished for might never exist again, if it ever had at all . . . but Wren would try. That was all she could offer; that was all she could do.
Dessa squeezed her hand in return. ‘Did the Bear Slayer find you last night?’
Wren’s heart seized. ‘What do you mean?’
But Dessa gave her a sly smile. ‘I was charged with occupying Lord Lucian—’
‘Oh, Dessa, I’m so sorry. I hate the idea of you being forced to spend even a minute with that bastard—’
‘It wasn’t so bad.’ Dessa laughed. ‘He was unconscious, after all.’
Wren stared at her. ‘What?’
Dessa simply shrugged. ‘I thought it was high time I took a leaf out of your book, so to speak. I didn’t have a teapot on hand, but you can drug a bottle of wine just as easily . . . I used the pollen of a vale lotus.’
‘The water lily?’ Wren blinked.
Dessa nodded keenly. ‘Master Norlander told us about it. It dissolves completely, and any lingering herbal aroma can be mistaken for an expensive vintage’s complexity.
It works gradually, so it’s perfect for adding to liquor, as it simply amplifies the effects of increasing drowsiness as the subject drinks more .
. . Eventually, they succumb to sleep like the rest of the drunks around them. ’
A hoarse sound escaped Wren. Laughter of her own. ‘Dessa . . .’ she wheezed. ‘You’re mad.’
‘I learned from the best,’ Dessa replied with a grin. ‘Besides, we’re about to board a ship with very close quarters . . . Thought you might need—’
‘Alright, I see your point,’ Wren said quickly, deciding to change tack. ‘How did your work go while we were gone?’
Dessa sighed. ‘I drew the same conclusions as you. The poison is complex, a mixture of alchemy and shadow magic, just like what Silas used on Queen Reyna. But it’s reacting differently on Torj.
Likely because he’s not only a Warsword, but the sovereign magic inside him is yours.
We know from our experiments with Thea in the gardens that yours is different, but you managed to test the original cure on yourself and it worked . . . so there’s hope.’
‘I did. But I don’t have Furies-given Warsword power, do I?
’ Wren replied. ‘There are too many unknown variables within Torj’s power.
It’s why I need the information from Lucian .
. . but if he doesn’t hold up his end of the bargain, I’ll find another way.
I’ll get the silvertide roses from Delmira and cure him myself, one way or another. ’
‘You have the talent, and you have Zavier and me, however we can help,’ Dessa told her. ‘Do you think it’s releasing faster than expected? Has Torj talked to you about an increase in symptoms?’
‘He hasn’t talked about it . . . but I’ve seen it for myself. Tremors, muscle spasms . . .’
‘You’re the poison expert,’ Dessa said gently. ‘Is that one of the earlier or later stages of exposure?’
‘Later.’ Wren caught her bottom lip between her teeth as her mind churned through every scenario she could think of. Was it possible that Torj hadn’t been honest with her? That his symptoms were far more advanced than he’d admitted?
‘I had Thea send those letters to the rosarians . . . Did you receive any response at Drevenor?’ she asked.
Dessa shook her head.
‘Shit . . . I listed Drevenor’s rookery as the point of contact,’ Wren muttered, cursing herself as she dropped her head in her hands, despair thick in her throat. She blinked back her tears and tried to compose herself.
Dessa spoke again, sadness lacing her voice this time. ‘You don’t have to pretend with me. I thought you knew that by now.’
‘I—’
‘I know I’ll never be the other friends you had. I’m not trying to replace them, not ever. But I want you to know: I can handle this. Whatever tormented thoughts you have, I have them too. And in my experience, they hold a lot less power over you when they’re shared.’
‘I know, Dess,’ Wren replied, offering a tired but genuine smile this time. ‘I appreciate you and everything you do for me.’
‘The feeling is mutual,’ Dessa said. ‘Now, we need to get moving. The others are already making their way to the docks.’
‘We have a problem,’ Kipp said as they prepared to board The Furies’ Will to travel to the mainland of the midrealms.
‘I can’t say I’m all that fond of those words,’ Wren replied, folding her arms over her chest as she waited for the bad tidings.
‘Lord Briar has been asking questions about you,’ Kipp ventured. ‘Specifically regarding what you did in the years after the shadow war, and why no one really heard from you.’
‘Why would he be asking about that now?’
‘My guess?’ Kipp took a sip from his flask while the bannermen guided the horses into the hold. ‘That someone tipped him off. Someone who wanted to put the pressure on you to . . . remain compliant.’
‘Lucian,’ Wren breathed. ‘But wouldn’t that reflect badly on him if it came to light?’
‘He’d feign ignorance, as all good politicians do,’ Kipp replied.
‘How long?’ Wren asked, toying with one of the vials in her belt. ‘How long do you think we have until the truth is out?’
‘Not long enough. You need to get ahead of it while you can. Change the perception of who Wren Embervale is.’
‘How can I change the perception when it’s true?
The midrealms knows I executed Osiris for his treason in the shadow war.
As for the deaths of those who helped fund and aid the conflict, I am responsible.
’ She drew a trembling breath. ‘I took justice into my own hands and delivered it as I saw fit.’
‘You don’t regret it, then?’ There was no judgement in Kipp’s tone, only curiosity.
‘No. The only thing I regret is that it now threatens the plan we’ve laid out, that it puts Torj in jeopardy. I regret that one nobleman has the power to alter the tides of the upcoming war with one piece of a larger truth.’
‘So tell them your whole truth,’ Kipp said.
Wren scoffed. ‘Oh, it’s that easy, is it?’
Kipp shrugged. ‘One thing that has always struck me about the politics of the midrealms is that things are so often done behind closed doors. As you said, battles are planned over sparkling wine and feasts, not accessible to the common folk – the folk who are impacted the most. Perhaps it’s time you spoke directly to the people. ’
‘And how do you propose I do that?’
‘The same way Silas did. Write to them. Have posters put up in every town, every tavern. I think we know someone who may be able to help with that, don’t you?’ Kipp raised an amused brow.
‘You don’t think it’s too late for that?’ she asked.
‘It’s never too late for the truth.’
Wren inhaled the salty sea air as the breeze picked up around them, closing her eyes for a moment. ‘It would be a half-truth, though, wouldn’t it? To tell the people my story as the Poisoner, while still pretending I’m engaged to Darian.’
When she opened her eyes, Wren had never seen Kipp look as earnest as he did now, placing both hands gently on her shoulders. ‘Only you can decide what to tell them, Wren. It’s your truth to tell.’