CHAPTER 24 Wren
Wren
‘It is a wise alchemist indeed who knows that while answers may light the path forwards, it is the right questions that reveal which path to take’
– Alchemy Unbound
WREN NEEDED SOMEWHERE private to think, to write, to tinker with her experiments on the cure, away from Lucian’s prying eyes. Kipp had suggested the compartment where the ship’s anchor chain was stored as they sailed – the chain locker.
It was a relatively small space, accessed through a small hatch in the bow of The Furies’ Will.
It smelled of rope and metal, and it was dark but for the lantern Kipp had given her.
Thankfully, though, the area was kept dry to prevent the chains from excessive rusting.
For a place that seemed rarely visited by the main crew, it was strangely equipped for her purposes, which meant it couldn’t be the first time Kipp had made use of the space.
Wren could hear the others upstairs, enjoying the gentle breeze and the sun as it bore down upon the deck. She knew the opportunities to do so would become few and far between as the weeks ahead unfolded, but since boarding The Furies’ Will, her adviser’s words weighed heavily on her mind.
The truth.
Wren wasn’t even sure she knew it herself any more.
She had played too many roles, worn too many masks, and sometimes she didn’t recognize the person staring back at her in the mirror.
Now, sequestered away in the chain locker, she stared at the blank sheet of parchment before her, willing the answers to come.
She could confess to the people of the midrealms who she truly was – poisoner and heir – or she could deny it altogether.
She could write a mix of falsehoods and facts, blending the two together into something more palatable.
Or she could lie. Just like Silas had. None of the options felt right; none of them gave her any semblance of peace.
Wren doubted she’d ever experience that particular feeling again.
Ink dripped from the tip of her quill onto the page, seeping into the parchment like blood. It wouldn’t be long before she was writing orders for armies, before real blood was spilled in her name.
But then she was called by another name, through the bond between her and the Bear Slayer: Embers, I need to talk to you.
Wren allowed his voice to soak into her, husky and rich, providing solace amid the turmoil. Do you know where the chain locker is? she replied. Below the main deck in the forecastle area?
What in the midrealms are you doing there? came his response.
Do you know it? she pressed.
I know it.
Wren placed the quill back in the ink pot and dropped her head into her hands. She felt so lost amid the tangled web she had woven for herself, the feeling threatening to become a spiralling mass of darkness within.
She felt him before he spoke, that sturdy, reassuring presence that brought warmth to her chest even in the deepest throes of anxiety.
‘We shouldn’t be taking this risk,’ she whispered. But she couldn’t bring herself to regret it, even as she said, ‘Lucian has spies everywhere.’
‘Darian practically told me to come here himself,’ Torj said, a large palm circling her back. ‘Are you alright?’
‘Kipp thinks I should write to the people of the midrealms . . .’ She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked up at the beautiful man gilded by the lantern beside her, praying that he’d have some answers for her.
‘And what do you think?’ he asked.
‘I think that whenever I make a decision, people get hurt,’ she told him, glancing at his trembling hands.
He followed her gaze down. ‘This is not your fault, Embers.’ He covered the tremor with a tug of his sleeve.
‘Don’t do that,’ she said quietly.
He looked up, feigning ignorance. ‘Do what?’
‘Hide things from me. I saw your hand. I know the poison is working its way through your system faster than we anticipated. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.’
‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘Or do I need to prove it to you?’ he added suggestively.
Ignoring the innuendo, Wren took his weakened hand in hers. He tried to snatch it back, but she held firm, shooting him a warning look before she started to examine it.
‘How long?’ she asked.
‘Not—’
‘I won’t ask you again, Bear Slayer.’
He had the good sense to look sheepish. ‘A while . . .’
‘I figured,’ she said. ‘I’m working on getting the information about it from Lucian, and I have Zavier and Dessa working around the clock here—’
‘There are more important things, Embers,’ he started gently.
‘More important than you?’ she demanded. ‘Imagine if I had said those words to you. Don’t cast your worth aside, not to me. You are everything, and I will not let this happen to you. There is no scenario in which you do not survive this, do you understand me?’
‘Always so bossy, Embers.’ A smile sounded in his voice.
‘Someone’s got to be with you Warswords. So stubborn.’ She turned his hand over in hers, looking for any additional outward signs. ‘Anything else you need to tell me?’
Torj sighed. ‘There was a moment, in the sparring ring, with Cal. My muscles locked up, and . . .’
‘And?’ she pressed. She had seen it with her own eyes, but she needed to know the cause, the symptoms.
Torj’s cheeks flushed. ‘I fell. I had no control. And before I sent word to you just now, I fainted.’
Wren hated the shame she saw in his gaze, that he didn’t want to share this part of himself with her.
‘Darian helped me, and I feel fine now. But . . .’ He didn’t need to say that he was embarrassed. Torj Elderbrock did not fall, not from his horse, not from anything. He’d told her so several times himself.
So Wren simply nodded. ‘Thank you for telling me.’
‘We should assign you more guards once we get to the mainland,’ he said slowly. ‘In case it happens again. In case I can’t—’
‘There is no “in case”,’ she told him. ‘I have all the guards and protection I need. As long as I have you, I’ll be fine. Are you ready for what lies ahead at Thezmarr?’
Torj looked like he wanted to argue, but instead he reached for her. ‘I’m always ready.’
Warmth bloomed in Wren’s chest at that. She cupped his face, smiling softly. ‘There’s the Bear Slayer I know and love. Now, what were you saying about proving it to me? Or do you have more hard truths you need to get off your chest?’
‘Hard truths? No.’ Torj tucked her hair behind her ear with a soft smile.
‘My truth, the only truth that matters, is that you are everything to me. My friend. My lover. My soul-bonded . . . My queen. My truth is that I love you more and more every day, if that’s even possible after the past thirteen years of loving you.
If life has taught me anything, Embers, it’s that not much can stand in the way of that. ’
‘That’s quite a speech, Bear Slayer . . .’ she murmured, ignoring the sting of welling tears.
‘You think?’ He fitted himself between her legs, still smiling. ‘In that case, there’s something I need to ask you, Embers . . .’
Heat radiated from his torso against her legs, and she breathed in his black-cedar-and-oakmoss scent. ‘So ask.’