CHAPTER 32 Wren
Wren
‘It has always been rumoured that upon the completion of the Great Rite, the Furies required the Warswords to vow never to marry. This has always been hearsay’
– A History of Thezmarr
‘STOP FIDGETING,’ WREN hissed at her sister as they stood in front of a mirror in Farissa’s old quarters.
‘I’m not fidgeting,’ Thea bit back, dropping her hands by her sides, only to raise them again and wring her fingers a moment later. ‘Do you think the braid is too . . .’
‘Too what?’ Wren asked, amused. ‘Too warrior-like? Too Althea Embervale?’ She reached for the flowers they’d threaded through her sister’s bronze hair. ‘The braid is perfect. You’re perfect.’
Thea sighed as Wren tied the laces of her dress. A familiar gesture made strange by circumstance – quiet moments like these had always been shared before battles, not weddings.
It was a thought Thea seemed to share as she asked, ‘Why in the midrealms did I let Dessa talk me into wearing this? A Warsword in white? It feels wrong.’
Wren snorted. ‘Like a poisoner wearing a crown?’
Thea grinned at that. ‘We’re breaking all kinds of rules, aren’t we?’
‘I’ve never known you to follow a rule in your life, Thee.’
Her sister barked a laugh. ‘True enough.’
It was just the pair of them getting ready for the ceremony, as Thea had requested. Wren had been surprised that she hadn’t wanted Cal and Kipp there, but Thea insisted that she’d see enough of them, especially Kipp, as he presided smugly over her and Wilder’s vows.
It was only when Thea spoke again that Wren realized why she hadn’t wanted her other friends present.
‘What if I can’t be both? A wife and a Warsword?’ she asked quietly, glancing up at Wren with a rare vulnerability shining in her celadon eyes.
‘Thea,’ Wren said gently, ‘you’re the one who taught me we don’t have to choose. Woman, warrior . . . Warsword, lightning wielder—’
‘But—’
Wren gripped her sister by the shoulders. ‘You are allowed to be happy. You are allowed to revel in joy, even when all else is uncertain,’ she told her. ‘Especially when all else is uncertain.’
Thea stared at her, and Wren took the opportunity to reach for the gift she’d brought, wrapped in plain linen. She pressed it into Thea’s hands.
‘What’s this?’ Thea blinked at the small bundle, brow furrowed.
Wren laughed. ‘Well, you’ve got something old . . .’ She tugged on the leather strap tying the end of Thea’s braid. ‘Something borrowed . . .’ She gestured to the dress. ‘And now . . . for something deadly.’ She winked.
Thea unwrapped the fabric, and her eyes widened at the delicate piece of steel she found.
‘Wren . . .’ she breathed, astonishment etched across her face.
It was an ornate throwing star, made of the finest Naarvian steel.
‘I treated the points with my strongest incapacitating potion,’ Wren explained. ‘There’s also a pouch for it, made from the leather of your first sword grip.’
Thea shook her head in disbelief. ‘How did you . . .?’
‘Kipp helped. Don’t ask how he got it. I’m not sure either of us wants to know, but you didn’t exactly give us much notice.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ Thea murmured, testing the star’s weight between her fingers. ‘Thank you.’
‘Well . . .’ Wren blinked back unexpected tears. ‘You are the Shadow of Death, after all. We figured you needed something to represent that part of you on your wedding day.’
Thea laughed, the sound catching slightly in her throat. ‘When did you become so wise, little sister?’
‘I’ve always been wise,’ Wren told her. ‘Someone had to balance out your recklessness, remember?’ She straightened Thea’s dress one final time. ‘Ready?’
Thea sheathed the throwing star and secured it beneath her skirts before she squared her shoulders and nodded. ‘Ready.’
Thea had chosen the spot: the clifftops of Thezmarr, where she had first clapped eyes on Wilder Hawthorne so many years ago, where she had ended the shadow war with him at her side.
Wren knew its meaning, and she felt nothing but pride as Malik escorted her sister down the makeshift aisle. The Shieldbreaker moved slowly, supporting himself with a cane on one side, while Thea looped her arm through his on the other, but he was beaming.
‘Classic Mal.’ Talemir grinned beside Wren. ‘He loves a good wedding.’
Wren couldn’t stop the lump forming in her throat at the sight of her sister in a wedding gown, a retired Warsword on one side, his aging canine on the other. Dax seemed just as proud as his master, trotting at Thea’s feet, his tail wagging hard.
When they reached Wilder, Malik hugged his brother, and a few muffled laughs sounded from the small crowd as he practically dwarfed Wilder. When he hugged Thea, he lifted her bodily from the ground, which only resulted in more laughter.
Talemir chuckled and stepped forwards, taking Malik’s free arm and guiding him to the seat they’d brought for him. Wren blinked back her tears at the tenderness between the two men.
At last, Wilder took Thea’s hands in his and smiled.
Wren’s heart seized at that smile – not begrudging Thea her happiness, not for a second, but .
. . in the light of such love, she wished that she could give the Warsword at her own side the same public acknowledgement.
That it wasn’t another man’s ring on her finger.
Kipp clearing his throat brought her out of her thoughts.
‘I’m sure I’m not the only one who is relieved to find themselves here at last,’ he said with a smile.
‘Finally, we get to witness the union of Wilder Hawthorne, the Hand of Death, and Althea Embervale, the Shadow of Death. They have asked me to keep this short and sweet – and devoid of my usual charming humour . . .’
A laugh bubbled from Wren’s lips – a tall order for Kipp indeed.
‘So, I will simply say this,’ Kipp continued, his smile warm and genuine as he looked from Wilder to Thea.
‘It’s been an honour and a privilege witnessing you both fall in love, watching you overcome adversity, both in wartime and in times of peace.
The Furies made you for one another, and what an absolute joy it is to be here at your wedding today. ’
Wren wished that she could give Torj the same sort of celebration, the celebration he deserved.
‘Wilder, your vows, if you please?’ Kipp said.
It was like the rest of the world did not exist for the Hand of Death.
He had eyes only for Thea as he spoke. ‘I had a vision of you when I was held prisoner in the Scarlet Tower all those years ago . . .’ He drew a shaky breath.
‘It was not of darkness and torment, or the war that was unfolding around us at the time. It was of this.’ He took a ring from his pocket and held it out.
‘It was a vision of slipping a simple silver band onto your finger, of calling you my wife.’
Wren saw Thea’s lip quiver, but Wilder continued.
‘Thea, no amount of time with you will ever be enough. Am I worthy of you? No. But I will spend the rest of my days trying to be, with everything that I have. We have belonged together ever since you spied on me atop these very cliffs. I have longed for the day I could call you my wife, and now you are . . . I love you, and I always will.’
Wren’s tears spilled as Thea’s did, and the sniffling around her told her she wasn’t the only one feeling the onslaught of emotions.
Wilder slid the ring on Thea’s finger and smiled. ‘You’re up, Princess.’
Thea’s answering smile was radiant. ‘Ever since I met you, life has been one giant adventure. As your apprentice, as your friend, as your enemy, as your lover, there hasn’t been a dull moment.
We have been through so much together and apart, not to mention when I hunted you across the midrealms for a year .
. . But my world does not exist unless you’re in it.
I love you with all my heart, from the depths of my soul, and promise that I always will, until the last of my days. ’
Thea slipped a larger version of the same silver band onto Wilder’s finger, and they beamed at one another.
‘Well, not that I haven’t already seen enough of this, but . . . you may now kiss the bride!’ Kipp declared.
Wilder swept Thea up in his arms, oblivious to the rose petals that were being thrown around them, and kissed her soundly.
As Wren palmed away her tears, a warm presence pressed against her left side. The familiar scent of black cedar and oakmoss wrapped around her senses, and a large hand covered hers, just for a moment.
And then the Bear Slayer was gone, off to congratulate the happy couple.