CHAPTER 33 Torj
Torj
‘A warrior’s second can count for everything’
– Bear Slayer, Warsword of Thezmarr
IT WAS JUST like Wilder and Thea to get married on the brink of war, and Torj loved them all the more for it.
As Kipp had said, they were made for each other – steel meeting steel in a fiery blaze.
They moved together through the throng of well-wishers, fluid like one body of water through the valleys of the realms. They were always touching, always together, speaking a silent language only the two of them understood.
Radiating joy, they laughed and kissed and embraced their loved ones with absolute certainty.
Torj only wished he could be so bold, so resilient in the face of all that loomed ahead.
He had watched the tears stream down Wren’s face as the Warswords exchanged vows, unable to draw her into his arms, unable to press a kiss to her brow.
Gods, had it made him ache. And amid the festivities of a real wedding, it was impossible not to think back to when he and Wren had played the role of husband and wife.
It hadn’t mattered that it was all just a ruse; laying claim to her with that word for the world to see had felt so right.
He gripped his goblet to keep the tremor in his hand at bay and stayed to the edges of the celebrations, not wanting to detract from the happy couple. Wilder was right . . . This was something to fight for.
The scent of spring rain and jasmine came to life around him as the crowd parted, allowing Wren through, that intoxicating fragrance thoroughly tormenting him as she drew nearer.
What are you doing, Embers? he called to her through their bond.
The corner of her mouth twitched as she replied, Coming to talk to you, Bear Slayer.
As much as Torj wanted to be with her, they couldn’t risk Lucian’s wrath – not now, not when they had come this far. That’s not a good idea. Lucian—
There’s nothing untoward about two old friends chatting at a wedding, she dismissed him.
Torj didn’t take his eyes off the happy couples swaying to the music before him. Old friends . . . Is that what we are?
You know exactly what we are, came her answer as she stood beside him.
‘Dancing on a clifftop . . .’ Wren mused aloud with a shake of her head. ‘It’s a very Thea thing to do.’
‘You’ve been known to jump into danger every now and then too,’ Torj told her quietly. ‘Perhaps it’s an Embervale thing.’
Wren chuckled. ‘Along with a proclivity for Warswords, apparently . . .’
Tensing, Torj glanced around for Devereux Senior and his lackeys. No doubt someone had their eyes on them already. ‘Don’t let anyone else hear you say that.’
They continued to watch the couples dancing, Torj sipping from his drink and trying to hide the shaking in his hand again. His attention drifted to Thea and Wilder once more. Their arms were around each other, Wilder lifting Thea from the ground. ‘They look happy,’ he said softly.
‘They deserve it.’ Wren had followed his gaze to where they moved together, their warrior’s grace and agility just as suited to dancing as to battle.
Wren’s fingers brushed his arm, her words blooming in his mind.
Meet me before dawn. There’s a stream past the alchemists’ grove in the Bloodwoods.
We can’t, he told her, fixing his stare anywhere but on her. We won’t get away with Dessa drugging Lucian twice.
Who said anything about that? she asked. Meet me.
It’s too dangerous, Torj told her. Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Embers.
From across the crowd, Darian was motioning to her, a charming smile gracing his handsome face, and beside him Lord Lucian and Lord Briar were deep in conversation.
The next words Torj spoke aloud were gentle, but firm. ‘You should go. Your fiancé needs you.’
Wren didn’t say goodbye as she was swallowed up by the festive crowd, as though she had merely exchanged a few polite words with a man who was once her guard before returning to her future husband.
She didn’t look back as Darian slid an arm around her waist when she reached him. Torj could see why people were smitten with the match; the Delmirian princess and the Lord of Larkwood Valley made a handsome, impressive couple.
And just as he was about to descend into a spiral of dark thoughts, Wren’s voice came back to him through the soul bond.
You’d best meet me by the stream come morning, Bear Slayer, or I’ll be all alone . . .
Though he couldn’t risk meeting her gaze while she danced with Darian, he knew Wren was smiling – not for the nobleman, but for him.
You wicked woman, he replied.
My poor Torj . . . You have no idea.