CHAPTER 36 Wren
Wren
‘Delmira was once the most fertile kingdom in all the midrealms. No one knew why, and yet when it fell to the darkness, some rejoiced’
– The Midrealms Chronicles
WREN’S MAGIC CRACKLED in her veins as the unit moved into single file through the narrow mountain pass.
She blamed Thea, who had warned her so incessantly about not using magic that now it was all she could think about.
Things were already so on edge, so unstable within her, that it felt like walking a tightrope .
. . One false move, and instead of tumbling from the wire, she’d bring an entire mountain down around them.
No pressure, she thought darkly.
Voices echoed up the cavernous walls, and it smelled of damp. Wren rested her hand on the grip of the dagger Torj had given her. She didn’t have him by her side to ground her, to tether her to the present, but something that had belonged to him was the next best thing.
Easy, Embers, his gravelly voice bloomed in her mind. I can feel your magic simmering around us . . .
I can’t help it, she replied, squinting through the dark, trying to make out his broad shoulders ahead, his hammer strapped across his back.
You have more control, more strength than you realize, came his answer.
And how do you know that, Bear Slayer? she asked.
Because I know you.
I miss you. The words tumbled from her mind into his before she could stop them, and as they drifted down that tether between them, she felt the truth of them, the weight of them in her chest. Had it only been in the dark and early hours of that very morning that they’d been together by the stream?
It felt like a lifetime ago. Gods, I miss you.
And I miss you, Embers. You have no idea the torture it has been not to claim you for all to see. You’re mine. Mind, body and soul, and yet . . .
And yet here we are, she finished for him. Together but apart.
For a moment, there was nothing but silence through the bond, and Wren worried that she’d said too much, been too hopeless – until his voice caused a shiver to wash across her skin.
How can I make it better? How can I serve you, my queen?
She relished the sound of him, her toes curling in her boots at the title on his tongue. He had said it with reverence, and the promise of pleasure. I need a distraction, she told him.
Wren swore she could hear his laugh echo somewhere. Shall I tell you a story? Or paint you a picture, Embers?
Wren’s grip tightened on her reins. Paint me a picture.
As my queen commands, he replied, his inner voice low and sultry now.
Wren didn’t know how he did it, but suddenly he was there, as clear as day in her mind. He was naked, in all his war-honed glory – the bulging muscles shifting in his back, his sculpted backside clenching as he thrust . . .
Torj was showing her them. He had her bent over a table, and he was driving into her. She arched beneath him, lifting her hips to meet every stroke.
Wren watched them as though she were an outsider looking in, her heart hammering and her breath catching as Torj’s massive hands spread her open, his thumb brushing an incredibly intimate part of her . . .
Has anyone ever touched you here, Embers?
No . . . She nearly moaned the word aloud.
Then I’ll be the first. He circled her back entrance with the pad of his thumb as he pounded into her. And the last.
Wren realized she was on the verge of grinding into her saddle, and she was suddenly grateful for the dark, for she knew her cheeks were flushed.
Was that distraction enough for you? A note of amusement laced Torj’s voice.
Wren didn’t reply straight away; she was too busy trying to compose herself. She could feel the dampness between her legs, and her whole body was throbbing with need. Will that . . .? She swallowed. Will that feel as good as I think it will?
She could hear the smile in her Bear Slayer’s words. Guess we’ll have to find out . . . Does it interest you, Embers?
Everything with you interests me.
Then the possibilities are endless, he replied. But I’ll have to politely retreat now. Riding with a cock as hard as stone and balls fit to burst isn’t exactly comfortable . . .
Wren suppressed a laugh. I thought I took care of you this morning. But apologies for the inconvenience, Warsword.
Once is never enough with you. And I don’t want your apologies. I want you to think about how good the pressure might feel there, how my cock—
Wren managed to close her mind before Torj could paint the next picture, and she heard him laugh up ahead. Who knew her Warsword was so filthy? And apparently . . . so was she.
But the interlude with the Bear Slayer had done the trick. Though she was coiled tight with unmet need, her magic had quietened, and she was no longer at risk of bringing the mountain down on their heads as they navigated the narrow pass.
She didn’t know how long they rode for. Without sunlight filtering through, there was little way to tell the passage of time.
All she knew was that her legs ached and her back was painfully stiff.
Wren had never taken this route to Delmira; according to Thea, only she and Wilder knew of it – and Kipp, by his own admission.
She wasn’t surprised at the latter. He had a way of navigating the midrealms that hardly anyone understood.
Underground passageways between taverns, endless connections .
. . A mountain pass was probably child’s play to the strategist.
At last, Wren spotted the faint rays of light illuminating the end of the tunnel and silently thanked the Furies.
As she exited, she took in a deep breath of fresh air and looked to the stretch of land before her.
Gilded in the burnt orange hues of dawn or dusk – she didn’t know which – was Delmira.
‘Holy shit,’ she heard Thea exclaim nearby.
Sloping hills covered in verdant grass and vibrant wildflowers paved the way into the kingdom, and a sapphire-blue lake glimmered on the horizon.
‘The view’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ Wren turned, searching for her sister, but met the sea-storm gaze of Torj beside her instead.
‘Yes,’ he said, not taking his eyes off her. ‘It is.’
Her cheeks grew hot beneath the intensity of his stare, her traitorous mind taking her back to those images he’d shown her. His lips twitched upwards, as though he knew exactly what she was thinking about.
‘Made an impression on you, did it?’ he asked quietly. ‘That’s good to know, Embers. Very good to know.’
Before she could reply, Torj was riding to the head of the army, addressing the company that had gathered at the foot of the mountain.
‘We’ll camp here tonight and establish our first garrison.
When we depart tomorrow, we’ll leave a skeleton unit of shieldbearers behind until we can afford to send reinforcements. ’
Wren watched as the Bear Slayer moved through their forces with authority, directing his fellow Warswords and soldiers to set up tents and create defensive perimeters.
‘We can use the mountain tunnel as a supply route from Thezmarr,’ she heard him tell one of the commanders. ‘But it needs constant patrols.’
No one questioned him. Here, Torj Elderbrock was in his element.
The most senior Warsword remaining among them, more than familiar with the challenges of unknown territory, limited resources and the threat of attack.
It was what he had been trained for all his life.
Had Wren forgotten that somewhere along the way? That he was more than a protector?
As she and Dessa set up the medical tent, she kept stealing glances at him.
Commanding, disciplined and efficient, Torj had everyone marching to the beat of his drum, and there was something incredibly .
. . powerful about it, something erotic.
Wren blamed the Bear Slayer for the way her thoughts kept coming back to the physical side of things.
His offered distraction had a lasting effect, resulting in an ache that had settled low in her belly.
‘He’s quite impressive, isn’t he?’ Dessa commented, following her gaze across the camp to where Torj was using his war hammer to secure a tent to the ground.
‘He is,’ Wren agreed. ‘I was just thinking . . . We’ve seen him fight, we’ve seen him defend, but this . . .’
Dessa nodded. ‘We haven’t seen him lead. Was this what he was like in the war?’
‘I suppose he was,’ Wren replied. ‘Though it’s not the thing I remember most.’
‘Oh? What do you remember?’
‘How he irritated me no end. How he was overprotective. How he gave me my first proper pair of secateurs. How he walked into a tent pole at the sight of me in armour for the first time. It’s the little things I remember .
. .’ Wren sighed heavily as Darian approached them, and she saw Torj’s shoulders tense, even from afar.
‘What can I do for you?’ she asked the nobleman.
Darian motioned to the forces building campfires. ‘I thought the question was what I could do for you.’
‘You know I am grateful for your support,’ Wren told him. ‘How are you progressing with the legalities and paperwork on your end?’
‘More complications, I’m afraid,’ he said, glancing across to where Lord Lucian held court with Lord Briar and Lord Pendelton. ‘My father proves to be three steps ahead when it comes to my inheritance, as always.’
‘Well, when you’re ready, I’m a woman of my word,’ Wren assured him.
‘Of that I have no doubt,’ the nobleman replied. ‘In the meantime, I think it’s best we mingle with our supporters, don’t you?’
Wren nodded stiffly. ‘I suppose you’re right.’
Darian offered his arm. ‘There will come a time where all of this is behind us. But for now, we need to present a united front. We need to woo them, assure them they will have our favour as a royal house when the war is done.’
Wren accepted his arm and whispered, ‘And when they discover this has all been a ruse?’
‘You will have won them a war, and it won’t matter,’ Darian told her.
‘I’m not sure they’ll see it like that.’
‘Probably not,’ he admitted. ‘But that’s all we’ve got for the moment. If they’re not supporting us and our union, there’s every chance they’ll go to Silas.’
‘Well, we can’t have that,’ Wren muttered.
Darian gave a dark laugh. ‘No, we certainly can’t. Perhaps some wine will dull the pain?’
‘There’s not enough wine in the world,’ Wren told him.