Chapter Six
WILDER
W hen Wilder woke the next morning, groggy and dazed, she was gone.
Her cot was neatly made up, and a faint hint of her sea-salt-and-bergamot scent lingered, but there was no other sign of her.
How had she slipped past him without waking him?
He was usually such a light sleeper that even the most minor of disturbances had him on his feet, weapon in hand.
Pulling his pants on, he padded out to the living room, where, pinned beneath the sapphire necklace he’d meant to return to his drawer last night, he found a piece of parchment:
Meet you at the stables.
She hadn’t signed it, but rather scribbled a bolt of lightning beneath the words.
He almost wanted to laugh at that.
Almost.
Instead, he toyed with the jewel, resenting that he’d felt the need to rummage through his old things for it.
The fitful sleep he’d had only made matters worse, made it harder to keep that mental armour in place against the world.
No good would come from wallowing in the past; he knew that well enough by now.
But something stopped him from throwing the necklace into the cluttered drawer.
Instead he tossed it back onto the table with a muttered curse.
The first kiss of dawn stained the sky as Wilder reached the fortress stables. He wondered if Thea felt as hollow as he did. He’d wanted to wake up with her in his arms. He had imagined holding her to his chest as he rocked into her, slowly and deeply, as though they had all the time in the world.
A dream. Nothing more.
He had let his emotions rule him before and no good had come from it. That would be the end of it.
He had to make a Warsword of her yet.
Already resigning himself to a trying morning, he took a deep breath of the crisp air before entering the stables.
Only to halt as he heard voices from the tack room.
‘— was a fool back then, Thea. I didn’t know what I was saying.’
Thea sounded tired when she replied, ‘It hardly matters now, Van.’
Van? Who the fuck is ‘Van’?
‘But it does matter. I was wrong to say those things to you, to call you a —’
‘Just leave it.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Why the fuck not?’ Thea snapped. ‘You’ve left it for over six years already. What’s a few more?’
Wilder tensed where he stood by the stable entry. Who was she talking to? Why were things so familiar between them? And more importantly, what had the bastard said to her to warrant such an apology in the first place? Wilder’s knuckles cracked as he clenched his fists.
‘Because,’ Van persisted, ‘I still care for you. I’ve seen the woman, the warrior you’ve become… and I’m not threatened, not anymore. I’m proud . I want to be with you.’
Wilder’s blood went cold and an ugly, unwelcome feeling stirred in his chest. It was like a viper unfurling from its nest as he imagined whoever the prick was with Thea, touching her, kissing her —
Wilder was suddenly at the door to the tack room, recognition flooding him as he spotted Evander, the stable master’s apprentice, reaching for Thea.
She easily sidestepped out of his grasp, and her gaze found Wilder’s, as though she wasn’t surprised in the least to see him there.
Evander, however, whirled around and blanched as he realised whose shadow darkened the doorway.
‘Warsword Hawthorne,’ he stammered, taking a step back from Thea, snatching up a spare bridle from the work table with trembling hands.
Wilder didn’t so much as look at the blithering idiot. ‘Get out.’
Evander didn’t need telling twice. He darted forward, squeezing past the Warsword and fleeing the stables altogether.
The searing look Thea shot Wilder would have wilted the hardest of warriors. ‘Did that make you feel like a big man?’
‘I don’t need a simpering stable boy for that.’
Thea snorted – actually snorted . ‘Could have fooled me.’
Wilder didn’t move a muscle. Good. It’s better that she hates me . Things will be easier if she feels this way about me…
That familiar fiery glare pierced him completely, and he could feel the anger surging in her magic – fuelling it.
As a Warsword, Wilder was sensitive to any magic, but he didn’t know if it was his Furies-given abilities that heightened his awareness of Thea and her power now, or…
if it was something to do with what had happened between them.
Whatever the reason, as he met her gaze and refused to look away, he could sense that unbroken storm raging within her.
It made him uneasy.
Feigning indifference, he leant against the doorframe. ‘We gonna talk about it yet?’
‘About what?’
‘Your magic, Princess.’
He saw her pulse flutter in her neck before she folded her arms over her chest and scoffed. ‘You’re not my friend. You’re not my… anything, besides my mentor. And even that’s debatable. I don’t have to talk about it with you. I’m here to train, to learn, and that’s it. That’s all I want from you.’
Wilder was glad he was braced against the wall as he felt the wind get knocked out of him. I guess I deserved that , he thought. He hid it well, though, straightening instead. ‘You finished fucking around in here, then?’
‘If you’ve finished swinging your dick.’
The filthy words from her wicked mouth gave him pause for a second, but he forced himself to move. ‘This way.’
Jaw clenched, he led her to the intended stall.
‘This is the Bloodletter’s stallion,’ Thea said, frowning at the enormous horse within.
‘So?’ he asked.
‘I thought he’d ridden out somewhere… Last night.’
Wilder shrugged. ‘He took another horse then. I asked him yesterday if we could borrow Brutus this morning.’
‘Brutus?’
Wilder couldn’t help rolling his eyes. ‘Just the sort of name Vernich would come up with, no?’
‘What’s yours called?’
Not a chance was he telling her that story. He cleared his throat and ignored her question. ‘You’re taking Brutus out to the corral. He needs to be warmed up and taken for a ride.’
Thea frowned. ‘That’s it?’
‘That’s it.’ Wilder motioned for her to enter the stall. ‘Go easy on your ribs.’
What he hadn’t told her was that Vernich’s stallion was notoriously difficult and aggressive – the horse had barely been broken in even after all these years. But if Thea wanted to be a Warsword, she needed to be able to tame a Tverrian stallion.
Gripping the horse’s lead rope, she halted. ‘You just going to stand there all day?’
Wilder held the stall gate open for her. ‘Hardly. I’m going to warm my feet by the fire and have breakfast,’ he said coolly. ‘Have fun.’
Her answering glare was enough to get him moving, but not before he noted the strain in her arms as she tried to haul the unruly beast from the stall, Brutus pawing the straw-covered ground impatiently.
When Wilder reached the courtyard of the fortress, he turned back to peer down over the grounds. He saw that Thea had managed to get the stallion to the corral, only to have him bite her. Wilder flinched as those nasty teeth clamped around her arm. But she had to learn.
To his surprise, she didn’t lose her temper. Instead, she went to the nearby bushes and plucked some foliage. She made quick work of chewing and applying it to her wound, before continuing to wrangle the stallion into submission.
Perhaps there was hope for her yet.
* * *
Wilder watched Thea from a distance for most of the morning. If she could handle Brutus, she would have no trouble capturing her own Tverrian stallion when her time came.
Around noon, he found himself trudging through the undergrowth of the Bloodwoods, relishing its eeriness, the canopy blocking out the high sun and the damp, cool air kissing his heated skin.
He had told Thea to meet him at the training ring, but he knew better than that.
For years she’d gone to the same hiding spot: the clearing amid the dense forest of bleeding trees, their sap sticky and red, supposedly the blood of warrior ancestors long dead.
And sure enough, there she was.
Through the trees, he watched as Thea sought the arrow he’d shot at her all those months ago, embedded in the tree. Only it wasn’t there. Wilder himself had removed it weeks ago. It was currently stashed away in his cabin. It had been a stupid idea to keep it.
But that didn’t stop him watching as Thea slowly ran her fingers over the small scar left in the tree trunk, her expression softening.
Wilder’s gut tightened. It had worked out for the best, he tried to tell himself.
In the clearing, Thea smacked her palm against the offending tree with a huff of frustration before rummaging through her pockets until she found the parchment he’d given her. After scanning over his neat script, she stood and began to take herself through the first set of exercises on the list.
Wilder watched on in silence, noting how quickly she had improved, how naturally the movements came to her… She was so focused, so determined, and with every drill, she seemed to beat back one personal darkness after the other.
‘It’s rude to spy on people,’ her voice rang through the clearing, though she didn’t so much as glance in his direction.
‘Well, you would know,’ he replied, striding into view. How long had she been aware of his presence? ‘We were supposed to meet at the training ring,’ he added.
‘So how did you find me?’ Thea asked, not pausing as she swept through another set of exercises.
‘Easy,’ he shrugged. ‘You never do what you’re told. Figured you’d be here.’
‘Have you come to punish me for my disobedience, then?’
He bit back a chuckle. ‘I should, but no.’
‘So why are you here?’
‘To check your form, to monitor your progress…’
Thea raised a single brow. ‘Have you drawn a conclusion?’
‘Not as yet.’
‘You sure? Nothing to criticise? No words of wisdom?’
‘There is one thing…’ he ventured slowly.
‘Of course there is.’
He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. ‘Eat the damn greens next time.’
She frowned. ‘What?’
‘The greens. At dinner. Eat them.’
‘But —’
‘Consider it part of your training, Apprentice.’