Chapter Eight #2
‘Fucked against a tree like a pair of animals…?’
Mead exploded from Cal as he coughed and spluttered, eyes bulging.
Kipp looked at him, disappointed. ‘That can’t be a surprise to you, Callahan.’
‘What? Why not? How was I supposed to know —’
Thea couldn’t help but laugh, watching the liquor still dripping from her friend’s nose.
Kipp slung his arm around Cal. ‘Poor Callahan. So innocent in the ways of the world…’
‘Piss off.’
But Kipp hadn’t finished. ‘Haven’t you seen that poor man? He’s like a caged animal when dear old Thea’s around, like he’s trying to break free.’
‘Oh, please,’ Thea scoffed. ‘He wants nothing to do with me now.’
It was Kipp’s turn to scoff. ‘I thought you were smarter than that, wraith slayer. The man’s unhinged because of you.’
‘Unhinged is right.’
‘Can someone tell me what the fuck you’re talking about? How did this happen?’ Cal exclaimed.
‘Well, Callahan… When a man and a woman —’
‘Fuck off, Kipp! You know what I mean.’ He turned to Thea, his gaze imploring.
She shrugged. ‘It was never easy between us. But… I don’t know. One moment we were going to be together and the next… The next he was my mentor, and I was his apprentice. He never wanted that. Never wanted me.’
‘I don’t believe that for a second.’ Kipp pressed the jug back into her hands. ‘But it sounds like you need this more than I do.’
Cal was still looking bewildered. ‘How did I not know this was going on?’
‘Because you, my friend, have your head so far up your own arse it’s a miracle you’ve noticed anything at all these past few months,’ Kipp declared merrily.
Cal gave Thea a sideways glance. ‘See what I’ve been dealing with when you’re not around?’
Thea laughed, taking a deep drink from the growler. ‘I’ll endeavour to help you out a bit more going forward.’
‘I’d be much obliged.’ He waited a beat, his curious expression reminding Thea of Samra before she was about to ask something utterly inappropriate. ‘So… All that Warsword prowess… Does it translate —’
Thea’s gaze snapped to his. ‘Don’t you dare ask.’
Cal’s cheeks flamed as Kipp wandered to a nearby shelf and innocently pulled a bottle loose. ‘Is that why you’re training so hard? In the hopes that little Cal might become big Cal one day?’
Cal rolled his eyes and ignored the last remark. ‘Well, if I’m struggling with training, you’ve got no hope.’
‘Absolutely none,’ Kipp agreed wholeheartedly, uncorking the bottle with his teeth and giving it an enthusiastic sniff.
‘But I don’t need help getting a girl. Or have you forgotten the black-haired beauty at the Fox?
Goes by the name of Milla? Is hopelessly in love with me?
Can’t keep her lovely hands off me? Besides, I have no interest in being a Warsword. Never have.’
Thea found herself laughing, a quiet chuckle at first and then a deep burst from her belly. As she laughed, the fear and fury that had coiled so tightly within her unravelled, lightened, dissipated.
Kipp smiled back at her. ‘Glad you find us so amusing, wraith slayer.’
‘Not sure how I feel about the new name, Kristopher .’
‘If you do this apprentice thing right, you’ll have many more names by the end,’ Cal offered.
‘Oh? Have you got one picked out for yourself already?’ she asked him. ‘A Warsword name?’
Cal shrugged. ‘Maybe.’
‘ Maybe? ’ Kipp’s face lit up with glee. ‘You have to tell us.’
‘No fucking way.’
Kipp surged forward and elbowed him in the ribs repeatedly. ‘Thea shared her deep dark secret, now it’s your turn.’
Cal winced. ‘Alright, alright.’
‘You’d hold up terribly under torture,’ Thea said drily.
‘The name!’ Kipp demanded.
Cal fixed them with a serious stare and took a breath. ‘Callahan the Flaming Arrow.’
A moment passed, then another.
Finally, Thea dared to look at Kipp, who, upon eye contact, roared with laughter.
Thea soon followed, her eyes streaming. ‘How long have you been thinking up that one?’
Cal clicked his tongue and frowned. ‘Forget it.’
Thea and Kipp only laughed harder.
When they were done wiping the tears from their eyes, Kipp proudly adjusted the totem strapped to his arm and turned to Thea. ‘We’re heading out on our first solo Guardian mission tomorrow if you’d care to join?’
‘Really?’
Kipp grinned. ‘Don’t look so surprised. They were bound to let us out sometime.’
‘Where are you headed? Harenth?’
‘I wish,’ Kipp replied. ‘No, we’re set to ride up the coast, to see to a disturbance that was reported there.’
‘What kind of disturbance?’
‘Not sure yet. That’s the job – to gather more information and report back to the Guild Master. Fancy an adventure, Althea Zoltaire?’
Thea wrung her hands. ‘I’ll have to check with Hawthorne…’
‘You should,’ Cal chimed in. ‘Torj says it’s about time we made ourselves useful as Guardians, and got some real-world experience, you know?’
‘I’ve got plenty of real-world experience,’ Kipp said with a wink. ‘But someone’s gotta guide Callahan.’
‘You’re a constant pain in my arse,’ Cal muttered.
‘You should probably get that looked at.’
Cal’s nostrils flared in wild frustration, and Thea couldn’t help but laugh again, the tension from the day easing. How the pair hadn’t killed one another in her absence, she had no idea.
Kipp gave her a gentle nudge. ‘We leave before dawn from the northern gate.’
* * *
When Thea returned to Hawthorne’s cabin, her cheeks ached and she felt more like herself than she had in weeks.
Hope fluttered in her chest. Perhaps all was not as bad as it first seemed.
Despite the incident on the plains, Wren had still invited her to dinner…
Things with Cal and Kipp were good. Perhaps now, she and her mentor could reach an understanding, could speak like adults…
Maybe they could work this thing out between them.
With those words on her lips, she opened the door and let herself in. Inside, the cabin was bathed in the soft glow of the dying fire.
Hawthorne must already be in bed… She glanced around for some indication of the hour, but there was no clock to be seen. Sighing at the prospect of another night in the narrow cot with Hawthorne mere feet away from her, she pushed her boots off by the heel and left them by the door.
Still alert from the drink and merriment, she wandered around the room, taking in the little details: the potted plants that the Warsword somehow managed to keep alive though he was barely here; the tattered armchairs, where several rips had been sewn up with precise sutures.
Then, on the side table… that damn jewel again.
She picked it up and turned it over between her fingers, marvelling at the depth of its blue colour, wondering to whom it belonged.
The scent of rosewood and leather wrapped around her suddenly.
‘What are you doing?’ Hawthorne’s deep voice rumbled.