Chapter Thirteen #2
Hawthorne’s mask of fury slid back into place. ‘Oh, I’m sure there are more than enough topics,’ he replied drily. ‘I want to show you something.’
‘I thought you had ravens to send.’
‘Good gods, woman, for once, will you just do as I ask?’ All the anger had faded from his expression, and now he waited for her by the door.
Unable to quash her curiosity, Thea met his gaze and gave a stiff nod.
Hawthorne led her down several corridors to a small room on the same floor: a linen storeroom, by the looks of things.
‘What are we —’
But Thea cut herself off and stared.
For in the corner of the room, displayed on a mannequin, was a set of armour.
Simple black leather. And shaped for a woman, bust and all.
She loosed a shaky breath and stepped forward, taking in the boiled leather pieces that seemed too perfect to be true. The vest was form-fitting and lightly embossed with embellishments. Vambraces and pauldrons covered the top half of the mannequin, with pants and greaves on the lower half.
‘This is mine?’ she dared to ask in a near-whisper.
‘It’s yours,’ Hawthorne said from behind her. ‘All new Guardians are due to be measured for armour next week, but the current smith doesn’t make women’s pieces, so we had to improvise.’
Thea couldn’t take her eyes off it. The armour was a work of art. ‘You had this made for me?’
‘Altered,’ Hawthorne corrected her, his voice rough.
‘I had it altered for you. Audra knew where some of the women’s armour was hidden away from before the laws changed…
I suggested it was time we got some pieces out of storage.
’ He cleared his throat. ‘I know the pain of having ill-fitting armour…’ His hand went absentmindedly to the shoulder Thea knew plagued him.
‘Figured it was one less thing you’d complain about if we sorted it from the outset,’ he added casually.
At last, Thea turned to him. ‘How did you know my size?’
‘I have some familiarity with your body, Thea…’ His voice was husky.
She blushed, her mind instantly taking her back to being naked in his armchair, his hands all over her, his mouth and tongue —
He cleared his throat again. ‘I had a rough idea, but I asked Farissa to get your sister’s measurements. You’re similar sizes.’
Swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat, Thea returned her gaze to the armour. ‘Can I…?’ She didn’t care if it sounded silly, if her excitement was childish.
‘Try it on,’ Hawthorne said quietly. ‘I’ll leave —’
‘Don’t,’ Thea said, too quickly, her face heating again as she caught his gaze. ‘I… I don’t know how… how to put it on.’
Hawthorne seemed frozen for a moment, before colour tipped his cheeks and he straightened. ‘Right.’
Ignoring the fluttering in her stomach, Thea lifted her still-damp sleeves uselessly. ‘So…?’
The Warsword hesitated one more beat before launching into action. ‘Leave your undershirt on. Get out of those pants.’
Thea bit her lip, but did as he bid, pushing her boots off at the heel and sliding the damp fabric down her legs.
‘Here,’ he said, passing her the leathers and averting his eyes, like he hadn’t had his face between her legs only the night before last. The thought made a smile tug at Thea’s lips.
With her skin damp, she struggled to slide the new pants up her lower half, and soon she was sweating with the effort.
‘You alright there?’ Hawthorne quipped from where he faced the wall.
‘I need a minute.’
She could have sworn she heard a soft chuckle.
At last, she had the leather pants on. ‘Alright. Next?’
Hawthorne turned, his eyes roaming across her tightly clad legs for a moment. ‘Greaves,’ he said, businesslike as he handed them to her. ‘They protect your shins. There’s two buckles at the back.’
Thea fitted the sheaths of leather to her shins and reached around the back to her calves.
‘Here,’ Hawthorne said, lowering himself onto one knee.
Desire coursed through Thea at the sight. The last time he’d been on his knees…
But the Warsword pulled her leg up, placing her foot on his knee and reaching around to the buckles at her calf. ‘I don’t want to be here all night, Apprentice .’
Deft fingers fastened the two clasps and then placed her foot back on the ground before tending to the second greave.
Thea felt like she should say something, but the words tangled on the tip of her tongue and all she could do was watch the warrior before her, his dark brow furrowed as he finished with the last buckle and gently returned her foot to the floor.
Her breath caught in her throat as he stood, towering over her as always, before he turned to the mannequin and removed the vest from its torso.
‘Arms up,’ he told her.
She lifted her hands into the air and he slipped the leather creation over her head, pulling it down over her torso. It was black, with studded and embossed detailing across the breast, and far lighter than Thea had anticipated.
She twisted to look at Hawthorne, but he held her in place. ‘Stop moving,’ he said, a note of laughter in his tone. ‘It laces up at the side here.’ He pulled on a leather cord to demonstrate.
‘Like a corset,’ she blurted.
‘Corsets lace up at the back, Princess,’ he murmured.
And for a brief second, Thea wondered how many corsets his talented fingers had unlaced, the sapphire from his cabin springing instantly to mind. She swallowed down her stupid jealousy.
As Hawthorne worked at the ties, Thea felt the vest moulding to her body, form-fitting but not restrictive. She ran her hands down the front of it, appreciating the elegant but practical design.
‘It’ll fit you like a second skin after a few weeks of wear,’ Hawthorne told her, finishing with the laces and moving on to the shoulder strap buckles just above her breasts. Brow furrowed again, he tightened each one, his knuckles brushing against her through the thin fabric of her shirt.
Thea tried to remember to breathe. He was just so damn close, and the heady scent of him made her want to lean in, to press her body to his.
‘How does it feel?’ he asked.
Thea blinked.
Hawthorne gave one of the straps a tug. ‘The vest?’
‘Good,’ she said quickly. ‘It feels good.’
Nodding to himself, Hawthorne brought the pauldrons to her. ‘These slip over the arm like this, and sit up on your shoulder.’
Thea removed her Guardian totem from her arm and braced herself. His fingers brushed along her skin as he helped her into the shoulder pieces. Was he deliberately torturing her?
‘I’ll have to teach you how to oil this set properly. You need to take care of it if you want it to last,’ he told her.
When he had finished with the pauldrons and fitted her vambraces to her forearms, he at last stepped back, something unreadable flashing across his face.
‘Well?’ she prompted, feeling self-conscious beneath the weight of his stare.
‘You tell me,’ he said with an overly nonchalant shrug. ‘It’s your armour.’
Thea chewed her bottom lip, then moved. Though there was limited space, she launched into a basic footwork drill to test her agility.
‘Well?’ Hawthorne echoed back to her.
She looked up, in complete and utter disbelief. ‘I feel… incredible. Strong.’
He smiled then, warm and genuine. ‘Decent armour will do that.’
She wanted to reach out and touch him, to wrap her arms around him to express the warmth blooming in her chest, the appreciation for what he’d done. But Thea stilled her fidgeting.
‘Thank you,’ she said, leaving the distance between them. ‘Thank you for this.’
Hawthorne shrugged. ‘All Guardians get armour.’
‘But you… you did this for me.’
He hesitated, just a fraction, before he reached for the door. ‘Can’t have you chasing danger without armour, Princess.’