Chapter Seventeen
THEA
O nce Warsword and apprentice had made the decision together, the preparations for the journey took very little time. The next day, Thea found Cal and Kipp in the Great Hall in the midst of first meal.
‘Where are you off to?’ Kipp asked, noting her pack and riding boots.
‘Can’t say,’ Thea replied, taking a sip from Cal’s mug of tea. Peppermint, thank the gods . ‘I just wanted to tell you I won’t be around the fortress for a while,’ she told them, weighing up whether or not to explain why she had sought them out.
‘How long will you be gone?’ Kipp asked.
Thea hesitated. She and Wilder hadn’t discussed the details; they’d simply agreed and then gone about making their own arrangements. ‘As long as it takes,’ she said eventually.
Kipp scoffed. ‘That’s frustratingly cryptic.’
Thea had to laugh. ‘Says the king of cryptic with all his strategy meetings and secrets.’
Her friend put his hand on his chest dramatically. ‘I can’t help that I’m very important to the protection of Thezmarr. Also, I like the sound of being king of something.’
Thea gave him a light shove and Cal exhaled a long-suffering sigh.
‘The truth of it is, I don’t actually know how long we’ll be gone for,’ Thea told them.
Kipp nodded knowingly. ‘So you’ve come to tell us how missed we’ll be when you’re on the road with your big surly companion?’
‘Something like that.’ Thea chewed her lip and forged ahead before she could think better of it. ‘Actually, I wanted to ask you a favour.’
Neither of her friends hid their surprise, their brows shooting up as they exchanged a baffled look.
‘Did I hear that correctly?’ Cal asked. ‘The wraith slayer of Thezmarr is asking for help? Our help?’
‘I believe you did, Callahan. I also heard something to that effect,’ Kipp replied.
‘Very funny,’ Thea muttered, already halfway to regret.
But Cal and Kipp put their food down, their expressions suddenly serious.
‘What is it you need, Thea?’ Cal asked.
Thea stopped herself from wringing her hands and glancing at the table where the alchemists sat. Instead, she trained her focus on her friends.
‘I was hoping you might look out for Wren while I’m gone?’ she asked quietly.
Kipp’s face brightened. ‘Have you two made up?’
‘No.’
‘But you want us to keep an eye on her?’
‘Yes.’
‘Got it,’ Kipp replied. ‘Will do.’
Thea’s brows furrowed. ‘That’s it?’
‘What d’you mean?’ The words came out garbled; Kipp’s mouth was already around a pastry.
‘No more questions? You’ve both been at me for weeks about her.’
Cal simply shrugged and poured himself more tea. ‘She’s your sister.’
Only then did Thea glance across the hall to where Wren was sitting with Sam and Ida, looking dazed.
‘That she is.’
* * *
Before Thea knew it, she was astride her mare with her pack fixed to her back and Wilder riding at her side.
They had soon left Thezmarr behind, and as the Mourner’s Trail disappeared in their wake and the crisp morning air hit her lungs, she felt a weight leave her shoulders.
At last she could breathe… That pressure that had built and built inside her ever since she’d passed the initiation eased. Something felt right in the world.
She glanced across at Wilder, and he met her gaze, offering a tentative smile, showing a hint of that dimple she loved, his expression making her stomach dip.
This was new territory for them. She smiled back, her chest swelling with restrained hope.
Perhaps they could make this work. Perhaps when everything was over, they could find their way back to each other.
He looked away first, reaching down to stroke his stallion’s neck, the movement gentle, full of appreciation. They drew to a halt at the Wesford Road that forked before them.
‘You never told me what your horse’s name is,’ Thea ventured, unable to take her eyes off the Warsword.
Wilder’s cheeks flushed and he outwardly grimaced.
‘What?’ Thea pressed. ‘It can’t be worse than Brutus, surely?’
Wilder scoffed at that. ‘You tell me…’ He gave the stallion another affectionate pat. ‘His name is Biscuit.’
Thea blinked. ‘Biscuit?’
Wilder was clearly trying to keep a straight face. ‘Malik and Talemir’s idea of a joke,’ he admitted. ‘Bastards were there when I claimed him. They jumped in when it came to finalising the poor creature’s name. It stuck.’
A laugh bubbled out of her. ‘ Biscuit . Your warhorse , the gift you received for being one of the most infamous warriors in all the midrealms… is called Biscuit .’ Thea shook her head in joyful disbelief. ‘Gods, I love Malik.’
The tips of his cheeks were still flushed, and something flashed across Wilder’s face before he recovered. ‘Yes, well…’
Thea watched him, wondering what was going through his mind. She had to suppress the urge to reach across the gap between them and squeeze his hand.
‘We should get moving,’ he said. ‘We’ve got a lot of ground to cover today.’
Knots twisted slowly in Thea’s stomach. She wanted to talk, to know him, to understand him. But deciding it was too soon to push him in this new phase of their relationship – their friendship – she ignored the sensation and simply nodded. ‘Then lead the way, Warsword.’
* * *
The spring day around them was bright as they rode through the morning.
The first wildflowers of the season were blossoming at the border of the road, birds chirping in the surrounding woodlands.
Here in the heart of the midrealms, nature seemed unaware of the blight that marred the lands at its edges.
Thea took the opportunity to drink in the sights.
It had been dark the last time she had ridden to Delmira, when the Thezmarrian forces had battled the reapers amid the ruins.
There had been no opportunity to scout the landscape, to note what the road to her homeland looked like.
Though, she’d not known what Delmira was to her then.
Looking back, she could barely remember the details beyond the pulse of terror she’d felt during that journey.
She had to catch herself. There was no home waiting for her at the end of this ride – only ruins; an echo of what she might once have known, had darkness not descended.
Wilder led her through a narrow pass between the mountains to the north, and she marvelled at how the light filtered down from above, the walls of the fissure glistening. There was still so much of the midrealms she hadn’t seen.
Her fate stone knocked against her sternum, a constant reminder that she would never see all there was to these lands.
Thea peered at Wilder as he rode ahead, his blades of Naarvian steel strapped to his tapered back.
He had seen so much of the world, and the pieces she’d seen herself were pieces he’d shown her.
What would it mean for them if she became a Warsword?
From what she had gathered, the Warswords rarely worked in teams.
She chastised herself. What had she expected? That after the Great Rite, they could travel the midrealms together, fighting monsters as a pair for the little time she had left?
Pushing the thought aside, she returned her attention to her fate stone and the problem it had posed her whole life.
‘Do you know any Warswords who were granted immortality during the Great Rite?’ she asked Wilder.
She had wanted to ask the question for a long while now, the idea always playing at the frayed edges of her mind.
It had never seemed the right time to bring up such a well-guarded legend.
But as her fate stone reminded her, she couldn’t always afford to wait for the right moment.
Wilder flinched in his saddle. ‘What?’
‘You heard me.’ She noted how his shoulders rose and fell, as though he were inhaling deeply to gather himself.
He didn’t look back as he spoke. ‘Tell me that’s not why you’re doing all this? Tell me it’s not why you want to become a Warsword? Because you want to live forever?’
His words were like a slice to the gut, sharp with disappointment, disdain.
Thea took a measured breath herself. ‘I want to live longer than two and a half more fucking years.’
The silence that followed was crushing. She could almost hear his mind whirring over the top of hers.
He still didn’t look back to meet her gaze. ‘If immortality is the reason you’ve put yourself through all of this, then you’re out of luck.’
Thea’s heart clenched. ‘It’s a myth?’
‘Not a myth, no. But rare. Incredibly rare.’
‘Do you know any Warswords who —’
‘No.’
The anger she’d fought so hard to put aside in order to embark on this new journey with him spiked. ‘You’re lying. You told me once that all Warswords know one another.’
‘Forget it,’ he muttered.
‘Forget it? Forget that there’s a chance I might somehow beat the fate carved into this wretched stone?’ Power flickered at her fingertips as the outrage took hold.
Wilder halted his stallion. ‘I can scent the storm on you,’ he said quietly, at last twisting in his saddle so she could glimpse his handsome face. ‘To call lightning and thunder down upon us here would be a mistake, Princess.’
‘Don’t call me that.’
‘Then don’t act like a spoilt brat.’
‘You promised,’ she heard herself say. ‘You promised we would be honest with one another.’
His expression softened. ‘How about this… If you master your magic, I’ll do better than tell you about the immortal Warswords.’
Thea felt her eyes bulge. ‘So you do know one? And he’s still around?’
‘Is that a yes?’
‘You’re bribing me, then?’
A smile tugged at the corner of Wilder’s mouth. ‘Consider it an incentive.’
Thea weighed up her options and priorities, and a moment later, nodded. ‘Fine.’
‘It’s a nice change when you’re agreeable,’ he commented, turning back to the path ahead and urging his horse onward.
‘Don’t expect it to last,’ Thea muttered.
‘Wouldn’t dream of it, Princess.’
Thea swore at him.
‘Be cordial,’ he warned over his shoulder. ‘Or when you become a Warsword I’ll be there to name your Tverrian stallion “Pancake”, or something worse.’
Thea couldn’t help but laugh at that.
* * *