Chapter Twenty-seven
THEA
N o one had ever looked at Thea the way Wilder did. The harsh lines of his handsome face softened as his gaze lingered on her dress and the kohl she’d swept across her eyes.
He cleared his throat. ‘You look…’
Warmth bloomed in her chest as she watched him struggle for words.
She had chosen the gown for a number of reasons; every one of them had been confirmed when she glimpsed herself in the mirror.
It wasn’t a dress for hiding or denying who she was.
It only amplified her fierceness, her determination.
She liked the way it made her feel – almost as powerful as when she carried a sword.
The way Wilder looked at her now made her feel more powerful still.
‘You look incredible. Beyond beautiful…’ he murmured, shaking his head, his spots of colour appearing on his cheeks.
‘So do you,’ Thea replied, strapping Malik’s dagger to the bejewelled belt at her waist.
The Warsword’s brow furrowed and he looked down at his tattooed body, covered only by a towel slung low around his hips.
Thea just smiled. ‘Hurry up, or we’ll be late.’ As the words left her mouth, she almost started. It was such a natural thing to say, so familiar. But then, she supposed they had been as intimate as two people could get.
Wilder seemed to track her movements across the room, before he dropped his towel and went to the armoire, completely naked.
Thea’s mouth went dry at the sight of his muscular backside and powerful thighs. She glimpsed his erection too, hard and thick, bobbing as he moved.
Gods, he was a vision. A warrior carved by the Furies themselves, every spectacular inch of him.
It took every bit of willpower she had to stop herself from pouncing on him.
She had meant what she’d said. He was beautiful.
And not just the sun-kissed, scar-flecked skin and powerful muscles that shifted with each movement…
Not just the sharp line of his jaw and the gleam in those silver eyes… But something deeper than all of that.
She watched him dress in silence, wondering how someone putting clothes on could be just as erotic as taking them off. But he proved just that, slipping each layer on with military efficiency, buttons and ties bowing to his deft fingers, fingers that had just —
Thea shook the thought from her head, her toes already curling in her slippers as she swallowed hard. If she thought of that now, no amount of willpower would save her.
When he was finished, Wilder was dressed in all black as usual, but this time, no armour, no leathers. His pants and tunic were of a fine make, subtly embellished with silver thread at the seams, only serving to bring out the steel in his gaze.
‘We should go,’ he said at last.
It was Thea’s turn to fumble with her words as he opened the door for her.
* * *
‘Welcome, welcome, honoured guests from Thezmarr,’ King Artos called as they entered the Great Hall.
‘Althea, you look splendid.’ The king beamed at her and motioned for them to join him.
He lowered his voice before addressing her again, lingering by her seat.
‘My spies have uncovered more traitors involved in the attempt on your lives.’
Thea didn’t hide her surprise. ‘That was fast, Your Majesty.’
‘I consider what happened a personal insult, dear Althea. Those responsible have been sent to the Scarlet Tower.’
A shiver raked down Thea’s spine as she recalled her last conversation about the dreaded prison.
‘What do you know of the Scarlet Tower?’ she had asked Wilder long ago, after seeing a man choose execution over exile to such a place.
‘Enough,’ he’d said. ‘Enough to know that I, too, would have chosen death.’
The king continued as though it were a mere inconvenience. ‘My guards have dealt with the scene at the storehouse. I am told they have never seen such carnage – or such artistry.’
Thea faltered at his words.
But the king spoke again, still under his breath. ‘Don’t worry. They have been sworn to secrecy. No one will know.’
A nobleman drew the king away with a question, and Wilder took his place at her side. ‘The whole midrealms will know of your antics before dawn,’ he murmured.
‘What? He just said they swore —’
‘They’ll be fighting to tell anyone who will listen that they bore witness to the damage you wrought upon those bastards. There’s only one thing in all the midrealms that can elicit secrets from the king’s trained soldiers, more powerful than torture…’
Thea’s heart rate spiked. ‘What?’
‘Two tankards of ale at the Laughing Fox,’ Wilder quipped.
Thea would have laughed if her gaze hadn’t landed on the crowd. There were almost as many nobles seated at the long tables as there had been when Harenth had celebrated the end of the king’s mourning period.
The magic Thea felt in the room wasn’t as strong as it had been in the presence of all the rulers, but she could definitely still feel it pulsing around her.
King Artos was one of the most powerful empaths in Harenth’s history, and now, without the presence of the other kings and queens, she could distinguish his magic properly: a pleasant warmth dancing about the room, exploring between the numerous bodies.
Places had been reserved for her and Wilder close to the king, and Thea found herself once again sitting beside his daughter, Princess Jasira. Wilder looked uncomfortable next to a particularly pompously dressed man.
Thea leant in to speak to the princess. ‘A pleasure to see you again, Your Highness.’
Princess Jasira turned to her. ‘And you, Althea. Though I do remember asking you to call me Jasi.’
‘Apologies, Jasi.’ Thea bowed her head.
But the princess waved it off. ‘Things have certainly developed for you since we last spoke. Not only are you a Guardian of Thezmarr as you wished, but apprentice to the Hand of Death, no less…’
As if he’d heard her, Wilder’s gaze flicked across the table to the princess, but he said nothing, opting to look elsewhere and give them the pretence of privacy.
‘It has been a challenging few months,’ Thea admitted.
But when her eyes locked with the princess’, a shiver raked down her spine, a strange sensation creeping across her skin.
Magic? Thea wasn’t sure. The last time she’d seen the princess, Jasira had told her that her magic hadn’t yet manifested.
It was strange to think that in another life, Thea might have grown up knowing the princess as an equal, perhaps even as a friend and ally…
She shrugged the thought off and ignored the prickle across her skin. ‘And how have you been, Jasi?’
Princess Jasira’s attention was on her father, but she immediately turned back to Thea. ‘Well enough,’ she allowed. ‘The life of a princess is rather dull compared to that of a warrior, I’m afraid…’
Thea’s stomach nearly bottomed out at the comparison. ‘Even with magic?’ she heard herself ask.
‘That’s right,’ Jasira said slowly. ‘I forgot you were able to sense it the last time you were here. Is that the case now?’
Something lodged in Thea’s throat and she coughed, forcing down some water to buy herself time. She had said as much to the princess during her last visit, unaware of what stalked beneath her own skin, unaware of who she was… Well, she knew enough now to lie.
‘Oh, no,’ she said quickly, forcing a light note into her voice. ‘Must have been some strange anomaly last time. Perhaps I imagined it.’
The magic seemed to sense the lie, thickening in the air around her. Across the table, she saw Wilder stiffen, his silver gaze darting to her.
Thea froze. Was it her magic doing that? Or King Artos’? Or had Jasira come into her own power after all? It was only after a long silence that she realised the princess hadn’t actually answered her question.
But before she could say anything else, the food was served.
Tray after tray of incredible fare was brought out by dozens of servants, each dish more lavish than the last. Wine was poured, and as Thea raised her own goblet to her lips, she noticed that King Artos now had two cupbearers in his employ.
She and the princess ate in comfortable silence, watching as the debauchery of the nobles unfolded around them.
Thea couldn’t help but steal glimpses across the table at Wilder, who was doing his best not to engage in any of the conversations around him.
He masked his discomfort well, potentially with the aid of the wine in his hand, but Thea could tell he would rather be anywhere else.
She’d come to learn his little tells around others.
He felt her attention and caught her eye, giving her abandoned plate a pointed look.
Thea suppressed a smile. Ever since he’d returned to Thezmarr, his insistence on her eating well had driven her to near madness. But there was also something endearing about it, so she made a point of piercing numerous greens with her fork and forcing them down.
While he didn’t smile, there was that hint of a dimple tugging at his cheek before he looked away.
The hall was filled with sounds of merriment: nobles chatting, glasses chiming with various toasts and a pair of fiddlers elevated on a nearby dais.
Thea did a double take, recognising them from her brief stint at the Laughing Fox tavern with Cal and Kipp.
The sight of the musicians sent a pang of regret through her. She missed her friends.
Thea let the melody sweep her away for a moment, the pair of fiddles building in unison to a powerful crescendo.
‘Do you enjoy their music?’ Princess Jasira asked, nodding to the fiddlers. ‘They’re quite well known across the realms.’
Thea watched them, realising she’d been swaying to the music. Flushing, she stilled. ‘Yes… Their music is beautiful. Do they have a name?’
Jasira shrugged. ‘I can’t recall… My father has people who manage these things, you see. But I believe they’re brothers.’
The men looked alike, to be sure. ‘Where do they hail from? Do you know?’