Chapter Twenty-eight
THEA
A s they stepped out into the crisp night air, Thea came back to herself little by little, finding her throat dry and her hands trembling. She barely noticed where Wilder was taking her until they stood before a familiar sign swinging in the breeze.
The Laughing Fox.
‘I believe you owe me a growler of sour mead, Princess,’ the Warsword said, before pushing the door open.
Thankfully, the low lighting within hid Thea’s blush. Wilder knew she’d stolen liquor from him. She’d done it in anger at the time, but the warrior beside her seemed more amused than anything else.
It felt strange to be walking into the establishment in formal wear, but Thea soon forgot her discomfort. The tavern momentarily quieted as they entered. Some patrons offered Wilder the three-fingered salute to their shoulders, while others simply stared in awe.
‘Warsword Hawthorne,’ the owner of the bar greeted them, offering his hand.
Wilder shook it firmly. ‘Bertie, good to see you.’
‘It’s been a while,’ Albert said, before his gaze landed on Thea. ‘And you… Miss Zoltaire. You’re gaining quite the reputation, aren’t you? First you save our king, then you slay a wraith, and now you’re ridding the midrealms of those mercenary scum…’
Word travels fast indeed , Thea thought, shifting on her feet as she realised the patrons’ eyes weren’t just for Wilder, but for her as well.
Her skin crawled under their scrutiny. If this was the attention she was receiving now, she couldn’t imagine what it would be like if they knew of the lightning coursing through her veins.
‘Just call me Thea,’ she told Albert. The barman gave her a nod.
Wilder was scanning the tables, noting the crowd’s feigned lack of interest in them. ‘A booth at the back if you have one, Bertie.’
‘Right you are,’ the barkeep said, already moving towards the rear of the establishment. He showed them to a booth tucked away in a dark corner of the tavern and waited for them to slide into the cushioned benches before he addressed Wilder again.
‘Marise heard you were in town. He dropped off a bottle of that wine you like, though he said to tell you he’s offended you haven’t visited the shop.’
A genuine smile spread across the Warsword’s face. The sight of it melted something in Thea’s chest.
‘He knows me well,’ Wilder replied, nodding.
And with that Albert left them to it, a server delivering a bottle and two glasses moments later.
Thea watched as Wilder poured generously and slid a glass across the table to her. ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked her, his deep voice laced with concern.
‘I…’ Thea stumbled over her words. In truth, she hadn’t had time to process it. ‘I don’t really understand,’ she said.
Wilder swirled and sipped his wine, closing his eyes for a moment in enjoyment. ‘Nor do I.’
‘Is he allowed to use his magic like that?’ Thea asked, recalling how swept up in the music she’d felt – and, upon reflection, how the warmth that had spread in her chest was unnatural, completely unlike the sensation that bloomed when she saw Wilder’s smile, or heard his laugh.
Wilder scoffed. ‘He’s a king. He’s allowed to do whatever he likes.’
‘But he wouldn’t hurt me.’ The words sounded stupid, naive as they left Thea’s lips, but she still believed them. ‘He’s only ever been good to me, kind… He’s the reason I’m a Guardian.’
Wilder put his glass down with a little too much force. ‘ You’re the reason you’re a Guardian, Thea.’
Thea let his words sink in before she spoke again. ‘Do you think he’s dangerous?’
‘Every man with power like that is dangerous,’ Wilder answered, taking another drink. ‘Never get in debt with one of the rulers.’ He scoffed softly at his own words. ‘I forget myself, Princess. You’re one of them, after all.’
Thea suppressed a shudder. ‘But… what did he want?’
‘What does any powerful man want?’ Wilder asked. ‘More power. Be it in the form of armies and riches, or women and influence. He’s taken an interest in you. Has ever since you threw that fucking dagger at his goblet.’
Thea reached for her glass and took a tentative sip. Her eyes bulged. The wine was leagues above the swill she and the others drank back at the fortress.
Wilder laughed. ‘Don’t get used to it.’ But his eyes betrayed his relaxed demeanour. His gaze was bright and alert, constantly scanning their surroundings.
‘Do you have any idea who hired the mercenaries?’ Thea asked, her own suspicions churning rapidly in her mind.
‘A few. The Daughter of Darkness, for one.’
‘Not Vernich?’ she blurted.
Wilder made a frustrated noise at the back of his throat and shook his head in disbelief. ‘What is your obsession with him?’
‘Well… He’s partly the reason I almost bled to death in a broom closet.’
Wilder’s gaze darkened. ‘He paid dearly for that.’
Thea waved him off. ‘What makes you so sure that he’s not a fallen Warsword? He was the one who let the reaper escape at the ruins. I told you, I overheard him and Seb talking about getting something the enemy wants, about the Veil and how the alchemists’ strategy won’t work. And —’
Wilder’s large hand closed over hers, stilling her frantic gestures beneath it. ‘Slow down.’
‘I want to see the map,’ she heard herself say.
‘What map?’ Wilder frowned.
‘The map you have with all the weak patches of the Veil marked up.’
Thea thought he’d deny her, thought he’d continue to dismiss her concerns about the two bastards back at Thezmarr. But, still frowning, Wilder rummaged through his pockets and produced a crinkled, folded square of parchment. ‘Keep it. If it makes you feel better.’
She was surprised he’d kept it on his person, given their current attire, but she didn’t question it. The parchment was soft between her fingers as she unfolded it and scanned the inked lands before her. ‘You don’t need it?’
‘I know it by heart.’
She traced the wavy lines of the Veil. ‘Where’s the weakest part?’
Wilder didn’t so much as look at the map. ‘Closest to the mainland? It’s to the east. Just beyond the garrison of Ironhelm.’
Thea took a breath. She didn’t know if it was the aftereffects of Artos’ empath meddling, or just the build-up of everything , but her chest felt suddenly tight, that restlessness that had plagued her all her life coming back to hit her with full force.
Her magic crackled at her fingertips, her heart rate spiking in panic.
Not here. This couldn’t happen here. She needed to move, she needed to —
‘Do you play darts?’ Wilder asked, motioning to a board on the wall nearby, as though he sensed she needed the distraction.
Thea exhaled slowly. ‘I play anything.’
Wilder rewarded her with another of those devastating smiles. ‘See all those marks on the wall around the target?’
Thea nodded, the restlessness within fading from a rapid boil to a simmer.
‘Those are from Talemir,’ Wilder told her. ‘He was fucking terrible.’
‘You came here a lot with him?’ she asked tentatively, knowing that Wilder’s former mentor was often a sensitive subject.
‘Him and Malik, yes… Too much.’
‘The three of you must have been good for business,’ Thea quipped, giving a table of eager women nearby a pointed look. They were trying hard to look anywhere but at the Warsword in their midst. They were utterly unconvincing.
Wilder gave a huff of amusement, and that familiar tingling sensation spread in Thea’s chest at the sound. ‘Perhaps,’ he said.
Thea raised a brow, thinking back to the sapphire necklace she’d found in his cabin.
Had it been Adrienne’s? The woman Wilder had spoken of in Delmira?
She had no doubt it had belonged to a woman from his past, but now was not the time to ask, if there was such a thing.
Not when Wilder looked how he looked in this moment… Happy .
He grinned and raised his hands in mock surrender. ‘Tal was the worst of us, I promise.’
‘And yet he’s all settled down with a wife somewhere.’
‘So I hear.’ The Warsword studied his glass for a moment. ‘Do you know any toasts?’ he asked, changing the subject.
‘Just one,’ Thea said, clearing her throat. She raised her wine and held Wilder’s gaze. ‘May you walk amid the gardens of the afterlife a whole half hour, before Enovius reads your ledger of deeds.’
She touched her glass to Wilder’s as he stared at her in disbelief.
Then, the Warsword put a hand on his abdomen, tipped his head back and roared with laughter. The sound was rich and melodic and deep, unfurling something within Thea as it rumbled out of the warrior. Had she ever heard him laugh like that?
When his laughter faded, he was still shaking his head. ‘Who told you that?’
‘Kipp,’ Thea said with a smile of her own.
Wilder snorted. ‘I should have known.’
‘Why?’
‘Torj mentioned he grew up around here. I imagine he did a lot of eavesdropping. No doubt he knows more about the midrealms than he lets on.’
‘What makes you say that?’
Wilder sat back in the booth, his shoulders down, his legs stretched out beneath the table, brushing against hers. He looked… relaxed. ‘Because the Laughing Fox is one of many connected sister taverns across the kingdoms.’
‘Oh?’
‘The Laughing Fox, the Blushing Bear in Tver, the Singing Hare in Aveum…’
‘And what of the fallen kingdoms?’
‘There was the Dancing Badger in Naarva…’ Wilder hummed. ‘And I believe it was the Flying Stag in Delmira. Marise still complains that the Stag was his best wholesale client. No kingdom has matched those orders since.’
Thea watched him thoughtfully, struck by the contrast between what she felt for him and how little she knew of his life before her. He was almost a stranger to her in that regard. She looked back to the dartboard.
‘Are you any good?’
He followed her gaze. ‘I was more of a billiards man myself,’ he said, nodding to the table at the other end of the tavern.
‘I’ve never played,’ Thea ventured. There was a lot she hadn’t done, a lot she would never do. Without thinking, she brought her hand to rest on her fate stone under her dress.
Wilder seemed to sense her unspoken words. ‘Shall we?’
Thea grinned. ‘I’m game if you are.’
‘Oh, I’m always game, Princess.’
The name didn’t even bother her this time. In fact, it made her stomach dip pleasantly, as did the challenging gleam in the Warsword’s gaze. Thea simply picked up their wine and waited for him to lead the way to the table.
There were two men already playing, but at the sight of Wilder and Thea, they insisted that the table was theirs to enjoy and re-racked the balls for them immediately.
Thea laughed and looked up at the Warsword. ‘You make quite the impression, don’t you?’
‘That wasn’t about me,’ he replied slowly, watching the men leave. ‘By now everyone’s heard of the pretty Guardian from Thezmarr who took down a dozen mercenaries in a storehouse.’
The way Wilder said it made Thea blush, but she’d done exactly that.
Wilder was holding out a cue stick. ‘Ladies first.’
Thea leant over the table, lining up her stick with the striker.
Wilder chuckled. ‘Not like that.’
‘Well, don’t just laugh. Show me.’
‘Show you? That’s not exactly a winner’s strategy.’
Thea rolled her eyes. ‘So be a gentleman.’
Suddenly, Wilder’s body was enveloping hers from behind, his arms wrapping around her and guiding her hands across the stick. ‘We both know I’m far from a gentleman.’
Thea tensed as the hard plane of his body pressed against hers and he directed her cue across the table, delivering a precise shot to the striker, which in turn broke the triangle of balls at the end.
Thea could feel the eyes of the whole tavern on them, and though she rarely concerned herself with others’ perception of her, she did wonder how she and Wilder looked to them. Warsword and apprentice, getting handsy at the billiards table. Was that what they saw?
Wilder took his turn without paying them any heed and sank two balls at once. He was far more accustomed to the attention than she was.
‘Do you need me to show you again?’ he teased.
Thea’s stomach fluttered at that tone and she squeezed her thighs together. Gods, this man… He’d already proven he could reduce her to pieces. Trying to force the thoughts away, she accepted the cue and positioned herself over the edge of the table.
She could feel Wilder’s stare.
‘Getting a good look?’ she said, her voice surprisingly low and sultry.
Wilder’s gaze darkened with desire. ‘I want to do more than look,’ he half growled. He came to her side once more, under the guise of helping her line her cue up to the striker. ‘I’d fuck you right on this table if I could.’
‘So do it, Warsword,’ Thea said brazenly.
‘Didn’t realise you liked an audience, Princess.’
‘You’re big enough and mean enough to make them leave.’
‘I am. But I won’t.’
Thea straightened, so close to him that she could feel the heat rippling from his body. ‘And why’s that?’ she challenged.
Wilder’s gaze dipped to her mouth. ‘Because I’m already dangerously close to —’ He cut himself off.
‘To what?’ she demanded.
She saw the internal battle flickering behind his silver gaze. The look he gave her told her he was mere seconds away from throwing her down on the table and taking her then and there, despite the tavern’s patrons. She wished he would.
Revellers had started to clear from the nearby tables, as though they could sense the pair were about to fight or fuck, or both.
‘We can’t,’ Wilder murmured against the soft skin of her neck, nearly eliciting a moan of frustration from her, the game of billiards forgotten.
‘Why?’ The word came out as a breathy demand.
‘Because a Warsword has no business feeling the things I feel for a princess.’
‘I’m not a princess.’
‘But that’s exactly what you are.’
Thea lifted her chin in defiance, but that wouldn’t be her sticking point, not in this moment. ‘Then tell me, what do you feel?’ she asked.
The energy surging between them was palpable, a current that formed around them, drawing them together, so powerful that Thea felt it in the soles of her feet.
Wilder was so close that she could feel the tremor of restraint that gripped his body.
‘Everything,’ he said at last, and then he kissed her.