Chapter Ten #2
Her friend seemed taken aback, his look of surprise only serving to wound her. Had she truly been so terrible? She winced inwardly. She knew the answer to that already.
Squeezing his shoulder in thanks and offering a wave to Cal, Thea left the campfire and headed for her tent.
Inside the canvas, she removed her outer layers and weapons one by one, sliding her boots off at the heel, careful of her hidden throwing stars.
Along with her meditation cards, she placed these in a neat row at the edge of her tent, imagining each and every way she might stop Adrienne from leaving.
There were several creative methods she had in mind.
She pulled the damned sapphire from the folds of her pocket too and vaguely wondered if she should give it back to the ranger. And that was how Thea drifted to sleep.
When she emerged from her tent the next morning, Adrienne had gone. Panicked, Thea scanned the frozen forest for Hawthorne.
‘Looking for me, Princess?’ he asked, from where he leant against a tree, arms folded over his broad, armoured chest, watching her.
‘You didn’t run,’ she managed, approaching him, noting the manacles still around his wrists.
‘I didn’t run,’ he agreed.
‘You didn’t want to follow your… friend?’
Hawthorne shook his head, the corner of his mouth quirking upward, showing a hint of that dimple beneath his beard. ‘You and I aren’t done.’
‘I thought I made it clear yesterday, we’re very much done.’
Her harsh words didn’t seem to faze him. In fact… there was a brightness to those silver eyes that hadn’t been there the day before.
‘What?’ she demanded, flicking her braid over her shoulder.
He leant in slowly, deliberately. ‘Admit it,’ he growled, his gaze dropping to her mouth. ‘You were jealous.’
Thea’s cheeks flamed and her body tensed instantly, involuntarily, infuriated and heated all at once. ‘No.’
Hawthorne’s laugh was rich and melodic, sending a pulse of longing straight to her core. ‘Gods, you’re stubborn,’ he said, his lips almost close enough to graze hers.
Thea could feel him everywhere, even though he hadn’t so much as touched her.
She hated that she wanted him, even now, even amid all this mess, in the shadow of his betrayal.
She hadn’t dared admit it to herself before, but…
she fucking missed him. She missed his voice and the ease of their conversations.
She missed his mouth on hers, missed his hands and his body, missed the way he could unravel her so thoroughly.
He seemed to watch every subtle change in her expression as the conflict passed over her face. She had never been any good at masking her feelings – Wren had always told her so.
‘There’s nothing between Adrienne and me.’ He reached for her, his fingers hooking into the waistband of her pants and tugging her closer. ‘There hasn’t been for years.’
‘I don’t care.’
‘Keep telling yourself that, Princess.’
‘I don’t need to tell myself anything.’
‘No? Not even after you’ve dreamt of me night after night? Not after your hands have somehow found their way into your pants as you thought of me?’
Thea bit her lip to keep herself in check, willing her body to remain rigid. There was no way he could know those things. He was baiting her.
Those silver eyes surveyed her, seeing straight through any notion of a facade. ‘I knew from the moment I first kissed you that I’d never think of another woman again. That you were it for me. Despite everything, that hasn’t changed. Nor will it.’
Thea opened her mouth to argue, braced herself to shove his hands away, but a strange sound pierced the air, like something shooting through the forest —
‘Flare,’ Hawthorne said, his gaze snapping to the canopy, where beyond, a fiery red light carved through the sky.
‘What?’ Cal stumbled bleary-eyed from his tent, wincing at the cold.
‘Red flare,’ Hawthorne repeated. ‘It’s coming from the Wesford Road. A royal signal for help.’
Thea was already moving towards her mare, snatching up Hawthorne’s swords of Naarvian steel.
‘This had better not be a fucking trap you’ve set with your friends.
’ She swung herself up into her saddle, urging her horse towards where the flare had come from.
Hawthorne was already up on his stallion, close behind her.
She heard Kipp and Cal rush to hurry after them, but she was already cantering through the forest, to where the Wesford Road met the Aveum trade route, the dreaded scent of burnt hair filling her nostrils.
When she came upon the road, she saw it immediately.
A beautiful carriage in Harenth’s royal colours, surrounded by whorls of darkness, and three shadow wraiths clawing at its doors —
Steel sang as Thea unsheathed the former Warsword’s blades.
‘Thea,’ Hawthorne shouted. ‘Unchain me! I’m no use like this —’
But there wasn’t time, even if she wanted to release him. All the guards were dead and the wraiths had broken through the window. A shriek sounded from within.
‘Princess Jasira!’ Thea gasped, lunging towards the carriage.
‘Thea!’ Hawthorne roared. ‘Let me loose!’
But she was already surrounded by shadow, cleaving through cords of onyx with Naarvian steel, fighting her way to the source as another of the princess’ screams pierced the forest. At her approach, the wraiths’ attention snapped up.
Tendrils of obsidian lashed out at her, and she answered them with her blades, the wraiths hissing in protest as they stalked towards her, circling her.
Thea didn’t think of how she was to fight all three, didn’t think of anything except for the princess who was sobbing inside the carriage.
She raised her blades against the monsters born of shadow and malice, just as Hawthorne had taught her, and Talemir Starling had taught him before.
With perfect balance and timing, she wielded the two shimmering swords, the blades singing a battle hymn as they carved through the air and then through the arm of the first wraith, its screech utterly blood-curdling.
A talon swiped across the front of her armour, the impact sending her sprawling back, but she maintained her footing, lunging at her attacker, her swords slicing through muscles and tendons, black blood spraying.
She parried another deadly strike of shadow, her blade piercing another limb before she was viciously thrown through the air, hitting a tree.
She rasped, the wind knocked out of her as she staggered to her feet, blinking in a daze at the three shadow wraiths still swarming the royal carriage, still eyeing her with brutal intent.
The great swords in her hands were heavier than she recalled, for she had wielded them against worse than this and won. What was different now?
‘Thea! For Furies’ sake.’ Hawthorne rushed to her side. ‘Set me loose. Let me fight.’
She tasted iron, and felt a trickle of blood escape the corner of her mouth. She wiped it away with the back of her hand.
‘No,’ she said, throwing herself back at the wraiths. The last time he’d been loose around these creatures, Hawthorne had betrayed the entire midrealms. She’d be damned if that happened on her watch again, not with Princess Jasira so vulnerable amid it all.
The monsters blocked out the morning sun in a wave of shadow.
Thea heard Cal and Kipp’s shouts from beyond the darkness, but she narrowed her focus on the wraiths, brandishing her swords, slicing through the lashing power and severing a taloned hand, the limb rolling across the ground with a thud.
Undeterred by the onslaught, she countered their attacks with a quick barrage of slashes and parries, her steel carving arcs of what should have been utter devastation through the midnight around her —
But the wraiths evaded her, their shadows whipping at her no matter how fast her footwork, no matter her unwavering focus.
Something is different , she realised, panting.
She was losing.
So she did what came naturally to her. She looked inward, to her storm power, clawing at the place it had once been inside her.
It did not come. She had no magic at her fingertips, no lightning to spear them with —
Suddenly, a powerful hand lifted one of the swords from her grasp, the steel glimmering in the broken light.
Hawthorne.
Unbound, the alchemy-treated manacles discarded by his feet.
And Kipp, standing by his side, key in hand.