Chapter Twelve
THEA
T hea hesitated, just for a moment, before locking the manacles around the warrior’s blood-spattered skin.
‘One day you’ll trust me again,’ he murmured, low enough for only her to hear.
‘One good deed does not undo the wrong you’ve inflicted upon the midrealms,’ she replied, striding towards Kipp, who stood with a wince, looking sheepish.
‘Key,’ she demanded.
He produced the key to the manacles. ‘I stand by what I did. We would have died without him.’
Thea said nothing, but threaded the key through the leather string of her fate stone, where the metal came to rest against the gem.
‘Fitting, that…’ Hawthorne said, nodding to it. ‘Both our fates entwined.’
His words stirred something raw in Thea’s chest, and she turned her back to him so he couldn’t see the conflict in her face.
She needed to steel herself against all that roiled within.
This wasn’t about what she felt or didn’t feel anymore.
It was about duty and loyalty to the midrealms, to the guild he’d betrayed.
‘The purpose of our journey has become twofold,’ she addressed the group. ‘We’ll take the fallen Warsword to Vios for trial as agreed, and we’ll escort the princess safely to her father. Her guards have been killed. She needs our protection.’
Cal and Kipp bowed low to Princess Jasira, both looking as exhausted as Thea felt.
The princess was unsteady on her feet, swaying as though she were about to collapse, so Thea moved closer, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
‘You’re safe now,’ she soothed. ‘We won’t let anything happen to you.’
Tears lined Jasira’s gaze, her expression contorting as she tried to hold herself together. ‘I…’ She fell into Thea, burying her face in the crook of her neck, a sob breaking loose.
Thea held the princess and let her cry. ‘It’s alright,’ she told her. ‘You’re alright.’
The men backed away quietly as the princess struggled to compose herself, hiccupping against Thea’s shoulder. When she at last pulled back and wiped her red-rimmed eyes, Thea was struck by how similar they were to her father’s.
Sniffling and patting her face dry with her sleeve, Princess Jasira regained her composure and turned to Cal and Kipp. ‘Thank you, Guardians of Thezmarr,’ she said, holding a trembling hand to her chest. ‘I am in your debt.’
‘It’s our duty and our honour, Highness,’ Cal replied earnestly. ‘We’ll find your horses at once and you can return to the warmth of your carriage.’
‘The horses will be halfway back to Harenth by now,’ Kipp interjected.
‘We should harness two of our mares to the carriage for the princess and I’ll take the reins.
Cal, you can ride the spare horse, and Thea, since you’re so determined to watch Hawthorne at all times, you can ride double with him on the stallion.
That will get us to Vios sooner. These roads aren’t safe for the princess. ’
Thea’s gaze snapped to Kipp, her eyes narrowing, but her friend avoided her glare of disbelief, busying himself with her mare, leading it to the front of the royal carriage along with his own.
It took some time to set the horses up and return to their campsite to hastily pack away the rest of their things.
Thea didn’t speak as they went about their tasks in the frigid cold, keenly aware that the shadow wraiths could return at any moment with reinforcements – and that the former Warsword was following her every move.
Strong of mind, strong of body, strong of heart .
She was determined to live by that mantra now.
She would not be swayed by his games, by his words or the way he looked at her.
The sooner this was over, the sooner she could go back to preparing for the Great Rite, which would hopefully call to her soon enough.
She just had to get through these next few days.
Thea cornered Kipp as he finished securing his saddlebags. ‘That’s twice you’ve interfered,’ she said, keeping her voice quiet.
To her surprise, frustration flashed across Kipp’s face. ‘That you know of,’ he countered. ‘And it’ll be that many times my interference saves you in one way or another.’
Thea blinked, unease stirring low in her gut. ‘I thought you were on my side…’
‘I am on your side,’ he argued. ‘But you’re too caught up in your own shit to see it.’
‘I —’
‘You might have accepted your power when you asked Wren to remove the alchemy on your fate stone. But that’s not enough. You won’t be able to master it until you stop resenting it. Until you —’
‘This isn’t about magic.’
‘The fuck it’s not. It’s who you are. You need to come to terms —’
‘I don’t —’
‘Horseshit, Thea,’ Kipp said calmly. ‘You blame it for messing with your plans to become a Warsword, for the burden of the throne, and…’
‘Oh? There’s more? Do tell.’
Kipp looked hesitant for a moment, but he ploughed on. ‘I think you also blame it for what happened with Hawthorne.’
‘Don’t say his name to me.’
‘You can slay a dozen monsters, but the name of a supposed fallen Warsword scares you?’
Thea glanced around, wary of being overheard. ‘It doesn’t scare me, I —’
‘I’m calling horseshit again, Thea.’
Spotting Cal nearby, Thea looked to him for help, but their friend shrugged.
‘I’m with Kipp on this one.’
Her friends left her holding her bedroll, staring after them. When had things changed for them? When had they started to doubt their mission? Doubt her? Thea tried to swallow down the lump in her throat, but the damn thing kept forming, leaving her with a tightness in her chest that wouldn’t abate.
When at last they had finished packing up and the princess was settled in her carriage, Thea couldn’t stop her gaze from falling on Hawthorne, who waited by his stallion for her.
He stood tall and powerful, despite the irons at his wrists, the irons that he’d let her chain him with.
Manacles or no, he was still every bit the seasoned warrior: his armour splattered with wraith blood, his muscled body primed for battle.
The sight made her knees weak.
The last thing she needed was to share a saddle with him. If anything, she needed to be as far away from him as possible, before her resolve fractured, before she bowed to the questions that had started brimming at the edges of her mind.
When she reached him, her chest ached at the thought of what came next.
One last ride together , she thought, fitting her boot to the stirrup and mounting Biscuit. She hated that she cared, despite how many times she told herself that she didn’t, that he was a traitor and deserved whatever fate awaited him.
The saddle rocked as Hawthorne swung himself up behind her. His thick, muscular thighs cradled her sides, the heat of him already tempting her to lean back against him.
‘Do you mind…?’ he said gruffly, trailing off as his chains rattled.
She twisted to see him gesturing with the manacles, and her stomach dipped. He meant to put the chains over her head and around her front.
‘Otherwise my fists will be digging into your back the whole ride,’ he explained.
With her heart in her throat, all Thea could manage was a nod.
Hawthorne’s arms came up and over her, his bound hands locking around her waist, a broad palm flat against her abdomen.
Furies save me , she thought, her gaze lifting to where the sun broke through the canopy before she addressed Cal and Kipp. ‘Shall we?’
Cal was atop his own mare, while Kipp was in the driver’s seat of the carriage, looking cold and uncomfortable. Serves him right , she mused, squeezing Biscuit’s sides.
‘You take the front, we’ll take the rear,’ she told Cal before she guided Hawthorne’s stallion to the back of the princess’ carriage and trained her gaze ahead.
They started down the road, the carriage rattling along, and her friends staring very intensely ahead. There was nothing to focus on but the press of the warrior at her back, and that warm palm spread across her middle.
Thea warred with herself, with everything she had told herself over the last year, with everything she’d thought she had known.
She couldn’t shake the sinking feeling of dread in her gut, nor could she slow the whirring of her mind.
Ignoring the brush of Hawthorne’s beard and the heat of his breath against her neck, she thought back to their detour through the mountain pass and what he’d told her along the way.
That the shadow-touched were innocent. That Talemir Starling was one of them. That Anya, the woman touted as the Daughter of Darkness, was on the side of light.
Thea shook the notion from her head. It wasn’t possible. Not after all she had seen of the winged leader. Not after she’d taken Wren.
‘I can hear you thinking.’
The rich timbre of Hawthorne’s voice sent a shiver down her spine. His grip around her tightened slightly, as though he’d felt the wave rush over her.
‘What can I do?’ he murmured softly. ‘What more can I do to prove myself?’
‘You —’
But Hawthorne forged on. ‘I have fought beside you. I have saved your life. I have saved a princess of the midrealms. I have killed shadow wraiths and cursed reef dwellers. I have come willingly, submitted to your chains, all for a chance to talk with you…’
‘And I have listened,’ Thea replied, her knuckles burning with how hard she was clutching the reins.
‘And yet…’ The warrior’s words were sad.
‘And yet it’s not up to me. I’m a warrior of Thezmarr. You once knew that better than anyone. My loyalty is to the guild, and it demands you face trial.’
‘The guild is not all that matters in these realms.’
‘No?’ Thea snapped, her blood heating. ‘What else matters, then?’
‘Us,’ he said simply.
‘There is no us, Hawthorne. You made damn sure of that —’
He tensed behind her, drawing a sharp, impassioned breath. ‘You can be angry all you want,’ he told her. ‘But don’t deny this.’
His hand trailed up her middle and he rested his palm against her own racing heart. The warmth of him was utterly feverish, intoxicating.
‘Don’t you dare deny this,’ he said in her ear.
Thea’s entire body went taut beneath his touch, at the vibration of his voice against her skin. Were his hand to shift slightly, he’d find her nipples hard beneath her layers. Were it to drift south, he’d find arousal slick between her legs.
It’s a physical reaction to him, that’s all , she told herself, fidgeting in the saddle, trying not to generate any friction that might —
But with the smallest movement, she rubbed against him, and there was no denying the rock-hard length that pressed against her backside.
Hawthorne hissed. ‘You keep doing that, Princess, and I won’t be held accountable for what happens next.’
‘Stop playing these games,’ she told him quietly.
‘You think this is a game to me?’ He yanked her back against him, so she could feel every inch of his cock, even with the layers between them. ‘I haven’t stopped burning for you,’ he growled. ‘And I never will.’
Thea’s breath caught as something dormant within flickered to life.
Hawthorne’s hand trailed up her chest, past her throat, until he gripped her chin and turned her head to the side, so his gaze met hers.
He looked at her as though she were the one thing he’d been starved of his whole life. ‘You’re still in love with me, Thea.’ His voice was like warm honey sliding down her skin, his touch like a brand.
But for all she felt, for all that warred within, Thea couldn’t fathom what he’d done, and what he was now asking her to accept. So she dug deep for that anger she’d clung to for the last twelve months, for her sense of duty and for the vows she’d made to the guild.
‘No, Hawthorne,’ she told him coldly. ‘I’m not. I hate you. And when I give you over to the rulers of the midrealms, you’ll know just how much.’
She shoved his hand away, and returned her focus to the road ahead, to see the floating domes of Aveum on the snow-capped horizon.