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The trip had been good for Thea. She hadn’t once dreamt of her fate stone or the seer who’d given it to her, she hadn’t obsessed over the handful of years she had until her death came to pass, or how many months or weeks were left until the initiation test. She’d lived in the moment with her friends, something that she’d never allowed herself to do before.

But her feeling of contentment did not last long.

As the edge of Thezmarrian territory came into view in the fading afternoon light, a sound echoed across the land.

Bells.

Warning bells tolling from watchtowers.

Thea’s skin crawled, her stomach roiling with dread.

A lifetime at the fortress had ingrained the meaning of those particular bells – a threat had breached the Veil.

And the Thezmarrians had been called to greet it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The fortress courtyard was chaos. All the shieldbearer cohorts were assembling, with the masters of every discipline shouting over the noise while the stable master and his assistants brought dozens of horses out, saddled and ready to ride. The Warswords were there as well, wearing sleek, black armour and armed to the teeth.

Thea’s gaze went straight to Hawthorne, who was surveying the madness from the outskirts, an impatient scowl on his handsome, rugged face.

‘What’s happened?’ Thea asked the nearest shieldbearer as she jumped down from her mare’s back.

‘Scouts saw creatures come through the Veil to the north. They’ve since found their way to the Ruins of Delmira.’

Thea’s insides squirmed. Was this what Hawthorne had told her about? Was this the beginning? The scourge breaking through the Veil?

‘The era of peace is once more at an end. Thezmarrians need to be ready.’

‘That’s not far from here,’ Kipp cut in.

‘No shit.’ The shieldbearer nodded. ‘The Guild Master is to send the Warswords and a small force to intercept them before they can reach Harenth or any of the outlying towns.’

‘Cal!’ Torj the Bear Slayer shouted.

Cal threw himself forward. ‘Here, Sir!’

‘Good, you’re back. You’re with me. Grab your bow.’ The Warsword then caught sight of Thea and Kipp and paused. ‘You two as well.’

‘Torj,’ Esyllt interjected, shoving his way through the crowd. ‘They’ve only just returned from Harenth. They haven’t been training for six days.’

‘Then this will truly test them, won’t it?’

Thea had never heard Torj snap at the weapons master, so it showed how high tensions were running.

‘You heard the man,’ Esyllt pushed them. ‘Get yourself armed. Real blades. And find some fresh horses.’

Heart hammering and spurred into action, Thea checked the stable stalls for an unclaimed horse. It was no surprise that all the war horses and stallions had been taken, but a young gelding remained, and she set about saddling him. When she fumbled for a third time with the bridle, she realised she was trembling, and when it took her four tries to buckle the girth beneath the horse’s belly, she drew back and stared, watching her fingers quiver.

A shadow fell across the hay at her feet. ‘You’re nervous,’ the familiar deep voice said.

Hawthorne stood in the doorway, his eyes on her shaking hands.

‘I’m not nervous,’ she argued, gripping the reins to hide her tremors.

‘Yes, you are, and you’d be a fool not to be.’

Clenching her jaw, Thea did a final check of the tack and made to lead the gelding from the stall.