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Hawthorne blocked the way, towering over her. ‘Last I saw you, you had a stab wound that was barely healed. You shouldn’t be on this ride.’

Thea’s stomach dipped at the mention of her visit to his cabin, where his fingers had grazed her scarred skin, where she’d traced the muscles of his chest and had felt the heated brush of his lips against hers. Where he’d left her wanting and alone,again. But she didn’t yield a single step. Instead, she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin in defiance.

‘No one, not even you, is going to stop me from riding out with my fellow shieldbearers. Thezmarr has been called upon, and I intend to answer.’

‘Is that so?’

‘Yes.’

He seemed to consider her. ‘Are you healed?’

‘Are you going to paw at my clothes again to check?’ she snapped.

Hawthorne’s lips parted, as though he were considering exactly that. ‘I wasn’t the only one doing the pawing, Alchemist.’

Thea refused to blush. ‘Perhaps not,’ she allowed. ‘But I was nothing but clear about what I wanted, you… You, however, did not afford me the same respect.’ The words came out as sharp as the hurt she felt, the hurt she thought she had buried well.

He took a step forward. ‘Th — Alchemist,’ it was a plea, regret flickering behind those silver eyes.

Thea’s blood heated, and she yearned to know exactly what words he thought might make a dent in her armour now.

The pandemonium outside grew louder, more demanding, and after a moment’s hesitation Hawthorne broke away from her, stepping out of her path.

‘You’d best be ready.’

And Thea didn’t know if he meant for the battle, or for him.

Back in the courtyard, the other Warswords directed their force with brutal efficiency. It was decided that they would lead an entire unit of warriors comprised of both guardians and shieldbearers to the ruins of Delmira.

Thea got swept up in the madness. Packages of rations and canteens of water were passed around and stuffed into saddlebags. Shieldbearers were arguing over who got to accompany the guardians; commanders were strategising by the gates and the masters were rushing around like headless chickens.

It was Hawthorne’s deep voice that carved through the turmoil. ‘If you have not been selected for this assignment, get the fuck out of the way. We move out in five minutes. This threat will not wait for us.’ There was no room for questions, it was pure command, pure power.

The tension was palpable and Thea grew impatient to leave. She fit her foot to the stirrup and mounted her gelding, ignoring the ache in her lower back.

‘Thea!’ shouted a familiar voice through the crowd. ‘Thea, wait!’

Wren tore through the cluster of remaining shieldbearers, not even wearing a cloak against the chilled air. In one hand she had a fistful of her skirts so she didn’t trip and in the other, a small satchel which she held up to Thea when she reached her at the gates.

‘I knew you’d be going,’ her sister panted, shoving the bag towards her.

‘What’s this?’ Thea asked.

‘Supplies.’

‘Like what?’

Wren gripped her ankle, eyes wide as she stared up at her. ‘Tell me you were listening, when you came back to our shifts with Farissa?’

Thea tensed at the desperation lacing her sister’s words. ‘I was listening —’

‘Move out!’ Torj the Bear Slayer bellowed across the courtyard.

Wren was already breaking away from her. ‘Then you’ll know what to do,’ she called, darting towards the fortress before she was trampled.

‘Thea,’ Cal called from nearby. ‘Move!’

Shoving the satchel in one of her saddlebags, Thea snatched up her reins and squeezed her horse’s sides, already part of the force that was sweeping through the gatehouse.