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Thea, who had never attended a ball in all her life, imagined that with Hawthorne moving in time at her side, it must have looked like the most beautiful of waltzes. And more than just looking beautiful, it feltright.

Step, swing, parry, thrust, block.

They repeated the dance across the plains until their shirts were damp with sweat and the sun had risen well and truly into morning.

Thea couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this…Alive.

Not just careening towards a fated death, butaliveand in the moment.

Grinning widely, she turned to Hawthorne, who looked oddly pleased with himself as well.

‘How about I try with your swords,’ she asked boldly, offering the warrior her sticks in exchange.

‘Not a chance. You know damn well Naarvian steel is reserved for Warswords.’

‘Another stupid tradition.’

‘You’d best get used to them. A warrior’s life is full of stupid traditions.’

Thea chuckled good-naturedly and turned to camp.

Hawthorne sheathed his blades across his shoulders and followed, his arm brushing hers as they made their way back to their horses.

‘Time to go?’ she asked, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice.

He nodded, his stare lingering on her a beat longer than usual and Thea was brought back to the morning she’d woken in his arms. She could almost still feel the imprint of his body on hers.

He looked away. ‘We ride hard today,’ he called over his shoulder.

They rode hard indeed, with Dax running joyfully ahead through the grass. Thea’s thoughts kept returning to those sleepy moments beneath the dawn; the Warsword’s hand in hers. The memory was only soured by the lie she’d told about the fate stone and the relief in Hawthorne’s voice upon hearing it. Guilt curdled in her gut, but she shoved the feeling down. It was none of his business. Whatever friendly truce had formed between them was nice… more than nice. But she was no starry-eyed fool. She knew that upon their return to the fortress, they’d likely never cross paths again, so what was the point?

As they rode, Thea glanced across at the warrior, who was deep in thought. She had no idea what he was thinking, only thatshe wished it was the same as her: that all of a sudden, a journey that seemed painfully never-ending to start, was ending all too soon.

Tomorrow they would be back in Thezmarr. Tomorrow, everything would change. Thea would be a shieldbearer and Hawthorne… Hawthorne would be sent away to protect the midrealms again.

Thea steeled herself against the tightness in her chest. From now on, her focus would be to earn a Guardian totem of her own.

Thea started recognising some of the fields and villages she knew to be south of Thezmarr. She had travelled through them as an alchemist, now she rode through with her head high as a shieldbearer. She imagined what Wren would say.

Althea Nine Lives, she’d likely scoff along with the others. The thought brought a fond smile to Thea’s face – perhaps the name wasn’t so bad after all.

She watched Dax bound through the fields ahead with bewildered amusement. She had always seen him as an old mangy creature, but out here one could mistake him for a puppy, his long legs flailing about, huge paws kicking up mud with unbridled joy.

For the briefest of seconds, Thea wondered what it felt like, to run without a care, just because one could. She wondered what life would offer, were the end of it not so near on the horizon. She shook her head. It wasn’t often she indulged such thoughts, but this journey… It had unlocked something in her.

‘Why don’t you tell me about your mentor?’ she asked Hawthorne, nudging her horse up alongside his.

Hawthorne made a noise at the back of his throat. ‘You don’t give up, do you?’

‘Certainly not.’

To her surprise, the Warsword gave a resigned laugh. ‘His name was Talemir Starling.’

‘Talemir Starling?Your mentor was thePrince of Hearts?’

‘So you’ve heard of him.’

‘Heard of him?I’ve seen his records in the trophy room. I’ve heard the tales about how many monsters he slayed in Naarva. And once…’ she trailed off, trying to bring the memory to the forefront of her mind. It had been the day Malik had given her the dagger, she’d been in the infirmary.