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Wilder gave the filthy, raucous tavern a pointed look. ‘Read the room.’

This only seemed to amuse her. ‘You’re even moodier than I remember, Hawthorne.’

‘There’s a lot to be moody about these days, Adrienne,’ he retorted, tossing back his drink and reaching for the jug between them.

‘A lot to be grateful for as well, I’d say. Reunions with old friends, for one.’ She bumped her tankard against his.

‘We were hardly friends,’ he said flatly.

Adrienne laughed. ‘I was being polite, you sour bastard.’

‘Don’t remember you being that polite, either.’

She sat back and studied him. ‘Glad to know some things don’t change.’

Wilder shook his head. ‘What news do you have?’

‘You want the good or the bad?’

‘I didn’t realise there would be any good,’ he said gruffly.

‘The good news is that with Notos still rebuilding and recovering after the battle, there has been little to no talk among the rulers or remaining Warswords of hunting down supposed heirs to fallen kingdoms. The common folk have too many mouths to feed and are too busy boarding up their houses against howlers to go bounty hunting. Any talk of heirs that occurred before Tver almost fell to the reapers has died down… for now.’

‘And the bad news?’

‘Everything else.’

‘Care to be more specific?’ Wilder growled.

‘You’ve been travelling the same lands as I have, Hawthorne. You’ve seen the darkening of the midrealms, same as me,’ she replied. ‘We’ve lost count of the tears in the Veil now. Monsters of all kinds are creeping through, being found in the most unlikely of places, as though they’re being planted there…’

‘When the skies are blackened, in the end of days… The Veil will fall. The tide will turn when her blade is drawn…’ Wilder murmured.

Adrienne passed a hand over her face with a grimace. ‘A dawn of fire and blood,’ she finished. ‘The prophecy is a fucking plague in itself.’

‘Something we agree on,’ Wilder replied.

‘I’m glad to hear it, because you won’t like what I ask next…’

Wilder nearly groaned. ‘Then don’t ask —’

‘How did it go with your storm wielder?’

He tensed, his grip tightening around his tankard. ‘She’s not mine.’

Adrienne rolled her eyes. ‘Could’ve fooled me, Warsword.’

‘I’m not a Warsword either. Not anymore.’

Adrienne simply waited, her arms folded over her chest expectantly. Wilder almost laughed. She hadn’t put up with his shit years ago either.

‘We’ve got a problem,’ he admitted.

‘Oh?’

Wilder glanced around the inn for prying eyes and eager ears. ‘It was as I suspected.’

‘You know this how?’