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‘When’s that ever stopped you?’

Thea sipped her tea, watching the verbal sparring match with amusement. But no matter how entertained she felt, the strange sensation within was still bothering her, her feet still kicking beneath the stool. Was she so unfamiliar with her own magic now that it made her want to crawl out of her own skin?

Thea didn’t know how many minutes or hours she passed sitting at the bar. She must have retreated into herself for a moment, because when she refocused on her companions, they were in a heated debate about who should escort the alchemists to Naarva, should they agree to it.

‘How did your talk with Wren go?’ Thea asked Anya, suddenly remembering her younger sister’s red-rimmed eyes and how the Bear Slayer had swept her away.

Anya stiffened. ‘As well as could be expected.’

‘You upset her,’ Thea ventured.

‘Mylifeupset her,’ Anya corrected. ‘It was no easy thing to see, as you know. No less an easy thing to show.’

Thea bowed her head, recalling the horrifying details the Daughter of Darkness had shared with her only days ago. ‘She needs time…’

‘Time we do not have,’ Anya said. ‘But I spoke with the Master Alchemist… She helped one of our own long ago, or tried to, in any case. She knows a lot about the Veil, about its make-up, its strengths and weaknesses. She might see reason.’

‘And if she doesn’t?’

Dratos looked as though he were about to say something brash, but his eyes widened at someone’s approach and he shut his mouth.

A warm, muscular arm banded around Thea’s chest from behind, a familiar scent engulfing her senses.

‘Don’t like waking up with you not in my bed,’ Wilder’s gruff voice rumbled against her hair.

Thea twisted in her seat, finding him deliciously dishevelled, his dark hair ruffled, his shirt only half buttoned, as though he’d felt her absence and come searching without fully waking.

But then his mouth closed over hers, capturing her lips in a deep, decadent kiss. He kissed her slowly, thoroughly, in front of everyone.

Someone whistled loudly. ‘Wasn’t long ago you were trying to kill the bastard,’ Dratos said as they broke apart. ‘My, how the tides of fate have turned…’

Anya cleared her throat on the stool beside Thea. ‘The tides of fate are as they always intended,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m going to wake the others. It’s nearly dawn.’

Dratos groaned and rested his head on the counter, covering his eyes, while Marise and Everard topped up their glasses with an amber liquid and toasted to the drinkers and thinkers of the midrealms for the fiftieth time. Thea didn’t know how the pair were still standing. They could certainly give Kipp a run for his coin.

With his arm still around her, Wilder reached for her mug, taking a sip of the lukewarm tea and making a face. ‘Don’t know how you drink this grass water.’

Thea frowned. ‘What are you talking about? You drink it all the time.’

Wilder huffed a laugh. ‘Never.’

‘But you always have it in your saddlebag. You had it at the cabin.’

He rested his chin on her shoulder and pushed the mug away. ‘Who’d you think it was for?’ He kissed her neck gently. ‘You told me on our first journey together that it was your favourite. I only had it for medicinal purposes. I kept getting it because of you. I hate the stuff.’

Warmth bloomed in Thea at the thought of her burly Warsword buying peppermint tea for her and her alone.

The sweet, quiet moment was interrupted all too soon with the arrival of almost everyone from the meeting last night, all of them looking slightly worse for wear. Though Thea noted that Cal wore a sheepishly pleased expression on his tired face.

The noise was instant, and suddenly they were surrounded by everyone helping themselves to drinks over the bar.Apparently after Thea and Wilder had left, a serve-yourself mentality had been adopted by the group.

‘We should have stayed in bed,’ Wilder grumbled, reluctantly releasing her and finding his own stool to perch on. Thea was surprised the seat could accommodate the sheer size of him.

‘Should we move to the private room?’ Adrienne’s voice sounded from the other side of the bar. She was tying her thick blonde hair up and out of her face, dark circles shadowing her eyes.

Everard waved her off. ‘No need. The Singing Hare doesn’t open to the public until noon.’

‘Is there food?’ Kipp said, stumbling in, his auburn hair like a bird’s nest atop his head.