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But Wilder wasn’t there.

In his place was an army.

Harenth’s army, to be precise, with King Artos at its head.

Thea tasted iron on her tongue as she marched towards the king, her hand resting on her Naarvian steel blade, her Warsword totem gleaming in the winter sun. In that moment, she forgot everything. Who she was meant to be, who Wilder was to the crown. She forgot the politics at play and all that mattered in the world kissed by darkness around her.

Only one thing, one man, mattered.

‘Where is he?’ she demanded, the thunderstorm brewing within. ‘Where is my —’

‘Prisoner?’ Torj Elderbrock finished for her.

Out of nowhere, the Bear Slayer stepped between Thea and King Artos smoothly, clasping her hands in his, squeezing them hard in warning. ‘Congratulations, Warsword Zoltaire,’ he said. ‘On both the Rite and your triumph here. We know we have you to thank for the traitor Wilder Hawthorne being apprehended once more. The midrealms owes you a great debt.’

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

THEA

Thea’s heart threatened to burst from her chest. Whatever was happening was wrong, incredibly wrong. Why was Artos’ army camped on the outskirts of these forests? Why was Torj calling Wilder a traitor again? Where was he?

But she found herself nodding, her instincts kicking in. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured.

King Artos pushed Torj aside and pulled her into a long, hard embrace like a long-lost daughter. ‘My dear Althea. How you have triumphed time and time again! I am so proud.’

Thea remembered a distant time where those words would have warmed her heart, the same way in which Artos’ empath ability attempted to breach her exterior now in a bloom of heat.

But Thea was a Warsword now. And she knew him for the treasonous bastard he truly was.

Twice she had saved his wretched life, and the damage he’d done with those chances was reprehensible.

A lesson from long ago came back to her then.‘The first lesson of being a warrior of Thezmarr,’Wilder had told her,‘is this: know that your actions have consequences. Some morethan others. And you will carry those with you for the rest of your life. Do you understand me?’

She understood, alright. Artos Fairmoore had taken her gifts of life and spat in the face of all she had once believed. Thea knew she did not have long left in the world, but she would end him before her time was done.

Still, she pasted a smile on her face. ‘All by the grace of your faith in me, sire,’ she said calmly.

Behind Artos, she saw Torj relax.Later, he mouthed.

Artos clapped her on the back before pulling away to look at her again. ‘Jasira is going to be thrilled. You have made history, Althea. Your name will live on throughout the ages – the first woman Warsword since the original Furies themselves.’

‘A victory for the women of the midrealms, Your Majesty,’ Thea told him, pressing a hand over her heart and bowing. ‘Let us hope Thezmarr allows any girl of the three kingdoms to take up arms as a shieldbearer from now on.’

‘Indeed, indeed,’ he said, though his attention seemed to be drawn elsewhere.

‘Forgive me, sire – time is not the same within the Great Rite. Might you tell me… How long since you arrived?’

The king’s face pulled with sympathy. ‘I can only imagine the terrors you faced, my dear. It has been five days since we set up camp here.’

It took all of Thea’s training and willpower to remain impassive. ‘Thank you.’

‘Of course.’

Her stomach churned at the sickly-sweet note in his voice. ‘And what of my prisoner? Has the date for his trial been set?’

King Artos looked surprised. ‘Trial?’ he asked. ‘My dear, after the horrifying events at the Moonfire Eclipse, the rulers decided there will be no trial.’

Thea fought the urge to double over as the wind was knocked out of her. ‘No trial?’ she managed.