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‘The Thea you knew is dead.’

‘The Thea I knew had a few more years left, according to that damn stone around her neck.’

It was Thea’s turn to flinch.

‘Ask me,’ Hawthorne implored, stopping abruptly and turning to face her. ‘Ask me anything and I’ll tell you.’

‘Fine,’ she snapped, reaching for the question that was never far from the forefront of her mind, the subject he’d refused to share more about in the past. ‘How do you become an immortal Warsword?’

He hesitated, just for a second, before he answered. ‘When you pass the Great Rite, you ask the Furies.’

‘It can’t be that simple.’

‘You ask and they decide.’

‘And they said “no” to you?’ Thea asked, incredulous.

‘No.’

She spun to face him, a thousand accusations primed and ready to strike. ‘What are you saying? That you’ve been an immortal Warsword this entire time?’

‘No, Thea. I’m saying I never asked.’

Suddenly, Thea wasn’t sure she was breathing. ‘Why?’ she croaked.

There was a long silence before Hawthorne spoke again. ‘Why would I want to watch the world fester, and the people I care about perish? Almost all of those who were gifted immortal life moved on beyond the Veil long ago, into realms that understood such things. For me… living alone forever in any wretched place was the last thing I wanted.’

Despite herself, a lump formed in Thea’s throat at that confession, her heart aching for the man she had once known and the pain he’d faced making that decision. But that was a different person to the one who walked beside her now.

‘Bring him Thezmarr’s justice… Do that, Althea Zoltaire, and his swords are yours.’

‘Please, Thea…’ Hawthorne murmured. ‘Keep talking. Keep asking me whatever you need. I’m an open book.’

‘It’s a little late for that.’ Thea increased her pace. It didn’t matter who he had once been. It didn’t matter what he’d told her about the shadow wraiths, orshadow-touched, as he called them. He had still betrayed his Warsword vows, still betrayed the midrealms, and there was no coming back from that. Not for him, and not for her, not when her sole goal in her limited days was to become the very thing he had spurned.

‘Then I’ll show you,’ he said firmly, catching up. ‘I’ll show you the truth, and you can decide on which side you fall.’

‘I side with the midrealms,’ Thea argued. ‘As did you, once upon a time.’

‘Not all is what it seems —’

‘It never is with you,’ she snapped, before she noticed the hint of light ahead. ‘We’re nearly out,’ she said, more to herself than to Hawthorne. Even the air felt fresher suddenly.

Hawthorne cleared his throat, slowing unexpectedly, as though he wasn’t quite ready to leave the confines of the tunnel.

‘What is it?’ Thea said, eyes narrowing. His hesitancy only made her increase her pace. If he didn’t want to leave here, that was exactly what she should be doing, and fast.

‘There might be a travelling companion of mine there,’ he managed.

‘Ah, another traitor, then?’ Thea quipped, her hand going to her sword.

‘No,’ Hawthorne ground out. ‘But there’s something you need to know —’

But they had reached the open mouth of the tunnel, the late afternoon light nearly blinding after so much time in the dark. When Thea’s eyes adjusted, she saw that right in front of the entrance were Cal and Kipp, a campfire blazing beside them with a goat roasting above the flames. They were both grinning like fools, holding flasks Thea didn’t recognise —

A stranger’s laugh sounded.

Thea looked to the other side of the fire, where a beautiful woman in fighting leathers stood, raising a flagon of wine to her lips. Her gaze snapped up at Thea and Hawthorne’s approach, recognition – relief – flooding her expression as she clapped eyes on the hulking warrior at Thea’s back.