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‘You’re hardly a good judge of that.’ He continued his examination. There was no swelling, but he watched her face for signs of wheezing and pain. ‘Nor have you got a reputation for honesty.’

Thea’s cheeks flushed, even more so as his hand travelled north, pushing her chest band up and exploring the ribs closest to her breast.

Blood roared in his ears, but he tried to maintain a dispassionate tone. ‘Have you been coughing? Suffering shortness of breath?’

‘No,’ she replied, despite the fact that they were both keenly aware she sounded breathless.

‘You need to look after yourself. To keep yourself healthy so that when I train you, I don’t break you.’

Her pupils dilated. ‘Nothing can break me, Warsword. Least of all you.’

‘Is that so?’ Her skin was warm beneath his fingers, goosebumps breaking out across her side.

‘Have you finished groping me?’ she said sharply.

Hawthorne dropped his hands and stepped back, refusing to blush and hoping she didn’t notice the effect she was having on him. ‘Have you finished lying to me?’

Thea didn’t answer.

Wilder sighed and gestured to her ribs. ‘They’re bruised, not broken.’

‘See? Fine.’

He couldn’t help himself. He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her eyes to meet his. ‘Not fine, Alchemist. You’re far from fine.’

‘Don’t tell me what I am.’

‘Then don’t lie to me.’

They stared at one another, neither one of them willing to yield. It was Thea who broke away, adjusting her chest band and tucking her shirt back in.

But Wilder couldn’t stand it. ‘Tell me what’s wrong. Besides —’

Thea’s brows shot up. ‘Besides everything with you?’

‘Yes,’ he said, resigned. ‘There’s something more. I can tell.’

Thea looked torn between storming off and arguing with him, but in the end, she threw her hands up in defeat. ‘I don’t have time to argue or pretend this doesn’t matter to me,’ she snapped. ‘Two and a half years, that’s all I get. And now I have to choose.’

Wilder frowned, ignoring the reference to the fate stone he knew rested between her breasts. ‘Choose?’

Thea broke into frantic pacing across the room. ‘Audra says that I can’t be both a magic wielder and a Warsword. That I have to choose. She says the laws areironclad—’

‘Since when do you give a shit about laws?’ Wilder said.

‘Since I discovered I’m a fucking heir of a kingdom,’ Thea bit back, still pacing. ‘Since I became an apprentice to a Warsword who won’t fucking train me. Since I found out that yet again, the laws of men can determine who and what I am in the limited time I have left in these realms.’ The words came pouring out of her, and it was only then that she met his eyes again, and he saw the truth behind her outburst: fear, hopelessness.

He didn’t go to her. He didn’t touch her. Instead, he reached into his jerkin and pulled out the training program he’d created, offering it to her.

‘You’ve never let the laws hold you back before,’ he said quietly. ‘If you master your storm magic alongside your warrior training, who the fuck is going to stop you?’

He pushed the pages into Thea’s hand, her expression stunned.

‘Get your things,’ he told her. ‘And be ready. Tomorrow we have work to do.’

* * *

Walking away from Thea took more willpower than Wilder cared to admit, but he was already late for the council meeting. He strode into the dimly lit room and surveyed the figures seated in high-backed chairs around the mahogany table. Osiris, the Guild Master, sat at the head of the table as usual; Vernich was to his right, and to Wilder’s surprise, Audra, the librarian, was to his left.