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‘He taught you a lot.’

‘He did.’

At last, Thea paused, panting slightly, loose strands of hair stuck to the damp skin at the nape of her neck. ‘And what of Warswords?’

‘What of them?’

‘Have any of them… gone bad?’

Wilder froze.

‘Have any of them become… monsters?’ Thea pressed.

The word echoed through Wilder like a warning bell, but he composed himself. ‘Over the course of history, there have been a handful of instances where the Furies gifted powers to a warrior who couldn’t cope.’

‘Is that what happened to Talemir?’

A dozen images flashed in Wilder’s mind then. Shadows and nightmares, pain and suffering. ‘No,’ he replied. ‘Talemir wasn’t like that. He’s no fallen Warsword.’

He noticed Thea’s attention had slid elsewhere. To Vernich and his apprentice, who were finishing up their training several yards away.

Ah.Her questions made sense now. Both the Bloodletter and his lapdog had wronged her, terribly so. Wilder himself had pulled Thea bodily off the Barlowe prick more than once now.

‘A fallen Warsword is a warrior who is corrupted by the power within them. Not someone who’s just an arsehole.’

But Thea was shaking her head. ‘I overheard them the other night…’ she said quietly. ‘Vernich is looking for something. For the Daughter of Darkness. It sounded like —’

‘Doesn’t matter what it sounded like,’ Wilder told her sharply. ‘He might be a bastard, but Vernich would sooner die than betray Thezmarr.’

Thea’s gaze snapped back to him. ‘Have you ever —’

‘Enough talk.’

Her eyes lit up. ‘Are we actually going to —’

Realising that the rest of the arena had emptied a long while ago, Wilder unsheathed his own swords and advanced. It was one thing to be led through a range of exercises, another thing entirely to feel ringing steel vibrating up one’s arms. His apprentice would know the difference.

‘Let’s spar, Princess,’ he commanded, voice low.

Thea’s answering grin was manic. ‘Thought you’d never ask.’

And she didn’t hesitate. Wilder’s apprentice threw herself into a series of attacks, her twin blades gleaming in the sinking sun.

He blocked each blow before they could be fully extended. But it didn’t faze her, didn’t break her focus or determination.

‘You have to be faster than this,’ he warned, taking a long step to the outside of their circle with his leading foot, twisting his hips and adding momentum to both blades as he brought them down on her strikes.

The energy that surged between them – he felt it in his bones.

‘You have to be stronger.’ He lunged, sweeping her legs out from under her with his own.

Thea flipped back up onto her feet, delivering an upward cut with one sword and swinging the other over her head —

Wilder hit her ribs with the flat of his left blade. ‘Left yourself vulnerable there.’

Thea cursed.

‘We live because we make others bleed,’ he told her, batting away another of her blows. ‘You will see the light leave a man’s eyes, a monster’s eyes, more times than you can count before your time in these realms is done.’