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‘Apprentices share quarters with their masters.’

‘Cal still lives at the fortress,’ Thea argued.

‘Because Torj does,’ Hawthorne ground out. ‘I do not live at the fortress, nor do I wish to. Therefore, you’ll be moving to the cabin. And if we’re going to be living together in my house, then you’ll live bymyrules.’

Wilder felt the flicker of lightning from her. He met her incredulous glare with a challenging one of his own.

‘You’re the one who wanted to be an apprentice so badly. This is it, Princess.’

CHAPTER THREE

THEA

Thank the Furies he’d walked off. If Thea had stood out there in the rain with him any longer, there was no telling whether she would have fought him again, fucked him, or both. Her heart hammered in her chest, in time with the pulse of heat between her legs.

Wilder Hawthorne had looked as fierce as ever, his sharp jaw lined with a dark beard, his sun-kissed skin covered in dirt from travel. He was just as he had been when they had fought the reaper together: formidable, deadly…Hers.

She pushed the thought aside. He had never truly been hers. But when she’d had him beneath her, her blade pressed to his throat and all that hard muscle against her, not a single sane thought had remained in her head.

Suddenly, she’d been taken back to the hours before the initiation test, where she’d gripped that arrow as Hawthorne fucked her against the tree, his beautiful, tattooed body bare in the dappled moonlight. Pleasure, and something deeper, had rolled through her as he’d moved inside her, as he’d moaned her name against her lips.

‘Once was not enough, Thea…’he had groaned after wringing a shattering climax from her that left her trembling.‘Not nearly enough.’

Now, as she gathered her belongings, she stewed in her anger. Howdarehe? How dare he leave her high and dry, only to swoop back in three weeks later with such commands? Andliving together?What in the midrealms was he playing at?

She winced as she sheathed her blade with more vigour than she intended, peering down at her swollen knuckles.Dislocated, Hawthorne had declared.

Truth be told, she couldn’t even remember during which sparring session it had happened. The past few weeks had blurred into one long streak of swordplay, archery, strategy meetings and endurance training as she had tried to forget everything else. She’d gone about life as an official Guardian of Thezmarr as required: committing to training, drills and learning the art of war. She was the first woman warrior of the guild in over two decades, and she wouldn’t waste the opportunity. To be part of Thezmarr was more than a lifestyle; it was a culture, a religion.

Flexing her fingers tentatively as she started back towards the fortress, she hissed at the pain, noting the restricted movement and the mottled blue-and-green discolouration. As the rain subsided and the noon sun hit its peak, her instinct was to find Cal and Kipp and partake in whatever drills they were now trying to master, but… Gods, she hated it when Hawthorne was right. If the swelling on her knuckles continued, or the tug of pain in her ribs worsened, she’d be of no use to anyone, least of all herself.

Usually she’d go to Wren for this sort of thing. The Master Alchemist, Farissa, had taught her sister every healing trick in the book, and the Furies knew Wren had tended to more than her fair share of scrapes over the years. But those days were over. Instead, when Thea reached the fortress, she made for the library.

Malik, the former Warsword and Hawthorne’s brother, was there in his usual armchair by the fire.

‘Hello, Shieldbreaker,’ Thea said as the giant man looked up from the leather belt he was braiding and beamed at her.

Malik’s dog, Dax, wagged his tail from his spot at his master’s feet.

Thea dropped into the chair beside them and held out her injured hand. ‘Don’t suppose you can do something about this?’ she asked.

Malik stared, his gaze going distant for a moment before he took her small hand in his much larger one, shaking his head slowly.

‘It was worth a shot.’ Thea sighed. ‘Guess I’ll have to go to the infirm—’

There was a loudpop. Followed by blinding pain.

‘Fuck!’ Thea shouted, rearing back. ‘Furies fucking save —’

Anotherpopsounded. And a garbled scream escaped Thea as more agony lanced through her hand.

But then came the relief.

Thea’s fingers were tingling, but that initial pain had vanished.

She moved her fingers cautiously. They were still stiff, still aching, but the range of movement wasn’t nearly as restricted.

Malik gripped her hand gently, stopping her from flexing.