Page 28 of Iron & Embers (The Ashes of Thezmarr #1)

CHAPTER 28

Wren

‘The path of the alchemist is one of cause and effect, where every action, no matter how small, can have far-reaching consequences’

– Elwren Embervale’s notes and observations

A FTER SEVERAL WARNINGS regarding danger and discretion, Farissa had granted Wren a sample of the alchemy that had been used against King Leiko. Wren wanted to get to work on potential countermeasures as soon as possible, and so, with no formal class scheduled the next morning, she visited the greenhouses.

Unfortunately, Torj insisted on accompanying her.

He seemed intent on wallowing in moody silence, more so than usual. He’d barely spoken to her other than when he’d shoved an oatcake into her hands and ordered her to eat breakfast, announcing that he wasn’t keen on lugging fainting alchemists to the infirmary. Annoyed, Wren had simply informed him that she wasn’t a fainter. Though, she had eaten the oatcake.

At her side, the Warsword looked as formidable as ever, with his hammer slung across his back, his silver hair half-up, half-down, showing off the sharp line of his jaw, and his shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal tanned, muscular forearms. As Wren tried to tear her gaze away, her attention snagged on a jagged scar cleaving through the sinew there. How had she never noticed it before?

‘What’s the tale behind that?’ she asked, thrusting her chin at the mark. ‘More evidence of your legendary antics? A token of a monster slain?’

Something dark flashed across Torj’s face. ‘Something like that.’

‘Oh?’

He glanced at her. ‘I called him Father.’

Wren froze, her heart seizing. ‘Your father did that to you?’

‘Among other things.’ He seemed to catch himself and shrugged. ‘Not all monsters have scales and fangs, Embers.’

Wren didn’t know what to say. ‘I...’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said, his voice gruff. ‘It was a long time ago.’

She had stopped in her tracks at the edge of the grounds, clutching her oilskin satchel at her side, staring up at him, feeling as though someone were clenching her heart in a fist.

But the Bear Slayer shook his head. ‘Forget it. There are more pressing matters at hand.’ He motioned to the building.

Wren saw the vast, glass-domed structure of Drevenor’s biggest greenhouse stretched out before her, bathed in the gentle glow of the morning sun. Towering trees with leaves in every shade of green reached towards the sky beyond the glass. Vibrant flowers bloomed in every corner, their petals a kaleidoscope of colours.

‘You should see your face right now.’ Torj’s deep voice sent a shiver down her spine. She knew she likely looked like a child who had awoken to a pile of gifts on their name day, but that didn’t mean she owed him a response.

She wanted to ask him about his father, about what had happened to leave him with that scar, but she knew now was not the time, and that the Warsword wouldn’t want to share such private things with her. Instead, she stepped into the greenhouse, where the air was thick with the scent of earth and the sweet perfume of rare flowers. Butterflies fluttered past, their delicate wings shimmering in the golden light that streamed through the glass panes above.

Wren marvelled at the sheer variety of plants surrounding them. Herbs with silvery leaves and delicate petals, vines that twisted and turned in complex patterns, and strange, otherworldly specimens she couldn’t even begin to name.

‘You can wait by the door,’ she told Torj.

He ignored her, following her down the first row, watching her like a hawk as she ran her fingers along the waxy surface of a giant, purple-veined leaf.

‘What are we looking for, exactly?’ he asked.

‘ We? ’

Torj waited, and she acquiesced with a frustrated sigh.

‘Inspiration.’ She scanned the variety of foliage before her and made a mental list of things she ought to stock up on another time.

‘For?’

Not taking her eyes off the array of plants, she moved deeper into the greenhouse. ‘A counter to the alchemy used against King Leiko. It may have a natural neutralizing agent.’

‘Like how the sun orchids repelled the shadow wraiths in the war?’

‘Exactly,’ she replied, noting how the perfume of the flowers was mingling with something richer, more masculine—

Him .

His scent was all around her, and rather than breathe it in deeply as she was tempted to do, she clicked her tongue in frustration. ‘Must you be right on my heels? I’m hardly going to get attacked by a patch of day lilies.’

‘You never know, Embervale,’ he said, though to her relief, he yielded a step back.

When his presence wasn’t so overbearing, she could actually think . And think she did as she wandered the rows and rows of Drevenor’s finest greenhouse. After a time, the Warsword’s footsteps behind her became part of the garden’s natural rhythm, and she took out her notebook to scribble several ideas to try back in her workspace. It wasn’t the first time she’d had an alchemical problem to solve, and when certain hulking warriors weren’t breathing down her neck, it was a task she relished.

For the first time in a long while, Wren managed to lose herself in a place entirely. The experience was wistful, and as her tour continued, she marvelled at the supplies on hand. She could make some very interesting poisons with resources like these at her fingertips—

‘Don’t even think about it,’ Torj’s voice rumbled beside her.

Wren whipped around to face him. ‘Think about what?’

Torj raised a brow. ‘All the horrors you could use these plants for.’

‘I wasn’t—’

‘You’ve got that gleam in your eye, Embervale. One I know all too well.’

Wren’s lips pressed into a thin line. ‘I do not.’

He gave a derisive snort, but it was cut short by a strangled noise of shock. ‘What the fuck is that?’ Torj blurted, pointing to something a few paces away.

Wren wandered over to the offending plant – a particularly grotesque tree nestled in a far corner of the greenhouse. Its trunk was gnarled and twisted, the bark a sickly grey colour that reminded her of decaying flesh. The branches, sparse and irregular, jutted out at odd angles like broken bones. Instead of leaves, the tree was adorned with fleshy, pulsating sacs that seemed to breathe with a life of their own.

She looked from the strange flora to the sheer look of disgust on the Warsword’s face and found herself amused. ‘You’ve carved out the hearts of monsters, but a tree unnerves you?’

Torj gaped at her. ‘Are we looking at the same thing?’ he asked, incredulous. ‘That’s not a tree. It’s fucking rancid is what it is.’

‘If you don’t like it, you’re welcome to leave.’

‘Am I meant to believe you’ve got some sort of morbid appreciation for this thing?’

‘I’m sure those...sacs...have an incredible medicinal use.’

‘Do me a favour,’ Torj retorted. ‘If I’m sick, don’t ever use that shit on me.’

‘No promises, Bear Slayer.’ Wren drew her harvesting knife from her belt and reached out—

A large hand shot out, encircling her wrist and stopping her from taking a cutting. ‘Not on my watch, Embers.’

‘It’s a tree , Torj.’

‘That looks fit to explode, or worse. Audra’d have my balls over a spit if I allowed you to be killed by a fucking plant.’

As much as the image pleased her, Wren tried to shake out of his grip. ‘You’re being unreasonable—’

‘And you’re being an idiot.’ Still gripping her wrist, Torj consulted a pocket watch. ‘And look at that – if we stay any longer, you’ll be late to your first lesson.’

With a noise of exasperation, Wren finally twisted out of his hold. ‘Fine.’

As they approached her quarters to retrieve her books, Wren’s heart skipped a beat when she noticed the door slightly ajar. A chill raked down her spine, but she schooled her features into a neutral expression, not wanting to alarm Torj. He was insufferable enough as it was.

But Torj, ever observant, narrowed his eyes at the door. ‘We didn’t leave the door open.’

‘We might have. Easy mistake to make...’ Wren hoped she sounded more convinced than she felt.

‘I don’t make mistakes like that,’ Torj said, drawing his hammer from the sheath across his back and pushing the door inwards. He entered with caution, surveying the place for hidden threats.

‘How am I meant to tell if this place has been ransacked when its usual state is like a boulder was catapulted through it?’ he muttered.

Wren peered around him. At first glance, everything seemed to be in its usual chaotic order. Her books were still fanned across her desk, and her alchemical equipment remained as she’d left it...

She went to her box of trinkets on the windowsill.

The wooden lid was crooked.

Sucking in a breath, she opened it and counted the keepsakes within. Ring, coin, watch, pendant, monocle, inkwell, brooch, fig-urine...They were all there. Every last one.

As she moved about the room, a sense of wrongness settled over her. It was subtle, but Wren could feel it in the air – a faint disturbance. Someone had been there, invading her personal space, touching her things...

Still gripping his hammer and scanning the room, Torj came to the same conclusion. ‘Someone broke in. Is anything missing?’

The unease continued to grow low in Wren’s gut as she surveyed her workbench and her notes. ‘No,’ she replied at last. ‘It might be a prank...’

‘I’m in fucking hysterics,’ Torj said flatly.

Wren forced a shrug as she spotted a folded piece of parchment tucked under her scales. She was sure it hadn’t been there before. Turning back to the Warsword, she resolved to retrieve it later. ‘It’s a thing, isn’t it? Students hazing one another...Maybe I’ll find Widow’s Ash in my bedsheets or a family of spotted toads in the bathing chamber—’

‘Save it, Embervale,’ the Bear Slayer cut in. ‘Your security just kicked up a notch.’