Page 36 of Iron & Embers (The Ashes of Thezmarr #1)

CHAPTER 36

Wren

‘The greatest discoveries often come at the greatest cost’

– Elwren Embervale’s notes and observations

A GENTLE MURMUR rumbled by her ear. Deep, soothing whispers vibrated down into her chest – words of comfort, of safety. The sound of home.

The harsh scent of burnt hair was gone, and instead, Wren breathed in black cedar and oakmoss. Her body was no longer cold and clammy, but dry and warm.

When she opened her eyes, she was in the Bear Slayer’s arms.

The last thing she remembered was the unadulterated fear that had engulfed her in the women’s ward. She didn’t know where they were now, only that it was somewhere enclosed and quiet. Somewhere shielded, secure.

Wren tried to exhale, but couldn’t find the air in her lungs. She was still trembling; her legs were weak beneath her.

‘I’ve got you.’ Torj’s voice was soft, but firm and solid in a world where reality was still hazy. She clung to it desperately. ‘I’ve got you, Embers,’ he murmured again into her hair.

As the sharp edge of her panic ebbed, Wren tasted rain on her tongue, felt the demand of a storm raging within, tethered to the man holding her.

‘Look at me,’ he commanded.

And she did, her eyes meeting the dark sea blue of his.

‘We survived it,’ he told her. ‘You and me. Together.’

Wren didn’t ask how he knew what had happened to her in the ward. She couldn’t stop the broken sob that escaped her. ‘But I shouldn’t have.’ The words flew out of her, raw and unfiltered, the dark truth she’d carried since that battle. ‘It should have been me. Why did I live when Sam, Ida and Anya all died?’

Torj’s chest expanded against her as he took a steadying breath. ‘There is no rhyme or reason to why people are taken from us. No greater meaning, no justice. I have long ago stopped trying to find those things in death...’ A gentle touch brushed her hair away from her face. ‘You deserve to live, Wren. You have as much right to life as anyone else does.’

‘But—’

A finger pressed gently against her lips. ‘Fight me on almost anything, Embers. But not that. That’s not up for debate.’

Wren found the air she needed, and a part of her fractured as she released it in a long, trembling exhale.

Then, she saw him, as though for the first time.

Achingly beautiful. A lock of silver falling into his eyes, his strong brows and chiselled jaw tight with concern for her. The faint lines around his eyes crinkled as he studied her – she couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed with her, not properly. The thought devastated her all over again.

‘Whatever you’re thinking,’ he murmured, ‘don’t.’

She locked eyes with him. ‘How do you know what I’m thinking?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said, reaching for her hand. He drew it up to the broad plane of his chest and placed her palm over where she knew those lightning-shaped scars marked his inked skin. ‘But I feel it. Here.’

She felt his heart pounding beneath her touch, felt the prickle of magic in her fingertips as they connected with him. ‘I did that to you...’

‘You did it for me. Without you, I wouldn’t be here.’

Another breath shuddered out of her, and with it went the pain. All that spiralling agony left her, her body sagging into his arms. But in its place was something else. Something that burned hotter than wildfire, raged with more force than any storm.

Desire.

Every point of contact between their bodies lit Wren ablaze, that heat turning molten and surging through her. She leaned into his touch, into the carved perfection of his war-honed body, feeling him in her very bones, in her blood.

The scent of him drove her wild, as intoxicating as any drug. Even with all the years apart, she’d never forgotten it.

She lifted her chin, peering up to find him watching her.

There was so little distance between them. She could close it with a push up onto her toes.

Torj’s gaze turned hungry, as though he could indeed feel every thought of hers in his chest. Her hand still rested there, his heart hammering beneath it as he surveyed her, and she surveyed him right back.

‘You look like you’re going to kiss me,’ she said, her body calling out for his touch.

‘You look like you’d enjoy it,’ he replied, his fingers entwining with hers.

His words were more than an observation; they were a promise. And she felt the truth of them pulse between her thighs, felt the slickness that gathered there. If he could have that effect with a simple turn of phrase, what could he do with—

‘Elwren?’ Farissa’s voice cut through the haze of lust. ‘Wren?’

It was only when the door swung inwards, revealing her worried-looking mentor, that Wren realized they were in the prayer room.

To her surprise, Farissa didn’t look shocked to see her in the Bear Slayer’s arms. Had Torj carried her from the ward? Embarrassment threatened to rise to the surface, but she shoved it down.

‘Are you alright?’ Farissa asked, assessing her as the colour returned to her face.

‘I am now,’ she replied, peeling away from Torj with a grateful glance.

Farissa was the only person who knew the full extent of her flashbacks and other difficulties since the war. The worry in her expression did not abate. ‘Perhaps this isn’t the place for either of you right now.’

Wren flinched. ‘But my studies – my team—’

‘Are fine with it. It was Zavier who alerted me to your episode. He suggested you might need a break.’

Wren clenched her jaw. ‘Did he?’

‘A very observant young man. A good ally to have, Elwren. But that’s neither here nor there. Go back to Drevenor. Get some rest. Fight another day tomorrow.’

Farissa left no room for argument. She gave Torj a quick but meaningful look before she headed back to the ward.

‘What did she mean?’ Wren asked. ‘When she said this isn’t the place for either of us?’

‘She knows I’m not a fan of infirmaries,’ Torj replied cryptically, leading her towards the exit.

Though she sensed there was more to the story, Wren didn’t press. Perhaps there would come a day where he’d share his tale with her openly, and maybe, just maybe, she’d do the same.

Outside, they stood at the foot of the stairs while an attendant went to fetch Torj’s warhorse. It felt as though something had shifted between them, and despite herself, Wren felt compelled to say something – what, she didn’t know. But the Warsword had been there for her in a way she hadn’t known she needed, in a way that she’d never let someone before. She hadn’t had to ask, and he hadn’t drawn attention to it after, either.

You deserve to live, Wren. You have as much right to life as anyone else does.

She opened and closed her mouth several times before she said the only thing she could. ‘Thank you.’

He glanced down at her in surprise. ‘For what?’

‘For everything—’

Her words were cut off as something barrelled into her. She went flying across the stairs, the collision sparking stars in her vision as she hit the stone, hard.