Page 61 of Iron & Embers (The Ashes of Thezmarr #1)

CHAPTER 61

Wren

‘Fear in itself is a poison’

– Elwren Embervale’s notes and observations

W REN THOUGHT SHE had known fear. The shadow war had taught her plenty. She had known it in the moments before realizing her dearest friends were dead, in seeing her eldest sister struck with darkness across the battlefield, in seeing an arachne fang protruding from Kipp’s chest...Worse still had been seeing Torj suspended in the air over that vortex of darkness, not knowing if she could save him. The fear in those moments had run bone-deep; she could taste the bitterness of them even now.

But seeing Torj speared in her place on the road...

She had never known terror like it.

A terror that had her storm nearly bring down the sky.

She would never forget it for as long as she lived. Her heart ached even now as she watched the healing Warsword sleep.

Wren had barely left her room for days, missing lessons and tasks assigned by the masters, and for once, she didn’t care. Her place was at Torj’s side. The Warsword had thrown himself in front of a spear meant for her. She would see to his recovery herself, or she had no business being at the academy at all. She could manage her workload from here.

She could no longer recall how many times she had counted his breaths in his sleep, how many times she had pressed the back of her hand to his brow to check for fever. Sometimes, she simply stared, watching his unfairly long lashes flutter against the tops of his cheeks as he dreamed. When he had tossed and turned and his shirt had fallen open, she looked upon the web of lightning-shaped scars there, at her mark carved into his flesh. It took all manner of self-restraint not to trace them with her fingers, not to be overcome by guilt.

In the past, she hadn’t known him – not well. But Furies, had she wanted to. Now, she knew small, intimate things. Like that the Warsword murmured in his sleep. A handful of phrases that sank hard into her chest: I’ll save you. I’ll protect you. I’ll always protect you.

With a sigh, she sat back in the chair at his side, thumbing through the book in her lap without actually reading it, her attention constantly drifting back to the warrior in her bed. To her great surprise, the Bear Slayer had been a model patient, except for when she’d tried to help him in the bathing chamber.

‘I refuse to let the first time you touch me be for a fucking sponge bath, Embers,’ he had growled.

Wren had quietly backed away, giving him his privacy, but not without repeating his words in her mind. The first time you touch me ...

‘That’s a dangerous look,’ he said to her now, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

She raised a brow. ‘What look?’

‘The one that was just written all over your face. Kingdoms fall over looks like that.’

‘My kingdom’s already fallen,’ Wren scoffed.

With a wince, Torj pulled himself into a sitting position. Wren was instantly on her feet, arranging the pillows behind him to give him more support.

‘Stop fussing,’ he told her gruffly, but his words were warm, as though he actually liked her fussing.

‘Stop complaining,’ she quipped, sitting back in her chair.

‘No horrible potion for me to force down this morning?’ he asked, eyes twinkling.

‘Not yet,’ she replied. ‘It’s brewing—’

The door burst open, and Wren found herself shoved back.

Torj had leapt from the bed and thrown himself in front of her, wearing nothing but a pair of undershorts and a tattered shirt. He shielded her bodily, scanning the room wildly, no doubt for his hammer.

‘I’m in love,’ Kipp declared, flinging the door closed behind him and dragging another chair up to the bedside.

Sagging with relief, Wren slapped Torj’s arm. ‘If you’ve ripped your stitches, I’ll not be impressed.’

Torj groaned before rounding on Kipp. ‘What the fuck are you thinking, bursting in like that? If I wasn’t half drugged to the moon I might have killed you.’

Kipp’s brows shot up. ‘Drugged to the moon? That sounds fun.’ He turned to Wren. ‘I’ll have what he’s having.’

Wren ducked out from behind the towering Warsword and gently pushed him back towards the bed, noting that the bandage at his side was stained with fresh blood.

‘Sorry,’ he muttered.

‘You will be,’ she replied, waiting until he was lying down once more to inspect the wound.

‘Didn’t anyone hear me?’ Kipp said impatiently. ‘I said: I’m in love.’

The door opened a fraction and Cal’s voice drifted in. ‘It wasn’t all that long ago you were insisting that you and Wren would end up together.’

Wren whipped around to face her friend. ‘What?’

Kipp waved her off as though it were a minor detail. ‘Ancient history, Your Queenliness. Long before I knew you were spoken for—’ He stopped abruptly and gave Torj a wary glance. ‘I mean, before I knew you were such a formidable killer. I’d never survive you. And I like surviving.’

Wren’s eyes narrowed before she turned back to Torj and carefully peeled the dressing away from his injury. ‘Who is it this time, then?’

‘Dessa.’

‘Naturally,’ Cal said from where he now leaned against the doorjamb.

‘Shouldn’t you be guarding out there?’ Torj called.

He shook his head. ‘There are two other burly Guardians from Thezmarr here. Don’t you worry, Bear Slayer. Besides, the guild has formally declared that the threat is over. They captured the leader last night.’

‘If you’re going to stand there, just come in and shut the door,’ Wren told him.

Cal did as she bid. Torj gave her an incredulous look, but she ignored him. He’d torn three of his stitches in his leap to defend her, but the bleeding had slowed, and she decided against restitching them.

‘So, you’re in love, Kipp. What’s the problem?’ she asked.

Kipp sighed dramatically. ‘Only the world against us. She’s an alchemist, I’m a – strategist. A Guardian of Thezmarr. We’re too different.’

‘Really?’ Torj scoffed. ‘You’re like two peas in a pod to me. Neither of you know when to shut up, for a start.’

‘You wound me, Bear Slayer.’

‘Nothing wounds you,’ Cal added from where he had perched himself on her workbench. ‘Not even a fucking arachne fang to the heart.’

‘I assure you, that hurt plenty.’

‘And yet here you are. Living to annoy us all for another day.’

‘I’m not sure I appreciate this line of conversation,’ Kipp commented. ‘I come to you with a problem, and this is what I get? Where’s the sympathy? The support?’

‘You’ll no doubt find plenty down at the Mortar and Pestle,’ Wren said. ‘But this isn’t a tearoom for gossip. This is a makeshift infirmary, in case you haven’t noticed.’

Kipp looked alarmed, his eyes latching onto Torj. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve drunk any tea she’s given you?’

A rough laugh escaped Torj. ‘Every drop, Snowden. Guess that makes me invincible now.’

‘Or an idiot,’ Kipp retorted.

‘Kipp.’ Wren crossed her arms over her chest. ‘If you’ve just come here to be a menace, kindly piss off. Torj needs rest.’

Kipp gave a mock gasp. ‘Such filth from a princess’ mouth. Unbelievable. It wasn’t all that long ago you were wishing he’d piss off. How times have changed, eh?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘I’m sure Odessa would love to hear all about it.’

Kipp shook his head and got to his feet. ‘After all these years of friendship, you turn me away during my time of need.’

‘I still don’t see the problem,’ Wren replied. ‘But you’ll figure it out, being the strategist you are and all that.’

‘ Love is the problem!’ Kipp insisted. ‘But I know when I’m not wanted—’

‘Finally,’ Torj muttered. Wren had to bite down a laugh at Kipp’s wildly offended expression.

When Cal at last managed to escort Kipp out of the rooms, Wren shook her head, unable to stop the smile of disbelief breaking across her face. ‘Where did we even find him?’

‘I’m surprised it wasn’t at the bottom of a wine barrel somewhere,’ Torj replied, a smile softening his features.

Warmth bloomed in Wren’s chest. ‘Truth be told, I’m not sure what I’d do without him...’

‘Maybe you should tell him that one day.’

‘Maybe...Though I’d never hear the end of it.’

‘True.’

Wren shifted in her seat, smoothing out her apron. ‘Do you think he’s really in love with Dessa?’

Torj snorted. ‘Kipp’s in love every other week.’

‘So that’s a no?’

The Warsword shrugged. ‘I suppose it’s not for me to say. The Son of the Fox knows his own heart. When it’s not located in his liver.’

Quiet settled between them for a moment, the air shifting with tension as the words formed on Wren’s tongue: ‘And you?’

Heat flared in Torj’s eyes, in stark contrast to their deep-sea hue. ‘What about me?’

‘Have you ever been in love?’

‘Every man thinks he’s been in love at one point or another in life.’

A swell of envy swept through her, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

‘But I don’t think so,’ he continued, voice low. ‘Not truly, not deeply. Not since—’

‘It’s alright,’ she cut him off, suddenly realizing she didn’t actually want to know the answer. She had heard the stories. She had seen how people looked at him...She just didn’t know why she cared. Torj was older, well-travelled, worldly...He likely had more experience in his little finger than she’d had in her whole life. And experience...That was good, wasn’t it?

‘How many women have you been with?’ she heard herself ask.

He raised that scarred brow of his. ‘Rather personal question there, Embers...’

Heat stained her cheeks. ‘A great many, then.’

‘Do you want me to lie?’ he asked gently.

‘Never.’

The fire in his gaze was akin to the desire that had once blazed there in these very rooms, where they’d watched each other find release in a haze of desperation and longing.

‘Then I’ll say this,’ he told her. ‘There have been many, yes.’

Wren’s ribs squeezed tight, her heartbeat quickening.

‘But it’s not about the fleeting moments that came before, or the number of lovers who’ve warmed a bed.’

‘Then what is it about?’ she managed.

Torj reached out and brushed a gentle thumb over her lower lip, and her breath caught in her throat.

‘It’s about the person who’s holding your hand at the end. The person you can’t let go of, no matter how hard you might have tried.’