Page 18 of Thorns & Fire (The Ashes of Thezmarr #2)

Wren

‘Both Naarva and Delmira fell in the years leading up to the final conflict that would ultimately become known as the shadow war. However, the two kingdoms suffered different fates. While Naarva was overrun with wraiths and darkness, Delmira festered from within, its lands slowly dying, becoming barren’

– The Midrealms Chronicles

S HE HAD BEEN dreaming of the Bear Slayer moving between her thighs. It hadn’t been the same lovemaking she’d experienced in the meadow. It hadn’t even been fucking.

It had been war .

And for the first time, war felt good .

Rough, wild thrusts hitting that spot deep within had her calling out his name, clawing his back, biting his shoulder. She rode the waves of pleasure he offered, climbing higher and higher towards her climax.

‘This means nothing,’ she gasped between each pound of his hips. ‘Less than nothing.’

He hauled her onto his lap, driving into her from underneath. ‘Prove it,’ he growled, reaching between them to circle her clit with his thumb. ‘Fuck me like you hate me, Embers.’

Wren had woken to find her hand wrapped around Torj’s cock, and her body wet and wanting – an ache she feared only the Warsword could sate.

Then he’d gone and overpowered her, a trick she wouldn’t stand for, not after training so hard with Thea. Trying to forget the hard imprint of him against her core, she’d fled the tent, anger and arousal entwining to form something dangerous, something that might see her control slip.

Outside, Wren wrestled her damp clothes over her heated skin in the brisk morning air, cursing the Bear Slayer and his delectable warrior’s body.

Her mind wandered back to the conversation she’d had with Thea and now, more than ever, she longed to get her hands on that damn book her sister had revealed.

When she was back at Drevenor, she’d go to the archives.

She’d find a copy there and make sense of it all.

For now, she would pretend none of it had happened. Denial. Always a healthy course of action , she decided.

The storm had passed, and before her, the lands were carpeted in dew, sparkling beneath the sun’s rays.

The horses grazed happily nearby. Behind her, the canvas rustled, and Wren turned to see Torj emerging from the tent, his muscular form silhouetted against the greying fabric.

He squinted against the day’s brightness, one hand shielding his eyes, the other pushing back his tousled silver hair so that the morning light played across his chiselled features.

His strong jaw was shadowed with stubble, and the uncertainty in his sea-blue eyes was quickly replaced with a hard expression.

The thin shirt he’d hastily donned clung to his broad shoulders, hinting at the warrior’s physique that she’d more than glimpsed just moments ago.

Wren caught herself staring and quickly averted her gaze, reminding herself of the fury that still simmered within her. Yet she couldn’t entirely quash the traitorous flutter in her chest at the sight of him.

‘Figured you’d want this back,’ he said gruffly, holding something out to her.

Wren looked down to see her hairpin between his large fingers. Careful not to touch him, she took it, twisting her hair up from her nape and securing it in place.

When she was done, she turned back to him. ‘I should check your wounds from yesterday. Clean them—’

‘They’re fine,’ he grunted.

‘Burns can get easily infected. Or if they don’t heal properly, they can limit your range of movement,’ she argued.

‘I said they’re fine.’

‘Gods, you’re a stubborn fool,’ she muttered.

‘Takes one to know one,’ he replied without looking at her.

She rolled her eyes. ‘If you’re so fine , then we need to hurry,’ she told him. ‘The others will be waiting.’

‘Hopefully.’ Torj nodded. ‘Go eat something. As soon as I pack the tent away, we’ll be on the road.’

‘I can help—’

Torj waved her off. ‘Best if I do it myself.’

Wren didn’t know if that meant it would be quicker without him having to instruct her, or if he simply couldn’t stand her proximity.

That makes two of us, she thought bitterly.

They rode in silence for the entirety of the morning.

The creak of saddles and the soft whinnies of the horses were the only sounds as they crossed field after field.

Wren stole glances at the Bear Slayer, noting the muscle twitching in his jaw and the rigid set of his shoulders.

She caught him returning the favour several times, his gaze lingering over her white-knuckled grip on her reins and the flush across the tops of her cheeks.

She couldn’t help it. With those broad shoulders ahead of her, her mind took her back to when her nails had cut crescent moons into them as the weight of the Bear Slayer was braced above her.

The cool morning air did nothing to soothe the heat washing over her skin, and no matter how many potion ingredients she rattled off in her head, she couldn’t stop certain images dancing before her.

Torj looked back sharply, just as a particularly erotic memory flooded her senses, and the blaze in his stare was like he could sense exactly what she was remembering... But as he twisted in the saddle, she saw the wince he failed to hide.

She urged her mare alongside his horse and reached for his reins, drawing them both to a halt.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ He gaped at her. ‘You can’t just—’

‘I’ll be seeing to your wounds now, Warsword,’ she said, lacing her words with steel.

‘Like fuck you will,’ he bit back.

She raised a brow at him. ‘You didn’t retie the bandage. They’re sticking to your shirt. It’s an infection waiting to happen, and as much as your presence pains me, if you drop dead now it will delay my plans even further. Are you going to play nice, or do I have to use an incentive?’

Torj gaped at her in disbelief. ‘You’re not serious.’

But Wren held up a hand, calling what little lightning she could to her fingertips. If he feared her magic, then she’d damn well use it to her advantage. ‘Deadly serious.’

‘From what I witnessed last night,’ Torj spluttered, ‘you don’t have it in you—’

She let a single burst of magic fly – a delicate bolt of electricity – and it hit him on the shoulder.

He jumped, shooting her a glare. ‘Shit, Wren!’

‘What were you saying?’ she taunted with a sly smile; her day was suddenly looking up.

‘What’s the point in checking my wounds if you’re just planning on injuring me further?’ he muttered.

‘If I recall correctly, you told me once that my lightning tickled ...’

‘I’m not doing this,’ Torj replied, snatching his reins back and urging his stallion onwards.

Wren ground her teeth, the thought of his burns festering setting her on edge, but she forced a shrug. ‘Don’t come crying to me when you have to peel a layer of skin off with your shirt.’

By midday, the space between their horses had imperceptibly widened, and just when Wren thought she couldn’t bear the silence, the tension any longer, she saw a familiar pair of horses on the horizon, and a long arm waving at them.

Her whole body sagged with relief – a feeling that lasted all of two minutes before they reached the road, and it was replaced with disbelief.

‘Took you long enough,’ Kipp said cheerfully, his mouth full of food.

‘Is that a leg of ham?’ Wren blurted, her eyes falling to the enormous slab of meat he was picking at.

On her horse beside him, Dessa gave Wren a resigned look. ‘I wish I could say we didn’t nearly die for it, but...’

‘Nearly died?’ Kipp interjected. ‘It was because of the ham that we escaped that madness. It’s been smoked and honeyed.’

Wren opened her mouth to ask more, but Torj beat her to it.

‘Are you telling me that while Wren and I were nearly fucking burned alive, nearly run down by a mob of fanatics... you were off somewhere stealing a leg of ham?’

Kipp tore off a strip of meat and offered it to Torj. ‘It’s really good ham.’

Torj stared at him, and Wren swore the Warsword was going to reach across and throttle her friend with the aforementioned meat.

After another moment, the Bear Slayer shook his head and guided his stallion away, muttering, ‘I’m too old for this shit.’

Wren tried to ignore the turn-off for the Mourner’s Trail – the road that led to Thezmarr – as they passed it, but Dessa wouldn’t let it lie.

‘That’s the way to the fortress?’ she said, perking up and trying to peer down the road before turning back to Wren, Torj and Kipp. ‘That’s where the three of you met?’

Kipp nodded. ‘The very place.’

‘Perhaps one day you can show it to me—’

‘I wouldn’t bother,’ Wren said flatly, squeezing her mare’s sides to increase her pace. The more distance between her and that wretched place, the better.

To her dismay, Torj caught up with her. ‘You’re telling me you don’t have a single decent memory from your time there?’ he asked.

‘None that haven’t been overshadowed by everything else that happened there – or after,’ she said pointedly.

‘Not even patching up my sorry arse in the Bloodwoods the first time we met?’ he pressed. ‘You certainly weren’t gentle with those stitches.’

And you weren’t nearly as tough as you thought you were, she almost said. But instead, because she knew it irked him, she replied, ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before Wren found herself riding beside Dessa, with Kipp and Torj taking the lead ahead. Dessa, however, seemed distant, scanning the plains before them, saying nothing.

‘Are you alright?’ Wren asked her.

Dessa jolted in the saddle, turning to Wren as though surprised to find her there. ‘Sorry?’

‘I asked if you were alright,’ Wren repeated.

‘Oh. I’m fine. I’ve just... never really travelled like this,’ she replied.

Wren hadn’t considered that. She had done her fair share of travelling the midrealms, during both the shadow war and the five years she’d spent as the Poisoner.

She was no stranger to spending hours on end on horseback or sleeping beneath the stars.

Dessa, on the other hand, had remained in one place before coming to Drevenor.

‘I’m sorry I haven’t told you this earlier,’ Wren started. ‘But I’m grateful to have you here with me. I know it’s not exactly luxury, and I know you’re delaying work on your own opus... But I’m grateful. I want you to know that.’

Dessa gave her a sad smile. ‘I know you are, Wren. I just can’t help but wonder what my place is here.

.. You, Torj and Kipp have done this a hundred times before.

You know what you’re doing out here when the road is rough and dangerous.

Me? I belong in an alchemy workshop, or the archives.

.. I don’t know what I contribute here. ’

‘Dessa, do you think I’d stay sane with those two idiots if there wasn’t another alchemist by my side? You contribute just as much as everyone else. I couldn’t do this without you.’

‘Yes, you could,’ Dessa told her gently.

‘You’ve done it before. And I’m not complaining, I’m not unhappy, I swear it.

I suppose discovering that another of my teammates was a magic-wielding royal caught me off guard.

And now I find myself on the road with a princess, a Warsword and a war strategist. It’s natural that I feel a little out of my depth, isn’t it? ’

Wren cringed internally. ‘I understand more than you know. During the war, I was the only alchemist on the road most of the time. Everyone else was a warrior, trained to slay monsters and protect the midrealms... I was just me.’

‘There should be no ‘just’ in that sentence, Wren,’ Dessa said.

‘And I feel the same way about you,’ Wren replied. ‘I’ll never tell you that your feelings aren’t valid. You have the right to feel whatever it is you feel. But please know that from where I’m sitting, you’re a vital piece of this team. We need you. I need you.’

Dessa smiled. ‘Noted.’

‘Good. Now can we talk about something other than war and Warswords? How is your opus progressing?’

They rode on for what felt like hours, slowly approaching the ruined kingdom Wren had left behind. The barren place that had honed her bleeding, grieving heart for half a decade. She was dreading seeing its scorched plains and lifeless lands.

Astride her mare, Wren crested the final hill, her heart pounding with anticipation and fear.

She braced herself for the familiar sight of Delmira’s desolation – the cracked earth and yellowed fields, the withered trees, the abandoned homesteads.

.. The parched grasslands and the fading heather, and atop a plateau of cliffs, the skeletal remains of a city.

But that was not what she saw.