Page 20 of Thorns & Fire (The Ashes of Thezmarr #2)

‘We need to be careful not to overharvest,’ Wren explained to Dessa in a hushed tone.

She didn’t know why she was whispering, only that the space seemed somehow sacred.

‘Take only what we need and leave enough for the plant to recover and spread.’ Her fingers ghosted over a cluster of tiny white flowers.

‘See these? They’re just beginning to bloom.

In a few weeks, they’ll turn to seed.. .’

Wren could still hardly believe what she was seeing: the silvertide rose spilling across the ground like a river, each bloom like a captured star. How had it flourished like this? How did it have an almost ethereal quality when the roses back at Drevenor did not?

Both she and Dessa worked quietly, and Wren was increasingly grateful for her friend’s presence. ‘Whenever I can repay the favour, Dessa, please let me know,’ she said.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Dessa replied. ‘It’s not every day an alchemist can say that she helped an heir of Delmira save the midrealms.’

Wren laughed. ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.’

The moment was short-lived, though, a curse bubbling from Wren’s lips as she cut her finger on the rose’s razor-sharp thorns.

Dessa grimaced on her behalf. ‘They’re like little daggers, aren’t they?’

Wren nodded, sucking the blood welling at her thumb.

‘How much more do you need?’ Torj asked, scanning the silkspore that was nearly at capacity and the jars of soil around them before lifting his gaze to the canopy to measure the dip of the sun.

‘We’re nearly done,’ Wren told him, noting the shift in the dappled light herself.

Torj gave a nod. ‘Good, because there’s something we have to do before we return to Drevenor.’

Wren whirled to face him. ‘What? What could possibly be more important than getting back to the academy and working on this cure?’

The Warsword looked uncomfortable. ‘Farissa and Audra advised me that there is evidence to suggest that someone is leaking information to the People’s Vanguard... details about Drevenor that no one should know.’

Dread washed over Wren. ‘What of the oath of secrecy?’

‘That doesn’t prevent anyone from spilling secrets.

It’s merely the consequence if they’re caught,’ Torj replied.

‘Farissa has released a series of false leads to those she suspects are working with the enemy. There’s an event in Harenth hosted by one of these individuals who has known connections to the others.

We’ve been tasked with infiltrating the party and searching the premises for anything that might implicate the host.

.. Letters to allies, missives containing the incorrect information Farissa leaked. ..’

Frustration crackled alongside Wren’s lightning. ‘Surely there is someone else who can do this work? I need to get back—’

Kipp silenced her with a nudge. ‘This might actually work in our favour,’ he murmured. ‘Regarding our other project?’

Wren pinned him with an indignant stare. ‘This had better not be some ploy to stop at the Laughing Fox.’

Kipp had the audacity to look offended before turning back to the Bear Slayer. ‘What kind of event are we attending, might I ask?’

‘A formal one,’ Torj replied. ‘And in order to gain access and investigate, we need to be covert—’

‘So we’ll need formal attire,’ Kipp said. ‘I know just the place. Leave the disguises to me.’

‘That’s not happening.’ The Warsword tilted his chin to the canopy, as though he were looking to the gods for strength. His exasperation brought Wren a small flicker of joy as Kipp addressed her and Dessa next.

‘Who would you rather acquire gowns on your behalf? Yours truly, or...?’ He gave Torj’s travel-worn garb a pointed look.

Dessa laughed. ‘Given the covert nature of this assignment, I hardly think sending a Warsword into a dressmaker’s shop is the way forward.’

Wren couldn’t believe what was happening. She potentially had the answers she’d been searching for within her grasp, and now she was being diverted to Harenth of all places.

‘I don’t like this,’ she muttered.

‘For once we’re in agreement, Embervale. But I have my orders, and your place is at my side until you’re assigned another guard.’

Wren scoffed. ‘Your place is by my side, Bear Slayer, much to my dismay. There’s a difference—’

‘We’re going to Harenth whether you like it or not.’

Kipp elbowed him. ‘Cheer up, Bear Slayer. A pint of mead in your hand and everything will be—’

Torj shoved Kipp aside with a glare before turning back to Wren and Dessa, who were shouldering their bulging satchels. ‘Until we meet with Audra, this discovery about Delmira remains between us.’

‘Anyone who strolls into Delmira will see it for themselves,’ Kipp argued.

‘Last time I checked, people rarely strolled into this kingdom, for fear of the darkness in its very marrow. It’s also more than three days’ ride to anything resembling a settlement.’ Torj looked to Wren for confirmation.

She finished securing the samples in the silkspore, placing it carefully in her satchel.

‘It’s true,’ she said, sheathing her secateurs in her belt and dusting her hands on her apron before starting back towards the cottage.

‘In the five years I lived here, I didn’t see another soul on this soil.

Bar you, Kipp, when you came to see me.’

‘Just because you didn’t see them doesn’t mean people didn’t set foot in this territory,’ the strategist commented.

‘True,’ Wren allowed.

Beside her, Torj made a noise of frustration. ‘Can we just agree? No one speaks of what we found here. At least not until I’ve had the chance to talk to Audra.’

Kipp sketched a mock bow. ‘As you wish, Bear Slayer.’

‘What about Zavier?’ Dessa asked.

Wren glanced across to see Torj warring with himself.

‘He’s the Prince of Naarva,’ the Bear Slayer said at last as they reached the cottage and their horses.

‘So?’ Dessa’s brow furrowed. ‘He’s our friend. We have to work together with him—’

Kipp reached out and squeezed Dessa’s hand. ‘Torj is right. He has conflicting interests as a monarch of the midrealms. I’m not saying we don’t tell him. I’m saying we don’t tell him straight away. Let the Bear Slayer talk to the Guild Master first.’

Wren fitted her boot to her mare’s stirrup for what felt like the hundredth time, the motion now second nature to her, allowing her mind to spiral with a whirlwind of thoughts.

She had come here, her stomach a pit of dread, simply hoping to find the plant she needed for her antidote.

Instead, she’d uncovered something that would undoubtedly split her focus, that would set them on another unknown path.

What would Thea say, she wondered, to finding out after all this time that Delmira was not lost to the midrealms, but had been lying dormant all these years?

‘Thea needs to know,’ she said. ‘It’s her homeland too.’

‘She will,’ Torj assured her. ‘But Audra needs to know first. There are many implications this sort of information could have... and we need to be ready.’

Reluctantly, Wren knew that Torj had a point. The unexplained rebirth of her kingdom was knowledge... and knowledge was power.