Page 27 of Thorns & Fire (The Ashes of Thezmarr #2)

Wren

‘A magical bond can take many forms, many of which we still do not understand’

– Tethers and Magical Bonds Throughout History

H EARING T ORJ USE the word wife did something to her. At first, it was a thrill – a glimpse at a future that could have been, a word that tangled longing with the darker side of her, with that molten fury that always bubbled so close to the surface.

But how dare he? After everything they’d been through, after every horrible word that had left his lips back at Drevenor. How fucking dare he?

So she’d left him there. The shocked breath he had expelled as she whispered the words ‘I’m not wearing any undergarments’ had been her reward.

He’d been about to kiss her, about to lose all that tightly leashed control.

Wren wasn’t about to give in so easily. The book was waiting for her back at the tavern, and she’d find out what the Warsword was hiding, one way or another.

If it meant torturing the Bear Slayer until he cracked, so fucking be it. Wren was used to playing the long game.

Thankfully, when she left him, she ran straight into Kipp, who declared their business concluded, all the important people absent, and the party dull. Together, they went to the balcony to retrieve Dessa, who seemed to be the only one from their group enjoying herself.

As Wren looped her arm through her friend’s, the nape of her neck prickled, and she turned to find a pair of dark eyes on her. Darian Devereux was watching her from where he stood holding court once again beneath the wisteria. His gaze held a glimmer of amusement, directed at Wren.

Dessa elbowed her. ‘Looks like someone made an impression.’

Wren scoffed. ‘I’ve got enough troubles, Dess.’

‘I hope they’re all as delectable as him,’ Dessa said with a smirk.

Wren could only shake her head. ‘You’re incorrigible.’

Torj was waiting with their cloaks in the foyer. Wren took hers without a word, without so much as a glance at him. Let him stew , she thought bitterly as they made their way to their carriage. Luckily, she found herself at Kipp’s side.

The strategist slipped a piece of folded parchment into her hand with a whispered aside. ‘The location you requested, Your Queenliness.’

‘What have I told you about calling me that?’ she hissed. ‘Besides, aren’t I meant to be Lady Hargrave this evening?’

Kipp shrugged. ‘Be whoever you want, Wren. It’s of no consequence to me.’

Wren stopped in her tracks, yanking Kipp back as well. ‘You mean to tell me there was no reason for me to pretend to be married to the Bear Slayer throughout that whole charade?’

Kipp gave a sly smile. ‘Absolutely none. I suspected that the evidence Torj wanted was long gone already.’

‘I could kill you,’ Wren seethed.

‘But then who would meddle in your terrible love life?’ he asked sweetly.

‘Dessa would give you a run for your coin,’ Wren muttered. ‘She’s clearly been spending too much time with—’

A high-pitched scream cut through the night.

Wren’s side was instantly warmed by the towering presence of the Bear Slayer, who was on high alert. Chaos ensued as a crowd gathered at the manor entrance. Wren tried to get a look at what had caused the outburst, but there were too many people.

Frozen with morbid curiosity, she and the others watched as at last, a body was brought out on a stretcher. There was just enough light from the torches lining the forecourt to illuminate the bejewelled golden cane resting beside the corpse.

Perseus Graymoor.

Torj’s eyes snapped to hers, dark and dangerous, a silent accusation.

‘Wasn’t me,’ she told him, producing the untouched vial of poison from her cleavage, showing him that not a drop had been used. ‘Wish it had been, though,’ she added. And with that, she accepted Kipp’s assistance into the carriage.

Upon their return to the Laughing Fox, Wren wriggled out of her gown and into an oversized nightshirt with a sigh.

It felt good to be back in her own clothes, where she was clearly Wren the alchemist, the poisoner – not a noblewoman whose moody husband couldn’t keep his hands off her.

While she was still fuming at Kipp for his prank and at Torj for being Torj, Wren couldn’t wait any longer to read the book beneath her pillow.

The magic beneath her skin was too alive, too restless for sleep, and it seemed to be reaching for answers as much as she was.

There was no way she could sneak out of the room without the Warsword knowing, so with Dessa snoring lightly in their shared bed, Wren sat on the floor by the fire with the book in her lap.

Tethers and Magical Bonds Throughout History.

For a moment, she simply stared at its cover, suddenly unsure of what she might find between its pages, scared of how it might change what was to come.

Wren could pinpoint several times in her life when she had felt as though she were on the cusp of something momentous: when she had become Farissa’s apprentice at Thezmarr, when she had sensed Thea’s storm magic awakening, when she had shared her power with Torj.

.. Tonight, with this strange book, felt much the same as all those occasions.

Taking a deep breath, Wren turned to the table of contents. It listed dozens of terms she had never heard, terms that no doubt came before the midrealms were formed as they were now – when magic was not found in royals and Warswords, but was freer throughout the lands.

As she scanned the words she felt dizzy, and familiar voices filled her head, distant but clear.

Torj’s husky words came first. ‘I feel like myself, only ... more . In the years after the war, I felt it only occasionally. A thrum of power, like an echo left over from the battle, but ... Since I saw Wren again, it’s been different.’

‘Different how?’ Thea demanded.

Wren couldn’t see them, but their conversation bloomed in her mind, and somehow, she knew it was real – that it was one they’d had in the recent past.

‘It’s as though we’re linked. I can sense her power, her emotions,’ Torj said. ‘We’re ... in tune with one another.’

‘I mean, has this link caused you pain? Do the scars ache?’

‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘It has never hurt me.’

Wren’s hands warmed suddenly, and she had to stifle a gasp to keep from waking Dessa. She stared at the book in her hands.

‘You kept saying you were linked . That’s not an injury – it’s a connection ... ’ Thea supplied. ‘I hate to break it to you, but you’ve been researching the wrong thing, Bear Slayer.’

It was some kind of ancient magic that was allowing Wren to see another person’s past, providing her with the connection, she could feel it in her bones. Her gaze trailed further down the list of contents, landing on two words just as Torj’s voice came to her with a rush of feeling.

‘Soul bonds ... ’