Page 29 of Thorns & Fire (The Ashes of Thezmarr #2)

Wren

‘The rare phenomenon of the soul bond has not been recorded for centuries’

– Tethers and Magical Bonds Throughout History

A BOARD T HE F URIES ’ W ILL , Wren watched as the Bear Slayer rested his elbows on the railing and looked out to the white-tipped waves on the horizon, the breeze dancing in his silver hair.

He looked much more at ease in his warrior’s garb than the nobleman’s finery, his hammer finally secured across his back once more and that wicked dagger sheathed at his hip.

Gods, she was so fucking angry with him, and yet.

.. when Torj had told her of his upbringing with Darian, her heart had broken for him.

The thought of anyone raising a hand to a child made her see red, and for that child to be Torj.

.. If he hadn’t killed his father, she’d have put his name in her ledger herself.

Holding two steaming cups of tea, Wren took a deep breath, relishing the briny taste in the air, and went to stand beside him. Her arm brushed against his as she offered him one of the drinks. ‘It’s not poisoned.’

‘Wouldn’t blame you if it was,’ he said, accepting the mug and cupping it between his large palms with a glance at her belt of potions.

For a moment, they stood there, sipping their tea and staring out at the dark waters as the ship set sail. The warmth of him seeped into Wren’s side and it was all she could do not to lean into his strength, into the familiar scent of him.

With Kipp and Dessa ‘occupied’ below deck, Wren felt the distance between herself and Torj all the more keenly.

There had been a brief pocket of time where they too might have been wrapped up in each other in one of the cabins downstairs.

Despite her anger, Wren couldn’t deny how much she missed him. They’d been happy together, once.

The Furies’ Will hit a wave, rocking violently. Torj’s hand closed over her arm, steadying her, not releasing her until she found her balance once more.

Years ago, she, Thea, Wilder, Cal, Kipp and Torj had boarded this very same ship, sailing from Harenth to the coast of Tver, to aid King Leiko in the defence of his castle.

Even then, Torj had stayed close to her side, and for the most part, she’d been oblivious to his attentions or dismissed him as a shameless flirt.

Now, she knew the Bear Slayer much more intimately – or so she had thought.

The rare phenomenon of the soul bond has not been recorded for centu ries. She could see the small text of Tethers and Magical Bonds Throughout History blurring before her, recognition stirring within. But she had made mistakes before. Perhaps it was something she simply wanted to believe.

‘I found the book in your pack...’ she ventured, before silently cursing herself. It wasn’t the most subtle segue.

Torj’s body tensed; she felt the shift in him beside her. ‘I—’

‘Don’t insult me with another lie.’ Wren held her tea between her hands, but didn’t drink.

She suddenly found herself wishing for something far stronger.

‘I found it. I’ve started reading it. I just wanted to give you the opportunity to tell me yourself.

Thea told me to talk to you. She seems to think there’s a decent, honest bone in your body, that there’s a reason you did what you did. ..’

‘There’s nothing more to explain. We’re not a good match. We never were.’

‘Then you’ll have no problem telling me about soul bonds.’

Soul bonded. That was what she had read about in that godsforsaken book.

That was what she was trying to identify between herself and the Bear Slayer.

But for all their supposed connection, there was no golden thread, no physical manifestation like the stupid volume had described.

The text detailed an array of criteria, including intense physical attraction and a protective instinct.

The author had clearly never met a Warsword in the flesh.

All she had been left with were more questions than answers.

She watched a muscle feather in the Bear Slayer’s jaw as he clenched his teeth, clearly opting for silence over any semblance of the truth.

‘Are we bonded in such a way?’ she pressed. ‘Is it from that day in Thezmarr? From the final battle?’

She could practically hear Torj’s thoughts whirring, struggling to find a decent lie to catch and present to her. ‘War connects us all.’

The Furies’ Will rocked beneath them as the wind caught in its sails.

‘You were the only one who could get near me. The only one who wasn’t thrown back by the lightning. No one else wielded my power for me,’ she said tentatively. ‘No one else could withstand it...’

‘Some questions don’t have answers, Embervale.’ The sea spray caught in his silver hair, making it glisten.

‘But this one does, doesn’t it? I felt it then, and I feel it now. Something... different. When you’re near, my magic feels...’ The words tumbled out as she finally pinpointed the effect he had. ‘More focused. Clearer. Like it knows you.’

‘Magic responds to strength. I’m a Warsword. My strength is Furies-given. Perhaps you should try zapping Wilder or Cal and see what happens.’ He took a long drink of his tea, not meeting her gaze.

‘Then why do I not feel that way around them?’ Her voice hardened and her cup creaked in her grip. ‘Why did it feel like you’d taken a piece of me when you left?’

‘We were close.’ Torj tipped the dregs of his tea overboard. ‘Of course it hurt.’

‘You’re still lying.’ Wren’s fingers sparked with frustrated energy. ‘Even now, can’t you feel it? The way my magic reaches for you?’

As if in response, a tendril of lightning danced between them, crackling with her anger.

Torj stepped back, breaking the connection, and the loss of it ached in Wren’s chest. He closed his eyes for a moment, as though bracing himself against an onslaught of pain. ‘It doesn’t matter what I feel.’

‘It matters to me.’ Gods, she hated the way her voice threatened to crack, hated the hurt that seeped through. ‘Whatever this is between us, whatever you’re hiding... I deserve to know.’

He turned away, and the movement felt like a physical blow. What could be so terrible that he couldn’t even look at her? ‘Let it go, Wren. Please.’

‘The truth is inevitable.’ Despite her rising frustration, she kept her voice neutral, soft. ‘As am I. If it’s the last thing I do, I will find out why.’

The Bear Slayer passed a hand over his face. ‘It was never going to work, Embervale.’

She knew he used her surname as a form of distancing and she wouldn’t stand for it. ‘You almost kissed me last night.’

‘I know...’

Wren studied him: the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, the dark shadows beneath them, the conflict shimmering in the blue that matched the sea around them. ‘And you would have done more than kiss me.’

‘Yes,’ he admitted, staring into his empty cup.

Wren reached out, capturing his chin with her thumb and forefinger, forcing his gaze to hers. ‘I will find out soon enough, Bear Slayer, and when I do... you will answer for it.’

His eyes met hers, and her storm magic crackled, like the power inside her recognized its counterpart. The sensation made her lightheaded for a moment.

Torj’s next words came out low and sultry, making her toes curl in her boots. ‘I don’t break easily, Embervale.’

Wren lifted her chin, relishing the challenge. ‘We’ll see about that, Warsword.’