Page 31 of Thorns & Fire (The Ashes of Thezmarr #2)

Wren

‘All transformation demands sacrifice. What is gained must first be paid for in equal measure’

– Transformative Arts of Alchemy

I N THE PAST, Wren had wondered fleetingly what it would be like to affect change throughout the midrealms. So often it was those with no notion of what life was like amid the mud who governed from their castles above the rest.

.. To her dismay, she found herself pondering the same question more frequently now: who was anyone to decide the fate of others?

What made someone worthy of that kind of power?

And who held them to account? Silas, who was resurrecting an evil they had defeated long ago, needed to be held to account.

Wren had never been so glad to see the wrought iron gates of Drevenor.

The golden dusk light danced along the worn gravel road to the towering building at the heart of the grounds.

Six months ago, she had arrived here as someone else entirely – the Poisoner, still thirsting for vengeance, still consumed by the shadows of the past.

.. but now another weight fell across her shoulders.

The task of recreating a cure that could see her not only graduate to the rank of sage, but stop near-certain war from breaking out across the midrealms.

Beneath it all, another current ran deeper still. A current that found her slipping into someone else’s dreams, someone else’s memories...

Wren pushed the thought aside as she saw Cal and Zavier waiting for them in the academy foyer.

‘You’re back,’ she choked out, hugging Cal. She turned to Zavier, unsure if they were at a point in their relationship where they embraced.

Zavier seemed to sense her hesitation and pulled her into his arms. ‘You saved my life. I’ll give you a damn hug if you want one.’

Wren laughed, drawing back as she surveyed him. ‘No crown for you, Your Highness?’

‘Oh, they tried,’ Zavier replied darkly. ‘Stupid thing near bruised my skull.’

‘Probably because your head’s too big,’ Dessa quipped as she hugged him hello as well.

Zavier gave a huff of amusement. ‘Delmirian air was good for you, then?’

Dessa blanched.

‘So you met Talemir Starling?’ Wren asked hurriedly.

‘I did,’ Zavier replied. ‘It’s thanks to him that I have a kingdom at all.’

Wren nodded. ‘But you’re here and not there?’

‘I came back to submit my opus proposal. My council agreed that given the state of the midrealms, having another qualified alchemist on our side wouldn’t go astray. I’ll graduate to sage and then return to Ciraun.’

‘What did you decide on for your opus, then?’ Dessa asked.

Zavier paused before answering, ‘A study on transmutation of sorts...’

Dessa’s furrowed brow mirrored Wren’s own confusion. ‘That’s an unexpected choice for you. Metals?’

‘Not quite,’ Zavier said evasively. ‘But I’m late to meet Master Norlander. I’ll see you both tomorrow?’

With another glance at Dessa, Wren nodded. ‘Tomorrow.’

‘Good to have you back, Zave!’ Dessa called after him.

Wren watched him go with the distinct feeling that something had changed in the Prince of Naarva.

Wren slid her satchel onto the table by Farissa’s bookshelves and sat down opposite her former mentor. ‘What I’m about to say doesn’t leave this room.’

Farissa glanced up at Wren and the Bear Slayer by her side, worry etched on her face. ‘What happened?’

‘Delmira is no longer barren,’ Wren told her. ‘When we arrived, there were parts that had flourished. Fresh green grasses, wildflowers, birds... It is not as it was when I left.’

‘That ground has been poisoned for decades,’ Farissa replied, frowning. ‘I’ve seen it myself. I’ve tested many samples of soil... Nothing new grows there.’

Wren struggled to swallow the hard lump in her throat, bracing herself against the mounting pressure.

She had tried to keep her concerns at bay during their travels, she had tried to tell herself that Farissa would know what to do, but now she was standing before her, she realized something: this was so much bigger than her, than Farissa.

.. The effects of whatever happened here today would be felt across the midrealms for centuries to come.

She took a deep breath. ‘It does now.’

Farissa picked at her nails, something Wren had never seen the alchemist do in all their years of working together. ‘Who else knows?’ she asked.

‘Just us, plus Dessa and Kipp,’ Wren replied. ‘But it was plain as day as soon as we set foot into the territory. It won’t remain secret for long.’

‘I’ll wager others know and have been keeping it to themselves,’ Torj added. ‘The land there looks more fertile than any I’ve seen in years, like the old Delmira. It’s kindling waiting for a spark.’

Dazed, Farissa rose from her chair. ‘Audra must be informed at once.’

‘Wait.’ Wren reached for the buckle on her satchel.

‘I brought the silvertide rose with me. I didn’t misidentify it, not that I can tell.

But I don’t want to make any more mistakes or waste any more time.

’ She took out the silkspore and revealed the samples she’d collected in the forest. ‘Could you confirm its identity? Then I can start work while you and Audra figure out what to do about Delmira.’

‘Elwren, crown or not, Delmira is your kingdom. You should be involved in these discussions—’ But Farissa’s words died on her lips as she took in the sight of the plant Wren held out to her.

It was perfectly preserved, the deadly thorns guarding silver-white petals as soft as morning mist, the foliage rich and green.

It looked as though it had been freshly picked, not transported in a satchel for several days.

The older alchemist’s hands trembled as she reached for the stem, tracing its heart-shaped, tooth-edged leaves, rolling the white flowers between her fingertips. The thorns were so sharp that blood welled on the pad of her thumb. ‘Gods,’ she murmured. ‘This grew in Delmira?’

Unease churned low in Wren’s gut as Farissa examined the plant with her mouth agape. ‘It did.’

Farissa dropped the sample and fell back into her chair, as though she needed the extra support. ‘Elwren...’ she said quietly. ‘I admit, I didn’t quite believe it...’

‘Nor did I, and I was standing before it myself,’ Torj said from where he was leaning against the door.

‘And there was more?’ Farissa looked to Wren. ‘More flowers? More plants?’

‘More life ,’ Wren confirmed. ‘Like all the land’s prosperity has lain dormant for decades and suddenly awoken.’

Farissa stared at the rose on the table. ‘You didn’t misidentify it,’ she said. ‘It is indeed a silvertide rose. Perhaps there’s a slight variation in its strain due to the different growing conditions, but yes... you were right. I hope you brought enough back with you to study and propagate?’

‘I did. Soil samples too.’

Farissa’s fingers hovered near the seemingly innocent bloom, not quite touching its petals. ‘Kingdoms, rebel factions and midrealms guilds will vie for control over land like this,’ she said quietly. ‘Especially now, amid so much uncertainty...’

As Farissa’s words washed over her, Wren’s mind went strangely blank before it plummeted into a sea of images.

Fire and ashes, scorched fields and thorns.

A blend of what she’d seen in the past war and what might now loom close in the future.

The promise of violence was thick, polluting her lungs after breathing in the fresh air of her homeland.

Wren desperately wanted someone to tell her that everything would be alright, that things weren’t as bad as they seemed, but neither her former mentor nor the Bear Slayer said a thing.

Breath shuddered out of her, her gaze meeting that of the Warsword who came to her side – the man who might be bound to her in a way she didn’t yet fully comprehend.

‘Delmira just became the most valuable asset in all the midrealms, didn’t it?’ she asked.

Torj dipped his head in confirmation. ‘And you, the most valuable target.’