Page 34 of Thorns & Fire (The Ashes of Thezmarr #2)

‘Makes a nice change.’ But there was no bite to Wren’s words.

She was dismayed to find that she was enjoying herself, that sinking into conversation with the Bear Slayer was easy .

It felt like the most natural thing in the world to walk beside him, to ask about his life.

Despite everything that had happened between them, she wanted to know him better. She hated that.

Torj ignored the jab. ‘After Malik was hurt, Wilder was different. I tried to be there for him, but he blamed himself for what had happened. He went off on his own a lot after that.’

‘And Talemir?’ Wren asked.

‘Tal... Well, not long after Malik was injured, Tal went to Naarva and didn’t come back.

But before he left, he told me to keep trying with people.

To keep myself open. The advice served me well enough.

I found myself with plenty of friends at the fortress and throughout the midrealms. People would come to me often for advice, for help. ..’

The image of him was becoming clearer to Wren now, and it made her chest ache. ‘And who did you go to?’

‘My grandmother was my constant, until she disappeared.’

‘And after that?’ Wren knew the answer. She had seen the Warsword before and after the war. He was the pillar upon which everyone else leaned; he was the ear that listened, the shoulder to cry on, the voice of reason.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said as they reached the dining hall.

They entered together and made a beeline for Dessa, who was sitting beside a surly-looking Zavier. A few paces back was Cal. He gave Wren a small wave, but didn’t approach the table, seeming content to guard his charge from the outskirts of the dining hall.

Wren’s stomach gurgled at the sight of the spread before her: the table boasted several trays of food – eggs, rashers of bacon, pastries. She and Torj took up the space on the bench opposite Dessa and Zavier. Wren reached for the teapot—

Torj’s hand grazed hers as his fingers grasped the handle.

A current surged between them and Wren drew back quickly, a silent gasp on her lips.

Magical resonance. More words from the book came to her. A bonded pair possess a powerful synergy that resonates when they are together.

Saying nothing, Torj lifted the pot and poured her a cup. He added sugar, exactly how she liked it, before sliding it across to her.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured, warming her palms against the hot ceramic.

Torj simply dipped his head in acknowledgement and made his own cup.

Suddenly, she was very conscious of Dessa watching them, smiling smugly. Keen to draw attention away from herself, Wren turned to Zavier. ‘How did submitting your proposal go?’

Zavier’s expression instantly darkened. ‘Good morning to you too.’

Wren balked. ‘It didn’t go well?’

Her friend sighed. ‘It’s complicated.’

‘I’m sure we can handle it,’ Dessa said, pursing her lips in annoyance.

Wren lifted her cup to her lips and bit back a moan. There was nothing quite like that first sip in the morning. ‘Come on, Zave, tell us.’

‘I’m ironing out the finer details,’ he replied. ‘But the reception from the masters was mixed. The topic is a tad controversial.’

‘What is it?’ Wren pressed. ‘Transmutation is one of alchemy’s basic fundamentals...’

Zavier took a deep breath. ‘I wanted to explore the possibilities of human transmutation.’

Wren’s mouth fell open. ‘What?’

‘That was the response I got from Crawford, Tremaine and Mercer, too,’ he said dryly.

Beside Wren, Torj cleared his throat. ‘Does someone want to fill me in?’

Zavier sighed. ‘Do you attend none of Wren’s lessons?’

‘Not if I can help it,’ Torj replied.

‘Human transmutation is hardly something that was covered in our novice lessons, anyway,’ Wren chimed in. ‘It’s a particularly taboo area of alchemy. It involves attempting to bring the dead back to life.’

‘That’s impossible,’ Torj blurted.

Zavier nodded. ‘So many have said over the years. Which is why my proposed opus is entirely theory-based...’

Wren’s skin crawled all the same. There was something deeply unsettling about the concept itself.

‘Any particular reason for this area of study?’ Dessa asked. ‘You’ve never talked about it before.’

‘Why does anyone want to raise the dead?’ Zavier shrugged. ‘I’ve lost family. Sometimes I like to picture a world where they’re not gone.’

His words were like a punch to Wren’s chest as the faces of her own beloved dead swam before her.

For a moment, she imagined being here with Sam and Ida, wondering what subjects they’d choose for their opuses.

She pictured Anya standing guard beside Cal, or joking with Kipp.

.. The world would have been so different if they’d stayed in it.

Dessa was nodding. ‘I suppose if we’re to study something so deeply, it’s almost a requirement that it’s personal... I know I feel the same way about mine.’

‘You’re working on storing memory, yes?’ Zavier asked, clearly desperate to change the direction of the conversation.

‘Yes. For my father. He has ongoing memory loss – key moments in his life are just wiped away. I’m working on adapting the memory weave for a more positive effect on the world.

Perhaps I can help the victims of the disease and their families from suffering what we have.

’ Dessa glanced around self-consciously.

‘I realize it’s not saving the midrealms or raising the dead, but. ..’

Wren reached for her instantly. ‘It’s just as important.’

‘It’s alright that it’s not,’ Dessa replied, her head hanging slightly.

Giving her a strange look, Zavier turned to Wren next. ‘Dessa told me you got the samples you needed. Any other news from your fallen homeland?’

Wren busied herself with reaching for a pastry to buy herself a moment. She didn’t like lying, not to her friends. ‘Nothing of note.’

The way Zavier’s gaze lingered on her made Wren question if Dessa had caved and told him about Delmira.

He was waiting for her to elaborate, but what could she say?

That they’d discovered the rebirth of her homeland?

That the kingdom once thought cursed was now one of the most valuable places in the midrealms?

‘Did we miss any announcements this morning?’ Torj interjected. ‘It was my fault we were late.’ They hadn’t been late, but Wren was grateful for the interruption.

Zavier looked to her again. ‘Actually, a chronicler came looking for you.’

‘What?’ Wren blinked. ‘Why?’

‘Apparently there are some scholars here who are writing a historical account of the shadow war. They want to interview you.’

Wren’s blood ran cold, the last corner of her pastry frozen halfway to her mouth. The last thing she wanted was to recount her experiences of the war with a stranger. Just the thought had her hands growing clammy, and for a second, she thought she could smell the acrid scent of burnt hair.

Torj’s knee bumped against hers under the table.

Wren came back to herself. ‘What did you tell them?’

‘That you were too busy and important to talk to the lowly likes of them,’ Zavier quipped.

‘You didn’t.’

‘I did not,’ Zavier admitted. ‘I told them you were only just returned from a research trip abroad and I had no idea when you’d have time for such things.’

Wren loosed a breath, her whole body sagging with relief.

Zavier shot her a sympathetic look. ‘I expect they’ll find you soon enough, though,’ he said with a note of apology.

‘According to the new novices, the High Chancellor made a big speech about contributing to other disciplines only a few days ago... Knowledge is the victor over fate and all that...’

‘It’s an honour to be invited to contribute, you know,’ Dessa said quietly. ‘I’d be glad to do so if I was asked.’

Wren’s breakfast turned sour in her gut. She knew Dessa didn’t mean anything personal by it, that the comment was born of her own inner battles, but it still stung. She had relived her darkest memories over and over for the better part of half a decade already. She didn’t want to keep doing so.

Wren nodded her thanks to Zavier, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that her past was catching up to her and soon she’d have nowhere left to hide.

As they prepared to leave for their workshop, Wren caught Torj’s gaze.

The concern in his eyes made her heart flutter.

She suppressed the urge to reach for his hand, something that, for a moment, felt like second nature.

Instead, she shoved her hands into her apron pocket and averted her eyes.

Even now, the force of him was overwhelming.

And that terrified her more than any interview ever could.