Page 38 of Thorns & Fire (The Ashes of Thezmarr #2)

Wren

‘The alchemist’s crucible does not replace the healer’s garden – it amplifies it’

– The Green Apothecary: A Guide to Medicinal Plants

T HE BASTARD HAD left her aching for his touch, a need that could not be met by her own hand.

No answers, no orgasms, which meant Wren was still fuming the next day when she found herself in the healer’s workshop with the rest of her cohort.

The irony was not lost on her that today their focus was the creation of contraceptive tonics.

Wren had been brewing and taking this concoction since her teenage years, and as such, she was several steps ahead of Farissa’s demonstration.

‘The supply you are preparing today is for the women’s shelter you visited in the city as novices,’ Farissa told them. ‘It’s delicate, important work... Though I can see there are some of you who do not understand its value.’

Wren’s gaze flicked to where two adepts – men, of course – were talking among themselves, ignoring Farissa’s instructions. Wren had heard her former mentor’s voice dip like that several times over the many years they’d known one another, and it only ever meant one thing.

Farissa stopped before the adepts’ workstation. ‘Leave.’

‘But Master—’

‘You sit here openly disrespecting my discipline, gentlemen. I will not stand for it. Leave. Now .’

Dessa exchanged a smirk with Wren as the two pricks gathered their things with narrowed eyes and left the workshop.

Farissa stared after them for a moment, shaking her head before she turned back to those who remained.

‘As I was saying... One of the key ingredients is a tiny, icy-blue fruit called frostberry – usually found in high mountain regions. It’s known for its cooling properties and ability to “freeze,” or certainly slow, some of the body’s natural processes.

We infuse this with crushed ginger and sliced whisper root, allowing it to ferment over several days. ’

Wren was already finely slicing the whisper root.

‘How do you know all of this already?’ Dessa hissed, studying Wren’s work intensely.

‘I used to make this a lot at Thezmarr, for the men and women there,’ Wren said quietly.

‘The younger women would come to me for such things... Farissa taught me to make it when I was twelve. She knew that many of the girls would be too embarrassed to ask her, so she helped me learn, showed me how to distribute it safely.’

Dessa’s mouth hung open. ‘Truly? No one spoke of these things in my hometown.’

Wren shrugged. ‘Thezmarr is no place for infants, Dessa.’

‘Can you show me?’ her friend asked.

‘Of course.’

Over the next hour, Wren showed Dessa – and Zavier – how to brew the contraceptive tonic.

Farissa had prepared a batch of the fermented liquid earlier, so Wren was able to show them how to turn it into a tea to be taken monthly, and how to create a dose to be swallowed as a pill.

As Farissa said, it was delicate work; the dosage of each ingredient was crucial to avoid nasty side effects like cramping or bleeding.

She glanced at Zavier, who was scribbling notes. ‘I’m surprised you don’t know this one, Zavier, particularly with your affinity for unique plants...’

He didn’t look up from his notes. ‘It wasn’t something I ever needed.’

Dessa’s mouth dropped open a second time. ‘What do you mean?’

Wren shot her a look to silence her, but Dessa was oblivious.

‘Do you mean that you’ve never...’

Zavier did look up then, his chin lifted in challenge. ‘Never what?’

Dessa scanned the cohort and lowered her voice. ‘Never had sex?’

Wren nearly dropped her head into her hands, fully expecting Zavier to snap at their curious friend—

But Zavier barked a laugh. It was the first real laugh Wren had heard from him in a long while.

‘No, Dessa,’ he wheezed, his eyes bright with amusement. ‘There’s no need to look so shocked. I’ve had plenty of sex. Just never with a woman. Hence not needing this particular brew. But from what Farissa says, it’s a skill every alchemist should have... so if you’d be so kind as to continue?’

Wren smiled and went to do just that, but Dessa was shaking her head in disbelief.

‘Zave...’ she murmured, forlorn.

Wren tensed. She hadn’t expected this from Dessa.

But Dessa grabbed Zavier’s arm, her eyes full of accusation. ‘I don’t even know who your type is.’

An undignified noise escaped Zavier at that. ‘You really want to know that ?’ he said, brows raised.

Wren watched as Dessa’s expression morphed into one of offence, a tic she must have picked up from Kipp.

‘ Of course I want to know,’ Dessa said.

Zavier gave a sly smile and nodded towards the workshop’s glass doors, where two Warswords stood guard outside.

‘Everyone’s got a thing for the Bear Slayer,’ Dessa declared with a shake of her head.

‘Not him,’ Zavier replied, his eyes on the leaner of the two warriors.

Wren’s eyes bulged. ‘Cal?’

Zavier shrugged with a smile. ‘He’s as straight as the arrows he shoots, but a man can dream, can’t he?’

Her gaze catching on the broad expanse of Torj’s shoulders, Wren muttered, ‘Yes she can...’

Dessa dissolved into laughter.

As they continued to work, Wren’s thoughts drifted from the Warsword to her homeland, and how desperate she was to send word to Thea. Her sister deserved to know, not only because it was her birthright, but because it had the power to change everything.

Wren was still thinking about it when the lesson concluded and Zavier nudged her with his elbow. ‘You coming?’ he asked, nodding to the emptying space.

Dazed, she got to her feet. ‘Actually, no. I’d like a word with Farissa. Tell Torj I’ll be a few more minutes.’

When the room had emptied, Farissa shut the door and motioned for Wren to sit. ‘How are you?’ she asked, leaning against her desk.

‘Not making much progress, I’m afraid,’ Wren started, but Farissa shook her head.

‘I didn’t ask about your work. I asked how you were.’

‘Oh.’ Wren didn’t know why the question caught her off guard, or why she suddenly felt vulnerable. Embarrassingly, tears stung her eyes. ‘I’m alright.’

‘Are you?’ Farissa pressed, not unkindly. ‘I realize that you’re under a lot of pressure...’

Wren nodded stiffly. ‘Any word from Audra? Am I able to contact Thea about all this soon?’

‘Nothing from Audra yet,’ Farissa replied. ‘You have to hold off on telling Thea a little longer. If word—’

‘Farissa, I understand what’s at stake here, but surely it’s not a matter of if but when this gets out? And I’d rather tell Thea myself. It affects her too.’

‘I’m in agreement with you, Elwren,’ Farissa replied. ‘But we must be careful. A time will come when that knowledge will be more impactful than the swing of a sword. Keep it to yourself until such a time.’

Wren gnawed at her lower lip. ‘You’re worried.’

Farissa pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t—’

Raised voices outside had both women turning to the door.

‘—the fuck are you doing here?’ Torj’s voice boomed.

A second voice, unfamiliar to Wren, shouted back, ‘Lay a finger on me, Warsword, and I’ll see you removed from your station so fast that—’

There was a muffled thump followed by a louder crash, and Wren’s eyes shot to Farissa. ‘Whatever’s going on out there, Torj is likely going to kill someone.’

They made for the door. Wren swung it open to find Torj in a rage like she’d never seen, and a nobleman walking briskly away towards the main building.

‘Who was that—?’

‘I see you caught up with my father,’ a smooth voice said from the other direction.

Wren turned to see Darian Devereux, looking as stately as the last time she’d seen him.

His attire was impeccable, a stark contrast to the rustic surroundings.

High cheekbones, a strong jaw and lips curved in a perpetual hint of a smirk gave him an air of smug amusement.

Oddly, he didn’t look out of place in the academy grounds, but his eyes were fixed on the back of the man he’d called his father, a steely glint there.

Wren pushed past Torj, whose jaw was clenched, a muscle twitching visibly. His broad shoulders stiffened, and his hands gripped his hammer hard enough to make his knuckles bone-white.

With a grimace, Farissa bade Wren a quiet farewell before slipping away.

Wren turned to Darian. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘There’s to be a gathering of influential figures of sorts,’ Darian said, a slightly sour note to his tone. ‘Hence the presence of Father dearest.’

Torj seemed to come back to himself, and he faced Darian. ‘This is no place for your dealings, Devereux.’

‘I can’t say I’m thrilled to be here either, old friend, but since I am...’ The nobleman’s gaze flicked to Wren. ‘I may as well make the most of it.’

A guttural sound of aggression came from Torj, unlike anything Wren had heard before.

But Darian sought her. ‘I’d like a private audience with you, Elwren, if you’d allow it?’

‘Over my dead body,’ Torj growled.

‘So dramatic,’ Darian scoffed. ‘Are you her keeper?’

‘I’m her protector—’

Wren had had enough. ‘I can speak for myself. Darian, I’ve got three minutes. We can talk in the healer’s workshop.’

The vein pulsing in Torj’s neck looked as though it was about to pop, but Wren closed the door between them and turned to Darian. He looked like he’d just stepped out of a royal court, but beneath the polished exterior, Wren sensed something dangerous lurking.

‘You’re deliberately antagonizing him,’ she observed, not that she was one to talk.

Darian smiled. ‘It’s one of life’s simpler pleasures.’

‘Why? What happened between you?’

The nobleman’s smile faded. ‘I’m sure the Bear Slayer gave you his abridged version. The simpler one.’

‘I wouldn’t call it simple,’ Wren replied.

‘I suppose not... Nothing is when the Devereuxs are involved. You had the pleasure of hearing my father before. I’m sure you can imagine how many of those conversations go.’

Wren folded her arms over her chest. ‘I couldn’t say.’