Page 51 of Thorns & Fire (The Ashes of Thezmarr #2)

Torj

‘Often among circles of those in close protection roles, there is a misconception that if a guard is skilled enough, there is no need for their charge to carry a weapon. However, it is a guard’s duty to equip their principle with every possible asset for protection’

– The Guardian’s Handbook: Principles and Practises of Personal Protection

W REN LOOKED SHAKEN as she returned from her brief meeting with Audra.

The latter looked subtly pleased – a fair sign that schemes were afoot and playing out exactly how she wanted.

But Wren held her head high as she strode down the corridor.

Elwren Embervale had always been a force to be reckoned with, but hearing her stand up for herself in a room full of small-minded pricks was something else entirely.

It wasn’t until they turned a corner towards the dining hall that Torj noticed the new addition to her belt of potions.

His dagger.

If he had felt pride before, he didn’t know this new sensation blooming in his chest – it was something far more smug, far more primal. He wasn’t about to let her know that, though.

‘Do you even know how to use that?’ he asked with a nod to the blade in question. ‘Properly?’

Wren looked down, as though she’d forgotten it was there. ‘It seems simple enough.’

‘You realize that’s like me telling you that alchemy is simple?’

Wren shrugged. ‘I felt like wearing something a little more... commanding today.’

Torj nodded. ‘It suits you.’

‘You think?’

‘So long as you’re wearing it and not wielding it for the moment,’ Torj quipped. ‘I’ll teach you.’

‘I’ll be giving it back, so that’s hardly necessary.’

But Torj shook his head. He didn’t want it back. He liked that she was wearing something of his for the world to see.

Later, in the dining hall, Wren sat down opposite Torj, next to Kipp. Immediately the pair huddled with their heads close together, talking inaudibly as the rest of the hall dug into their dinners. Torj knew plotting when he saw it, and those two were up to no good.

He leaned in a little closer, busying himself with pouring a tankard of mead.

‘Are you going to do anything with the information I gave you?’ Kipp was saying, stuffing his face with roast potatoes.

‘I’m looking into it,’ Wren said stiffly, clearly avoiding Torj’s eye across the table.

Kipp shrugged and loaded his plate with more food. ‘So long as you remember—’

‘A deal’s a deal, I know.’

Torj couldn’t help himself then. He waited until Wren’s eyes met his. ‘What’s that about?’

‘Nothing that concerns you, Bear Slayer,’ she said lightly, taking a sip from her goblet.

‘If you’re getting into debts with the Son of the Fox, I feel like your bodyguard should know about it,’ he ventured, glancing at Kipp, who was now deep in conversation with Dessa.

‘My bodyguard knows what he needs to know,’ Wren replied.

‘I highly doubt that, Embers—’

‘A word, if you don’t mind, Elwren?’ came a smooth voice that made Torj’s skin crawl.

Devereux appeared by their table, and it was all Torj could do not to block her completely from his view. The fat lip the nobleman wore brought him some measure of satisfaction, though.

‘In private,’ Devereux added with a sly look at Torj.

Torj knew he had to keep himself in check. This was no deserted corridor. This was the busy dining hall of Drevenor Academy. If he threw a nobleman around again, people would notice.

As Wren gave her consent and stood with the smarmy prick, he had no choice but to fall back and watch them move to the edge of the hall.

He hated that they looked good together – the handsome nobleman in his fine clothes and the beautiful alchemist. Who knew what honeyed words that snake was whispering in her ear?

‘If you’re going to burst into flame, Bear Slayer, can you kindly put a bit of distance between us first?’ Kipp commented.

‘Why are you always so intent on irritating me?’ Torj replied moodily.

‘I think you’re doing that all on your own,’ Kipp told him, with a glance at Wren and Devereux. ‘They’re just talking.’

‘It’s never just talking with Darian.’ From the looks of things, the nobleman hadn’t changed a bit. He still dressed like a pampered prince, still laced his words with false charm.

‘I have news from Thezmarr,’ Kipp said, voice low.

‘Go on,’ Torj replied, not taking his eyes off his charge.

‘Cahira has been laid to rest on the Plains of Orax. Farissa went to examine the body herself. It was definitely a variant of the dark alchemy Lord Silas is using.’

‘We guessed as much, didn’t we?’

Kipp nodded. ‘The missing Warsword has also been found.’

‘Alive?’

‘Dead. Killed the same way as Cahira.’

‘Shit,’ Torj muttered, his heart sinking. The strength that had risen from the ashes of the shadow war was fading. ‘Our Warsword numbers are dwindling... Does Audra know how many are ready to take the Great Rite the next time it presents itself?’

‘She told me three, maybe four,’ Kipp said. ‘But what good will that do if the enemy has the ability to strip them of their Furies-given strength the moment they have it?’

‘We don’t need Warswords for this fight,’ Torj told him. ‘We need alchemists.’

He hadn’t stopped watching Wren and Devereux across the hall, noting the subtle stiffness in Wren’s shoulders, and how her hand rested on the grip of his dagger.

‘He’s had more than enough time to chat, wouldn’t you agree?’ Kipp mused.

‘For once, Kristopher, yes, I would.’

Torj strode over to Wren and placed himself between her and the nobleman.

‘Time’s up, Devereux.’

Devereux gave Wren an infuriating smile, followed by an even more infuriating bow. ‘Until next time, Princess.’

As he walked off, Torj realized that Wren was still gripping his dagger.

‘I’m definitely teaching you how to use that,’ he told her.