Page 56 of Thorns & Fire (The Ashes of Thezmarr #2)

Wren

‘The thicket’s thorns ask no permission to protect what blooms within’

– Elwren Embervale’s notes and observations

W REN WAS SITTING on her bed, having stared at the same page of her textbook for over an hour.

Zavier was still in the infirmary. When he had woken from the initial dose of valerian root, he had had another episode, resulting in a healer being injured.

Farissa had told Wren they would keep him sedated until he was no longer a threat to others or himself.

Dessa had been withdrawn ever since, and Torj.

.. Torj still made her heart hurt. Wren winced as she tried to palm the grit from her bloodshot, puffy eyes.

She was so tired of crying. So tired of feeling broken.

Her head was throbbing, and she was considering making up a sleeping draft when her door creaked open.

With her vision somewhat blurred, she sent her poison-tipped hairpin hurling at her uninvited guest.

‘Fuck!’ Thea shouted, jumping several feet in the air from where the weapon in question had embedded itself between her feet. ‘You haven’t lost your touch, Wren.’

At the sight of her sister’s familiar grin, Wren couldn’t help it; she fell apart. Fresh tears tracked down her face and she let out a sob.

‘Wren...’ Thea murmured, her grin fading instantly as she rushed to the bedside. ‘What’s wrong? What happened? Who do I need to kill?’

Wren threw her arms around Thea’s neck. ‘It’s good to see you, Thee.’

Thea squeezed her tightly, and despite the armour she was wearing, Wren felt the warmth of her, felt the gentle hand cradling the back of her head and stroking her hair.

Wren was usually the first to break away from an embrace.

Sometimes the contact became too much, made her feel too vulnerable, like she might crack if she was given the support to do so.

But she had already cracked, had already broken, and Thea was here to see her in all her messy glory.

And so Wren clung to her sister for a few moments longer, the tears still falling.

At last, she peeled herself away and palmed at the wet tracks on her face. ‘You’re here.’

Thea surveyed her, gaze lingering on the dark circles Wren knew shadowed her eyes, and the swollen red tip of her nose.

But her sister didn’t ask, not yet. Instead, she nodded.

‘I would have been here sooner were it not for Queen Reyna. She’s been a royal pain in my arse ever since I met up with her and Wilder. I practically had to drag her here.’

‘Thank you for coming,’ Wren said, her voice threatening to crack again. ‘I... I need you.’

Thea made a show of looking her over again. ‘Clearly.’

A hoarse laugh bubbled out of Wren at that.

Thea pushed a pile of books off the bed, the tomes thudding to the ground. She settled herself on the other end of the mattress, shoving a few pillows behind her and looking to Wren with surprise. ‘You must be out of sorts if you didn’t round on me for not treating the books with respect.’

Wren motioned to her blotchy face. ‘Clearly,’ she echoed back.

Thea stretched out her legs, crossing them at the ankle, and pinned Wren with a knowing look. ‘I’m guessing this isn’t about Delmira and the political nightmare unfolding around us.’

‘No.’

‘The Bear Slayer?’ Thea guessed. ‘He’s standing guard out there like the midrealms’ moodiest statue. Hardly said two words to me. Do you want to talk about it?’

The thing between Wren and the Warsword was beautiful, like the rose she had been so desperately trying to propagate... But it was not without its thorns, and it had left them both bleeding more times than she could count.

‘Eventually,’ Wren told her. She got up and went to the washroom. After splashing cold water on her face, she returned to Thea. ‘It’s been a while since I sparred properly.’

Thea grinned. ‘Then say no more, sister. Let’s go.’

Wren rummaged through her trunk of clothes and found some leggings and a form-fitting shirt. She made quick work of stripping out of her dress and apron and into the new garb while Thea perused her workbench. When she had laced her boots and fastened her cloak, she reached for the door. ‘Coming?’

Thea surged forwards, and Wren soon realized it was to place herself between Wren and Torj, who was indeed standing guard outside. He was as handsome as ever, even with the dark smudges beneath his eyes and his broad shoulders caving slightly forwards.

‘You’ve got the night off, Bear Slayer,’ Thea declared, slinging an arm around Wren. ‘Don’t wait up.’

‘Thea,’ Torj implored. ‘That’s not how this works. I don’t—’

‘She’s got her Warsword guard,’ Thea countered. ‘I protected her before; I’ll protect her tonight. End of story.’

Thea was already tugging her towards the stairs, and Wren’s heart warmed. She’d missed her sister’s rebellious spirit.

‘ Thea .’ Torj’s voice was firmer now as he started after them. ‘You can’t—’

‘Know when to pick your battles, brother,’ a familiar voice sounded from the other side of the corridor.

Wilder Hawthorne looked the same as he always had: an imposing figure wrapped in black leather, his two swords peeking from behind his back. He wore a resigned expression on his dark features.

Wilder lifted the bottle of wine he was holding towards Torj. ‘Drink?’

Wren felt Torj’s gaze on her, but she didn’t meet it. Instead, she let Thea guide her down the hall, leaving the men in their wake.

The hour was late, so thankfully, the gymnasium was empty. As Wren pushed open the heavy wooden doors, the familiar scent of leather and sweat enveloped her. In the open space, with its high, vaulted ceilings and expanse of uninterrupted floor, Wren felt as though she could breathe again.

With that relief came perspective. Wren had spent the past two days thinking of nothing but the Warsword she’d just left behind.

Despite the myriad of greater issues that demanded her attention, she hadn’t been able to cast the Bear Slayer and what he’d told her from her mind.

But now that Thea was here, solid and real before her, she could not ignore those greater issues any longer.

As Thea stripped off the bulk of her armour, the metallic clanks echoing in the empty space, Wren studied her sister.

Thea’s movements were fluid, her warrior’s body honed by years of training and constant practise.

Wren felt a pang of guilt as she realized how much she’d neglected her own physical conditioning lately.

The burning pain she often felt in her back as she worked was a direct result of that neglect.

Even now, she could feel the tightness in her muscles as she rolled her shoulders.

The endless hours of crying hadn’t helped.

‘Ready?’ Thea asked, raising an eyebrow.

Wren nodded, forcing a small smile. They fell easily back into the routine Thea had created for them when she’d been Wren’s temporary bodyguard.

As they moved through the familiar stretches, Wren felt some of the tension begin to leave her body.

The rhythmic sound of their breathing and the occasional pop of her joints filling the silence was oddly comforting.

‘You haven’t been training as much,’ Thea observed as Wren dabbed the sweat from her brow with her sleeve. There was no judgement in her tone, only concern.

Wren avoided eye contact, focusing instead on a scuff mark on the floor. ‘Things have been a little chaotic here.’

‘Don’t forget that moving your body helps,’ Thea said gently, reaching out to correct Wren’s form. ‘It’s the thing that houses that brilliant mind of yours. You’ve got to take care of it.’

‘I know,’ Wren sighed, the weight of everything she’d been carrying suddenly feeling impossibly heavy. ‘It’s been hard, Thee.’

The fact that she was admitting it told Wren just how much she’d been struggling.

Usually she was a grit-her-teeth-and-get-through-it kind of woman; to admit hardship, even to Thea, meant that things were worse than she feared.

The realization sent a shiver down her spine, despite the warmth of exertion.

The way Thea’s celadon gaze softened told Wren her sister had come to the same conclusion, that she saw past the steel exterior Wren so often presented to the world.

‘You’re allowed to buckle sometimes, you know,’ Thea said softly.

Wren gave a rough laugh. ‘I feel like that’s all I’ve been doing.’ She followed Thea’s lead through the next round of stretches, holding her elbow above her head and feeling the pull through her entire side. ‘I don’t know how you do it,’ she muttered.

Thea frowned. ‘Do what?’

‘Stay so strong. During the war, after the war. You’re a powerhouse. You never falter.’

Thea dropped her arms and stared at Wren. ‘Is that what you think?’

‘It’s true,’ Wren said, letting her arms fall to her sides and waiting for the next exercise.

But Thea didn’t move on. ‘Wren... I hate to break it to you, but I think you’re forgetting a few key moments.’

Wren scoffed.

Thea’s eyes didn’t leave hers. ‘You don’t remember me crying on the clifftops about the stupid stable boy?’

‘You were a teenager—’

‘I’m not done,’ Thea replied sharply. ‘You don’t remember the year I couldn’t use my storm magic?

The entire year I was so convinced that Wilder had betrayed me that I nearly ruined myself?

What about when we thought we lost Kipp?

Or when Anya died? Or when we saw Sam and Ida on those spikes?

You think I didn’t falter then? You think I didn’t despair? ’

Wren stared at her sister.

Thea cursed under her breath. ‘I thought I made it clear when we were first training together, after whatever happened between you and Torj, that you could talk to me. That I wanted you to talk to me. That I’m here , even when I’m not.’

Thea shifted into another set of stretches, and Wren followed her lead, feeling the burn in her thighs, her calves.

‘It’s...’ She trailed off.