Page 78 of Thorns & Fire (The Ashes of Thezmarr #2)

Torj

‘When the birds stop singing and the wind dies mid-breath, the Warswords know: this is not peace – it is the world drawing back from what approaches’

– A History of Thezmarr

I T WAS THE second time in as many weeks that Cal had to physically restrain Torj. He was ready to throttle the Naarvian prince.

‘How long have you known?’ he demanded. ‘How long have you let people die, knowing who was at the helm?’

‘I was only certain during the battle after the Gauntlet,’ Zavier replied weakly. ‘I felt his magic then. Before that it had been a theory, nothing more— ’

‘Gods, that’s why his voice was so familiar. He has the same accent as you from beyond the Veil! And you didn’t think to share this theory with anyone?’

Zavier shook his head. ‘No one was supposed to know who I was...’

‘People died ,’ Torj spat. ‘Warswords died .’

Zavier threw the sheets back and swayed on his feet as he stood. ‘ I know . I’ve been trying to stop him. Trying to—’

‘Enough,’ Wren said quietly, silencing them both. ‘This is not the time nor place for this conversation. Zavier, are you able to leave the grounds? You won’t risk hurting anyone with your magic?’

Zavier straightened. ‘I can leave. Though I might need something to eat first.’

Wren nodded. ‘Dessa’s already fetching you something from the kitchens, and Kipp will come by to fill you in on everything.’

Torj watched her closely. ‘What’s going on, Embers?’ he asked.

‘Thea is coming by to get me,’ she said slowly. ‘I have somewhere I need to be—’

‘Not without me you don’t,’ Torj countered.

To his immense frustration, Wren ignored this. Instead, she took his hands in hers. ‘For now, I need you to promise me something...’

Torj waited.

‘Promise me that whatever happens this afternoon, you’ll wait. That you will not kill anyone, and that you will meet me in the gardens at dusk.’

Torj shifted from foot to foot. ‘Wren... I don’t like where this is going.’

‘Promise me: wait . Kill no one. Meet me at dusk. No matter what.’

Torj took a deep breath. ‘I promise.’

‘No matter what,’ she repeated.

He bowed his head. ‘No matter what.’

When Thea arrived, her stance was rigid, her eyes steely. ‘An assembly has been called at Highguard’s town hall, and Wren needs to prepare,’ she told them, tugging her sister away.

Torj made to follow. ‘Of course—’

A fleeting look of regret passed over Thea’s face before her voice became stern. ‘You’ll meet her in the gardens once it’s done.’

‘Once what is done?’ he demanded.

But the Embervale sisters left without answering.

The corridors of Drevenor echoed with frantic whispers and hurried footsteps. News of the usurper’s march on Delmira had spread like wildfire, igniting fear and speculation among students and faculty alike.

Torj stood amid the chaos, his heart pounding – not from the looming conflict or what they had learned from Zavier, but from the ache of Wren’s sudden absence.

Her urgent exit from the infirmary had left Torj reeling, questions burning on his tongue. He had no idea what the bastard had said to Wren in the archives, or how Zavier factored into her plans, but something was wrong . The lightning scars over his heart prickled with unease.

In the lower levels of the academy, Torj got swept up in the madness as students made their way outside, determined to get to the city before the assembly. He fought his way to the front, where he could see Wilder and Cal guarding the other royals.

‘Do you know what the fuck is going on?’ he asked, scanning the surging crowd.

‘Not a clue,’ Wilder called back. ‘But we’ve got to get this lot to Highguard.’

With Wren’s absence like an open wound across his flesh, Torj sought to lose himself in the logistics of getting a bunch of rulers to the city.

‘This is a terrible idea,’ he muttered as he and Wilder oversaw the appointment of guards to the carriages.

‘I’ll say,’ Wilder agreed. ‘But Drevenor still isn’t common knowledge to the people of the midrealms, and they need to make this announcement publicly, so Highguard is the closest option.’

A stable hand brought their horses ready and saddled, and Torj accompanied the party of rulers to the city, missing the beautiful alchemist at his side.

Torj had had no reason before now to visit the Highguard town hall, and he barely took in the details as he burst through its thick wooden doors, scanning the throngs of people for a messy bun of bronze hair.

What he saw instead was a regal woman waiting in the wings of the stage, resplendent in a gown of gold.

As though sensing his stare, she looked up, her gaze meeting his before it darted away, leaving a stab of hurt in his chest.

I’m with you no matter what, Embers. With you ’til the very end, he’d told her... What if it wasn’t enough? What if he wasn’t enough? What had changed?

Torj pushed his way through the common folk of Highguard, reaching the front of the hall, just below the stage.

A hush fell across the crowd as Zavier Terling took to the lectern.

It was hard to believe that only hours ago, the prince had been unconscious in the academy infirmary.

He’d been fed and bathed and looked every bit the pampered prince the midrealms expected him to be.

Dessa had clearly used cosmetics to hide the dark circles beneath his eyes, though there was no solution to the hollowness of his cheeks.

He wore an emerald-green doublet and a crown Torj had never seen before.

Pain lanced through his heart. He was staring at Wren’s future husband.

The man who would stand by her side through life, the man who would wear her ring, who would echo her vows of enduring partnership.

.. Dread slid into Torj’s gut. Was Zavier going to announce his engagement to Wren so soon?

After what they’d just learned about his brother?

‘People of Highguard. People of Naarva,’ the prince called out. ‘Earlier today, we received word that there is a pretender laying siege to the broken kingdom of Delmira as we speak.’

Gasps echoed around the hall.

‘This usurper is no stranger to us. He is the leader of the rebel force, the People’s Vanguard – the very one that has been terrorizing the midrealms for months.’

Stunned silence followed.

‘But from this terrible situation, a wondrous thing has bloomed. Elwren Embervale, war hero of Thezmarr, heir of Delmira, has come forth to claim her throne.’

He motioned to where Wren was emerging from the side of the stage, her head held high, her back straight as she approached the Prince of Naarva.

She looked like royalty, and it made Torj’s warrior heart ache.

Wren addressed the gathered crowd. ‘Prince Zavier speaks the truth. I will be taking my kingdom back from its usurpers. And I will do so as Queen of Delmira.’

Hushed murmurs broke out across the crowd.

‘But I will not do it alone,’ Wren called. She gestured to another standing in the wings, and Torj’s blood ran cold as the last person he expected strode across the stage, taking her hand in his.

Torj felt the moment his heart fractured.

He heard the rattling gasp leave his lips as his lungs constricted painfully.

The word betrothed rang out across the hall.

And an arrogant smirk found him in the crowd.

Darian fucking Devereux.