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‘It’s my business when they allow a stray into Thezmarrian ranks. You’re —’
Thea sighed, irritated. ‘Do I threaten you so much, Barlowe? That you have to stop your own training, your own progress, just to try and belittle me?’
‘You? Threaten me?’ he barked a nasty laugh.
‘Yes,’ Thea said simply, trying to peer past him to watch Torj take on one of the older shieldbearers, dual wielding a pair of longswords. ‘You’re in my way,’ she said sharply when Seb insisted on blocking her view.
‘Ibeatyou,’ he blurted. ‘Why didn’t you leave?’
‘I belong here as much as you,’ she replied. ‘And you didn’tbeatme. Far from it. I withstood two unhindered blows and an underhanded stabbing from you and still I stood, still you couldn’t keep me down. I am more warrior than you’ll ever be.’
Nearby, some of the shieldbearers paused to listen. But their expressions were no longer those of amusement, but of impatience. They too, it seemed, were fed up with Seb’s antics.
Heat flushed his cheeks. ‘What do you hope to gain? You’ll never be one of us.’
‘Wrong, Barlowe. You’re wrong. I already am one of you. And I promise you this. When we face each other again, I’ll have you on the ground. And unlike me, you won’t get back up.’
‘Bullshit, you —’
‘Shut up, Seb,’ Lachin called loudly from a few feet away.
‘What did you say?’
‘I saidshut up.You’re boring us all to tears with your whinging.’
At Lachin’s words, Seb took a step back from Thea, suddenly speechless. His expression soured, and with a final, narrow-eyed glare in her direction, he stalked off.
Thea gave Lachin a nod of thanks. The older shieldbearer merely shrugged and continued his sparring.
Thea trained her gaze on the heart of the arena, where Hawthorne had appeared. As usual, he wore all black, hissleeves rolled up above the elbow, revealing the corded muscle and inked skin there. Like Torj, he gripped two longswords and paced the training ground, every movement thrumming with power and strength.
Thea’s whole body responded, tense and tingling. She hadn’t seen him since he’d tended to her wound in that cramped broom closet, since he’d saved her life and delivered her to Wren. She’d thought about him though, Furies had she thought about him... and that conflicted expression on his face as Wren had shut him out. Thea had replayed every moment they’d had together in her mind, each time the fire within her burning hotter. The only thing that dampened that fire was the fact that he hadn’t sought her out… Hadn’t checked on her afterwards. And she didn’t know what that meant, or how she should feel. She told herself she should feel nothing but gratitude, but a deeper, darker part of her craved something more from him.
Now, Hawthorne faced his fellow Warsword, challenge gleaming in those silver eyes.
Quill and parchment forgotten, Thea watched, utterly transfixed by the deadly dance unfolding before her. Hawthorne took a long step to the outside of the ring with his leading foot, creating momentum with his hips as he brought his blades down on Torj. The golden-haired warrior took the attack on his own blades, but buckled beneath the impact of Hawthorne’s blow.
‘It takes great strength to fight in such a way,’ a voice sounded from behind Thea.
She twisted to find none other than Audra the librarian at her back. Thea had seen her in passing or from a distance in the Great Hall, but she hadn’t spoken to her warden since that day they’d ridden the Mourner’s Trail together.
But Audra wasn’t looking at her. The older woman was still staring at the duelling Warswords. ‘It takes great strengthto fight in such a way,’ she repeated, sounding distant. ‘But sometimes it takes more strength to know when to sit out.’
The bench shifted beneath Thea as Audra took up a place beside her. ‘You will come back stronger for it, Althea, I promise you that.’
Together, they watched the legends of Thezmarr train.
Later that evening, confident in her progressing recovery, Thea decided that she’d already waited far too long to run a particular errand, and so after the evening meal, she went to Wren’s rooms and, in her absence, helped herself to her sister’s mirror and comb. For once, Thea left her bronze tresses unbound and spent a good while untangling the ragged ends. She studied her reflection, grimacing at the sharp lines of her face, wishing there was something else she could do to make herself more… feminine.
The door swung open and Wren didn’t look remotely surprised to see her. ‘Glad you’ve made yourself comfortable —’ She cut herself off, pausing as she gave Thea the once-over. ‘You look nice…’
‘Do I?’
Wren nodded. ‘Suspiciously so.’
‘Thanks… I think?’
Wren laughed. ‘Dare I ask?’
