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An odd sensation clanged through Thea like a warning bell and the image of that small girl in the scorched courtyard came flooding back to her.Anya, the girl who’d set in motion the biggest changes in Thezmarr’s history. Why had Thea seen her amidst the black lashings of the shadow wraith?
‘Am I to understand that the situation was not rectified?’ King Artos asked. ‘The people of the midrealms entrust their safety to the Guardians. Are you telling me that you failed in this endeavour?’
‘Majesty, I assure you —’
King Artos raised a hand. ‘It sounds to me that Thezmarr and the midrealms owe Miss Zoltaire a great debt.’
Osiris’ face had reddened, his eyes slid to Thea and then to Wilder. ‘You mean to tell me that this girl slayed the reaper?’
Tension rolled off the Warsword in waves. ‘Yes. It was Thea who carved out its heart.’
Osiris blinked. ‘A mere shieldbearer?’
Thea squared her shoulders and pulled her totem into view. ‘I’m not a shieldbearer anymore. I am a Guardian of the midrealms.’
King Artos clapped Osiris on the shoulder. ‘Now Guild Master, ifthisis the calibre of warrior you are honing at Thezmarr, we have no issues whatsoever.’
Osiris continued to stare at Thea until, eventually, he nodded. ‘Very well. Congratulations Miss Zoltaire. We will certainly need to debrief on the situation further, but for now we must continue with the Guardian Ceremony and the announcement of the Warsword apprenticeships.’
Thea’s stomach fluttered at the very word, but she let Wilder pull her to the side of the hall so the proceedings could go on. Dazed, she watched on as her peers’ totems were verified by the Guild Master.
Her heart leapt as she saw Cal and Kipp approach the table, relief surging through her, releasing knots of tension in her body.
‘They’re safe,’ she whispered to Wilder. ‘How, I have no idea…’
‘I think the reaper was lying in wait for you,’ he replied quietly, watching as her friends shook hands with Osiris. ‘It had no interest in Snowden and Whitlock. It wasyourpower it hungered after.’
A chill raked down Thea’s spine, causing her knees to knock. But the conversation was cut short as Osiris finished congratulating the new Guardians and welcoming them officially into the ranks of Thezmarr’s warriors.
‘Now for what we’ve all been waiting for,’ he declared, arms outstretched. ‘Announcing the Warsword’s new apprentices. Your Majesty, if you’d do the honours?’
Beaming, King Artos clasped his hands together. ‘With pleasure, Guild Master. Good people of Thezmarr,’ he began. ‘On behalf of Harenth, Aveum and Tver, congratulations to all of those who made it through the initiation test. The midrealms welcomes your service and your protection.’
Thea could feel the restlessness of the surrounding crowd. The shuffling of feet, the fiddling with cutlery and the barely audible whispers of impatience.
‘The Warsword apprentices have been chosen as follows…’ King Artos gave a long, dramatic pause. ‘Apprentice to Vernich Warner, is Sebastos Barlowe.’
Thea’s blood ran cold. ‘No,’ it came out a broken whisper.
There was a smattering of applause from behind her, but Thea didn’t dare turn back, didn’t dare face Cal and Kipp, whose vengeance she had stolen, only to be faced with this horrific reality.
Seb, his injured shoulder bandaged, his face slick with sweat, came forward.
But the king gave them no time to process such things. ‘Apprentice to Torj Elderbrock,’ King Artos called above the noise.
Thea’s heart stuttered. This was it. This was the moment she’d been working towards for months. Her palms grew clammy and she imagined the sound of her name being called —
‘Is Callahan Whitlock.’
Thea didn’t know where to look, certainly not at Cal, who was now striding proudly towards the Warsword, his hand outstretched.
Thea forced her own hands together, clapping with the rest of them, though her face heated against her will at the humiliation. The applause that followed Cal’s name was much more enthused.
Torj Elderbrock had chosen Cal.
And much to her dismay, Thea understood why. But it didn’t dull the hurt, nor the pang of envy she felt knowing Wilder’s apprentice was next to be announced.
At last, she glanced up at the head table, only to find Osiris’ eyes on her again, wide in outrage. He flung up a hand. ‘Hold on, Majesty,’ he half-shouted, his chair scraping as he left the table and stormed towards Thea.
