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Thea drew a sharp breath, anger bubbling. ‘We have two more days’ ride ahead, and then another three on our return.’
‘I can count.’
‘So why not be civil? We could pass the time more easily.’
‘I’m not usually civil to thieves.’
‘What?’ But then Thea saw his hand move to her dagger. ‘I told you, that was a gift. The dying wish of a Warsword, in fact. And actually, I’d like it back.’
Hawthorne scoffed again. ‘Not a chance.’
‘What’s it to you?’ she snapped. ‘It’s no more yours than it is mine —’
‘I’ll hear no more about it,’ he cut her off. ‘It’s Naarvian steel, Alchemist. You know what that means. Besides, you’ve no right to a weapon.’
‘Yet.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Tell me then, why are you so desperate to be a shieldbearer?’
‘Not just a shieldbearer,’ Thea snapped. ‘I am far more ambitious than that.’
‘A Guardian of the midrealms, then.’
‘Try again. And no,’ she added. ‘Not a commander, not a master of weapons. Something more.’
After a pause, Hawthorne’s brows shot up. ‘You think you’ll make it through the Great Rite? You think…’
‘Why don’t you tell me what it is, and I’ll tell you if I’d pass.’
‘I wouldn’t tell you if Enovius himself had a blade to my heart.’
‘You despise me that much?’
‘The Great Rite is sacred, and known to only those who would dare undertake it and emerge victorious. It would betray my vows as a Warsword to tell you what it entails.’
‘Iwillemerge victorious,’ Thea replied. ‘Although they have not given me the same opportunities as others, I will face it and triumph. With the right mentor, I could —’
‘Mentors are overrated,’ Hawthorne cut in. ‘If you want someone to hold your hand through the trials of becoming a warrior of Thezmarr, then you’ll be disappointed. You’re better off staying an alchemist if a teacher is what you’re after.’ His voice was laced with bitterness.
Thea cracked her knuckles in frustration. ‘I don’t need someone holding my hand,’ she ground out. ‘All I ask for is the same guidance.’
‘A word of advice, Alchemist,’ he said, voice low. ‘If you want to achieve anything in these realms, do it yourself. Rely on no one.’
‘Is that whatyoudid?’ she bit back.
He shook his head in disbelief. ‘Go to sleep. We ride hard again tomorrow.’
‘Can’t wait,’ Thea muttered.
Anger still simmering, she went to her saddlebags and retrieved her bedroll, setting herself up a few feet away from the fire, silently cursing her resentful escort.
He might be one of the most powerful warriors in the realm,and his presence might stir a certain physical response…she allowed.But Hawthorne is also an arse.
Dawn came all too soon, and Thea felt as though a herd of cattle had trampled her as she staggered to her feet. Everything hurt.
Hawthorne’s sleeping mat was already rolled up and placed neatly by his saddlebag, but there was no sign of where he’d gone.
Good, Thea thought. She didn't feel like talking to him. If it was to be a Warsword to accompany her, why not the golden-haired one? He seemed friendlier. Perhaps he would have told her the story of how he’d fought off not one, but two cursed bears.Thatshe would have liked to hear.
