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Thea wished Wren was there to roll her eyes at. ‘Gods, you’re a terrible conversationalist.’
‘I don’t do pleasantries.’
‘Clearly.’ She sighed. ‘But this isn’t about pleasantries to me. This is important. It’severything.’
After hours of travel, he looked at her,reallylooked at her. ‘King Artos is a hard man to predict,’ he allowed. ‘A trait you’ll find common among the kings and queens of the midrealms.’
Thea paced, trying to rid herself of the unease that churned within. ‘You think it’s a waste of time, don’t you?’
‘I never said that.’
‘But you think it.’
‘What I think shouldn’t matter.’
Thea stopped short. ‘But it does,’ she admitted. ‘You’re a Warsword of Thezmarr, the very thing I aspire to be. How could it not matter to me?’
For the first time since they’d met, Hawthorne’s expression softened. The harsh lines of his face faded and he offered a tentative smile. ‘You need thicker skin than that if you mean to succeed.’
The small kindness caught Thea off-guard and, for a moment, she struggled to tear her focus away from the soft curve of his lips.
‘Thicker skin,’ she managed. ‘Got it. Anything else?’
‘Try not to piss off your superiors.’
Thea blinked in disbelief. ‘Was that a joke?’
‘No idea what you’re talking about.’
A sudden icy wind swept through the lands below, stinging Thea’s cheeks. She pulled her cloak tight, though it made little difference.
‘Winter winds from Aveum,’ Hawthorne explained. ‘This valley bears the brunt of it and we won’t reach the end by sundown. We’ve got a cold night ahead of us.’
Thea’s teeth were already chattering, the golden rays of sun doing nothing to warm her when she was back on her horse. ‘Is it always like this in these parts?’ she asked.
‘No. The winds have come sooner than expected.’
‘Why is that?’
Hawthorne gazed out into the distance and shifted in his saddle. ‘The midrealms respond to unrest.’
When night fell, the winds howled in earnest, but there was nowhere to take shelter. They had no choice but to make camp in an empty paddock as the icy gale carved through the surrounding valley, sharp as a blade.
Both she and Hawthorne attempted the same duties as the night before, but not with all the skill in the world could Thea light a fire in those conditions. Nor was there any game to be found.
‘We’ll have to make do with rations,’ Hawthorne said, returning his bow to the rest of his belongings.
Thea nodded numbly from where she sat in a ball on the ground and reached for her pack with frozen fingers.
Hawthorne still towered above. ‘If we stack our saddles and bags and sleep behind them, we can create a bit of a barrier between us and the wind,’ he said, already moving towards his stallion.
Though Thea wanted nothing more than to curl up beneath her blanket, she forced herself to follow suit. She wouldn’t have him thinking she was weak or lazy. Together, they crafted a makeshift wall against the icy blast and took shelter behind it, shivering side by side.
Thea’s focus went straight to where their arms grazed one another. With Hawthorne being so huge, there was no way theycouldn’ttouch in such a confined space. He noted her gaze.
‘I can make do elsewhere if you’re uncomfortable,’ he said.
For a moment Thea imagined his hulking frame out in the open, exposed to the bite of the cold. Despite her misgivings about the brute, it didn’t sit well with her. She shook her head. ‘It’s fine,’ she told him, her stomach fluttering. ‘Makes sense to stay close and make the most of what little body heat we have.’
