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‘I want to see the map,’ she heard herself say.
‘What map?’ Wilder frowned.
‘The map you have with all the weak patches of the Veil marked up.’
Thea thought he’d deny her, thought he’d continue to dismiss her concerns about the two bastards back at Thezmarr. But, still frowning, Wilder rummaged through his pockets and produced a crinkled, folded square of parchment. ‘Keep it. If it makes you feel better.’
She was surprised he’d kept it on his person, given their current attire, but she didn’t question it. The parchment was soft between her fingers as she unfolded it and scanned the inked lands before her. ‘You don’t need it?’
‘I know it by heart.’
She traced the wavy lines of the Veil. ‘Where’s the weakest part?’
Wilder didn’t so much as look at the map. ‘Closest to the mainland? It’s to the east. Just beyond the garrison of Ironhelm.’
Thea took a breath. She didn’t know if it was the aftereffects of Artos’ empath meddling, or just the build-up ofeverything,but her chest felt suddenly tight, that restlessness that had plagued her all her life coming back to hit her with full force. Her magic crackled at her fingertips, her heart rate spiking in panic. Not here. This couldn’t happen here. She needed to move, she needed to —
‘Do you play darts?’ Wilder asked, motioning to a board on the wall nearby, as though he sensed she needed the distraction.
Thea exhaled slowly. ‘I play anything.’
Wilder rewarded her with another of those devastating smiles. ‘See all those marks on the wall around the target?’
Thea nodded, the restlessness within fading from a rapid boil to a simmer.
‘Those are from Talemir,’ Wilder told her. ‘He was fucking terrible.’
‘You came here a lot with him?’ she asked tentatively, knowing that Wilder’s former mentor was often a sensitive subject.
‘Him and Malik, yes… Too much.’
‘The three of you must have been good for business,’ Thea quipped, giving a table of eager women nearby a pointed look. They were trying hard to look anywhere but at the Warsword in their midst. They were utterly unconvincing.
Wilder gave a huff of amusement, and that familiar tingling sensation spread in Thea’s chest at the sound. ‘Perhaps,’ he said.
Thea raised a brow, thinking back to the sapphire necklace she’d found in his cabin. Had it been Adrienne’s? The woman Wilder had spoken of in Delmira? She had no doubt it had belonged to a woman from his past, but now was not the time to ask, if there was such a thing. Not when Wilder looked how he looked in this moment…Happy.
He grinned and raised his hands in mock surrender. ‘Tal was the worst of us, I promise.’
‘And yet he’s all settled down with a wife somewhere.’
‘So I hear.’ The Warsword studied his glass for a moment. ‘Do you know any toasts?’ he asked, changing the subject.
‘Just one,’ Thea said, clearing her throat. She raised her wine and held Wilder’s gaze. ‘May you walk amid the gardens of the afterlife a whole half hour, before Enovius reads your ledger of deeds.’
She touched her glass to Wilder’s as he stared at her in disbelief.
Then, the Warsword put a hand on his abdomen, tipped his head back and roared with laughter. The sound was rich and melodic and deep, unfurling something within Thea as it rumbled out of the warrior. Had she ever heard him laugh like that?
When his laughter faded, he was still shaking his head. ‘Who told you that?’
‘Kipp,’ Thea said with a smile of her own.
Wilder snorted. ‘I should have known.’
‘Why?’
‘Torj mentioned he grew up around here. I imagine he did a lot of eavesdropping. No doubt he knows more about the midrealms than he lets on.’
