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Wilder watched them for a moment with a pang of regret. Malik had been the first person who had faced his wrath when he’d discovered the truth about Thea.
‘You knewall along… Youknewwhen you gave her that dagger six fucking years ago,’ he had yelled.‘Gods, you even fucking told her, didn’t you? What was it you said to her when Enovius nearly had you in his clutches?“Beware the fury of a patient Delmirian”? Then you gave me that damn book. For fuck’s sake, Mal.’
All the while, Malik had smiled, and Wilder had had no choice but to move past it. He would never know how Malik had come by the information about the Zoltaire sisters. He could only trust that, like him, Mal always had Thea’s best interests at heart.
Now, sensing Wilder’s attention, his brother looked up, recognition passing over his face. As though making up his mind, the gentle giant reached into his pocket and held out a squashed scroll.
Wilder sat back and sighed. ‘You opening my mail now, too?’
Malik didn’t look bothered in the slightest.
Wilder took the parchment and unravelled it, scanning its contents, realising now that it was probably best that Malik had indeed been on the receiving end of the message, rather than anyone else in the guild. The missive was from his contact in Naarva –Dratos the Dawnless, as he called himself – who reported his findings of monsters across the fallen kingdom.
Keep them away from the southern isle,it read.
He waved the parchment at Malik. ‘You read it?’
Mal didn’t answer, but inclined his head slightly, which told Wilder that he had.
‘Dratos overestimates my influence.’
Malik made a noise of agreement, before tapping one of the books in front of Wilder.
‘I know, I know,’ he said, balling up the message and tossing it atop the glowing embers in the hearth, watching it catch alight.
He scanned the overwhelming spread of books on the table. They had been putting together a training program for Thea. So far, they had combined the best of the official Guardian curriculum and their own apprenticeship lessons into a gruelling schedule, but one that would give her the best shot if the Great Rite were to open and challenge her.
The hour was late now. Wilder gathered the sheets of parchment they’d worked on and left his brother and Dax by the fire, dreading the council meeting that was due to start shortly. He had always hated them, usually making excuses to be elsewhere whenever he was asked to attend one. The missive delivered to his cabin, however, had stated that this meeting wasmandatory.
He was so caught up in thoughts of the report he was supposed to deliver that he slammed straight into someone as he rounded a corner.
Thea.
‘What are you doing?’ he said, tucking the papers into his jerkin. But when he stared down at her, he realised there was something wrong. Where she’d usually tilt her chin up and meet his eyes in challenge, her gaze darted away.
His attention snagged on the splints at her fingers. Was this why she was upset? Had a healer told her she couldn’t spar until she was healed? ‘Did you have your ribs seen to as well?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
A lie. Wilder saw it instantly, folding his arms across his chest. ‘Let’s try that again.Have you had your ribs seen to?’
He could practically hear her grinding her teeth. ‘No.’
Gripping her arm, he pulled her into the nearest room. An unused workshop space. Closing the door behind them, he turned to her. ‘Show me.’
‘You can’t be serious.’
‘Have you ever known me to joke about your wellbeing?’
After a brief glaring standoff, Thea gave a muffled cry of frustration, her hands shooting to her shirt, yanking the fabric from her waistband to reveal her bare side. ‘There. Happy?’
Tilting his head, Wilder surveyed the mottled bruising there, wincing on her behalf. He leant in, biting his bottom lip as he slid his hand ever so gently across her skin.
She took a trembling breath beneath his touch.
Carefully, he applied pressure across her ribs, his eyes flicking to her to gauge her reaction.
‘It’s fine,’ Thea muttered.
