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He made a noise of disbelief, but continued. ‘You have to take your chance the moment it opens, the second you feel its call.’
‘What if it doesn’t open before…’
Twenty-seven.That was the age carved into that damn fate stone of hers. Just two and a half years from now.
‘It will,’ he said.
‘How can you be sure?’ she pressed, lightning sparking at the fingers that still gripped her sword.
Wilder eyed her warily, but didn’t flinch. ‘I just am.’
Thea’s shoulders sagged, her blade falling to her side. ‘What happened during your Rite?’
‘You’re yet to earn that tale.’
She huffed a sigh. ‘Fair enough.’
Wilder’s head jerked back in surprise. ‘What? No argument?’
‘Not now,’ Thea said.
The air grew too thick between them suddenly, the intensity too great, and Thea broke their eye contact, flicking her braid over her shoulder and returning to her drills.
Wilder cleared his throat and started back to the fortress. ‘You’re expected at the last group training session for the day. Don’t miss it.’
* * *
The last time Wilder had visited the northern arena, the majority of the Thezmarrians there had been shieldbearers. Now, as he looked from his vantage point onto the training ground, he saw that much had changed. Their numbers had dwindled, both due to the battle with the reapers at the ruins of Delmira and the forfeits and failures of the initiation test. But the group he surveyed now was stronger, more united. And there was no denying the person at the centre of it all – Thea.
Gods, she was beautiful. A vision of fierce determination.
The warrior woman who’d claimed the heart of a reaper.
And a Warsword, Wilder thought bitterly.
Even from a distance, he could see how the cohort stared at her. Her expression was steely; this was not the first time she had experienced this. He’d seen their treatment of her firsthand. But what Wilder realised as she slowly warmed up, her movements fluid and confident, Malik’s dagger at her hip, was that the quiet was not in rejection of her, not in outrage at her presence, but inreverence.
Somehow, in between her unconventional entry to the guild and slaying the reaper, she had been the one to bring them all together. Thea and her unlikely friends.
She wore a plain shirt and dark pants, her hair braided down the side in the warrior fashion from distant realms. Wilder watched her as he started down the incline towards the arena, pride welling in his chest as she took up two swords. She was a born dual wielder, like him, like Talemir… She was incredibly light on her feet and her reflexes were lightning fast, as though she’d been trained since she was an infant. He wondered where those skills had come from.
Groups of warriors parted for him as he made a beeline for her without thinking.
But another Warsword was already there.
Torj’s large frame engulfed Thea as he stood close behind her, nudging her feet apart with his own, his front pressed to her back as he widened her stance. The Bear Slayer’s arms closed over Thea’s as he adjusted her grip on her blades —
‘That’s not how it’s done,’ Wilder growled before he even realised he was standing beside them.
Torj glanced up, surprised and then amused, instantly stepping back from Thea.
Thea’s expression betrayed nothing.
‘Didn’t realise you were here, Hawthorne,’ Torj said, his eyes bright. ‘You’re clearly the best man for the job. I’ll take my leave, then.’
Wilder didn’t speak as Torj gave him a nod and returned to his own apprentice.
‘What was that about?’ Thea asked, her brow raised.
