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His own words and the stark truth of them hit him in the chest with enough force to make him falter. Because Thea’s time left in the world was limited, fleeting, and that fact lingered between them like a ghost.
But it didn’t deter her. She used his hesitation against him and broke away to engage in a flurry of vicious slices and parries.
Wilder retreated a step, and another, allowing her to advance, to think she had the advantage. She had him up against the far wall of the arena.
But he wouldn’t let her win.
She had to learn, and learn the hard way.
He attacked, all his unchecked Warsword strength raining down on her – for no enemy, man or monster, would show her mercy.
There was a blur of silver.
Followed by bright flashes of light.
And Wilder found himself thrown back, a bunch of throwing stars spearing through his clothes, pinning him to the wall.
Thea echoed the same words he had once said to her in Harenth. ‘You’ll have to try harder than that to hit me.’
He blinked at the pieces of metal holding him in place. Two through his sleeves, another either side of his ribs, and one in between his legs, dangerously close to his balls. But it was not the accuracy of the throws alone that stunned him… It was that the stars were humming with storm magic.
Lightning flickered at the blades’ edges.
Thea stalked towards him, her eyes bright with challenge. More fierce and beautiful than he’d ever seen her, cheeks flushed with exertion, she halted before him, surveying with satisfaction his heaving chest and the shock clearly written on his face.
How had he never felt power like this before? Magic rippled from each of the stars as one by one, his apprentice, a lost princess of Delmira, the woman he loved, plucked them from the wall, freeing him.
She looked at him as though she were expecting anger, as though what she’d done was somehow wrong.
He would have been lying if he said he wasn’t afraid for her. There was a hunt for her and her magic across the realms. But he refused to be the one to teach her to fear it, to fear her own power.
‘Who’s going to stop you?’ he said quietly.
And to his surprise, Thea smiled.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THEA
During mid-meal the next day, Thea didn’t eat in the Great Hall, but rather snatched a helping of bread and cheese from the kitchens and ate alone, lest that poor serving boy be forced to bring her another overly large helping of greens. But as she passed the hall, she spotted Wren inside. She looked how Thea so often felt when she was being honest with herself: sad and fragile, with dark circles beneath her eyes. Her sister sat at the table, but she wasn’t eating. Instead, she turned a teapot over in her hands, her brow furrowed.
Not just any teapot. TheLadies’ Luncheonteapot. The assassin’s weapon Wren had designed herself.
Despite her anger, Thea couldn’t help but admire her sister. It was not the first time her ingenuity had led to the creation of such a thing, and Thea had no doubt that she had perfected it over the past few weeks.
‘Thea!’ Samra exclaimed, clapping her on the shoulder. ‘You’re coming to join us at last?’
Thea winced. ‘Uh, no, sorry, Sam,’ she replied, already backing away, ignoring the pang of guilt. She hadn’t just cut Wren out, but her other friends as well.
Ida appeared at Sam’s other side. ‘Oh, come on, Althea Nine Lives. Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.’
‘She hasn’t told you?’ Thea ventured, chancing another glimpse at Wren through the doorway.
‘No, she’s told us nothing.’ Sam frowned. ‘But you have to talk to her. She’s barely slept, says she’s been having nightmares but won’t tell us what they’re about… She’s not eating much, either. Actually, you’re not looking so great yourself…’
Thea huffed a laugh. ‘Thanks.’
‘You always make up when you fight,’ Ida said gently.
