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And for a brief second, Thea wondered how many corsets his talented fingers had unlaced, the sapphire from his cabin springing instantly to mind. She swallowed down her stupid jealousy.
As Hawthorne worked at the ties, Thea felt the vest moulding to her body, form-fitting but not restrictive. She ran her hands down the front of it, appreciating the elegant but practical design.
‘It’ll fit you like a second skin after a few weeks of wear,’ Hawthorne told her, finishing with the laces and moving on to the shoulder strap buckles just above her breasts. Brow furrowed again, he tightened each one, his knuckles brushing against her through the thin fabric of her shirt.
Thea tried to remember to breathe. He was just so damn close, and the heady scent of him made her want to lean in, to press her body to his.
‘How does it feel?’ he asked.
Thea blinked.
Hawthorne gave one of the straps a tug. ‘The vest?’
‘Good,’ she said quickly. ‘It feels good.’
Nodding to himself, Hawthorne brought the pauldrons to her. ‘These slip over the arm like this, and sit up on your shoulder.’
Thea removed her Guardian totem from her arm and braced herself. His fingers brushed along her skin as he helped her into the shoulder pieces. Was he deliberately torturing her?
‘I’ll have to teach you how to oil this set properly. You need to take care of it if you want it to last,’ he told her.
When he had finished with the pauldrons and fitted her vambraces to her forearms, he at last stepped back, something unreadable flashing across his face.
‘Well?’ she prompted, feeling self-conscious beneath the weight of his stare.
‘You tell me,’ he said with an overly nonchalant shrug. ‘It’s your armour.’
Thea chewed her bottom lip, then moved. Though there was limited space, she launched into a basic footwork drill to test her agility.
‘Well?’ Hawthorne echoed back to her.
She looked up, in complete and utter disbelief. ‘I feel… incredible. Strong.’
He smiled then, warm and genuine. ‘Decent armour will do that.’
She wanted to reach out and touch him, to wrap her arms around him to express the warmth blooming in her chest, the appreciation for what he’d done. But Thea stilled her fidgeting.
‘Thank you,’ she said, leaving the distance between them. ‘Thank you for this.’
Hawthorne shrugged. ‘All Guardians get armour.’
‘But you… you did this for me.’
He hesitated, just a fraction, before he reached for the door. ‘Can’t have you chasing danger without armour, Princess.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WILDER
Standing atop the jagged cliffs at the edge of the world, black mountains looming overhead, Wilder stared at what he and his apprentice had found.
He had awoken that morning with a bad feeling. Overnight there had been an almost imperceivable shift in the air, and over the past few days at the fortress, he’d heard half a dozen complaints about a foul smell drifting down from the rocks at the border of their territory. Those things alone were cause enough for Wilder to investigate, given the state of the midrealms. It hadn’t taken much to convince Thea to join him.
Now, in the early morning light, they could see a nest of gnarled vines that had sprouted against the rock. Its offshoots were the colour of dark seaweed, and they seemed to emerge from the face of the cliff itself. A putrid, rotting stench filled the air.
‘Whatisthat?’ Thea murmured at his shoulder.
‘A vine blight,’ Wilder replied, surveying the mass of writhing green tendrils. Gods, it had something in its clutches —
