Page 16 of Thorns & Fire
‘I didn’t name anyone in the prophecy,’ Queen Reyna told him as she watched him pace the worn carpet before the fire.
‘And yet you knew to ask for me to lead your forces.’
‘I did.’
Gold will turn to silver in a blaze of iron and embers, giving rise to ancient power long forgotten.
He had seen the power of a different prophecy come to life before his very eyes during the war, only to learn that he himself was part of one...
And that Wren hadn’t told him.
‘You love her,’ Queen Reyna said quietly, studying him.‘The youngest of the Embervale sisters.’
Torj struggled to swallow the lump in his throat, not meeting her gaze.‘That doesn’t matter now.’
The queen gave a sad smile.‘You loved her then as you love her today and will for all the days that come after.You will always love her.That is theonlything that matters, Bear Slayer.’
‘You’re bleeding,’ Torj said to Wilder as they threw their packs into the adjoining room.He pointed to where blood was dripping from his friend’s sleeve onto the floorboards.
‘A scratch.’
Torj sighed.‘It’s never just a fucking scratch.’
Wilder waved him off.‘I’ll take first watch.You get some rest.You look like shit.’
Torj snorted.‘Cheers.’
‘If I feel old, you must feel fucking ancient,’ his friend added with a wry grin.
‘Oh, fuck off, Hawthorne.’
When the door clicked closed behind Wilder, Torj surveyed the room.There were two narrow beds, certainly not designed for men of their stature, but the sheets were clean and the fire was crackling in the hearth, a luxury they hadn’t had for the two weeks they’d been on the road.
The thought of trekking to the winter kingdom of Aveum was not appealing.The ride south-east would be treacherous and – with the queen in tow – long.He knew he would need his strength and wits, but when it came time to sleep, Torj resisted.There would be no dreamless slumber for him, only nightmares, regrets and dreams of Wren.
So he sat on the edge of his mattress and rested his hammer across his thighs.Without thinking, he reached for the cleaning aid she had made him.As he worked out the red stains with a rag, he let his thoughts stray – not to recent memories as they were usually wont to do, but to the very first...
He was injured, and she was brandishing a knife at him.A fuckingknife.
Her bronze hair was piled atop her head, held messily in place by a pin, and her skirts were stained dark with dirt.Wide willow-green eyes met his.
‘Who are you?’she demanded, her voice surprisingly steady.
Torj couldn’t help the twitch in his lips, even as he struggled to remain upright.‘I usually don’t need an introduction.’
The woman’s eyes narrowed, taking in his bloodied state.‘Someone thinks highly of himself,’she retorted, stepping closer.Her gaze swept over him, assessing critically.‘Sit down before you fall down,’ she ordered, sheathing her blade and reaching for a kit at her belt.
Torj raised an eyebrow, amused despite himself.‘You know, most people wouldn’t dare talk to me like that.’
It was true.He could scarcely remember a time where the answer to anything he said hadn’t simply been, ‘Yes, Warsword Elderbrock.’There was always an element of awe and fear when people dealt with him now.
He gaped at the woman as she grabbed his arm without preamble and pushed him to the ground.
‘Most people don’t know their head from their arse,’ she said bluntly.
A laugh bubbled from Torj at that.Then he was wincing again as she adjusted his position on the forest floor, apparently having no qualms withlaying hands on an injured warrior all alone in the woods.Who was this storm of a woman?
He watched her as she tended to his wound, watched as the realization of who he was dawned on her face...
