Page 67 of Thorns & Fire
Her storm magic suddenly awoke under her skin as though called, and Torj’s gaze went straight to her fingertips, as if he could see the lightning coiled like a spring just beneath the surface.
Everything Wren had read that morning surged to the forefront of her mind, a glaring theory she could no longer simply dance around.But though his appearance betrayed nothing, Torj seemed distraught.Wren could feel it.
Taking pity on him, she returned to her room and picked up her oilskin satchel as though he hadn’t said anything.
Opening the door, she turned to him.‘And you?’she heard herself ask.‘What made you want to be a Warsword?’
Torj locked the door behind them, and they started down the corridor.‘I wanted to defend those who couldn’t defend themselves.Like my grandmother.But I think she saw a much bigger picture – that Thezmarr could offer a family, like the one I’d never had.’
Wren pictured Sam and Ida, and the room they’d shared with her and Thea for years.She remembered them laughing, playingDancing Alchemists, and gossiping about the boys and girls in the fortress.It brought an ache to her chest.She glanced at Torj.‘And did it?’
He dipped his head in confirmation.‘In the end.’
Her eyes flicked across to him as they took the stairs to the ground floor.‘You didn’t have an abundance of friends from the start?’
‘I know it’s hard to imagine me as anything other than charming and popular,’ he quipped with a sideways glance.‘But when I arrived at Thezmarr, I was no more than an angry, scrawny boy...When you want to punch anyone who talks to you, it’s hard to make friends.’
Wren tried to picture the enormous man beside her as a teen, swinging his fists at anyone who approached, and found that she couldn’t.To her, he’d always been the Warsword she saw now, even when she’d found him injured on the Mourner’s Trail.
Her struggle must have been etched on her face, because a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.‘Your disbelief flatters me, Embervale,’ he said wryly.
‘That’s not my intention.’She rolled her eyes.‘So, what was the turning point for your supposed popularity?’
Torj huffed a laugh.‘Probably working under Talemir and Malik.Those two were like brothers...The two of them fighting together was unlike anything I’d ever seen.And outside of the fighting?They laughed.They laughed so much together it was ridiculous.Darian and I had already drifted apart, though it was before I knew who he’d really become.But I missed that sense of brotherhood.’
They crossed the foyer, beneath the great tree that reached up into the dome-capped ceiling and past the glass cylinders that held stones of black garnet to keep score for the various teams.Wren hardly paid attention; she was too distracted by thoughts of a younger Bear Slayer, trying to find his place in the world.
‘So you befriended Wilder?’she pressed.
‘I tried,’ Torj said.‘We both had a lot to prove, or so we thought.We were intensely competitive, as the two standouts of our cohort.’
Wren snorted.‘So modest.’
Torj shrugged.‘I was going for honest.’
‘Makes a nice change.’But there was no bite to Wren’s words.She was dismayed to find that she was enjoying herself, that sinking into conversation with the Bear Slayer waseasy.It felt like the most natural thing in the world to walk beside him, to ask about his life.Despite everything that had happened between them, she wanted to know him better.She hated that.
Torj ignored the jab.‘After Malik was hurt, Wilder was different.I tried to be there for him, but he blamed himself for what had happened.He went off on his own a lot after that.’
‘And Talemir?’Wren asked.
‘Tal...Well, not long after Malik was injured, Tal went to Naarva and didn’t come back.But before he left, he told me to keep trying with people.To keep myself open.The advice served me well enough.I found myself with plenty of friends at the fortress and throughout the midrealms.People would come to me often for advice, for help...’
The image of him was becoming clearer to Wren now, and it made her chest ache.‘And who didyougo to?’
‘My grandmother was my constant, until she disappeared.’
‘And after that?’Wren knew the answer.She had seen the Warsword before and after the war.He was the pillar upon which everyone else leaned; he was the ear that listened, the shoulder to cry on, the voice of reason.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said as they reached the dining hall.
They entered together and made a beeline for Dessa, who was sitting beside a surly-looking Zavier.A few paces back was Cal.He gave Wren a small wave, but didn’t approach the table, seeming content to guard his charge from the outskirts of the dining hall.
Wren’s stomach gurgled at the sight of the spread before her: the table boasted several trays of food – eggs, rashers of bacon,pastries.She and Torj took up the space on the bench opposite Dessa and Zavier.Wren reached for the teapot—
Torj’s hand grazed hers as his fingers grasped the handle.
A current surged between them and Wren drew back quickly, a silent gasp on her lips.
