Page 86 of Thorns & Fire
‘I’ll wear the belt,’ he repeated.‘I assume you’ll be able to adjust it so it fits me?’
‘Well, yes, but...’
‘But what, Embers?’he challenged.‘Having your potions and poisons makes you feel safe.I realize it’s not the same as possessing them yourself, but if having them within arm’s reach helps alleviate any fear, then let me wear them.’
Wren’s words caught in her throat.Of course Torj had noticed that she felt vulnerable without her tinctures.Her hands trembled as she went about replacing her supplies and adjusting the belt for his larger frame.
‘Here.’Her voice cracked as she held it out for him.
To her surprise, instead of taking the belt, Torj stepped into her space, lifting his arms so she could loop it around his middle.
‘Would you mind?’he asked.‘I’m paranoid that I’ll break something and poison myself...We’re not all immune.’
‘You are.’The words were out before she could stop them, her fingers brushing his shirt as she fixed the belt around him, drawing it together at the buttons of his leathers.She could feel the heat of his gaze on her.
‘What?’he asked.
Wren took a breath, wishing she hadn’t opened her stupid mouth.‘You are immune,’ she explained slowly.‘At least to the majority of things I use.’
Torj tensed beneath her touch.‘How can that be?’
Wren focused on threading the end of the belt through the buckle and securing it just above the bulge in Torj’s leathers.‘I’ve been exposing you to each one little by little, to create immunity.’
‘So what you’re telling me is that you’ve been poisoning me bit by bit, every day?’There was a wry note to Torj’s voice.
‘Something like that.’Wren dropped her hands from the belt and put some much-needed space between them.‘I did the same for Thea growing up.And Cal and Kipp, to a lesser extent.I’m sorry, I should have—’
But Torj closed the gap between them once more and reached for her, tracing a featherlight line across her jaw.‘All this time...you’ve been protecting me?’
‘Someone’s got to,’ she muttered.
Torj’s gaze dropped to her mouth, a strange expression flickering across his face.‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’Wren broke away, dusting her hands unnecessarily on her apron.‘Shall we go?’
Torj hesitated.‘How ridiculous do I look?’He motioned to her belt of potions around his waist, in stark contrast to the hammer strapped across his shoulders and the curved knife sheathed at his side.
‘Only a little.You may pull it off yet.’She couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips.‘Apparently you’re a Warsword of many talents.’
Torj made for the door with a backwards glance full of heat.‘You already knew that, Embers.’
Wren’s cheeks flamed, but she threw up a hand in protest.‘Don’t start, Bear Slayer.’
His answering grin was wicked.
That night, back in her room, Wren was bleeding herself again, refusing to admit that she felt faint.She didn’t know how many times in the past few weeks she’d taken samples from her own veins, only that she needed more.Bruises had bloomed in the crook of each arm, the skin there tender, but she didn’t care.
With Zavier and Dessa’s help, she’d developed a cooling system to keep her vials at the right temperature so that the components of her blood weren’t compromised, but there was another issue...
She was running out of the enemy’s alchemy samples as well.
After the battle in Drevenor’s hall, she had collected as much of the strange shimmering substance from the weapons of the dead as possible.At the time, it had seemed like more than she needed, given that in its presence her own magic shrank back.But now, having heated countless blades and arrow tips to loosen the alchemy from the steel and captured it in an array of glass vessels, she realized there wasn’t enough.Not when she was burning through her ingredients and blood so quickly.
White dots swam in her vision, and she startled back to herself, red streaming down to her wrist, spilling over the shallow dish on her workbench.
‘Shit,’ she muttered, pressing a fresh linen cloth to her vein—
‘What the fuck are you doing?’growled a familiar voice from the adjoining door.
