Page 137 of Silver & Smoke
Torj remained standing at her side, his hand firmly in hers, their silver bond still pulsing between them like a life force. This was what the prophecy had always meant – not just a queen reclaiming her throne, but a new kind of power, born of love freely given rather than forcibly taken.
Wren knew that reclaiming her birthright was just the beginning. Rebuilding Delmira would take years. Healing the wounds between kingdoms, longer still. But as she stood in the ruins of what once was, hand in hand with Torj, she knew one thing with absolute certainty: there was so much hope for what could be. What Silas had tried to destroy with the remnants of shadow, she and her soul-bonded would rebuild.
CHAPTER 72
Torj
‘Long may she reign’
– Bear Slayer, Warsword of Thezmarr
THE BATTLEFIELD WENTsilent as Silas’s body hit the mud, his head utterly pulverized by the war hammer in the Queen of Delmira’s hands.
Those who hadn’t already lowered their weapons in surrender did so now.
Amid the silver and the smoke, Torj went to Wren, his wife, and took her in his arms. ‘You saved me.’ He would forever be in awe of the woman before him. Of her ferocity, her determination, her spirit.
She smiled, and he’d never seen anything more beautiful. ‘I’ll always save you.’
Gently, he brushed her bloodied hair behind her ear, drinking in the sight of her. ‘I don’t doubt it.’
‘Good,’ she replied, that warm smile still playing on her lips.
He kissed her, thoroughly, deeply, the battlefield around them fading away until it was only them.
‘I want all my tomorrows to belong to you, Elwren Embervale.’
CHAPTER 73
Wren
‘Poison is often treated with poison. Venom is used to counter venom. There’s a certain poetry in this symmetry’
– Elwren Embervale’s notes and observations
IN THE DAYSthat followed, it became clear that what little had remained of Delmira’s capital had been destroyed. The air was still thick with the scents of smoke and blood, and the faint trace of chemicals that lingered from exploding alchemy. The medical tents were full of those wounded in battle.
Knowing that her skill set was needed there, Wren delegated the handling of prisoners to Kipp and Torj, while she, Dessa and Zavier joined Farissa and a handful of other healers who’d made themselves known to deal with the casualties of war.
Every dawn, a list was brought to her, naming those who hadn’t survived the night. Wren forced herself to read every name, to write to their families herself, to remember that the people of the midrealms who’d fallen were not just numbers on a piece of parchment. They had been people who believed in her claim enough to die for it, and that lit a fire beneath her, to see that right was done in the world.
‘Your Majesty,’ a young messenger said with a bow as he handed her that day’s list.
She still wasn’t used to the title; it felt foreign, and she often caught herself suppressing the urge to look over her own shoulder, searching for someone more regal than she.
‘Thank you,’ she replied as she took the scroll. As much as she had played the part of alchemist and healer over the past few days, she knew that time was coming to an end. She told herself that she was both queen and alchemist, and that perhaps that was exactly what her people needed – a leader who understood both the cost of war and the price of healing.
‘Have you slept?’ Torj’s voice came from the tent flap.
Wren huffed a tired laugh and motioned to the purple smudges beneath her eyes, her bloodstained apron. ‘Not so much.’
‘I didn’t think so.’ He pressed a hot canteen into her cold hands. ‘Drink that.’
Removing the cap, she stifled a moan as she smelled the steam drifting from the liquid. ‘Peppermint and ginger?’ she asked, taking a grateful sip.
Torj nodded. ‘Dessa told me it would help with the fatigue.’
Wren smiled at the thought of her great Bear Slayer discussing herbs with her friend. ‘Thank you.’
