Page 14 of Silver & Smoke
No one spoke. Torj wondered if it was because the thought of Vernich the mighty Bloodletter no longer walking the midrealms was simply unbelievable. He was the first and eldest of the original three who had returned to Thezmarr all those years ago to train shieldbearers.
‘There’s more.’ Senna waved a small pouch at them. ‘You might want to hold your noses...’
Torj didn’t register the words in time before Senna opened the little bag and tipped three severed fingers onto the ground.
The smell was instant – rotting flesh, pungent enough to make Torj’s eyes water and force him to cover his nose and mouth with his hand. Zavier didn’t fare so well; he darted away to dry heave into the bushes.
‘What the fuck?’ Cal exclaimed, pressing a kerchief to the lower half of his face with a grimace.
‘They were found with the mace,’ Senna explained. ‘See the rings?’
Still pinching his nose, Torj forced himself to look at the severed digits. Sure enough, there were two rings on each of them: iron bands with delicate spikes, and no markings or sigils he recognized—
‘Those rings belong to Warsword Graves,’ Cal said quietly. ‘And the fingers too, I’m guessing...’
‘Who’s Warsword Graves?’ Zavier asked.
‘Only one of the most brutal Warswords from the new cohort. Ashlyn Graves wore those rings to fuck people’s faces up even more when she hit them,’ Cal replied. ‘I trained her briefly at Thezmarrbefore she was called for the Great Rite. She was reported missing shortly after Vernich disappeared. She was one of the Warswords sent to look for him.’
Torj felt the shock ripple through the small group around him. Of their current company, there were three Warswords of the highest calibre, who had survived the Great Rite and the shadow war, only to find themselves here, with their fellow warriors being picked off one by one.
‘We need to presume that they’re dead,’ Wilder said stoically. ‘Vernich would never leave that mace behind willingly—’
‘Well, I doubt Graves left her fingers behind willingly either, but that doesn’t mean she’s dead,’ Cal argued.
‘All I’m saying is that we should assume we’re another two Warswords down in this war,’ Wilder replied gently.
Torj flinched beside his brother-in-arms. If what Wren said about the poison in him was true, then Wilder was wrong.
The number was three.
They would be anotherthreeWarswords down in the war to come.
CHAPTER 7
Wren
‘They’re playing checkers when we’re playing Dancing Alchemists’
– Elwren Embervale’s notes and observations
‘IT’S NOT ASgrand as our estate in Harenth, but with the right arrangements, it could make a stunning venue,’ Lady Briar told Wren, gesturing to the sweeping grounds of the manor before them.
‘I’m not sure Darian and I are ready to view wedding locations just yet,’ Wren said stiffly. ‘We’re only newly engaged, after all...’
Lady Briar waved her off. ‘Nonsense. If I know anything about the Devereux men, it’s that they’ll want this marriage squared away as soon as possible. Lord Briar and I would be happy to host the wedding here if you find it agreeable. The ceremony could be held down by the lake – there is a stunning arbour with climbing jasmine, and within a few weeks the gardens will be awash with tulips.’
‘You’re too kind, Lady Briar. I’ll ask Darian what he thinks. He may have a location in mind already...’ During her time as the Poisoner, Wren had met enough nobility to learn how to mimic their language. In her experience, their type used a lot of words tosay very little that mattered, which worked in her favour, given that she wasn’t willing to give away any of the information she held close to her chest.
‘How many times must I tell you to call me Agnes?’ Lady Briar slapped her arm lightly in reprimand. ‘And the only location that man will be concerning himself with is the bedroom, if you catch my drift, Elwren.’
Wren flushed. The forced touching and falsely sweet words exchanged with the dashing nobleman had already been enough to sicken her. So far, the nobility had upheld the custom of separate sleeping quarters for unwed couples, but if Lady Briar was making such comments, it was clear that Darian wasn’t usually one to respect those boundaries. Sooner or later, people would expect him in her bed, and the thought alone made Wren want to gag.
Lady Briar watched Wren’s expression and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. Gods, Wren would gnaw off her own arm if it meant she could extract herself from this conversation. After breakfast, the men had excused themselves to Lord Briar’s study, while Wren had been seized by Lady Briar to discuss ‘subjects more befitting of a woman of her noble standing’. Which was how she had found herself arm in arm with Agnes now.
‘I appreciate the generosity, truly, I do,’ Wren told her as they wandered the grounds. ‘But our main focus is the upcoming conflict, first and foremost.’
‘I suppose you do have a kingdom at stake,’ Lady Briar allowed.
