Page 143 of Silver & Smoke
‘It was instant, Wren,’ he told her. ‘When the poison left my body, it was like a weight had lifted. Now I feel lighter, stronger than I ever did before.’
A rush of relief washed through Wren. She had seen it with her own eyes, but the reassurance from his lips was the final confirmation she needed.
‘And you?’ Torj asked in return. ‘How do you feel now?’
Wren didn’t hesitate with her honesty – not after all they’d been through, not after having had a lifetime of secrets between them once before. ‘Strange,’ she said. ‘No one can tell me how things truly ended between Silas and Zavier’s mother and mine. And I find myself desperate to know, though it changes nothing.’
‘You’re allowed to want closure, to want the truth about the past.’
Wren looked up to the cloudless sky. ‘We need to look forwards now – to the future. After the last war, I went about it all wrong...’
‘How’s that?’
‘Those years nearly destroyed me, because I faced them alone. I won’t make that mistake again.’
‘Nor I,’ Torj said, drawing her to a halt and resting his brow against hers. ‘Never again, Embers. From here on, we are united, always.’
Wren’s gaze fell to where their hands were joined. ‘The silver bond,’ she murmured. Though it was no longer visible to the naked eye, she could still feel it thrumming between them. ‘Do you think it will always be there?’
Torj’s eyes, sea-blue and clear of shadow for the first time in months, held hers. ‘I believe some things can’t be unmade, Embers. Not by war or time, or even death.’
A breeze stirred the ashes around their feet, and Wren spotted tiny green shoots peeking through the scorched earth – new growth already pushing through the devastation.
A smile touched her lips. ‘We’re going to live well, Bear Slayer... I can feel it.’
Torj pressed a kiss to her lips, lingering just a moment before breaking away. ‘Me too, Embers. We’ve earned our second chance and then some. Let’s not waste a moment of it.’
As they stood amid the ashes of what was lost, Torj Elderbrock kissed her soundly, and Wren’s world lit up with colour, with all the possibilities of what could be.
CHAPTER 75
Torj
‘What a storm breaks apart, it also clears away. The chaos is simply a prelude to what comes after’
– Bear Slayer, Warsword of Thezmarr
THE FIRST FEWweeks following the battle were hard. They camped among the ruins, living off rations and hunting game. Torj could see how tired Wren was, how much of herself she was giving to ensure that her kingdom was moving in the right direction.
Darian was instrumental in the initial planning; having been a part of the restoration of Tver all those years ago, he knew more than anyone what was required. King Leiko was nowhere to be found, leaving yet another kingdom in shambles, but Torj tried not to concern himself with that. They could only deal with one problem at a time, and it was his duty to look after Wren before all else.
Which was why he suggested they relocate to the cottage while the city was being rebuilt. It would mean a proper bed and some privacy, and Wren could also be closer to the plans that were unfolding for the new Drevenor Academy, which was where her passion lay. There, she could get her hands back into the soil; there, she could thrive in the wake of the war. Darian had argued against it, saying that a cottage in the middle of nowhere wasn’t the place for a queen,but Wren had silenced him with a withering glare and the words, ‘That’stwowars I’ve fought in now. Men lost the right long ago to have any say in my place in the world.’
Torj chuckled at the memory as he scoured their campsite in Dorinth to make sure they hadn’t left anything of value behind before the move. He was nudging rocks and debris with the toe of his boot when he heard it.
A faint mewing noise coming from a pile of rubble.
Crouching in the dirt, Torj peered between the rocks to find a pair of green eyes staring back at him.
‘What in the midrealms...?’ he muttered, reaching into the small space.
A loud hiss sounded, and he snatched his hand back to see three scratches welling with blood.
‘You little monster,’ he cursed, reaching in again. His fingers made contact with soft fur, and he ignored the swiping claws. With a grunt, he pulled the little creature from the rubble by the scruff of its neck.
The fluffball continued to hiss, and Torj held it at arm’s length with a scowl, trying to get a good look at its wriggling form. It was a kitten. Black fur. Green eyes. With a bit of a vicious streak.
‘You coming, Bear Slayer?’ Wilder shouted from where he was hauling the last of the supplies onto the wagon.
