Page 48 of Silver & Smoke
Darian’s words lingered long after he had left to speak with Kipp. They echoed through Torj like a chord struck over and over.
He hadn’t moved on from Elwren Embervale in nearly thirteen years, and he never would. They were fuckingsoul bonded. Perhaps, at long last, it was time he stopped fighting it, fighting himself, and started fighting forherinstead.
And suddenly, the answer was clear.
Torj reached for her through the bond.Embers, I need to talk to you.
CHAPTER 24
Wren
‘It is a wise alchemist indeed who knows that while answers may light the path forwards, it is the right questions that reveal which path to take’
– Alchemy Unbound
WREN NEEDED SOMEWHEREprivate to think, to write, to tinker with her experiments on the cure, away from Lucian’s prying eyes. Kipp had suggested the compartment where the ship’s anchor chain was stored as they sailed – the chain locker.
It was a relatively small space, accessed through a small hatch in the bow ofTheFuries’ Will. It smelled of rope and metal, and it was dark but for the lantern Kipp had given her. Thankfully, though, the area was kept dry to prevent the chains from excessive rusting. For a place that seemed rarely visited by the main crew, it was strangely equipped for her purposes, which meant it couldn’t be the first time Kipp had made use of the space.
Wren could hear the others upstairs, enjoying the gentle breeze and the sun as it bore down upon the deck. She knew the opportunities to do so would become few and far between as the weeks ahead unfolded, but since boardingThe Furies’ Will, her adviser’s words weighed heavily on her mind.
The truth.
Wren wasn’t even sure she knew it herself any more. She had played too many roles, worn too many masks, and sometimes she didn’t recognize the person staring back at her in the mirror. Now, sequestered away in the chain locker, she stared at the blank sheet of parchment before her, willing the answers to come.
She could confess to the people of the midrealms who she truly was – poisonerandheir – or she could deny it altogether. She could write a mix of falsehoods and facts, blending the two together into something more palatable. Or she could lie. Just like Silas had. None of the options felt right; none of them gave her any semblance of peace. Wren doubted she’d ever experience that particular feeling again.
Ink dripped from the tip of her quill onto the page, seeping into the parchment like blood. It wouldn’t be long before she was writing orders for armies, before real blood was spilled in her name.
But then she was called by another name, through the bond between her and the Bear Slayer:Embers, I need to talk to you.
Wren allowed his voice to soak into her, husky and rich, providing solace amid the turmoil.Do you know where the chain locker is?she replied.Below the main deck in the forecastle area?
What in the midrealms are you doing there?came his response.
Do you know it?she pressed.
I know it.
Wren placed the quill back in the ink pot and dropped her head into her hands. She felt so lost amid the tangled web she had woven for herself, the feeling threatening to become a spiralling mass of darkness within.
She felt him before he spoke, that sturdy, reassuring presence that brought warmth to her chest even in the deepest throes of anxiety.
‘We shouldn’t be taking this risk,’ she whispered. But she couldn’t bring herself to regret it, even as she said, ‘Lucian has spies everywhere.’
‘Darian practically told me to come here himself,’ Torj said, a large palm circling her back. ‘Are you alright?’
‘Kipp thinks I should write to the people of the midrealms...’ She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked up at the beautiful man gilded by the lantern beside her, praying that he’d have some answers for her.
‘And what do you think?’ he asked.
‘I think that whenever I make a decision, people get hurt,’ she told him, glancing at his trembling hands.
He followed her gaze down. ‘This is not your fault, Embers.’ He covered the tremor with a tug of his sleeve.
‘Don’t do that,’ she said quietly.
He looked up, feigning ignorance. ‘Do what?’
