Page 71 of Silver & Smoke
She stood at a bench in her simple linen gown and apron, not bothering to look up as she tied bushels of mixed herbs together. Gods, she was more beautiful than he remembered. It had been four years since he’d met her in the Bloodwoods and she’d stitched him up. Four years of stealing glances at her whenever he was at Thezmarr, of finding excuses to pass the alchemy workshops and the library, of taking the detour past the herb gardens... But his Warsword duties had kept him from the fortress of late. It had been six months since he’d seen her last, and Furies knew that every day without her in his sight was a day wasted.
‘Did you hear me?’ Barlowe spat at her now. ‘Three fucking days in—’
‘Perhaps you should have made better choices,’ came Wren’s clear reply, and still she didn’t deign to look up from her work.
A snarl escaped Barlowe. ‘I’ll teach you about better choices—’
‘Oh?’ Wren sounded genuinely surprised. ‘You didn’t learn your lesson the first time, then?’
Torj could – and couldn’t – believe that she was goading Sebastos Barlowe. Everyone knew he was a cruel, violent prick with a tendency to lash out, especially at women. It was a miracle Torj hadn’t wrung his neck already, but the lad had proved once againthat gold trumped honour in some circles. Peering through the crack in the door, Torj watched as Barlowe stalked towards the young alchemist, glaring at her as though she were no more than dirt.
‘Who the fuck do you think you are?’ he demanded, crowding her, his intent clear. Torj pressed his fingers to the door. He’d let this go on long enough. The only thing that had given him pause was the complete lack of fear in Wren’s discerning gaze, but he’d be damned if he’d let the bastard get any closer to her—
Just as he was about to intervene, Wrensmiled.
And gods, was it a terrifyingly beautiful sight.
Barlowe tensed like he had a blade to his bollocks. Only it wasn’t a blade.
It was a long, sharp silver pin.
Delicate. Dainty.Deadly.
Just like Wren Zoltaire.
Ahairpin, Torj realized as he watched Wren’s bronze tresses fall loose around her face. She was still smiling as she said with pure confidence, ‘I’m Wren Zoltaire. Who the fuck are you?’
Desire surged through Torj. This woman was a storm incarnate, and gods, did he relish seeing her rage. Furies save them all from the damage she could do. Behind the unassuming facade was a ruthless vixen, and he fucking loved it.
Barlowe blanched, his knees visibly quaking. He opened and closed his mouth several times before blustering, ‘You—’
‘If a bit of powder can land you in the infirmary for three days, imagine what a sharp object to your balls might do.’ She twisted the pin for emphasis, and Torj heard the spineless prick whimper.
‘If you touch my sister...’ Wren murmured, her voice laced with the promise of violence. ‘If you so much as lay a finger on her... I’ll make this seem like child’s play.’
Her icy words jogged Torj’s memory. Her sister... Wren wasThea’s sister...and apparently the taste for vengeance ran in the family.
With a satisfied smirk, Torj watched as Wren allowed Barlowe to scurry away like the scared rat he was, in such a panic that he didn’t even pause as he passed Torj on the other side of the door.
After a moment, the Warsword couldn’t resist another glance inside. A soft smile played on Wren’s lips while she twirled her hairpin between her fingers. His heart pounded at the sight of her.
She didn’t look up when she spoke again. ‘Are you going to watch from the shadows, Bear Slayer? Or are you going to come in and say hello?’
CHAPTER 39
Wren
‘The alchemist knows that the most valuable elements require the strongest vessels – not to contain their essence, but to preserve it’
– Arcane Alchemy: Unveiling the Mysteries of Matter
‘IHAVE TOgo to him, Thee,’ Wren hissed, fighting against her sister’s hold as Cal finished telling her what had happened to Torj.
‘Not yet.’ Thea braced her forearm across Wren’s chest to stop her from rushing from the tent. ‘Lucian’s out there sniffing around. If he sees you running across camp to be at the Bear Slayer’s bedside, this will all have been for nothing.’
‘I don’t care.’ Wren pushed against the immovable force that was Thea’s Furies-given strength. ‘Heneeds me.’
‘He will when he wakes,’ Thea said. ‘But he’s sleeping now. Dessa’s with him. There’s nothing you can do for him now.’
