Page 9 of Silver & Smoke
She tapped her drink against Wren’s. ‘Perhaps you’ll be the one to break the cycle.’
Wren said nothing. Instead, she tipped the liquor back, nearly choking at the searing burn down her throat. ‘Gods,’ she spluttered, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth as her eyes watered. ‘That’s like something out of the poisons dungeon.’
Thea winced. ‘And I thought fire extract was bad...’
Wren had come to appreciate the harsh taste of the amber liquid in the years after the war – a far cry from her first experience, when she’d spat a mouthful all over Ida – but the stuff from the drinks cart was lethal. Still, she couldn’t help thinking of her friends, for a moment imagining them here with her and Thea like they had been for so many years before.
‘What would they think of me now?’ she asked quietly, as Thea laced up the back of her dress.
‘Who?’
‘Sam and Ida...’ Wren sucked in a breath as the corset tightened around her midsection. ‘Do you think they would have laughed at the idea of me being a queen of the midrealms?’
‘I think they would have been a damn sight more useful with these fucking laces,’ Thea gritted out as she nearly broke Wren’s ribs with her ministrations.
‘I won’t argue that,’ Wren wheezed.
‘But no, they wouldn’t have laughed,’ Thea replied. ‘They would have been proud. They would have found a place in your court and never left your side.’
Tears stung Wren’s eyes. ‘You really think that?’
‘I do.’ Thea squeezed her shoulder. ‘Now let’s get you to the—’
‘Wait,’ Wren interrupted, reaching for her belt. She popped a vial down her cleavage as she usually did, but then took her dagger as well. She felt Thea’s eyes on her as she treated the blade with a coating of poison before returning it to its sheath and securing it around her thigh beneath her skirts.
Torj’s warm words came back to her, soothing her like a balm over a wound.
‘Have you ever heard of the warrior’s second? It’s the intake of breath before the slice of a blade, or the swing of a hammer... The warrior’s second is where we make our actions count, make them worthy of legend...’
‘Ready?’ Thea prompted from the door.
Wren glanced longingly at the travel case that contained her alchemy tools and her work on the cure, desperate to plant herself at a desk and start. Instead, she scooped up a bundle of envelopes from her belongings and pushed them into Thea’s hands. ‘Can you make sure these are sent? The addresses are all there.’
‘Who are they for?’ her sister asked, brow furrowed as she skimmed the names. ‘More Master Alchemists?’
Wren shook her head. ‘No, they’re letters to renowned rosarians.’
Thea gave her a blank look.
‘Rosarians,’ Wren repeated. ‘Experts on roses – people from all over the midrealms and beyond who have a reputation in caring for and cultivating them.’
‘I’ll take your word for it.’ Thea pocketed the squares of parchment. ‘Now, are you ready?’
Wren lifted her chin and nodded. ‘As I’ll ever be.’
Lord Darian Devereux was waiting for her just outside her chambers, offering his arm. ‘You look breathtaking, love.’
‘Thank you,’ Wren replied stiffly as he led her down the corridor.
‘And I look rather handsome, wouldn’t you say?’ he added, a gleam of amusement in his eyes.
‘Dashing,’ Wren added blandly. ‘How long until we can talk numbers with the new Lord Briar? I want to be back at Drevenor as soon as possible.’
‘There are formalities to respect here, Elwren. And from what I hear, there have been issues with the supply lines to various allied forces in the midrealms. My father and his bannermen will want to discuss solutions as well.’
‘Over sparkling wine and roasted game?’
‘Is there any other way?’ Darian quipped as they descended the stairs, Thea close behind.
