Page 17 of Silver & Smoke
As soon as Cal said the words, the realization hit Torj too. He was right. The same unnatural fury guided the man’s movements, the same deranged darkness taking hold.
‘But they were monsters,’ Jarros said slowly.
‘They were once men,’ Cal corrected him gently. ‘But upon contact with shadow magic, they became mutilated, lost to themselves, mere instruments of violence.’
Jarros shuddered. ‘Is that what’s going to happen to Faulkner?’
‘We don’t know,’ Torj told him. ‘But from what you’ve told us and what we’ve learned from other villages... it sounds like Silas is building an army of madmen. Of people whose sole wish is to spill blood, no matter the cost. He’s using shadow magic to instil a craving for violence in innocent people and calling them into his war.’
Quiet fell as his words settled across the small group.
‘Shit,’ Wilder breathed, but his curse was a distant noise to Torj.
Terror, pure and unfiltered, crashed through him. The shadow magic. The madness. Silas’s army of corrupted souls. And somewhere out there – Wren. His soul-bonded. Trapped with the vipers, not knowing what was coming.
‘Tell me where she is, Hawthorne.’ Torj was already at Tucker’s side, his voice dangerously low. ‘Or Furies save me, I’ll tear the midrealms apart to find her myself.’
Cal stepped forwards, placing a restraining hand on Torj’s stallion. ‘Think, Torj. We have orders. Audra sent us here for—’
‘Audra doesn’t know about this,’ Torj cut him off, voice like gravel as he swung himself up into the saddle. ‘She doesn’t know what Silas is creating, that we could be up against an army of fuckinghowlers.’
‘All the more reason to report back first,’ Cal insisted, his strained expression betraying his conflicting loyalties. ‘Thezmarr needs to prepare.’
But it was to Wilder that Torj looked, the man who knew better than anyone what was at stake. ‘I won’t ask you again, Hawthorne. Wren has to know.’
‘Three days’ ride east once back on the mainland,’ he said quietly, reaching for his own reins. ‘And Elderbrock? We’re coming with you.’
CHAPTER 9
Wren
‘A poisoner’s mastery often boils down to the simple skill of attention to detail’
– The Poisoner’s Handbook
WITH LORD BRIAR’Sbannermen secured, Wren rode with Darian and their guard to the Pendelton estate the next day. Thea kept close to her side, and Kipp did what Kipp did best: riding between the ranks and talking to the men, his stories often followed by loud bursts of laughter.
As they travelled, Wren was told a similar tale to the first – that Lord Pendelton originally hailed from Tver, but owned multiple properties across the midrealms and had been gracious enough to meet them at his manor in Naarva. Darian stressed to her several times that they were lucky Lord Lucian’s allies were being so accommodating with their schedules.
‘I’m sure they’re doing so out of the goodness of their hearts,’ Thea muttered dryly.
It had been a long while since Wren had done so much riding, and she was dismayed to find her thighs burning and her tailbone aching after several hours in the saddle. She missed riding with Torj at her back, the warmth of him surrounding her, the beat ofhis heart a steady rhythm against her spine while she breathed in his black-cedar-and-oakmoss scent.
She knew Audra had ordered him and Wilder to investigate Silas’s reach to the local villages, but she didn’t knowwhereexactly. It felt like half a world away, wherever he was. They had spoken into each other’s minds before, but perhaps now the distance was too great to reach one another... She could only hope that he wasn’t feeling the effects of the poison yet, and that Wilder was looking out for him.
Wren could still sense the storm on the horizon, though it hadn’t broken yet. A glance at her sister told her that Thea could feel it too. Neither Embervale called to it, but Wren felt her own magic dance at her fingertips as if in answer.
Her attention was snatched away as they turned a corner. Wren gaped at the verdant land that stretched before them, a private road cutting through the expanse of pristine grass and a sea of vibrant roses. It took an hour by carriage just to get to the front of the estate, which had been adorned with garlands of flowers in honour of their arrival.
A line of servants awaited, ready to take their luggage and offer them refreshments, but it was the elegant man and woman at the top of the stairs that caught Wren’s attention. They were each beautifully dressed in coloured silks that complemented the other, and both wore expressions of utter delight on their faces.
‘Welcome, welcome!’ the woman who could only be Lady Pendelton declared, her skirts swishing as she came forwards to greet them.
Wren nearly recoiled as Lord Lucian took her hand and led her to their hosts. His fingers were cold and dry against hers, his grip harder than necessary, as though he were trying to bruise her bones.
‘Lady Pendelton, Lord Pendelton, may I present my future daughter-in-law, Elwren Embervale, Princess of Delmira.’
Wren kept her expression mild and pleasant as both nobles dipped into dignified bows.
