Page 25 of Silver & Smoke
Torj glanced down at the scroll in his hands once more, struggling to comprehend the division between truth and reality, of all that he’d clung to over the years.
‘You did all this to protect our families?’ he said, finally taking a single step towards the hearth. ‘To protect me?’
Darian faced him, tentatively offering his hand. ‘What are brothers for?’
Torj stared at the outstretched hand for a long moment. The boy he once knew and the man before him blurred together.
‘I’m... I’m not there yet, Darian,’ he said quietly. ‘But I’m grateful to you, for saving Vara. I want to see her. When it’s safe. For now, we have one thing in common... I want to see Lucian Devereux fall.’
He didn’t take Darian’s hand. Not yet. Instead, he moved to stand beside him at the hearth, both men facing the dying embers.
‘Then we start there.’ Darian withdrew his hand. ‘The rest... the rest will take time.’
Torj gave a single, curt nod. It wasn’t forgiveness – not yet – but it was a beginning. The faintest glimmer of what once was, and what, perhaps, could be again.
CHAPTER 13
Wren
‘The most impressive alchemist mind is that which stays curious’
– Drevenor Academy Handbook
‘SOME OF THESErose bushes are over a thousand years old,’ the horticulturist, Braxton, told Wren as they wandered across the breathtaking grounds of the Pendelton manor.
‘I didn’t realize they could live so long,’ Wren replied, reaching out to touch a silken red petal.
Braxton nodded. ‘There’s a lot people don’t know about roses. They’re such a common bloom they’re often overlooked.’
‘Do you have any silvertide in these gardens?’ she asked.
‘Only that which grows wild on the estate boundary. It’s much too ordinary for Lady Pendelton’s prized garden beds.’
‘Can you take me to them?’
‘The silvertide roses?’ Braxton frowned.
‘Yes. They’re an interest of mine.’
‘An alchemist, aren’t you?’
‘I was,’ Wren replied quietly. ‘Not any more, though.’
‘I imagine it’s like being a gardener, though, eh? Once an alchemist, always an alchemist? This way, then.’
Wren followed the horticulturist to the far edge of the property, which was quite some distance from the manor itself. She very much doubted that even Lucian’s keen eyes could spy her out here. Against the stone wall climbed a dainty rose bush, its leaves dark green and its few flowers that familiar pearly white. It wasn’t half as robust as the one by her cottage in Delmira, but it was certainly of the silvertide variety. She knew just from looking at these flowers that they wouldn’t be as potent as the strain she needed for her cure, but they could help with comparisons and tests.
‘Do you mind if I take some cuttings?’ Wren asked her companion.
Braxton shrugged. ‘I don’t see why not. They’re nought but weeds to Her Ladyship. I’ll get my pruning shears—’
‘No need.’ Wren produced her own secateurs from her belt.
‘You came prepared,’ he observed.
She leaned down to clip the first bloom for her supplies. ‘I always do, Master Braxton.’
‘If I’d known you were interested in getting samples, I would have brought you out at first light. Early morning is best for cuttings, when the plant is most hydrated. The flowers last longer then.’
