Page 2 of Silver & Smoke
He nodded, satisfied. ‘Good.’
Wren wished she could savour the moment. She wished there was moretime. But she was taking a risk simply by being here, after the deal she’d made with Lord Lucian. She had agreed to his terms, a fact that still made her insides churn. But Torj had beenpoisonedby the enemy. Even as they spoke, a toxin coursed through his blood, threatening to take him from her, piece by piece.
To Wren, it stood to reason that if she had mastered one cure, she could master another. She had discovered the might of the silvertide rose, amplified by her own storm magic, and she suspectedthat the plant could be the key not only to saving the midrealms, but to saving Torj as well. She just needed time.
The difference between poison and cure is simply a matter of dose,she told herself.
Wren sheathed the blade in her belt of potions and tugged on his hands. ‘I’m going to save you,’ she vowed.
‘If anyone can, it’s you.’ Torj reached for her, cupping her face, his fingers trailing down to her throat, tracing the scar there.
Wren’s heart seized as she pulled back sharply, scanning the grounds in a panic. ‘Don’t—’
Torj flinched, his gaze dropping to her hand, where his touch lingered on the diamond adorning her fourth finger.Darian’sring.
‘Are you going to tell me how this happened?’ the Warsword said quietly, his eyes fixed on the glimmering stone.
Wren pulled her hand away completely, hating herself. His pain was so raw she could feel it pulsing in her own breast.
‘There was no time,’ she told him. ‘And you were too close to it, too emotionally connected. I had to make calculated decisions, and I had to make them fast.’
The Bear Slayer made a noise of disbelief, his eyes dipping back down to the ring on her finger. ‘It wasn’t all that long ago you were pretending to bemywife...’
Despite the rising panic in her chest that they’d be seen – that the ruse would be over before it had truly begun – Wren turned to Torj, full of anguish. ‘Perhaps a day will come when I’m not pretending.’
Gods, she wanted to believe it, with every desperate fibre of her being, but first... they had to survive.Torjhad to survive.
His silence told her he heard the doubt in her voice.
‘Kipp or Dessa will explain everything,’ she said. ‘But for now, I have to keep my distance. Imustact the part. Your life depends on it—’
Torj shook his head. ‘Thatcan’tbe the only way, Embers.’
‘Trust me,’ she pleaded, turning back to the academy, her anxiety peaking in waves of nausea. ‘Please.’
Kipp was waiting for her at the foot of the academy stairs, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. ‘Hurry up,’ he hissed. ‘For this to work, you need to enterwithyour betrothed.’
Wren suppressed a wince at the term, and she didn’t dare look back to see the expression on Torj’s face. She knew he had followed. She could feel his presence behind her, his gaze boring holes in her back. He deserved answers, but right now she could not be the one to give them to him, especially as they rounded a corner and saw who was waiting.
Lord Darian Devereux looked as stately as ever. The fine clothes, the regal posture, the well-practised smile on his lips... All a stark contrast to the rugged warrior at her heels.
‘Thanks for keeping her company for me,’ Darian said to Torj with a smirk, reaching for her hand.
‘Furies save us,’ Kipp muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Wren tensed, on edge. Everything she’d precariously built was poised to come crashing down around her. Darian’s touch, his kiss on the back of her hand, feltwrong.And all she could think of was the Warsword now beside her, who was practically vibrating with rage, magic rolling off him in waves –hermagic.
‘Torj, please,’ she implored at a whisper, but Darian pulled her towards the door to the hall—
‘You gave my father your word that you were done with the brute,’ Darian said, loud enough for anyone to hear. ‘Nowsmile, my love.’ He gave a dazzling grin of his own. ‘You’re about to gain access to everything you need to be a queen of the midrealms.’
CHAPTER 2
Wren
‘What an alchemist measures in their flask determines what follows in the crucible, and, like the scales of fate, can tip on a single grain of intention’
– Arcane Alchemy: Unveiling the Mysteries of Matter
