Page 29 of Silver & Smoke
Cal moved to the centre of a cleared space, spinning his sword in a showy way that reminded Torj of Zavier’s fighting style. Any other day, Torj would have rolled his eyes at the younger Warsword’s antics. Today, the display only heightened his irritation.
‘Come on, then,’ Cal called, dropping into a ready stance. ‘Show me what you’ve got.’
Torj didn’t need the invitation. He lunged forwards, putting more force behind his first strike than necessary. Cal parried, but the impact made him step back. Good. Fighting was simple. Fighting made sense. Each clash of their weapons drove thoughts of the betrothed couple in the hall further away – of what was happening there, of who was sitting beside whom, of hands touching across fine tablecloths – of a ring gleaming in the candlelight—
The flat of Cal’s blade slapped Torj’s exposed arm.
‘Look alive, Bear Slayer!’ Wilder called from the sidelines, not bothering to hide the note of surprise in his voice.
Torj tried to focus, but he felt dazed, as though the world around him were moving too fast and his reactions were too slow. He managed to block another of Cal’s strikes, but his dominant arm seized beneath the weight of his hammer. The muscles locked, then spasmed, sending shooting pains up to his shoulder.
This war hammer clattered to the ground, and before he could recover his balance, his legs betrayed him too. He went down hard, the grass doing nothing to cushion the impact on his knees.
The grounds fell silent. He could feel every pair of eyes on him – the soldiers who had stopped their own practices to watch, the captain who’d arrived with a missive in his hand only moments before, and Wilder, who had been observing from close by. Torj’s face burned. He’d rather take another dozen doses of whatever poison was working through his system than endure their stares for one more moment.
Wilder’s boots appeared in his line of sight; a hand extended down to help him up. Torj’s jaw clenched.
‘I don’t need—’
‘I know you don’t need it,’ Wilder cut him off, voice low enough that only Torj could hear. ‘Take it anyway.’
For a moment, Torj considered stubbornly pushing himself up alone. But his arms were still trembling, and his damn pride had taken enough of a beating for one night. He clasped Wilder’s forearm and let his friend pull him to his feet.
‘Don’t tell Wren,’ he murmured.
‘What happens during training stays in training,’ Wilder replied. ‘For now.’
The captain with the scroll came forwards then, looking flustered. ‘Warsword Elderbrock, Warsword Hawthorne and Warsword Whitlock,’ he greeted them, touching three fingers to his shoulder in a respectful salute. ‘Lord Lucian’s spies have intercepted enemy plans. Drevenor will be the next target of Silas’s assault. He defers to Thezmarr for instruction—’
‘And Itoldhimthe instruction,’ Wren snapped as she caught up to them from the manor, fire blazing in her green eyes. ‘We need to save Dessa and the silvertide roses. We need to return to the academy.’
CHAPTER 15
Wren
‘I am forevermore marked as a steward of this ancient art. And I will protect it and harness it, with all that I am and will be’
– Drevenor Academy Oath of Secrecy
‘HOW MANY TIMEShas that happened?’ Wren whispered to Cal as they readied their horses. ‘Torj falling like that?’
‘That was the first time that I know of,’ Cal replied, voice low. ‘But he’s not himself, and I don’t think it’s just you and Darian—’
‘I know,’ Wren told him. What she didn’t tell her friend was that she had to marry the nobleman soon if she was to have any chance of saving Torj – that time was not on her side, if it ever had been.
‘So,’ Darian interrupted, striding towards them in his riding garb, ‘looks like my father was wrong about the force that was near Drevenor earlier...’ He offered Wren a leg-up onto her horse. Now clad in her own riding leathers instead of a stupid silk ballgown, she accepted his help as Cal drifted into the background, his brows knitted together in concern.
‘They marched on Drevenor as soon as our attention was elsewhere,’ she observed.
‘So it seems,’ Darian agreed.
Wren had hoped to have more time in Braxton’s greenhousewith her work on Torj’s cure, but time was of the essence now. She would have to hope that the rosarians she had written to responded; meanwhile, she had to get to Drevenor. Thanks to the noblemen, their bannermen had rallied quickly and were now ready to ride to the academy’s aid.
What if it’s too late?Fear clenched her heart in an unforgiving fist, but she didn’t voice the words aloud. Instead, Wren guided her horse to the head of the company where Thea, Wilder, Torj and Cal were waiting impatiently.
‘You should ride ahead,’ Wren told them. ‘Your stallions are faster, and I can’t bear the thought of Dessa alone if Silas’s men reach the academy before us.’
‘She’s not alone,’ Thea replied. ‘Audra and a unit of Thezmarr’s Guardians are stationed there, plus Drevenor’s own security. It is not defenceless.’
